#concrete wall cutting company

[advance-cutting-com-au]

Here What You Should Do in Case You Encounter These 5 Issues While Using Track Concrete Cutter

Concrete cutting requires precision, patience, and experience to work. If you look at the difficulty of using track concrete cutter, you want to be careful in avoiding errors that could compromise the quality of your project, or worse, your safety.

Read more: https://www.advancecutting.com.au/2022/12/19/using-track-concrete-cutter/

[fathimaglobo]

What Makes Concrete Coring Services Essential for Modern Construction?

Concrete coring is a crucial aspect of modern construction methods, providing accuracy, effectiveness, and adaptability to fulfill the constantly changing requirements of the industry. As cityscapes evolve into contemporary architectural marvels, the demand for specialized services like concrete coring has grown increasingly essential. From high-rise buildings to housing projects and manufacturing facilities, concrete coring is essential for various structural alterations, guaranteeing safety, efficiency, and sustainability. 

Concrete coring is a specific drilling method employed to form circular holes in concrete elements, including walls, floors, and ceilings. These openings fulfill multiple functions, such as allowing space for electrical wiring, plumbing, HVAC systems, and structural supports. In contrast to traditional drilling techniques, concrete coring employs modern tools and technologies that reduce harm to the adjacent structure. This meticulous approach is especially crucial in intricate construction projects where precision and structural soundness are essential. 

A notable method in this field is concrete diamond coring, an advanced technique that utilizes diamond-tipped drills to obtain exceptional outcomes. Diamond coring is famous for its accuracy and effectiveness, allowing contractors to penetrate reinforced concrete, stone, and masonry with unmatched precision. The procedure is devoid of vibrations, lowering the chances of cracks or structural flaws, making it perfect for projects where safety and longevity are essential. 

Understanding the Importance of Concrete Coring in Modern Construction

Contemporary buildings feature complex designs, new materials, and an increasing focus on sustainability. In this context, concrete coring has become an essential method for tackling the issues created by these advancements. The accuracy provided by concrete coring guarantees that each cut, hole, or alteration coincides perfectly with the project’s architectural and engineering specifications. 

Concrete coring is especially important in urban areas where space is limited and buildings are built in close proximity. The skill to create accurate openings while minimizing noise, dust, and disturbance makes concrete coring a choice that is both environmentally friendly and considerate of the community. Moreover, the flexibility of the method enables it to accommodate various applications, ranging from extensive commercial endeavors to minor home improvements. 

The Role of Concrete Diamond Coring in Advancing Construction Practices

Concrete diamond coring exemplifies the ultimate in precision cutting technology within the construction sector. This method employs drill bits embedded with diamonds, recognized for their toughness and longevity, to effortlessly cut through the most challenging materials. The diamond coring technique yields clean, smooth edges, removing the necessity for extra finishing and shortening overall project durations. 

A significant benefit of diamond coring is its adaptability. It can serve multiple purposes, such as: 

Making spaces for plumbing, electrical, and HVAC setups 

Making exact openings for anchor bolts and dowels 

Obtaining core samples for structural and material examination 

Changing current frameworks during updates or improvements 

The capability to manage various tasks renders diamond coring an essential resource for contractors and developers. Its operation without vibrations also reduces the likelihood of structural harm, making it a favored option for projects that require high standards of safety and precision. 

What Makes Concrete Coring Essential for Modern Construction?

Concrete coring services play a crucial role in contemporary construction, providing a blend of accuracy, effectiveness, and flexibility that conventional techniques cannot achieve. The rising intricacy of architectural designs and the heightened use of reinforced materials require methods that can provide precise outcomes while maintaining structural stability. Concrete coring fulfills these criteria, rendering it an essential tool for contractors and developers. 

Besides its technical benefits, concrete coring promotes sustainable building methods. Through the creation of minimal waste and the reduction of noise and dust pollution, the method corresponds with the worldwide movement toward environmentally friendly building practices. This awareness of the environment is especially crucial in cities, where the effects of building work on the nearby community need to be monitored closely. 

Expert concrete coring services are essential for maintaining adherence to safety regulations and industry standards. The utilization of sophisticated tools and skilled staff ensures that each project is carried out with maximum accuracy and attention. This emphasis on safety and quality not only improves the longevity of the building but also safeguards the health of workers and residents. 

For individuals in need of trustworthy and accuracy-focused concrete coring services, RAND Middle East is a prominent name. With extensive expertise and a dedication to quality, RAND Middle East has established itself as a frontrunner in offering innovative construction solutions throughout Oman, especially in Muscat. Their knowledge in concrete coring and concrete diamond coring guarantees that each project is managed with the highest level of professionalism and attention. 

RAND Middle East provides a wide variety of services tailored to address the specific requirements of contemporary construction initiatives. Their concrete coring offerings are customized to provide accurate outcomes, whether for making utility openings, obtaining core samples, or altering current structures. By utilizing cutting-edge tools and methods, RAND Middle East guarantees that each assignment is carried out effectively and to the utmost quality. 

What distinguishes RAND Middle East is their commitment to innovation and sustainability. Their concrete diamond coring services, especially, highlight their capacity to integrate advanced technology with sustainable methods. This method not only improves the quality of their output but also aligns with the worldwide move toward more sustainable construction practices. 

Safety is another fundamental aspect of RAND Middle East’s activities. Their team of experienced experts follows rigorous safety guidelines, guaranteeing a safe workplace for everyone involved. This dedication to safety, coupled with their technical knowledge, positions them as a reliable ally for developers, contractors, and architects. 

For additional information regarding the concrete coring and diamond coring services offered by RAND Middle East, check out their website. RAND Middle East is your preferred choice for all your concrete coring services in Muscat, due to their precision, reliability, and commitment to quality. 

Select RAND Middle East for your upcoming project and witness the impact that expert knowledge can provide. From exact cuts to eco-friendly methods, they are reimagining the definition. 

[globosoft123]

Choosing the Right Concrete Coring Company in Muscat: What You Need to Know

Concrete coring is a specialized process in construction that involves creating precise, clean holes in concrete structures. This technique is essential for a range of purposes, including installing plumbing systems, electrical conduits, HVAC systems, or even conducting structural assessments. In Muscat, where construction projects range from residential buildings to large-scale commercial developments, finding a reliable concrete coring company is crucial to ensuring quality, safety, and efficiency in your projects.

Muscat’s growing infrastructure and urbanization have led to a surge in construction demands, making concrete coring a vital service for modern development. The process itself is intricate and requires the use of diamond-tipped drills and other advanced equipment to achieve accurate results. Hiring an experienced concrete coring company can save both time and money, while also ensuring compliance with safety and structural integrity standards.

One of the primary factors to consider when selecting a concrete coring company in Muscat is their level of expertise. Companies with extensive experience in the field understand the complexities of working with different types of concrete, including reinforced concrete, which is commonly used in modern construction. Experienced professionals are adept at navigating challenges such as embedded rebar or varying concrete densities, ensuring precise coring without compromising the surrounding structure.

Another critical aspect is the use of advanced equipment and technology. Leading concrete coring companies invest in state-of-the-art tools and machinery to deliver superior results. Diamond core drills, for instance, allow for smooth and precise cuts, minimizing the risk of cracking or damage to the concrete. Additionally, modern coring equipment is often designed to reduce noise and dust, making it suitable for projects in residential or occupied commercial spaces where disruptions must be kept to a minimum.

Safety is another non-negotiable factor when choosing a concrete coring company. Construction sites pose inherent risks, and concrete coring, when done improperly, can lead to accidents or structural failures. A reputable company will prioritize safety by adhering to strict guidelines and employing trained professionals who are well-versed in handling complex coring operations. Ensuring that the company has the necessary licenses, certifications, and insurance coverage is a vital step in the selection process.

Timeliness and reliability are also important when choosing a concrete coring company. Construction projects often operate on tight schedules, and delays in one phase can have a cascading effect on the overall timeline. A dependable coring company in Muscat should be able to meet deadlines without compromising on quality. Clear communication, proper planning, and a commitment to delivering on time are signs of a professional and trustworthy service provider.

Sustainability is becoming an increasingly significant consideration in the construction industry, including concrete coring. Many companies in Muscat are adopting eco-friendly practices, such as recycling concrete waste or using energy-efficient equipment. Choosing a company that values sustainability not only supports environmental initiatives but also aligns with the growing emphasis on green construction practices in Oman.

One of the key benefits of hiring a specialized concrete coring company is the ability to handle diverse project requirements. Whether it’s coring for utility installations in high-rise buildings, creating openings in industrial facilities, or conducting exploratory coring for structural evaluations, a versatile company can cater to a wide range of needs. This versatility ensures that your project is executed seamlessly, regardless of its scale or complexity.

For those seeking reliable services, Rand Middle East stands out as a trusted name in Muscat’s concrete coring industry. Known for its commitment to precision, safety, and customer satisfaction, Rand Middle East offers top-tier concrete coring solutions tailored to meet the unique demands of each project. With a team of skilled professionals and access to cutting-edge equipment, Rand Middle East ensures that your coring requirements are met efficiently and effectively. Whether you’re working on a residential, commercial, or industrial project, Rand Middle East delivers excellence in every aspect of its services.

[dumbbitchgalore]

“Wanna cum? Too fucking bad Birdie.” - Blue collar!Price 💙

Running a construction company was no joke. Idiotic workers, idiotic clients and idiotic paperwork fucked with his head more times than it should. Today was astronomically strenuous, his workers came in late, the council didn't approve of the building plans and now he's left with trucks loaded with concrete mix with no place to use it. So what better than to get his baby to help him with his stress?

And that is how you exactly found yourself in such a position. With your body slick with sweat, thighs burning from exhaustion as you slide up and down John's chubby cock. Head thrown back as you use hand to keep yourself propped up. Hands in front of you or behind you for support, nothing felt comfortable.

Your body ached, your throat dry and hoarse from pleading, begging, whinning. John on the other hand had a smirk on his face, arm resting behind his head as he looked at you doing all the work. He saw how tired you were, so how desperately you wanted to cum. But as if he's gonna let you cum that easily. If he has to work so do you; he works for money and you for your release.

You groan with exhaustion, planting your hands on his chest as you continue to ride him.

"God, baby... please-" You begin to plead again only to be cut off by his deep voice.

"No." He gives your arse a smack, making you yelp and ride him harder, faster.

"You have to work for it. Home makers have to work too, ya know."

You whine, unable to keep up your pace. Laying on top of him, you begin to lazily rock your hip as fatigue took over you. John tuts your action, gripping your hips as he guides your action.

"What a lazy little baby you are." He mocks, flipping you over and onto your back on the bed.

He hovers over you, a smirk plastered on his face giving your nipple a pinch before smacking your tits hard, leaving a light handprint. You cry out, pain and pleasure mixing together within your views. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you pull him close to you. He cock flush against your dripping cunt.

John huffs at your pathetic attempts for an orgasm. Rolling his eyes, he decides to give in. Putting a pillow under your hips before sliding his cock inside your pussy causing you both to moan in unison. He pistons in and out of your weeping pussy as it drools into the pillow underneath you. The height providing John with an angle to perfectly hit the gummy spot inside of you that made you see stars.

Back arched, you groan cockdrunk. You grab the headboard to ground yourself slightly. You began to see your heavenly release in sight as John continued to bully your cervix.

John presses his hand down on your abdomen causing your body to jerk. Your impending orgasm growing stronger as your sight goes hazy. His continuous pace causes you to topple over the edge, your release coating his lower abdomen, your body shaking as John own orgasm washes over him, coating your gummy walls with his cum.

He pulls out slowly groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of your used hole. His thumb begins to smear his cream all over your pussy making his way to your clit, rubbing it gently as your body jerks from the oncoming overstimulation causing John to chuckle softly at your body's response.

"Oh, sweetheart. Gonna tap out before your old man?"

[reasonsforhope]

The Klamath River’s salmon population has declined due to myriad factors, but the biggest culprit is believed to be a series of dams built along the river from 1918 to 1962, cutting off fish migration routes.

Now, after decades of Indigenous advocacy, four of the structures are being demolished as part of the largest dam removal project in United States history. In November, crews finished removing the first of the four dams as part of a push to restore 644 kilometres (400 miles) of fish habitat.

“Dam removal is the largest single step that we can take to restore the Klamath River ecosystem,” [Barry McCovey, a member of the Yurok Tribe and director of tribal fisheries,] told Al Jazeera. “We’re going to see benefits to the ecosystem and then, in turn, to the fishery for decades and decades to come.” ...

A ‘watershed moment’

Four years later, [after a catastrophic fish die-off in 2002,] in 2006, the licence for the hydroelectric dams expired. That created an opportunity, according to Mark Bransom, CEO of the Klamath River Renewal Corporation (KRRC), a nonprofit founded to oversee the dam removals.

Standards for protecting fisheries had increased since the initial license was issued, and the utility company responsible for the dams faced a choice. It could either upgrade the dams at an economic loss or enter into a settlement agreement that would allow it to operate the dams until they could be demolished.

“A big driver was the economics — knowing that they would have to modify these facilities to bring them up to modern environmental standards,” Bransom explained. “And the economics just didn’t pencil out.”

The utility company chose the settlement. In 2016, the KRRC was created to work with the state governments of California and Oregon to demolish the dams.

Final approval for the deal came in 2022, in what Bransom remembers as a “watershed moment”.

Regulators at the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) voted unanimously to tear down the dams, citing the benefit to the environment as well as to Indigenous tribes...

Tears of joy

Destruction of the first dam — the smallest, known as Copco 2 — began in June, with heavy machinery like excavators tearing down its concrete walls.

[Amy Cordalis, a Yurok Tribe member, fisherwoman and lawyer for the tribe,] was present for the start of the destruction. Bransom had invited her and fellow KRRC board members to visit the bend in the Klamath River where Copco 2 was being removed. She remembers taking his hand as they walked along a gravel ridge towards the water, a vein of blue nestled amid rolling hills.

“And then, there it was,” Cordalis said. “Or there it wasn’t. The dam was gone.”

For the first time in a century, water flowed freely through that area of the river. Cordalis felt like she was seeing her homelands restored.

Tears of joy began to roll down her cheeks. “I just cried so hard because it was so beautiful.”

The experience was also “profound” for Bransom. “It really was literally a jolt of energy that flowed through us,” he said, calling the visit “perhaps one of the most touching, most moving moments in my entire life”.

Demolition on Copco 2 was completed in November, with work starting on the other three dams. The entire project is scheduled to wrap in late 2024.

[A resilient river]

But experts like McCovey say major hurdles remain to restoring the river’s historic salmon population.

Climate change is warming the water. Wildfires and flash floods are contaminating the river with debris. And tiny particles from rubber vehicle tires are washing off roadways and into waterways, where their chemicals can kill fish within hours.

McCovey, however, is optimistic that the dam demolitions will help the river become more resilient.

“Dam removal is one of the best things we can do to help the Klamath basin be ready to handle climate change,” McCovey explained. He added that the river’s uninterrupted flow will also help flush out sediment and improve water quality.

The removal project is not the solution to all the river’s woes, but McCovey believes it’s a start — a step towards rebuilding the reciprocal relationship between the waterway and the Indigenous people who rely on it.

“We do a little bit of work, and then we start to see more salmon, and then maybe we get to eat more salmon, and that starts to help our people heal a little bit,” McCovey said. “And once we start healing, then we’re in a place where we can start to help the ecosystem a little bit more.”"

-via Al Jazeera, December 4, 2023

[callsign-songbird]

This was supposed to be a short rambling and ended up turning into a mini fic lol. I know the tense shifts, I know it's sloppy lol

Anyway, Simon has a sweetheart who gets kidnapped and gets to meet "Ghost" for the first time.

The first time you meet Ghost, it's supposed to be carefully planned and controlled. After all, Simon was so worried about opening that part of himself up to you. To you, he was Simon. Soft, introverted, sweet, desperately trying to break a cycle of generational trauma. You had never met Ghost.

But, of course, nothing in Simon's life can go according to plan, and when you have people that mean something to you, they become weaknesses. So, when you get kidnapped by a Russian military company with the intel that you were important to Task Force-141? Ghost has already burnt down the world once, you're sure as hell that he would do it again for his love. So, when you meet Ghost, it isn't carefully rehersed and planned like Simon wanted. No.

Instead, you're terrified, bound, and gagged on a cold concrete floor wearing little more than your skivvies as tears stream down your face. Then, out of the blue, gunfire and shouting rings through the halls. Stealth be damned, as soon as their cover is blown, you know that Ghost will fight like a rabbit animal. He barges into your cell, tackling a man against the wall with a knife to his throat and a gun at his head.

Those eyes that had looked at you so softly and tenderly were completely unrecognizable when they were this wide and intense, wild with bloodlust. "Where is the girl?" He spits out in fluent Russian before his eyes catch sight of you.

'BANG'

A single bullet through the soldiers' skull, splattering Ghost with even more viscera and gray matter. Ghost doesn't even seem phased as he holsters his pistol and pulls away, letting the body drop with a sickening thud. He walks brazenly up to you, but pauses as he notices the way you frantically back yourself into the corner, trying desperately to stay away from this monster who had surely come to drag you from one hell to the next.

Then, he crouches down and outstretches a gentle hand to you, letting you come to him. He called your name so sweetly, and that was a voice you recognized. You tried to muffle out his name through the rag shoved into your mouth and tied around your head. That earned a low chuckle, a dangerous one that you hadn't heard before. "Not quite, love. Ghost. Now, let's get you home, eh?"

Ghost. The name echoed in your mind, bouncing around as you tried to remember where you had heard it before. Your eyes flicked over to the corpse splayed in the doorway of your cell, making you nearly vomit in your mouth before looking away. Ghost shifted closer, using the knife still in his hand to cut through the rough ropes binding you. "Bloody hell... idiots didn't even use chains, could have escaped right easy, you could of." Ghost muttered, mostly to himself. The words were terrifying to hear.

He reached to untie your gag next, a chuckle rumbling lowly in his chest as you flinch away. He gives you half a second to compose yourself before he unceremoniously rips the gag off of you and tosses it to the side. Red marks are etched into your cheeks where the gag had dug in, and the sight makes Ghost seeth. "Oh, love..." His words are soft, but his tone is enraged, as if those marks alone could start his new crusade.

"LT!" Blue eyes and a neatly groomed Warhawk pop into the door, stepping casually over the corpse as the new face made his way over to you. "This her, LT?" A thick Scottish accent was present, along with a bit of thinly veiled appreciation. "Off limits Johnny, this is her. This is my girl."

Whenever Simon called you his, it was soft and reverent, as if astonished that he could call someone so precious his. But when Ghost said it? It was commanding, possessive, and left no room for argument. You were his. And that thought was almost scary.

Ghost wasted no more time, scooping you up into his arms and making their way quickly through the facility you had only caught glances of while Ghost and Johnny talked in some military jargon you didn't understand.

That's when you noticed it.

Even though Ghost was holding you so tight and close, even though his touches seemed so rough and careless, even though he was splattered with all sorts of blood and viscera, you had none of it on you. Ghost had been so careful with his touches, with how he held you, determined not to stain and taint your delicate skin with the fuel to his fire, the essence of his soul. And that was quite possibly when you realized that 'Simon' and 'Ghost' were merely two sides of the same coin. And they were both yours as much as you were theirs. his.

[selfloverrrrrr]

hey bae , this is my first time making a req 😭🙏🏻 , so i was thinking about where y/n is a prisoner sent to an all male prison and geto/gojo is the chief security guard who works there. he is very attracted to y/n and at night he goes non con y/n

i love your fanfic btw ❤️

Prisoner~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, Noncon, revenge, prisoner reader, chief secretary guard Gojo, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

This shitty people can't even investigate a case properly. First they put me in for the time crime I never did and now they're moving me to another jail?! The iron gates of Blackwood Prison creaked shut behind me, I found myself enveloped in a world dominated by rough faces and even rougher hands. I was the only woman among hundreds of convicts, a fact that made me stand out like a sore thumb.

The first few days were a blur of harsh fluorescent lights, cold meals, and the constant hum of male voices echoing through the concrete hallways. I kept my head down, learning the routines quickly - lights out at 10 PM sharp, wake-up call at 6 AM.

One evening, during dinner in the massive cafeteria, I felt eyes burning into my back. I turned slightly to see one of the guards standing against the wall. His name tag said 'Gojo'. He was tall, muscular, with an aura that demanded attention. His blue eyes seemed to follow my every movement.

As the days wore on, I started noticing Gojo everywhere. He seemed assigned to my wing more frequently than the other guards. Each time our paths crossed, his gaze lingered, a flicker of something - admiration? - passing through his steely expression before he quickly looked away.

One crisp autumn night, as the prison settled into uneasy quiet, I lay on my narrow bunk, straining to hear the faint scrape of metal against metal. Suddenly, my cell door clicked open. Gojo stood there, silhouetted against the dim hallway light, his muscular frame filling the doorway.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. His boots echoed on the cold floor as he approached my bunk. He didn't say a word, just reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him.

"what are you doing?! why are you even here?!" I asked being shocked. Gojo smirked. His grip tightened. "Easy," he said softly, his voice low and urgent. "Thought you might need...company. It's tough being the only woman here"

"what do you mean?" I asked."You know exactly what I mean," he whispered, his face inches from mine. His hand moved to my waist possessively. "Being surrounded by all these hungry eyes...you must be tired of the constant stares, the unwanted attention." He paused, his thumb tracing circles on my hipbone. "I could..."

"I could make them all disappear," Gojo murmured, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "You'd be mine, and only mine. No one else would dare to look at you, let alone touch you." He desperately whispered in my ear.

"y-you should go" I said. "Should I?" Gojo chuckled. And I didn't notice when his fingers start to unbuckle my belt. "You really want me to leave you here all alone, with those little shits inmate dreaming about getting their hands on you?" He paused, his hands pausing at the button of my pants.

"w-what are you doing w-wai-" I finally realised but Gojo cut me off with a firm kiss, his lips crashing against mine. He pinned me against the bunk, his hands roaming over my body as he effortlessly pushed my pants down. I was about to protest when "Shh," he murmured against my lips. "Just let me take care of you tonight."

"N-No....leave or I'll tell the other officers" I said. Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "Go ahead," he said confidently, his hand sliding into my underwear. "Who do you think they'll believe? The quiet little prisoner or the chief security guard?" He started to caress me slowly.

And I couldn't reply. I was silent. "Exactly," Gojo whispered, his fingers exploring further as he hooked his legs around mine to keep me from kicking him off. "Now, be a good girl and stay quiet," he warned, his other hand reaching up to cover my mouth. "Or I'll have to gag you..."

"please leave me I don't want this." I begged. Gojo's smirk widened. "Too good for a criminal's touch?" He pulled his hands away suddenly, his voice harsh. "Maybe I should make you scream instead. Give the guys out there what they've all been dreaming of." He unbuckled his belt threateningly. "Answer me honestly - do you want this or not?"

"I don't.... P-Please" I said. His expression softened slightly at the plea, but his hand remained on his belt. "You're making the wrong choice," he said softly, leaning in close. "You don't know those men they're ready to get their hands on you any time they want. Just for pleasure" His fingers traced my neck possessively. "I don't want you just for pleasure.... I want you permanently....all mine" he whispered.

Fear grabbed me by my neck. I couldn't even think anything when suddenly he kissed me again. He deepened the kiss forcefully, his tongue invading my mouth as he pressed his body against mine. His hands released my wrists to roam my body again, gripping and squeezing roughly. He only broke the kiss to start unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, the other still holding my head in place.

he took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Gojo leaned down to capture my mouth again, his bare chest pressing against mine as he pinned me beneath him. His calloused hands explored my body roughly, leaving red marks in their wake. He broke the kiss again to nip and suck at my neck, marking me possessively.

Then he tore off my shirt. I wasn't wearing any bra. "You're fucking hotttt," he muttered, eyes darkening as he took in my exposed body. His rough hands traced my curves before moving to my breasts, squeezing and kneading. He lowered his head to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his fingers pinched the other.

"P-Please stop" I begged. "Too late for that," Gojo muttered, releasing my nipple with a pop. He raised his head to look at me, taking in my scared expression and half-naked body. He grabbed my pants and pulled it down with my panties. "Spread your legs," he ordered softly, his voice lower than before.

I didn't do anything. I was too scared. Gojo growled in frustration as I refused to comply. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I said, spread your fucking legs," he repeated, more forcefully this time. With lightning speed, he grabbed both my thighs and forcibly pushed them apart, settling himself between them.

I cried out. He unbuckled his belt and pants with one hand, kicking them off his legs. He was left in just his boxers, the bulge prominent. He hooked his arms under my knees, pulling my legs up and back, exposing me completely.

Gojo shoved his boxers down, freeing his rigid cock. Without hesitation, he thrust forward, brutally piercing into my pussy. He groaned loudly, not caring if the entire jail heard my screams. "Fuck, so tight..." he grunted, starting to pump into me violently.

Gojo reached between my legs to rub my clit roughly, the stimulation making my cries even more desperate. He fucked me mercilessly, his cock pounding into my pussy like a jackhammer.I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrust I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. Suddenly I felt his teeth gazing at my neck. "No no no d-don't please don't Mark me please " I cried out. He just ignored my please and bite my neck harshly. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He was panting.

He sits on the floor. The sound of his panting filled the room. Suddenly he started laughing. "I've heard you're in jail for a crime you didn't even. And you also don't have any family to help you.... and also I've heard that you are going out of jail this year. Don't worry darling, I know how to make you permanently MINE" He said darkly.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[libingan]

someone needs to spoil the captain once in a while amirite

i have a fuck ton of shit to do but im too lazy to do it so im cramming them tomorrow

gf the atmosphere in the base was thick with tension, the kind that hung heavily in the air and seeped into the cracks of the concrete walls. you could see it etched across captain price's face as he paced back and forth in his office, muttering to himself under his breath. it was clear he was stressed, and you couldn’t just sit back and watch him suffer.

“he needs to relax,” you said to gaz, who leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching price with narrowed eyes. his gaze flicked between you and the captain, a knowing smirk forming on his lips.

“agreed,” he replied, his voice low and sultry. “let’s give him a little break.”

after exchanging a quick, conspiratorial glance, you and gaz quietly entered the office. price looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes as the door clicked shut behind you, cutting off any chance of escape.

“what the fuck are you two doing in here?” he snapped, brow furrowing in confusion, but you could see the intrigue sparking in his gaze.

“just thought you could use some company,” you said sweetly, stepping closer, your heart racing with anticipation. gaz mirrored your movements, closing the distance between you and the captain. before price could protest, you and gaz moved in unison, pulling him to a standing position.

“wait—” he started, but the protest died in his throat as you deftly unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking echoing in the otherwise silent room. you pushed his trousers down, and gaz immediately dropped to his knees behind price, his hands sliding over the captain’s ass with a practiced ease.

“bloody hell,” price groaned, his hands gripping the edge of the desk for support, knuckles white. you wasted no time, pulling down his boxers and taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip as you slowly began to take him deeper.

the captain let out a low, appreciative moan, his head falling back as you expertly worked him. gaz was right behind him, pressing kisses along price's lower back, fingers digging into his cheeks, spreading him open just enough to give himself access. the combination of your warm mouth and gaz’s skilled tongue drove him wild, and you could feel the tension in his body start to melt away.

“that’s it, captain,” you encouraged, pulling off him just enough to speak, your breath hot against his shaft. “let it all go.”

“you two are fucking insatiable,” he panted, his voice breaking, a smirk breaking through his serious demeanor. “god, it feels so fucking good…”

the sound of price’s voice only spurred you on. you took him back into your mouth, bobbing your head in rhythm with gaz's movements. the noises filling the room were lewd, the slurping of your mouth against his cock mixing with the wet sounds of gaz’s tongue teasingly working his way between price’s cheeks.

“you love this, don’t you?” you murmured, your lips still wrapped around him. “being taken care of like this?”

“fuck yes,” price hissed, the words dripping with need. “but i want to see both of you.”

with a sudden burst of energy, he pushed you both back, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “kneel,” he ordered, and you and gaz complied, sinking to your knees in front of him, hearts racing with anticipation.

price grabbed his cock, stroking himself slowly, relishing the sight of the two of you eagerly watching him. “open wide,” he commanded, his gaze locking onto yours, the dominant edge in his tone sending shivers down your spine. “i want to see how well you can take it.”

you and gaz exchanged a glance, your eyes filled with excitement and lust, the thrill of the moment flooding your senses. as price quickened his pace, the sound of slick skin echoed in the small room, each stroke making your mouths water, desperate to taste him.

“you’re both gonna love this,” he grunted, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he neared the edge. “get ready.”

with a final, guttural groan, captain price let himself go, spilling his load onto your faces. hot ropes of cum splattered across your skin, thick and sticky, and you couldn’t help but feel exhilarated, your heart racing at the raw power of the moment. gaz’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could tell he was equally aroused by the sight.

“that’s right,” price breathed, his voice low and commanding as he watched you both. “take it all.”

the warmth dripped down your cheeks, and you savored the taste, your lips still parted as you caught your breath. the thrill of being dominated by the captain only heightened the experience, and you shared a triumphant smile with gaz, both of you satisfied with how the unexpected break had turned out.

as the captain’s breath steadied, he looked down at the two of you, a satisfied grin spreading across his lips. “now that’s what i call a good fucking stress reliever,” he said, chuckling softly as he took in the sight before him.

“you’re a right mess, captain,” gaz teased, wiping a bit of cum from his cheek, an amused glint in his eyes. “but you can bet we’ll be doing this again.”

“absolutely,” you replied, grinning back at price, who was still catching his breath, clearly pleased with how the day had turned out.

“i like the sound of that,” price said, a smirk forming as he adjusted his clothes, looking more relaxed than he had in days. “but next time, i get to pick the venue.”

“deal,” you and gaz said in unison, excitement bubbling between you, knowing this was just the beginning of many more encounters to come.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Hoodie

Steve Rogers x Reader (romantic or platonic)

Summary: A mission doesn't go to plan and Steve blames himself.

Warnings: mild description of injuries, beating, mild blood, a lot of pain, angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Notes: I wrote this with a platonic female reader in mind but apart from one reference to girls night it could be read as gender neutral. It could be romantic but I love Steve as a friend to the reader and there just don't seem to be that many fics where he's not a love interest or parental figure, but those are just my experiences. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

He was supposed to have your back but he saw a civilian who needed help, he got them to safety but not you. In the minute he had his back turned they had taken you.

He got the rest of the team to help and they eventually found you, on the floor. You were laying on a dirty concrete floor, chained to the wall. You were curled up, bloody and beaten. You had pretty substantial internal bleeding, at least that's what Bruce said. You had a huge bruise on your face, covering one of your eyes and a few small cuts. You had bruises all over your body but most of them were on your torso. You had a few broken ribs and a fracture in your left leg, making it much harder for you to move.

You were in a hospital bed for a few days and you almost went stir crazy so you moved to your room. Everyone in the team came by to check on you between missions. Tony showed you some new prototypes he was working on, after you begged him too. Sam brought some old family recipe he'd cooked up that was supposed to be good for healing, you didn't know if it was or not but it tasted great. Clint dragged Bucky in and made him play Uno with the two of you. It was fun for a while until you were about to murder Clint, luckily Bucky was there and he stopped you from busting your stitches, just barely. Bruce came to check your vitals but he ended up staying for a bit and you watched some trashy TV show that he loved, definitely not what you would've expected but it was fun to yell at the idiot, who was probably named Chad, for picking the wrong girl. Nat, Wanda and Loki came by for a girls night, Loki may not be a girl but he's one of your girls in the truest sense and he would never let it go if he wasn't invited to a girls night. You painted each other's nails, did each other's hair and watched cheesy romance movies (purely to annoy Nat). Thor stopped by at one point, of course it was when you were painting Loki's nails, at this point Loki couldn't exactly surprise Thor anymore so he just sat down with you all and joined in. By the end of the night he had let you paint his nails and he loved the little hammer designs you put on them. Even Vision floated in through your wall, scaring you half to death, but he was surprisingly good company.

The only person who didn't come to see you was Steve. He felt incredibly guilty and threw himself into missions and paperwork and anything to get his mind off of his failure, off of you and your pain. You called him a few times but he wouldn't answer. You knew he could because you spent a week teaching him how to use his phone. You called Bucky and asked him to check on Steve but he said that Steve wouldn't let anyone in his room, let alone talk to someone. You finally caught him on his way to the quinjet. He told you he was going on a mission and he couldn't talk.

Steve knew the mission was dangerous but he had to be Captain America and go anyway. You begged to come with him but he insisted you stay back and recover. You still weren't back to your usual self, it still hurt to move too much. Steve wouldn't let you go, he was still beating himself up for what had happened to you. You tried to get him to at least take someone else with him but he wouldn't listen, he just left.

He had been gone for three weeks and you couldn't stop worrying about him. When he didn't check in on the day he was meant to you cried, Steve always checked in. You were convinced something awful had happened to him. You were walking back to your room and you saw his door was open just a little. You stepped in and your senses were overwhelmed by him. His room was everything anyone would expect, very clean and tidy, not much stuff but enough. There was one thing that seemed out of place, a hoodie was laying atop his perfectly made bed.

It was the same hoodie that you got him for his birthday. It was dark blue, matching his stealth uniform and it had white writing on it, it said 'Est. 1918'. When you gave it to him he laughed at first, then he gave you a huge hug since most people don't know anything about his birthday except the whole 4th of July thing. Most people just say he's over a hundred and make jokes but you really cared. You picked up the hoodie and it smelled like him, making you smile. You pulled it on over your head and it felt like Steve was right there, hugging you and making everything feel okay. It was huge and it hung loosely over your body, going halfway down your thighs. Some would say you looked ridiculous but you felt comfortable and safe.

Days later and you were sitting on a big armchair in your room with your legs curled up under you. You were just staring out the window and watching the city, still in Steve's hoodie. You sat there for hours, completely zoned out, before you heard a knock on your door. You didn't respond, still not sure if you heard it or not.

"It's me" A low, sad voice said from behind the door. You immediately recognised Steve. As you rushed to get up you felt a large twist of pain in your side and sat back down.

"Come in" You called out through gritted teeth, trying not to alert Steve of your pain.

He slowly opened the door, almost afraid to come in and face you. It sounded ridiculous Captain America afraid of you, but he was, he was afraid you hated him. He stood behind the chair you were in, not wanting to face you.

"Are, are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Me? Why would you care about me? It's my fault y-"

"No it's not, don't think that"

"But it is"

"You were doing what you are supposed to do, save people"

"But I didn't save you"

"Yes you did"

"But I was too late, they already hurt you"

"I've been hurt a lot of times, this wasn't anything new"

"But-"

"But nothing, I'm alive because of you and I won't let you say otherwise"

He let out a small chuckle "God, you're stubborn"

"Yes, but that's why you love me"

"It sure is"

He came around to stand next to you and he saw what you were wearing.

"Is that my-"

"Sorry, I'll give it back"

"No, you look...comfy"

"Yeah, it's um, it's really soft"

"Is that why you took it?"

"No-not exactly"

"Then why?"

"It, it smells like you"

He looked at you for a moment with a questioning expression on his face.

"I know it sounds stupid but, it makes me feel safe, you make me feel safe"

"After everything that's happened, I make you feel safe?"

"Yeah, I was scared you wouldn't come back and this was, nice"

"Why did you think I wouldn't come back?"

"You didn't check in with Tony when you were supposed to"

"I didn't? I sent the message"

"You did?"

"Yeah, it mustn't have gone through" He pulled out his phone and checked his messages "Oh, I didn't press send"

You started to cry and laugh at the same time "You big idiot!"

Steve stared to laugh too "Hey I'm not, okay fair enough this time"

"Come here" You grabbed his arm and pulled him down into the chair with you "You may be an idiot sometimes but you're my idiot"

He was so close to you, he could really see your face, he could see the fading bruises and cuts. He brought his hand up to your cheek and his fingers grazed over the bruise, feather light. He travelled over the bruise on your eye and the small cut just above. His palm cradled your head and his thumb brushed across your cheek.

"I'm so sorry"

You placed your hand over his and squeezed gently "It's okay, Steve"

"I know it's not"

You finally broke, you started to cry and you leaned into him. You buried your face in his chest and wept, soaking his shirt with your tears. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"It hurts" You whimpered through heavy sobs.

"I know" He said as he kissed the top of your head, squeezing you a little tighter, not wanting to let go.

You laid in his arms for hours, letting yourself feel the pain you had been repressing. You were so tired, you eventually fell asleep, but Steve still held you.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird

[look-me]

ROUGH EDGES

Abby Anderson x reader

I’m already working on Princess Pt. 4, don’t worry, I won’t leave it behind, but I’ve had this in my drafts for a while now. As you know, English isn’t my first language, so please don’t judge, and I’m still figuring out how to write smut, so my bad if it’s not perfect. Please let me know what you think.

TW: graphic violence, sexual content, non-consensual situations, manipulation, abuse, domination, explicit language, and dark themes including self-harm and death. If these topics are triggering for you, please proceed with caution or skip this story.

The corridor was quiet, save for the echoes of heavy boots pounding on cold concrete. The air in the prison always felt oppressive, thick with regret and anger, a suffocating reminder of the lives trapped within its walls. You had been in this place for some time now, though it didn't feel like home. Not even close. It wasn't supposed to.

"Anderson, you have company," the guard's voice rang out down the hallway, breaking the monotony.

Abby didn't look up from the bed she lay on. She didn't flinch. No words left her lips as she remained still, eyes half-closed, staring at the wall.

The door to her cell creaked open, and you walked in.

You were dressed in the typical prison garb-baggy pants and a white ribbed tank top, but there was a certain weight to your presence. You weren't huge, but you had a solid frame-muscular in a way that came from a life of necessity. Your back, adorned with detailed tattoos, told a story of hardship and survival, each inked line a chapter of pain you'd endured.

Abby's eyes flicked to your tattoos, the recognition immediate. She didn't know your name. Didn't care to. But she knew you. Knew exactly who you were-the one who killed her father years ago. You had disappeared after, leaving her to pick up the shattered pieces of a life that had never really been hers.

You didn't look at her, though. You didn't even acknowledge she was there, the faintest tilt of your head the only movement as you dropped the prison-issued items onto the bed, with no real care for the mess you made.

The tension in the room tightened as Abby's jaw clenched. The coldness she'd perfected over the years was there, but underneath it was a simmering rage—a fury she hadn't quite learned to control.

"You," she muttered, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You didn't respond, ignoring her completely.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Abby was on her feet, her body tensed with anger, her fists raised. Without warning, she shoved you, the force of her body meeting yours with a harsh push. You stumbled back but caught yourself, turning on her in a split second.

The air was electric, thick with unspoken history, and before either of you knew it, you were both caught in a blur of fists and fury. She aimed a punch at your chest, trying to push you back into the wall, but you dodged it and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around to break her hold.

"Leave me alone, bitch!" You snapped, pushing her against the bed.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes wild with rage. "You killed my dad!" The words were spat out like venom, each syllable charged with a lifetime of resentment.

Your nostrils flared as you pulled back for another strike, but you snapped back with your own words. "Your dad tried to kill me when I was just a kid!" You threw a punch toward her stomach, but Abby blocked it, landing one of her own to your ribs.

The fight was brutal, fast, and raw. Neither of you was holding back, each punch landing with a sickening thud. Your blood was mingling with hers, and neither of you cared. The years of tension, the history that had haunted you both, was finally coming to a head in this grim, cold cell.

the door slammed open again. The guards burst in, shouting at the top of their lungs.

"Enough!" one of them yelled, brandishing a baton. "If you don't stop right now, I'll throw you both into isolation!"

in an instant, the noise stopped. You both stood there, panting heavily, your faces bruised, blood dripping from your noses and split lips. Neither of you moved. Neither of you made a sound. You both breathed hard, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, but something shifted in the silence.

The guards glared at you both. "I mean it!

Stop or you're both locked down!"

With a final, begrudging look at each other, you took a step back. The air in the cell was thick with the unspoken tension between you. Abby wiped the blood from her lip, but her eyes never left you. You did the same, wiping the blood from your nose with the back of your hand.

The guards left, leaving the door slightly ajar. Neither of you spoke as the silence settled in again, but you could feel the anger still burning, barely contained under the surface.

The fight was still there, the need to prove something, to keep going. But you were done with this for now. You needed a break, something to clear your head before you both ended up killing each other.

You turned toward the door without a word. No more confrontation. Not today.

You had to walk away-before the fury consumed you both.

As you stepped out of the cell, the sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway. You didn't look back.

But you knew Abby was still there, still burning with anger just as much as you were.

And somewhere deep inside, you knew this wouldn't be the last time you two crossed paths.

9 PM

The cell was dim, the faint glow from the hallway lights leaking through the narrow window in the door. You stepped in quietly, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders.

Abby was already in her cot, lying on her side with her back to you, as if your presence didn’t matter. You didn’t bother acknowledging her either. You kicked off your shoes and stretched out on your own bed, the thin mattress doing nothing to ease your discomfort.

The lights flickered once, signaling the shutdown for the night. A few seconds later, the cell was bathed in darkness, leaving you with nothing but the faint sound of breathing and the oppressive silence of the prison.

The stress gnawed at you, clawing its way through your mind and body. You shifted on the bed, letting your hand trail over your stomach and then lower. The movements were slow, deliberate, your fingers working against the tension as you tried to block out everything else—the cold, the bruises, the rage that simmered just beneath the surface.

There was no sound from you, just the sound of your fingers playing with yourself. You didn’t care that Abby was there. Nothing mattered but shaking off the day, finding some small release from the weight that threatened to crush you.

The silence broke with her voice, sharp and cutting.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Abby said, her tone as cold and detached as ever. She didn’t even turn to look at you, her words floating out into the dark.

You didn’t stop, didn’t even open your eyes. Your voice was calm, quiet, but just as detached as hers. “I’m trying to calm my nerves down.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel her irritation in the air, heavy and palpable.

“The other way to relieve myself is to beat the shit out of you,” you added, your tone flat and cold as you turned your head slightly to glance at her in the dark. “But since I’m too tired to do that, deal with it. I don’t care.”

Abby didn’t say anything else. You could hear the faint creak of her cot as she shifted, turning her back to you again. The silence returned, heavier this time but not unfamiliar. The tension that always lingered between you both was still there, but neither of you cared enough to push it any further tonight.

Minutes passed. Your movements slowed, the exhaustion finally creeping in and weighing down your limbs. You let out a long breath, your body sinking deeper into the mattress. Abby’s breathing evened out, soft and steady, signaling that she had already drifted off.

Eventually, the darkness swallowed you too, and sleep took over.

9 AM

The sound of water cascading onto the tile filled the communal shower room, steam curling into the air. You stood under the lukewarm spray, your head tilted back as the water ran over your face and shoulders, washing away the grime of the day.

But then, you felt it—a gaze boring into you. You opened your eyes, letting the water stream over your lashes, and turned your head just slightly.

Next to you, barely an arm's length away, was Abby. She was scrubbing at her arms, her cold expression unchanging, but her eyes? They were locked on you, sharp and cutting.

You let out a low scoff, your voice steady and calm despite the tension. "If you keep staring at me, I'll smash your head into the wall."

Abby didn't hesitate. She turned toward you, closing the gap in an instant, her hand shooting out to grab you by the neck. Her grip was firm, strong enough to make it clear she could overpower you if she wanted. The press of her fingers against your skin wasn't enough to choke you, but it was a warning.

"I hate seeing the bitch who killed my father taking a shower like nothing happened" she growled, her voice low and venomous. Her eyes were blazing now, her usual icy demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the rage simmering underneath.

You didn't flinch, meeting her gaze head-on "He deserved every second of it," you spat, your tone like steel. "And I enjoyed it."

Abby's grip tightened. You could see the conflict in her eyes-the overwhelming urge to lash out, to make you pay. Her other hand balled into a fist, and for a moment, you were sure she was about to swing.

"Abby, Y/N, take your fucking fight out of here! We need to shower!"

The sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade. Both of you turned your heads to see Ellie standing a few feet away, a towel slung over her shoulder and an annoyed look plastered on her face. Her tone was more exasperated than angry, but it was clear she wasn't in the mood to deal with your drama.

Abby let go of your neck abruptly, her jaw still tight as she took a step back. The name Ellie had used —your name— hung in the air between you. It wasn't like you were trying to hide it, but hearing it come from someone else made it real. You hadn't even thought about Abby's name until now, but there it was too: Abby.

The room was quiet except for the hiss of the water. Abby didn't say anything, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned back to her own shower. You stood there, and finished rinsing off without another word.

You both knew each other's names now. And somehow, that made everything feel even more personal.

9 PM

The clang of the cell door echoed behind you as you stepped inside. Same routine as yesterday

remove your shoes, shed the weight of the day, and settle in for the restless hours ahead.

you slid off your pants, leaving yourself in your tank top and panties. you wanted to be comfortable tonight, since comfort was rare here you'd take it where you could.

The lights flickered off, leaving the cell bathed in darkness, save for the faint glow from the hallway.

You barely had time to sit on the edge of your cot before you felt it-two hands grabbing you and slamming you into the cold cement wall. The force of it rattled you, but not enough to faze you.

Abby's strength was undeniable, but you weren't about to cower.

Her hands pinned your arms above your head, her body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her. Her breath was steady, controlled, but her grip was anything but gentle.

"You need to watch your mouth when you talk to me," she growled, her voice low and full of restrained anger, "or I'll do it for you."

You tilted your head slightly, meeting her eyes through the dim light. Your face was just inches from hers, close enough that you could feel her breath on your skin. But you didn't flinch. Instead, you let a slow, cold smirk curl across your lips.

"Would like to see you try, Abby," you whispered, your tone calm, sharp, and unapologetically defiant. Saying her name like that-sharp and deliberate-felt like pushing a button, and you weren't about to back down.

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes. It wasn't just anger anymore; it was something darker, something that seemed to snap inside her. Her jaw tightened, and you saw the muscles in her arms tense.

Before you could even react, she manhandled you, tossing you onto her bed with enough force to make the mattress creak. You landed awkwardly, your legs dangling off the edge as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"The fuck is wrong with you, man?" you snapped, your voice sharp and laced with anger. You glared up at her, the fire in your eyes matching the intensity in hers.

Abby stood over you, her chest rising and falling as she loomed like a storm cloud about to break.

Whatever was driving her in that moment, it was wild and unpredictable, and you weren't sure if it was rage or something else entirely. But you weren't about to back down now.

She slid your panties to the side, fingers dipping into your wet folds without warning. You jerked in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips as the cold air hit your exposed skin. Her other hand pressed firmly against your stomach, pinning you down to the bed before you could twist away.

You were shocked, your mind spinning with disbelief

"You like playing with yourself too much," Abby muttered, a smug grin spreading across her face.

Her fingers dragged up, slowly circling your clit with lazy strokes that sent shivers through your body. The slow, deliberate pace was infuriating, her rough fingertips knowing exactly how to get under your skin.

Her grip tightened, keeping you still as she tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them aside.

"I'll kill you," you spat, glaring at her through the dark.

But the words barely left your mouth before she plunged two fingers deep inside you, the sudden intrusion pulling a choked gasp from your throat.

Your walls clenched around her fingers instinctively, the slick sounds of her movements echoing through the cell.

You were about to moan — you could feel it building in your throat — when Abby leaned in and crushed her lips against yours in a heated, brutal kiss. It was angry and rough, a way to shut you up. Her teeth scraped your bottom lip, biting down just enough to sting.

She hated you. God, she hated you. But it didn't stop her.

Abby's fingers curled inside you, sneaking deeper, hitting a spot you couldn't reach yourself. You gasped into her mouth, hips twitching against her hand despite yourself.

"Told you to watch your mouth with me," she breathed, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as her fingers kept moving, relentless in their pace.

"Abby.-" you started, trying to hold on to your composure. "'ll kill you when you're do-"

Your threat was cut short when she pulled her fingers out almost entirely before slamming them back inside, the wet sounds obscene, echoing through the small cell.

Your body jolted at the force, the heat in your core winding tighter and tighter until your stomach clenched.

"Fuck," you whispered, your voice cracking. You hated how desperate you sounded. Hated how close you already were.

Abby smirked against your skin, feeling your walls fluttering around her fingers. Her movements didn't stop, didn't falter, even as your thighs trembled

And then, without warning, you broke. Your back arched off the bed, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your orgasm hit you hard, wave after wave making your body shudder.

Abby pulled her fingers out, and you gasped at the emptiness, feeling the burn of sensitivity as her digits dragged against your walls.

She brought her fingers to her lips, eyes locked on yours, and licked them clean with deliberate, slow swipes of her tongue.

Without warning, her hand shot out and grabbed your neck, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. Her grip was firm, her thumb pressing against your pulse.

"Next time," she said, her voice low and cold, "I'll make you bleed."

And with that, she released you, leaving you panting, sprawled out on her bed. Your body still trembled from the aftershocks as you sat up slowly, glaring at her.

Abby didn’t say another word. she and climbed onto your bed instead, claiming it for herself without so much as a glance.

You would get her back. You had to. But for now, you stayed put, your breath finally evening out as the cell fell back into silence.

[blueiscoool]

‘Ancient Roman’ Solar Roof Tiles Power Pompeii Villa

Ancient Roman ruins at Pompeii have been fitted with invisible solar panels, in a move that will contribute to the archaeological site’s sustainability efforts and cut costs. The innovative panels, which blend into the background by imitating traditional materials, were installed on the House of Cerere, on a thermopolium — a Roman snack bar — and on the House of the Vettii, which recently reopened following 20 years of restoration work.

“They look exactly like the terracotta tiles used by the Romans, but they produce the electricity that we need to light the frescoes,” said Gabriel Zuchtriegel, the director of the archaeological park of Pompeii, in a press release.

Each year, 3.5 million tourists explore the vast ruins of the ancient Roman city, which was buried by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. But due to Pompeii’s size, energy bills are expensive and conventional methods of providing power across the site can threaten its appearance.

“Pompeii is an ancient city which in some spots is fully preserved,” Zuchtriegel said. “Since we needed an extensive lighting system, we could either keep consuming energy, leaving poles and cables around and disfiguring the landscape, or choose to respect it and save millions of euros.” The new technology will help the archaeological site to cut energy bills and make it more enjoyable, he added.

The invisible solar panels — or “traditional PV tiles” as they are technically known — were created by the Italian company Dyaqua. They can be designed to appear like stone, wood, concrete or brick, and hidden on walls, floors and roofs, according to Elisabetta Quagliato, whose family owns Dyaqua, in the press statement.

“We are an archaeological site but we also want to be a real-life lab for sustainability and the valorization of intangible heritage,” Zuchtriegel said. “Our initiative is not merely symbolic. Through the million tourists who visit us every year, we want to send a message to the world: cultural heritage can be managed differently and in a more sustainable way.”

Other locations in Italy using the invisible solar technology are the commune of Vicoforte in Italy and, soon, Rome’s contemporary art museum Maxxi. Public buildings in Evora, Portugal, and Split, Croatia will also install the panels, according to the press statement.

Pompeii’s recent use of these panels is just the beginning, Zuchtriegel said. “From now on, we will be taking this solution into account for all future renovation and restoration projects.”

By Garry Shaw.

[advance-cutting-com-au]

The 4 Contributions of Diamond Wire Sawing Technology to Today’s Industrial-Scale Environment

Diamond wire sawing technology is having a big impact on the way we do things in the modern, industrial-scale environment. And one of the main ways it’s contributing is through its ability to enhance precision and accuracy.

Read more: https://www.advancecutting.com.au/2023/02/15/diamond-wire-sawing-technology/

[wh0re43van]

Sparks (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: You’re a set director on American horror story’s Freakshow. Evan has been trying to convince you to ‘smoke and chill’ for months, but you’ve always rejected him in fear of jeopardizing your job. After a particularly stressful shoot, Evan finally convinces you to spark with him.

Warnings: intense smut, face fucking, choking, drug use.

Word count: 3k

A/n: This is my first time writing in awhile so I’m bit rusty

"Hey y/n I just re-upped,” Evan announces as he walks up behind me.  “He's got the best homegrown around and It's cured perfect every time. Come to my place tonight and I'll let you sample," He offers as he slips an arm around my shoulder. "You don't even have to match, just give me something else in return," he says lowly in my ear. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks blush red. Evans been blatantly flirting with me since we started shooting. It's been my own personal hell having to reject such a perfect man because its 'not professional to have personal relations with the cast'.

"Evan," I sigh as I look up at his dark eyes. "I honestly would love to-" he cuts me off.

"Then consider it y/n," he simply states. I smile at him. I have to admit that he's starting to wear me down

"Evan, I have to finish my walk through before the shooting starts" I turn back to the counter to consult my mockup. He backs up and leans against the wall.

"I’ll just keep you company then," he grins.

•

•

‘Fuck’ I curse internally as I run from a very angry Mr. Murphy. One of my idiot crew members forgot to do their only job and set out the menus for the next scene. We’re an hour behind on filming and we’re only here for three days. The director is pissed to say the least.

I throw open the door to the storage room and start ripping open boxes. I swear I'm going to lose every last ounce of sanity I have left. We started shooting two hours ago and I've rolled my ankle, got broken glass stuck in my hand, and of course, been bitched at constantly.

"Did you find them?" Evan questions as he closes the door behind him.

"What?" I ask, not processing what he's saying as I rip haphazardly through every single cardboard box in this room, brown paper flying everywhere.

"Did you-" He begins to repeat, then pauses. I feel him grab my arm gently, stopping my whirlwind of motion. "Y/N," he says calmy.

"What Evan?" I snap at him. I can feel the stress dripping out of every pore of my body. Turns out stress smells a lot like sweat. Evan jumps a bit at my tone, then simply points his 'lobster claw' to a box of pink menus that I opened without even realizing it. I was so stressed and overwhelmed I didn't even realize I found the goddamn menus four boxes ago.

I groan and lay my head on Evans chest.

"I'm such a fucking stupid idiot." I mumble his white shirt, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan chuckles and clumsily lifts my chin up with his makeup bound hands. His smile immediately drops when he sees my face.

"Hey y/n don't cry," he coos, his voice laced with concern.

"Evan I'm losing my mind," I sniffle as he pulls me into a hug.

"You know what you need?" He asks I shake my head 'yes.'

"A blunt." We both say in unison. I feel his cheek stretch into a smile against mine, proud of himself for finally convincing me.

•

•

My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell to Evans hotel room.

“Ma’ Lady,” Evan bows as he opens the door for me. What a dork.

“Thank you good sir,” I attempt a curtsy as I walk in. I guess were both dorks.

We chuckle as he latches the door behind me.

“Right this way,” he ushers me to his balcony looking over the city. I step out onto the cool concrete, hearing Heaven Beside You by Alice in Chains playing. There's two bean bag chairs set up with a bundle of blankets on each one. Purple and white string lights hang all around the ceiling and railing of the small balcony.

“Wow Evan, this is really cool. I’m impressed with how you spend your free time,” I admit, sitting down in one of the chairs, pulling a blanket into my lap.

“Actually,” he sits down in the chair beside me as he picks up the rolling tray. “I’ve never done this before. I set all of this up as soon as I got home,” he chuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him honestly. I’m dumbfounded. This might seem like a small gesture, but this is one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me. He went out of his way just for me.

“Then don’t say anything. Just grab me that bong,” he grins, pointing to the glass sitting on the ground next to the door. I stand up and bend over to pick up the simple clear bong, feeling Evans gaze burn into the back of me. When I hand him the piece, I get close enough to his face to see that his eyes are already glossy.

“Evan Peters,” I tisk. “did you start with out me?” I ask putting my hand to my chest in faux offense.

“I was a little nervous, I’ve been waiting for this for so long… I was scared if I was sober I’d mess it up,” he admits. His pale cheeks tinting pink.

“I’m flattered,” I smile. He opens the metal grinder sitting on his lap and begins to pack the bowl. “but it is rude to start a sesh before your guest arrives.” He hands me the packed bong.

“Well how’s bout you get this all to yourself and we call it even,” he wagers. I take the bong with a smile, accepting his offer. As I put the cool glass to my lips, I reach for the lighter on Evans thigh, but he snatches it, looking me in the eyes as he flicks the zippo, igniting a hot bright flame that he circles around the bowl. He begins to pull the flame away, but I grab his hand to hold the light in place for a couple more seconds. His eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t want any,” he chuckles, finally pulling away to spark his own joint. I pull the stem and inhale the milky smoke sharply, holding it in my lungs for bit before exhaling slowly. The smoke clouds around my face before a small gust of wind disperses it.

“Yeah, me to,” I grin softly as Evan takes another hit off his joint. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but with the past few weeks I’ve had, I’m goanna need a lot more than some weed to recover from all this stress,” I take another hit and lay my head back in the soft chair, finally feeling my muscles relax as the golden light flows through every nerve of my body. I turn my head and open my heavy eyes to look up at Evan.

“Wow that is bad,” he says, staring at something in the distance. I take this moment to truly admire the man beside me. The purple lights cascade onto his sharp features, violet pin pricks reflect in his coffee-colored eyes. The wind blows his loose brown curls around on his forehead as a rough hand holds the paper filter up to his pink lips. The end of the cone glows crimson as his chest rises, taking in a hit of hot smoke. Evan looks down at me to finish his thought. Had I been sober, I would have quickly looked away. But right now, nothing could tear my eyes from this perfect image in front of me. Evans’ eyes lock into mine as he releases the smoke slowly out through his mouth and nose. “Y/n, I-“ he begins, but before he can finish, I sit up and pull his face into mine. Gently kissing him, the smell of smoke mixed with his cologne is intoxicating all on its own. He tenses for a moment, processing what had just happened, before putting his hand on my back to bring me closer.

“I’m sorry,” I pull away suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so forward. Evan looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks for a second before furrowing his brow,

“Are you kidding me,” ashes fall from his joint onto his pants, reminding him of its presence. He takes small drag before finishing. “That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.” I smile at his confession. He holds the joint to my lips offering me a hit. We hold eye contact as I pull the smoke into my mouth, then to my lungs. “You’re beyond beautiful y/n,” he compliments. I lean into kiss him, shot gunning the smoke to him. He kisses hard and inhales the smoke as if it’s his last breath. He sits the joint in the ash tray then puts his hand on the back of my head, gently but firmly, so I don’t pull away this time, Evan exhales the smoke though his nose, so he doesn’t have to break the kiss. I clumsily crawl into his lap to straddle him, and his hands instinctively grab my ass. The heat from his hands warming me through the thin fabric of my leggings. I feel hungry, starving for more and more of him. As my knees sink into the soft chair around him, I begin to grind my hips against his.

“Evan,” I breath out, begging to feel more of his skin on mine. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and kiss bruised lips as I begin to lift his shirt up. He grabs my hand gently.

“Let’s go inside, darling,” he whispers. “You never know if one of those creeps are near by.” He looks around, checking for paparazzi. I was puzzled for a second, before remembering Evans’ status. I nod and climb off him. He stands, his dark jeans tented at the crotch and his white t-shirt rising and falling quickly on his chest. He grabs my hand to guide me inside.

“Can’t forget this,” I grin, stopping to grab a fresh blunt and the zippo. He chuckles as I spark the cone. He pulls me into his lounge, locking the door and closing the blinds. After I had a few hits, I hand the joint to Evan as I sit down on the leather couch.

“We don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want y/n,” he almost whispers through the smoke, sitting down next to me. I look into his desperate eyes as he hands me the warm paper.

“Please,” I inhale. “Please Evan I need you,” I beg the stoned man in front of me. With that, in one swift move, he takes the cone from my hand, putting it on the side table ash tray, removes his shirt and smashes his lips to mine, laying me down on the sofa. His kisses trail from my lips to my ear. Grabbing my throat gently he whispers. “You have no idea how desperate I am for you,” all I can do is moan in response my brain too high off THC and lust to form a coherent thought. His kisses continue trailing down my neck as his fingers work with the buttons on my black flannel. He smiles like a child when he sees that I have nothing underneath the warm button up. His mouth quickly drops to one breast swirling his warm tongue around as his hand massages my other breast, sending me into a fit of pleasure. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rips off my leggings. He grabs the waistband of my thong. “May I?” he asks with heavy bloodshot eyes.

“Please,” I nod. He wastes no time removing the flimsy fabric and spreading my already trembling legs. He dips a long finger into my heat, groaning at how slick I already am.

“All this, just for me?” He licks the fluid off his finger, just to dip it back inside of me and out once more. “Have a taste baby,” he reaches his finger up and I close my mouth around it, licking seductively, making sure to keep eye contact.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my nose. He quickly dips his head back down, licking from my entrance up to my clit, sucking and licking with expertise, earning a loud moan and a string of profanities from me. I quickly feel my orgasm building in my stomach, but its not enough.

“Evan, I need you to fuck me, please,” I whimper. He pulls his head up, his mouth and chin shimmering. I definitely didn’t need to ask twice. He jumps up dropping his pants and boxers allowing his perfect cock to spring free, giving himself a few good pumps. I shiver at the sight. Evan dips his head down to my core one last time, giving me a kiss then allowing a trail of warm spit to drip down and trickle to my entrance. The sight is enough to make me melt into this sticky leather couch. Evan lines his length up with me, pulling my hips up and guiding me onto his dick. Slowly filling me, stopping halfway in allowing me to adjust, but I don’t want it. I buck my hips forward, making him bottom out immediately. A string of curses leaves both our lips as he pokes at my stomach from the inside. He begins thrusting quickly, taking the hint that I’m not  wanting to make love tonight. Evans’ toned body begins to shimmer with sweat as he brings a strong hand to my throat squeezing the sides, making me just lightheaded enough to intensify the pleasure. He looks down at me, biting his lip, as he watches my face contort in pleasure from what he’s doing to me. The louder I moan, the harder he pounds into me. My breathing starts to hitch with each thrust as I clench around him.

“Evan I’m going to-” before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out completely, making me groan from the sudden empty feeling. I curse and open my mouth to question him.

“Turn over,” he demands as he stands up. I obey and begin to shift on the couch. “hands and knees.” He specifies, slapping me hard on the ass, I cant help but giggle as the sting lingers on my sweaty skin. I prop myself up on my forearms on the arm of the couch and spread my legs, wiggling my ass a bit as wait for Evan to fill me back up.

“Your body is so perfect,” he says as grabs and kisses my ass before I feel him line himself up again, quickly thrusting in to satisfying the ache in the empty space he left behind in my stomach. Once he finds his rhythm, I feel his hand snake around my throat and the other around my torso as he pulls me flush against him. My shoulders press against his as I arch my back. In this new potion, he hits my g spot perfectly.

“Shit Evan! Yes please,” I pant. “just like this. Please fuck me just like this! Don’t stop,” I plead as I squeeze his strong arms that are wrapped around me. Even groans lowly at the praise.

“I need you to cum y/n,” he whispers in my ear, reaching down to rub circles on my clit. “Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” All I can do is moan and nod my head ‘yes’. His thrust propels me towards my orgasm as I scream out profanities. “That’s it, good girl,” his hot breath moans into my ear laced with the smell of stale smoke. I curl my toes and grip his forearms with all my force, leaving nail marks as my whole body tenses, then releases in pleasure.

“Evan I’m cumming!” My screams and the sound of our skin slapping together fill the room. “Fuck you make me feel so good,” I whimper as he begins to slow down his thrusts, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Good job baby,” he pulls out, pumping himself. “now get on your knees. Open your mouth.” I quickly obliged. I drop down and look up at him. The sight of his heaving, glistening chest and his brown curls sticking to his red sweaty face is enough to make me orgasm all over again. He reaches his veiny arm down and pulls my hair into a ponytail and. I happily open my mouth for him as he gently taps his rock hard tip on my lips, I moan quietly as he begins to slowly thrust in my face. I take it upon myself to press his dick as far as I can down my throat, gagging as my nose touches his abdomen.

“Holy fucking shit baby,” he pants out, now fucking my face. It doesn’t take long before he’s twitching in my deep in my throat and the salty pre cum drips into my mouth. “That’s it baby, fuck,” he swears as he grips my hair so hard I can feel a few strands snapping. It takes all of my strength to pull my head a away.

“Cum on my face, please Evan,” I gasp for breath, looking up at him with tears running from my pink eyes, as thick strands of spit string from my lips to his perfect dick. With a few pumps, and his death grip still on my hair, I open my mouth and hum in satisfaction as he releases his strings of hot liquid all over my face. He groans and curses, finally releasing my hair.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighs, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created on my face. He brings his thumb to my mouth scooping up some of his cum and bring it to my lips. I smile around his thumb, lapping up all the liquid. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he looks at me with such strong admiration in his eyes, I can’t help but blush as I lay my head into the hand he puts on my cheek. “Lets get you into the shower,” he begins guides me to the bathroom but I stop him.

“Don’t you want a cigarette first” I offer, grabbing the menthols from my flannel pocket. He grins. “Well, I’m not going to ever turn down a cigarette after sex that good,” he looks at the state of my face again. “But let me at least wipe off your face first. It’s the least I could do.” I giggle as he walks over to get a wet rag. This is absolutely worth risking my job for.

[eternalfarae]

Warning: This story contains explicit sexual content, language, and situations, including voyeurism and emotional manipulation. All characters are 18 years or older. If any of these themes are not to your liking, please proceed with caution. • toxic megumi,soft yuji •

Megumi x reader x yuji

You stroll down the dimly lit hallway, the echo of footsteps from distant classrooms your only company. A muffled sound reaches your ears, faint but insistent. It's a moan, definitely human, and definitely not from a place where it should be. Your curiosity piqued, you pause, straining to pinpoint the source.

A soft voice, a girl's, floats down, "Meg... Megumi!" It's a name you know all too well—your heart skips a beat as the words resonate through the silence. You've heard that name whispered in the hallways, seen the way girls at school giggle when he passes by, and felt the cold shoulder from those who know you two are together. But why would she be calling out for him here, in the school's abandoned rooftop?

You tiptoe closer, each step feeling like it's echoing through your very soul. Your hand clutches the railing, your knuckles turning white as you lean over to peek through the narrow gap between the stairs and the rooftop. Your breath catches in your throat when you see them, Megumi Fushiguro, your supposed boyfriend, with his pants around his ankles, and a girl you don't recognize sprawled on the dusty concrete, her legs wrapped around his waist. The sight is like a punch to the gut, and you feel like you're watching a movie scene that's been paused mid-action.

Tears begin to well in your eyes, the first one slipping down your cheek, leaving a warm trail that feels like a brand. The sound of your own breathing fills your ears, heavy and painful, as the reality of the situation sinks in. You can't believe it—not Megumi, not with someone else. The betrayal is a thick, palpable thing in the air, choking you.

As you make your way home, the world feels like it's spinning out of control. Your feet feel heavy, each step a struggle as you replay the scene in your mind over and over again. The rain starts to fall, cold droplets mixing with your tears, creating a sad, blurry mess on your cheeks. You don't bother to wipe them away; you're beyond caring what you look like.

When you finally reach the sanctuary of your room, you throw your bag onto the floor and collapse onto the bed, the soft mattress not providing the comfort you crave. Your phone, a silent accomplice to your pain, lies on the floor, forgotten until it vibrates. The screen lights up with a message from Megumi, saying he misses you. The irony is so bitter it's like a slap in the face. You snatch it up, your eyes burning with rage and despair.

With a growl, you hurl the phone across the room, watching as it smashes against the wall. The sound echoes through the quiet space, a physical manifestation of the chaos in your heart. Shards of glass scatter, glinting in the light like a shattered promise. You don't bother to go to it, to check if it's still working. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters right now except the crushing weight of his betrayal.

Days pass by in a blur, each one a little heavier than the last. You avoid Megumi at school, unable to face the lie of his smile. The whispers of the students cut like knives, but you keep your head high, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. You don't know how he explains your sudden coldness, but you suspect it doesn't bother him much. After all, he has his little rooftop escapades to keep him entertained.

Then, one rainy afternoon, you find yourself in the quiet embrace of the library, a place you've come to seek solace in. That's when you meet him—Yuji Itadori, a new student with a gentle smile and a warm aura that seems to light up even the darkest corners of the room. He's Megumi's friend, but you don't care. You're desperate for someone to understand the pain you're in, and the way he looks at you, with genuine concern, tells you that maybe, just maybe, he'll be different.

You strike up a conversation, and somehow, it feels like the first real conversation you've had in days. He listens, nodding thoughtfully, not judging or interrupting. His eyes, a deep brown, seem to see right through to the core of your soul, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel heard. You don't mention Megumi, not yet, but there's something about the way Yuji speaks about his friend that makes you hope he's not the same. You're cautious, though; you don't want to be fooled again, so you keep your guard up, even as he offers you a cup of tea and a comforting smile.

The weeks that follow are a strange dance of avoidance and comfort. You find yourself drawn to Yuji, his kindness a stark contrast to Megumi's cruel indifference. He notices you at school, always making a point to check in, to ask if you're okay. It's in these small moments that you start to let your guard down, to believe that maybe not all men are like Megumi. You share your love for books, your dreams, and your fears. He laughs at your jokes, and his eyes light up when you talk about the future.

One evening, as the rain taps a rhythmic beat against the library windows, Yuji's hand brushes yours as you reach for the same book. The contact is electric, sending a jolt through your body. You look up, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, time seems to stop. The air feels charged with something new, something hopeful. It's not the same all-consuming passion that Megumi had once kindled in you, but it's gentle, it's kind—and it feels right.

As the tension between you becomes palpable, you both slowly pull your hands away, the moment lingering like the scent of rain on skin. You clear your throat, trying to shake off the sudden warmth that's spread through your body. The silence stretches, filled with the sound of your racing heart and the soft rustle of pages as you pretend to focus on the book in your lap.

Yuji's eyes are on you, searching, but he says nothing. He seems to understand that you're not ready to talk about it yet, that the wound is still fresh and raw. You appreciate his patience, his unspoken support. It's a stark contrast to Megumi's constant pushing and prodding, his need to be the center of your world.

As the tension between you grows, it morphs into something different, something that makes your cheeks flush and your palms sweat. It's not the fear and anger you felt on the rooftop; it's a new kind of heat, a yearning for a connection that's not tainted by manipulation or deceit. The way Yuji looks at you, the way he seems to truly see you, it's like a balm to your soul. You find yourself leaning closer to him, drawn by an inexplicable force.

One day, as you sit side by side in the library, the silence becomes too much to bear. Your eyes meet, and for a moment, it feels like the air around you has thickened, like it's holding its breath in anticipation. You're acutely aware of his presence, the way his leg presses against yours, the warmth of his hand so close to yours on the armrest. Without thinking, you reach out and take it, intertwining your fingers with his. He looks surprised but doesn't pull away. Instead, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, sending a wave of comfort through you.

The rain outside has turned into a storm, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance like a warning of the tumultuous emotions growing inside you. You lean into him, feeling his heart beat in time with yours. His eyes never leave yours, and you can see the question in them, the hope and the fear all rolled into one. You nod almost imperceptibly, and he understands. His hand moves from the armrest to your thigh, his touch featherlight, as if asking for permission to go further.

As he slides his fingers under your skirt, you gasp, but not in protest. The feeling is foreign yet familiar, the sensation of someone touching you with care and respect. He keeps his eyes on you, watching for any sign of discomfort, his movements tentative. You bite your lower lip, nodding again, and he continues, his touch growing bolder. Your body responds to his gentle exploration, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the anger that still lingers from Megumi's betrayal.

His thumb traces the line of your panties, and you lean back into the chair, your eyes fluttering closed. The sound of the rain and the rustle of books are the only sounds in the library, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. Each stroke sends a shiver up your spine, and you find yourself letting out a soft moan. He stills, his eyes searching your face, making sure you're okay. You give him a shaky smile, your breath hitching as his touch becomes more insistent.

"Does that feel good?" he whispers, his voice a soft rumble that sends waves of pleasure through your body. You nod, unable to find the words to express the sensations he's stirring within you. His fingers slip under the fabric, brushing against your wetness, and you tense for a moment before relaxing into his touch. The library's strict rules and the fear of being caught add an illicit thrill to the moment, making your heart race even faster.

You lean into him, his hand cupping your cheek as his other hand continues to explore your body. His eyes never leave yours, searching for any sign of distress, any reason to stop. But all you feel is the warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his concern. You bite your lip harder, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer to him, silently begging for more.

The library around you fades away, and all that's left is the sound of the rain and the thunder of your heartbeat. His hand slides further, his fingers slipping inside you, and you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut. The sensation is overwhelming, and you clutch at his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric as he begins to move, his touch tender and sure. His thumb keeps up its steady rhythm, and you feel yourself rising, your body tightening with each stroke.

You're aware of the risk, the danger of being discovered, but the thrill of it only adds to the moment. You bite your lip hard, trying to keep the noises in, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You can feel the eyes of the books on you, the pages seeming to whisper of forbidden love and passionate encounters. The scent of old paper and ink mingles with the sweetness of your desire, creating a heady mix that fills the air around you.

Then, through the fog of pleasure, you catch a glimpse of someone in the distance—Megumi, his eyes wide with shock as he sees you in Yuji's arms. The realization of what's happening dawns on his face, and you feel a twinge of satisfaction, a twisted vindication at his reaction. But it's quickly overshadowed by the intense sensations coursing through you as Yuji's fingers dance within you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Yuji's smirks widens, his eyes flicking over to Megumi before returning to yours, his gaze filled with a mischievous spark. He seems to take a perverse delight in knowing he's caught his friend's eye, his movements becoming more deliberate as he watches the shock play out across Megumi's features. His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, and you can't help but wonder if he's doing it to taunt him, to show that he can give you what Megumi never could.

You cling to Yuji, your nails digging into his arms as the pleasure builds. It's a feeling you haven't experienced in so long, one that feels so right it's almost painful. Megumi had always found your clinginess annoying, a sign of your weakness, but in Yuji's arms, it's like finding home. You moan his name, the sound barely above a whisper, your cheeks flushing as you feel Megumi's gaze burning into you. But this time, it's not fear or anger—it's triumph. You're with someone who cherishes your touch, who makes you feel safe, who doesn't treat your love like a game to be won.

As you reach the peak, the tension in your body snaps, and you come undone. The world around you shatters into a million pieces, each one a spark of pure bliss. You lean your head back, the rain outside pounding in time with the pulse in your neck, and let the orgasm wash over you. Megumi is just a distant specter, his shocked expression frozen in your peripheral vision as he watches you with a girl in his arms, but you don't care. You're too lost in the moment, too caught up in the warmth and tenderness that Yuji's giving you to bother with the cold, hollow feeling he's left behind.

Yuji's hand slows, his touch gentle as he brings you back down to earth. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath hot and damp from the rain that's seeped into the library. You're trembling, your legs weak, but he's there, holding you up, supporting you as you come down from the high. His eyes are filled with concern, but there's also something else—a hunger, a need that mirrors your own.

You nod, and he helps you stand, his arm around your waist as you make your way to the bathroom. The cool tiles feel like a slap in the face, a harsh reminder of reality, but his presence is a warm blanket that you cling to. He helps you into a stall and locks the door, his hands shaking slightly as he takes care of you. He's not like Megumi; he doesn't treat you like a conquest to be used and discarded. There's a softness in his touch that you hadn't known existed.

Yuji gently wipes away the evidence of your encounter, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. You watch him, the way he focuses on your every need, the way he whispers reassurances that you're okay, that you're safe. You can see the guilt in his reflection, the understanding that he's just been a part of something that was never meant to be. But there's also something else—desire, raw and unfiltered, that makes your heart race.

He helps you adjust your clothing, his hands careful not to cause any discomfort. Each movement is deliberate, as if he's trying to erase the memory of Megumi's roughness with his own gentle touch. The coldness of the bathroom is a stark contrast to the heat of your bodies just moments ago, but it's also a sobering reminder that what happened was real, and there's no turning back.

[okminer07]

Nuna Pt 1

This is a sort of fanfic and gift for @muppenthings. I absolutely love her artwork and the characters she has created, and I really wanted to try and write a story including one of her characters and one of my own creations, an axolotl mer. I hope to write more even though I've created way too many projects for myself at once. Hope you enjoy!

Like so many times before, she found herself curled up at the bottom of a tank. This one was much more cramped than any she had been in before. Back at the aquarium, her tank had been large enough for her to swim around in, though every which way there would be prying eyes watching her every action. At first, it had been amusing to stare back at the wide-eyed humans, even doing things to elicit a reaction. But as the years passed, even that grew dull. The aquarium hadn’t been the worst, that’s for sure. At least there she wasn’t alone, though the company wasn’t the most pleasant, it was company.  

It felt stupid, but she almost wished she was back there now as the walls of this new tank closed in around her, only just big enough for her and only her: no sand, no rocks, no nothing, just cold glass.   

She wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there when a noise other than her shuddering breaths hit her. Glancing up, she saw the warehouse garage door open and two humans walking in. They headed directly for her. She glared at them, feathery gills curling forward.  

Without giving her much more than a glance, the two men grabbed either side of the tank and hoisted it up. Still glaring, she moved around as much as she could, just wanting to make their job harder. They didn’t seem to care though and were soon lowering her back down onto a cart. One of them lingered and teasingly tapped on the glass before signaling to his partner to start pushing.   

The wheels beneath her rumbled and screeched as they began to move. They headed towards the open garage door. She squinted as sunlight hit her as soon as they had wheeled out of there. Once her eyes were adjusted, she peered through the glass. Wherever she was, it was by the ocean. Several boats were lined up along a pier that they were wheeling her across now. They took a sharp turn and began down a portion of a dock that cut right through the lines and lines of boats.   

As they passed them, Nuna averted her gaze. So many of those horrible things in one place couldn’t mean anything good.  

“Which way was the enclosure for this one?”  

The other man looked incredulously at the other, “How the hell should I know? I thought you knew which way it was so I was just following you.”  

“Well, I was waiting for you to tell me I was going in the wrong direction. I’m guessing they’ve either made a new place for her somewhere in the bay.”  

“But she’s freshwater! Shouldn’t she be in-”  

“The other one's freshwater too, and he seems to be doing just fine. Now come on.”  

They continued down the docks, passing boat after boat. Making a sharp left, the tank was heaved up a wooden incline. The two men were both grumbling once they had reached the top and didn’t make it very far before one of them began to complain again.   

“How much further do we have to push this thing?”  

“I uh…” the taller of the two looked around, “I don’t know.”  

His partner scoffed, “You don’t know? Well then why am I even listening to you?”  

The other suddenly shoved himself away from the cart, “Because I’m the one actually trying to figure this out here!”  

“Yeah well, you haven't figured out anything!”  

“Well if you’re so wise, why don’t you-”  

As they continued to argue, Nuna simply tuned them out and instead peered through the glass at her new surroundings. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she peered over the edge of the concrete pier and saw water below. It looked to be salty in nature but that didn’t matter, it was open water!   

She peered over her shoulder as a plan began to form in her mind. The two men were still fighting, their argument only getting more heated by the minute. Her gills uncurled and twitched with anticipation as she looked back down at the water. One chance, she had one chance at this.   

As much as she could in the limited space, she situated herself as far from the side of the tank facing the ledge. She breathed, large blue eyes staring down the glass wall. With as much force as she would muster from both her hands and tail, she threw herself forward.  

The tank lurched forward as she slammed into the glass. Grimacing as dull pain blossomed throughout her body, she looked back over her shoulder. The two hadn’t noticed a thing. So relieved she could cry, she did it again, and again, and again. The tank inched its way further and further off the cart with each blow.  

Finally, after slamming herself again and again against the glass, the tank’s edge teetered on the cart until it began to fall forward. Nuna pressed herself against the glass and watched as it toppled off the cart. Her stomach dropped as her view of the sky was replaced by the approaching water.  

The tank hit the water’s surface and she was slammed back against the glass, the force of her head hitting it causing it to crack. She groaned, clutching her head as it throbbed painfully. 

As the tank began to sink, she heard yelling from above her and looked up to see the faces of both the men staring down at her. They both looked dumbfounded. Nuna smirked up at them as the entirety of the tank slipped beneath the surface.   

The open water surrounding her was an inviting shade of blue, seeming to stretch on forever. It had been so long, so long since she had been able to stare off into the depths and not be met with a child or researcher's face staring back at her. The ability to swim endlessly through it was just within her reach. All that stood between her now was oh-so-familiar glass.   

Her eyes fell upon the crack her head had made. Raising both her fists, she began to pound against the glass. Low cries of desperation slipped out of her as the crack began to grow and she began to hammer against the surface more feverishly. Come on, please, please!   

The glass gave way and her fist soared right through it. Her fingertips tingled painfully at the unfamiliar salt water, it seeped under her nails and stung. She gritted her teeth and continued to shatter the glass. The whole panel suddenly gave way and she instantly swam out.  

Her skin stung all over the moment she swam out into the water. She let out a pained cry, screwing her eyes shut. It was most painful on her belly, which was decorated with scales and offered many crevices for that burning salt to burrow into. She curled into a ball, rubbing herself all over, trying to soothe the pain.  

Slowly, it began to dissipate. The stinging began to dull. Nuna cracked her eyes open, clutching herself as she gasped for breath. I’m ok. I’m ok. She slowly unfurled her tail and gills. 

I-Im, I’m free. She thought, letting out a pained laugh. Her face split into a smile and she continued to laugh as she swam loops. I’m out, never gonna have to see a human again! Never gonna have to deal with tanks! Never-   

She froze as soon as she felt it, sensed it. Her gills twitched as they felt the shift in the water. Something moving. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she gazed into the blue abyss. Nothing. She squinted, still nothing.  

Her tail flicked nervously as she continued to sense… something. Maybe someone? Her eyes brightened. What if it was another mer? Someone… someone who could help her? Nuna began to wrack her brains, how did you say hello again in mermish? Oh gods, she had practically forgotten her own language.  

“Hello?” she called out in human, the only language she had.   

No response. 

“Hello? Is… is someone out there?”  

This time, she heard something, but it wasn’t a voice. It was a low rumble. Her tail flicked as her bones seemed to rattle. Wh-what… what was-  

Something began to emerge. Its outline was barely visible but what she could see of it was massive. What was worse was it was becoming clearer… it was getting closer.   

Nuna’s eyes widened, she spun around on the spot and began to swim in the opposite direction. Another low rumble rang out, causing her tail to swish more frantically. She looked over her shoulder and all the color drained from her face. Whatever it was had also quickened its pace, she could vaguely make out a face with two orange eyes. 

She whipped her head back around and tried to propel herself forward with her arms. Even if she had no idea what it was, there was no way anything that big could be anything else other than a threat to her existence, a predator. Her eyes began to sting as hysteria began to overtake her. It’s- it’s gonna get me! It’s gonna eat me! T-this will all have been for nothing! She shook her head, no, no! You won’t let it! You won’t!  

Suddenly, the ocean all but stopped, and in its place was a large rock wall. She came to an abrupt stop, whipping her head all over, looking for where else to go. The low rumbling of the creature was getting louder, she didn’t have much time. Seeing nowhere else to go, she dove down.  

She was quickly met with the sandy sea floor, faced with the same problem. Looking around, her eyes lit up as they landed upon a small opening in the rock face. Without a second thought, she darted through it. It opened into a small cave, just big enough for her but certainly not that… that thing!   

Heart still hammering against her ribs, Nuna swam over to the furthest corner of the cave and tried to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Please… Just… just go away. Just go-    

A low rumbling rattled her bones as her surroundings darkened. Her entire body was trembling like she was in frigid arctic water. The water around her seemed to shift and she could hear whatever was out there moving. She looked to the cave entrance and slapped a hand over her mouth, preventing herself from screaming.  

Where the entrance had once been, there was now an eye. A piercing orange eye nearly the same size as her entire body. It blinked as it began to survey the cave with pronounced slowness. Nuna froze, holding her breath. Her heart plummeted when it flicked over to her curled-up form. Its pupil dilated.   

The eye suddenly whisked away from the entrance and for a moment, she uselessly hoped that it had lost interest. All those hopes were crushed when the cave gave a great shudder. She cried out as two long and clawed fingers longer and thicker than her entire being, slammed through the entrance. They began to try and wiggle their way deeper in, flipping and turning every which way, all their movements directed her way. She pressed herself against the cave wall so hard it was starting to hurt and squeezed her eyes shut as the cave continued to tremble almost as much as her.  

After what felt like an eternity of panicked, quaking, darkness, it stopped. A low and short rumble caused Nuna to crack open her eyes. The thing’s fingers had withdrawn and had been replaced with that same orange eye, fixated right back onto her. It squinted and let out another rumble more like a deep whine this time.  

She remained silent as she stared right back at it, bracing herself for it to continue to try and get at her. But it didn’t. Slowly, after giving her one last look, the eye pulled away, leaving the cave entrance open.  

For a few agonizing minutes, she waited. Waited to see if it would do anything else.if it would come back. When she heard nor saw anything, she slowly left her spot against the wall. 

Tentatively, she swam over to the cave entrance and went to peek her head out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement below her. She shrieked and darted back to her place against the wall. Once again, the creature’s eye blocked off the opening and fixated upon her. A second or two later, it went away again.  

Nuna breathed, clutching at her chest as she slid back down onto the rock floor. It’s out there. Right outside, waiting. She swallowed and looked back towards the entrance. No doubt right below it, the creature was poised and ready. Her head slumped against the wall; she’d just have to wait it out. Wait until it loses interest and swims away. She bent her tail and hugged it to her chest. She’d just have to wait.

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.8 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 8: Nine to Five

Chapter 7 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

A/N: Don't come at me for the ending :)

Warning: fem. masturbation, sex toys, and mentions of explicit sexual content, MDNI!

“Again, thanks for everything, Shiu. Can’t even imagine what we would’ve done without you. No money, no car—”

“Don’t worry about it.” A loud chortle rumbled against the man’s chest as heavy smoke wafted from the cigarette dangling between his teeth. “Wouldn’t pass up the chance to see this failed Casanova humiliate himself for the world.”

Your exchange was cut short as Toji forced his way into the apartment, mumbling curses under his breath. You hadn’t made sense of a word he’d said since he gave into your pleas for calling for help (No way in hell we are hijacking a car, Toji!), refusing to acknowledge his friend’s kindness in the same hopeless way he refused to acknowledge their friendship.

You wondered what it was like between them when you weren’t around to calm the spirits. Neither screamed “chatty” exactly, and pulling words out of their mouths was slightly less excruciating than plucking out a wisdom tooth with pliers. Aside from work, they seemed to have little in common. Shiu’s pride and joy was his extensive collection of tropical fish, while Toji only knew the grilled mackerel you served with his rice every morning.

“You should stop by for dinner sometime. I’m sure Toji would—”

“He wouldn’t.” A gruff voice rang from a distance that defied an ordinary human’s hearing range.

You experienced all the embarrassment that came with excusing a difficult child’s behavior. But Shiu was understanding. After all, he and Toji went back even longer than you did.

“Make sure that idiot’s ready at 8. And tell him this is borrowed, not kept.” You received the garment bag from his hands and gently folded it over your arm. “Pulled enough strings to land him that job. He screws up; he’s on his own.”

You nodded, your curiosity beating him to the elevator. “What kind of job is it?”

“Zen’in didn’t tell you?” Shiu shook his head in amusement. “‘course he didn’t.” He flicked the cigarette butt and stubbed it with his sole, therefore mocking the no smoking sign on the concrete wall behind him.

“Look, don’t want any part in your sappy love story, but cut him some slack. That prideful bastard wouldn’t bow that stubborn head of his ‘less it was chopped off its place—you know how he is—yet he practically begged me to find his ass something respectful.”

Begged…?

“Point is, you don’t get into those companies without a bunch of glorified parchment, and a hit list doesn’t count as CV. He’ll have to work his way outta the mail room. He soaks up experience, and maybe he cracks it to sales. Just make sure he actually goes. Pay’s good, perks even better. Feel free to start pumping out kids.”

“You wouldn’t know why he needed the job, right?”

A cryptic smile accompanied him into the lift. Without answering, he reached for the crumpled Lucky Strike pack in his jacket’s inner pocket and pressed the button to the garage. The only times you saw him without a cigarette was in the short interval between his switching from a burnt-out to a new one.

“Eight sharp. Not a minute later.” He warned as he leaned back against the railing, fumbling with an unresponsive lighter. “Fucking ‘ell.”

You held the bag to your chest, practiced a small bow, and sincerely thanked him for all those years he took good care of Toji.

“Dinner offer’s still on! I can do Korean—how’s dakgalbi with lots of cheese sound?”

“Can’t believe how hard that bastard lucked out.”

The doors began to close before you could make out what he said, the final rings of smoke dispersing with his departure.

A trail of misplaced dirty laundry welcomed you into the apartment; slippers flipped and sweatpants scattered, with black boxers strewn outside the bathroom door like a doormat. You scrutinized the dried precum stain on the latter with near scientific interest, not being in any real hurry to stow them away until the water flow that streamed from the shower head dramatically decreased.

Shit, shit, fuck!

Sprinting across the hall, you dunked the clothes into the basket in time for Toji’s grand entrance with nothing but a towel his thumb and forefinger kept clipped low around his hip. Steam rolled in spirals from each contoured muscle that adorned his scarred skin, a light red coloring him from head to toe.

“That jackass left?”

You tried to block out the sensual slink of his hips as he strode to your shared wardrobe, focusing instead on the countless smudges that dressed your mirror. Still in view, he fished out a clean pair of boxers—one that he had no qualms changing into, the curve of his ass distinct as the fuzzy towel pooled around his feet.

“He—um.” Droplets of water rained from long obsidian strands while he shook off the excess moisture, the reflection of his jade eyes narrowing at the lack of follow-up. “What did you ask again?”

The sweet and spicy notes of a deodorant that could only be new took you by surprise as Toji towered over you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I asked, when did ya turn into such a perv?”

You deserved that.

“Like what you see?” His tone was more inquisitive than condescending, like your answer actually mattered to him.

Even after an entire night of touching each other, you doubted you could ever get used to being with someone whose body fit both the requirements of a marbled statue and an action movie star. You felt stupidly giddy, longing to squeeze your head between his pecs and lick him up like an overly affectionate pup who knew neither shame nor boundaries.

Admitting to it was a different thing.

“You should let me cut your hair.” You begrudgingly looked up. Not that his face didn’t bring out the same primal instincts. “People will think you descended from the mountains.”

“Didn’t ask about people. Only care about you.”

Fuck it.

“You turn me on.”

“Yeah?” His voice turned into a low purr, hooded eyes locked with yours up until your lips connected.

The pleasant warmth of his fingertips as they tipped your chin clashed with the cold, damp hair that tickled your cheeks. It went both ways. He showed you when he pushed your hands from the hard ridges of his stomach to the harder erection his underwear packed, firmly cupping your smaller palms against it.

“Wanna be inside you so badly.” Toji murmured, nipping at your bottom lip while you rubbed at his bulge, long strokes earning you little sighs of satisfaction. “Feel you wrap around me. The things I want to do to you—fuck.”

Wetness leaked from his slit, ruining yet another pair of underwear. He was so achingly sensitive, his balls twitching for the sweet release that would either quench or worsen his thirst.

Eight sharp. Not a minute later.

“You are gonna hate me.” Your palms traveled up his chest, mostly failing to put distance between your mouth and his, as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled your bodies together.

“Could never hate you.”

“Never?”

His tongue broke free from the kiss. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What did ya do?”

“Nothing!” You reassured him with a nervous smile, pecking his lips. “It’s just—it’s 7:30, you know?”

“Good. And I thought the telemarketing watch I ordered was lost in the mail.”

“Shut up!” You chuckled. “Shiu said I should have you ready by 8.”

“Don’t give a damn what he said.” Toji went back to littering your skin with kisses, starting from your cheek and slowly expanding to your neck. He tugged your shirt off your shoulder with his teeth, sturdy hips bucking against your flimsy shorts. “I can do with twenty minutes. No foreplay.”

“Toji—”

“Fifteen minutes.” His palm squeezed around your breast, wet tongue flicking right behind your earlobe. “Just bend over f’me and I’ll take care of the rest. Fuck you full with my cum.”

“Oh my god, Toji.” Your breath stuttered in your throat, your panties clinging to your slit as if you’d been standing under rain.

“Yeah? You’d like that?” He mouthed at your neck, sucking at least three more marks you had no way of concealing unless you scarfed up. “Ready to see what ten years of wanting to pound that pussy feels like?”

He practically begged me to find his ass something respectful.

He screws up; he’s on his own.

“Toji…”

His affections ran out at the same time his mood spoiled, forehead resigning against your shoulder. He knew what his name in that tone meant, and he hated it—more than you hated yourself for denying him.

“Y’are fucking killing me,” was the last thing he said before hopping into your bed, springs creaking beneath his weight. “Tell him I ain’t goin’.”

Of course he hadn’t bothered drying off, and of course your sheets soaked up the water from his body like a sponge. He buried his head in your pillow and stretched his limbs across the mattress. No sound. No movement. Like a corpse washed to the shore. He did say you killed him.

Such a baby.

You padded toward the bed and took a seat beside him, running your fingers through his choppy hair. He didn’t react. Not at first. You assumed this was him being pouty, but then you recalled all he had to deal with in the last 48 hours and felt incredibly sorry for him. Heading to work without a wink of sleep was the final nail in the coffin.

“What are you doing?” Green eyes blinked behind a veil of black as you brought the towel to his nape and gently wrung the lower tufts.

“You’ll get a crick in the neck if you nap with water in your hair.”

“Not trynna convince me to go?”

“Why would I? You said you’re not going and that’s it.”

Toji sat up against the headboard, the look on his face one of disbelief.

“I’m happy supporting you.” The bed dipped as you resumed your handiwork, brushing a strand away from his creased forehead. “It’s like having my very own kept man. Makes me feel rich.” You smiled.

He didn’t return it. But he did sigh. “We need money. Y’always whine about that.”

“You won’t hear me whine again. Besides, my schedule is too light. I can always ask that old man for a few extra shifts.” That was a lie. You bordered on exceeding the legal limit of working hours per week.

“And you’re fine with that.” He stated rather than asked, and when you didn’t reply, he simply rolled to the other side of the bed. “Fucking liar.”

“What happened to you not hating me?”

“I don’t. My balls do. They wanna smack your pussy.”

“You’re so damn vulgar!”

You still giggled as you nestled in the little pillow space he’d left, arm draped over his waist and fingers finding purchase somewhere between his abs. You kissed down his shoulders, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply into the scent laced through the pores of his skin. He’d gone a bit overboard with the quantity, but that wasn’t unheard of from someone who only used fragrance-free toiletries.

Still, it suited him.

“Said the tease.” He contemplated peeling your hand off him but decided against it when he felt you moving lower. Way lower than he thought you would without his guidance.

“Who said I’m teasing?” Your fingers dipped into the waistband of his underwear, feeling out the smoothness of skin and the coarseness of hair above the sole unexplored part of his body. “I want you, Toji. Not what you bring or don’t bring to the table. Just you. God, you’d probably laugh your ass off if you knew how much I actually want you.”

Tears prickled your eyes, swelling as emotion in your heart. Being this sincere scared you, especially with how rapidly your relationship was escalating. Ten years was a long time, and two days felt awfully short to recuperate all that was lost—to shake the image of his footprints slowly fading into snow eight years ago.

A hand closed around yours, thick fingers delicately squeezing between your knuckles, wary of the fresh nicks they donned. “I wouldn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Your voice a frail whisper made of glass. “I mean—”

“Because I want you more, dummy.”

“Didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“It is now.” Toji pulled your hand away from his body and pinned it to the mattress, his other arm crossing over your shoulders as he gently rolled you below him. “And I won.”

He gazed down at your face, all flustered with glassy eyes that fluctuated between overwhelming lust and unspoken worry. You think too much. You worry too much. You feel too much. He wanted to accuse you of every single one of those crimes but couldn’t find the words to do so, because he liked that about you.

He liked how your hands trembled with need when they touched him, how your voice broke like it couldn’t bear the weight of its words, how vulnerable and small you looked in his arms—but most of all, he liked what you breathed into him, what your puny fingers sculpted his soul into. Because he only ever liked himself when he was with you, and that was exactly why he wanted to offer you more than a tattered old shirt with rips around the seams.

“How much time?”

“Huh?” You gaped.

His scar twisted into a smirk as he lowered his face to yours—a crooked grin once you closed your eyes and puckered your lips in expectancy of his. So much more. He pressed down against your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip until his thumb slipped in and you gave his nail a firm, albeit painless, bite.

“Better not do that when my dick goes in there.” He tsked.

Immediately, you coughed out his finger along with an aggravated “Toji!”

“There she is,” the man in question chuckled. “Nearly had me fooled.”

You scoffed, part of you grateful that the tension between you was resolved, but not the part that showed. “If you must know, I spoke from my heart’s depths.” Your fist moved to your beating chest.

“Mhm, bet ya did.” Toji helped himself to a kiss, chaste enough for his tongue to remain in his mouth. “Sly wench.”

“Wench?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Prefer bitch?” He retorted.

“Wench is fine.”

The way his shoulder blades rolled while he was hunched above you had you sidetracking from the clock that ticked away your time. You figured he’d be an excellent salesman—supposing he made it to that point—because you were sold on staying there with him, spinning your entrapment by his bulky physique into the perfect excuse to play hooky. Sakurai would understand. Hopefully.

“Five. Lemme hold you for five minutes, and then y’are free to frill me up.”

You were the one who was now “killed,” and yet you accepted your death with grace as your positions were switched. Toji collapsed beside you, squeezing your clothed breasts against his naked chest (remorse for not ridding you of your shirt first) while you huddled together, legs tangled, and mouths inched too close not to meld into one.

For someone who claimed to do only what he wanted to, he succumbed to your will an awful lot.

“What’d you want a sly wench for?” You muttered, playing with the hair that hung low over his neck. “Regular wenches out of stock or something?”

“That eager to find out?” He drawled, both his voice and eyelids weighed down by exhaust. “I’ll show ya when I get back from work; everything a sly wench’s good for.”

“Sounds like quite the ordeal.”

“You’re a big girl. ‘m sure you can take it, and if not—well,” he ran his tongue along your lips. “No reason to talk about what ifs. You’ll be good for me, mm?”

“Depends on whether you actually put on the suit Shiu brought.”

“Women and your suits.”

“You said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I said.” Toji scoffed, one of his hands sneaking under your shirt. “You’ll make it up to me.” He decided.

“I told you, you can just not go.” You objected.

“Oh, really? And ya would’ve let me stay home without breaking my balls?” He let a beat pass and added, “Thought so.”

“What would thine royal ass favor?” You humored him with a fake, posh accent.

“I’m easy to please.” You held back a snort. “You’re gonna lemme doll you up with however many or few clothes I want. Fair?”

“Is that all? Doesn’t sound too bad—”

“And then,” he continued, his smirk as sharp as the teeth behind it, “you’ll lemme strip ya. Nice and simple, huh?”

“Your five minutes are running out!”

While Toji was off brawling with a pair of cufflinks, you relocated to the kitchen and brewed two cups of coffee, figuring he could do with a sip before heading out.

A pink sticky note awaited you on the counter, your sister’s messy handwriting begging you to call her as soon as your windpipe reopened—whatever that was supposed to mean. You crumpled it and tossed it in the trash, resuming your coffee-making duties. She wanted details you had no intention of discussing, especially when you didn’t even know what to call him anymore. You felt like no word was descriptive enough of your current status.

“Whatcha thinking about?” A hand snatched the spare cup from your grasp, scarred lips rounding around the searing rim.

You turned around to a Toji you’d never seen before. Surely, his thin eyebrows were drawn together in the exact same scowl he wore when you first showed him the black slim-fit suit of Shiu’s choice. His hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead in wet tufts. The rest of his body was also physically there, boxed inside the narrow lapels and shoulder bite of his jacket—but that was where the similarities ended.

The difference between the Toji you left in your bedroom a mere ten minutes ago and the sharply dressed man in front of you was that you didn’t feel the need to pay a ticket simply for the honor of staring at the former.

“Just admiring how handsome you look.” You straightened out the creases on his lapels.

“Yeah right.” Toji rolled his eyes, continuing to swig coffee. “Just saying that to get into my pants.”

“Please, if I wanted to get into your pants, all I’d have to do is ask.” You wiped his chin before the liquid got to drip down his collar, sparing him an earful.

“At this point, you wouldn’t need to ask.” He glanced down at his suffocating thighs, the seams around his crotch threatening to burst at any given time. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Looks like I’m in a damn sausage casing. ‘s too fucking small.”

“You’re just too big.” You smiled sympathetically, not realizing your blunder until that sly smirk you knew and hated (loved) made its reappearance. Oh no.

“Mm, am I?” Toji cooed, his smug tone making your fingers grab at the counter behind your back. “Even for you?”

You bit your lips into a straight line, your eyes following the hand that slotted a blue striped tie in your fist and ordered you to get it over with. He took a step back, allowing you to remove his jacket and loop the fabric once around his collar. That was pretty much the full extent of your tie-tying knowledge.

“Gonna keep staring at it?” He cracked under the pressure of your intense squinting.

“I… don’t know how to do it.” You admitted.

“Didn’t your dad wear one to work?”

“Didn’t yours?” An immediate glare. “Never mind. Forgot the Zen’ins are stuck in Edo period.”

He had nothing to say. The times when he sauntered around his family’s compound in that gloomy garb weren’t as far behind for him to forget they ever happened.

You carefully folded the tie in half and handed it to him. “Just ask Shiu to show you. But here, lemme—”

You fixed whatever minor detail could be fixed, combing his hair with your fingers, plucking out a couple of loose threads, and securing his cufflinks. He didn’t need the jacket. As long as no one gawked at his crotch, he passed as your average overworked thirty-year-old who’s yet to give up on their early retirement dream.

It was 7:58 when you and Toji argued over the few footwear choices in his possession. He settled for the combat boots he sported mostly during the winter, but scoffed once you reminded him you’d have to go shopping in the following days.

It was 7:59 when he lingered about the door frame like a harbinger of bad news who didn’t know how to break them down, eventually lifting a hand and giving your head a rough pat that suited a Pomeranian more than an actual human.

“Don’t miss me too much,” which in his language meant I’ll miss you.

“Remember Home Alone?” He nodded. Then he realized.

“Brat.” And with that, he hurried down the hallway, cussing at himself when his cellphone began ringing before he’d even caught the lift.

Your smile remained on your face as you closed the door and spotted the tie he’d accidentally left beside his mug.

I’ll miss you more.

You underestimated how much you would actually miss him.

Your first day apart was spent with you plugging every drain hole in the house. Toji might’ve told you to forget the incident ever happened, but even a regular centipede was capable of reducing you to tears. Curse or not, you weren’t prepared to confront another of those critters, and if peace of mind came at the cheap price of plastic, then so be it.

You didn’t have the chance to miss him yet.

At work, you kept staring at his vacant booth, wondering whether his workplace had a kitchen or a cafeteria—whether he had enough cash for a meal—and every time you did, you scolded yourself. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself without you babying him.

But you still hoped he’d call.

“You won’t believe what that new girl Noda did today.”

You made it home a little after sundown, Chinese takeout under one armpit and handbag under the other. “You’re gonna love this!” Chuckling, you kicked the door shut and stalked toward the kitchen, dropping both bags on the table with a labored huff. “Three words: vampire repellent fries. How someone mistakes garlic powder for salt is beyond me.”

No response. Weird.

You laid out the containers before casting a glance at the ongoing football match on your TV. A reel played between the first and second halves—mass hysteria from the crows that celebrated over their team’s scoring as opposed to the apathetic mop of tousled black hair that was spilled over your couch, expressing neither cheer nor jeer. Not even his usual grunt of acknowledgment.

“Did you not hear me? I said—”

Your eyes finally caught up with your mouth as you processed Toji’s sleeping form, his dress shirt unbuttoned and dangling from his slacks, with a belt unbuckled but not quite removed.

“To…ji?”

Again, nothing.

So much for a night of passion.

Rather than eating alone in the kitchen, you brought dinner to the couch and sat down beside him, secretly wishing the rich scent of Sichuan pork revived him. You switched to an overplayed romcom that’d otherwise have him barfing, only to find his content expression far more enticing than whatever vow the main couple exchanged.

When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

You watched over him as he stirred enough for his head to climb up your lap, a large palm engulfing your hip while he breathed in the bare skin of your thighs. More than once, you thought he was awake and tried to ask him about his day, but a snore was all you got in return, the quiet symphony eventually lulling you to sleep.

The rest of your life started when you met him.

Toji was already gone by the time you woke up, miraculously tucked under the covers of your bed, without an actual clue as to how you ended up there. The food you’d stashed in the fridge was gone with him, and so were your hopes of catching up over breakfast.

Your day was a reprise of the previous one. You drank coffee—alone. You did laundry—alone. You trapped a spider and carried it outside the window—alone. And then you met with your landlady—again, alone.

The house felt empty without his brooding figure leaning over the fridge to hurry you up; without his raspy voice calling you from across the house to fetch him the remote that lay on the coffee table; without his low whistles whenever you bent over to catch something from the bottom drawer. Things that once annoyed you, you’d started to miss.

On impulse, you drew your phone and began typing a message you deleted. He was finally acting responsible, and there you were, all butthurt because you didn’t get to talk to him for one day. Big deal.

You packed your bag and braced yourself for a torturous nine-hour shift at the diner, hanging onto the frail hope that once you closed shop, you’d be free to run to him.

Every kiss, every touch, every hug—every single moment of affection became a gale you rode on, reaching the apartment with your heart in your mouth. Surely enough, his shoes were parked by the front step. A good sign. The dubious smell of charred meat bubbling in a cauldron on the stove—not so much.

Hesitant to analyze the green broth’s origin, you searched for the dish’s chef in the other rooms, finding his remains splayed on your bed. Eyes shut, rumbling snore, and a tight grip around your pillow. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, convincing you that it was best to let him rest it out. You took off your clothes and squeezed in beside him, sleep not coming to you as easily as it did the night before.

You missed your conversations. The snarky remarks he’d have about his colleagues. The glint in his eyes that signaled his attentiveness, regardless of his snorting at everything he thought dumb. His bottled laughter. The suggestion in his tone. You’d never told him, but his voice was your favorite thing about him, and now you missed that too.

“Hope your dreams are worth it,” you mumbled against his shoulder, enveloping yourself in the warmth of his body even when you knew you’d wake up to a fistful of cold sheets.

That night, you missed him the most when he was right there with you.

“Not so fast, mister.”

If the sound of your voice wasn’t enough to stop Toji in his tracks, the Glock 22 aimed at his skull certainly was. He stepped away from the door, hands up in mock surrender, as a smirk carried him to where you stood in the middle of the living room, looking not-so intimidating in the pistachio-colored sleepshirt you’d hastily draped over your body.

“Where did ya find this?” He asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“I know you keep a gun taped under the nightstand.” You smiled, planting your fingers away from the trigger. “Busted.”

“Then y’know it ain’t loaded, right?”

“Really?” You thought you could tell by shaking it near your ear, only for Toji to leap forward and clasp your palms between his, directing the muzzle to the ceiling in the blink of an eye. “Thought you said it wasn’t loaded!”

“Hmm, let’s see.” The magazine popped out, empty except for a bullet he stowed in his pocket. “Won’t you look at that!” To your amazement (and horror), he reassembled the gun with a single move and returned it to you, defending himself with a “Shouldn’t trust a word outta your opponent’s mouth.”

“Art of war?” You pinched the grip and hurled it onto the couch. Sometimes you really questioned your decisions.

“More like, quit meddling with stuff you can’t handle. Although, if you threw some handcuffs into the mix,” he walked closer, pulling you onto him by the waist, “I could get behind this.” He kissed your lips and gave your ass a squeeze. “And that. Definitely that.”

Your fingers met behind his neck, heart fluttering in your chest. He smelled so nice. Just the right amount of intoxicating. “You’re all talk.”

“Missed me?” You nodded, unwilling to phrase those words out loud. “Then what’d ya want that gun for? Thought we got a lot friendlier these days.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Why?” His thumb brushed against your cheek. “Any plans to unfriend me?”

“Friends don’t do the things we do.”

“Really good friends do.” Toji insisted, his tongue slipping between your lips as if it never left—as if the past two days didn’t happen.

“Want more?” He tugged at your lip with his teeth. You weren’t sure whether he referred to kissing or something else, but whatever he offered, you wanted more of. “Me too.”

His cheek pressed against yours, burning with the same kind of fever you felt pooling in your stomach. You stayed like that for a good while, basking in the intimacy of an inconvenient hug until you felt bold enough to interrupt it. “If you ever avoid your girlfriend again, she’ll kill you.”

He huffed in your ear, then drew away after piecing a loose strand behind it. “My girlfriend can’t even use a gun.”

“Say it again.”

A grin.

“What part?” He asked coyly.

“You know what part!”

“Can’t even use a gun?” He sneered, holding your wrists as they tried to bat his chest. Your reddened complexion only added to his amusement. “Like being told you’re my girl?”

You didn’t answer him—a bad decision, really. It gave him the freedom to run his mouth on about how there were more things he could call you and a couple of other things you could moan back, sparing the details for the sake of the rising boner in his pants. While the premise excited you, the past two failures were hard to forget.

“And for the record, I wasn’t avoiding you.” Toji peered into your mind. A hand rubbed at the back of his neck, his dress shirt lifting from his slacks. “That place’s hell.”

“That bad? Is it the people, the job itself, or…?”

“Fucking everything.”

You could practically hear a can of worms cracking open; see the litany of complaints unfolding over your feet.

“Getting paid to spit on papers like a damn dog. My ass going sore from being glued to a chair all day long. Food tasting like coal briquettes. Dumb kids trynna strike a conversation every chance they get.”

“You poor thing!” You gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me they also smile at you!”

His glare betrayed him. “Place’s like a fucking kindergarten.”

“Better zip your dirty mouth in front of the kids, then.”

He frowned, and you laughed, genuinely happy that his coworkers seemed to welcome him—a sight you decided you wanted to see with your own two eyes sooner rather than later.

“I won’t be late.” Toji promised once you’d escorted him to the front door.

Your arms folded in front of your chest. Eyebrows arched. “Right.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure you do.”

A sigh. Poking fun at him was always so much fun.

“What about you?” He abided by his little ritual of leaning against the frame, his stance mirroring yours. Unhurriedly since he’d gotten an early headstart on his day. “‘Today’s your day off.”

That’s a first, you thought. He never asked about your plans.

“Oh, you know me. Pilates at 9; golf course at 12. Might go yachting around 5 if you don’t come back early.” You quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop fucking around.”

You poked his tongue at him, not wanting to admit that today would be ten times lonelier without a distraction, similarly to how you didn’t to spoil the surprise in the making.

Except your expression revealed something that your mouth didn’t.

Turning away from you, Toji began coughing like a cat with hair clogged in its throat, eventually spitting out a round, hairy lump of purple. Disgust was written in every line of your face, fading into recognition once the ball expanded into Wormie. The creature tried to wrap itself around its master, who seemed to have a better idea by offering it to you.

“Here. So you don’t die of boredom.” He explained.

You were skeptical at first, but Wormie robbed you of all options as he skipped to your arms and snuggled his head in the crook of your neck.

You never thought the day would come when you’d be hugging a worm, but the feeling wasn’t half as vile as one might expect. He had the weight of a feather and the scent of whatever bowl of cereal Toji had downed that morning. If you closed your eyes, you could think of him as a giant (exotic) pet.

“Hey there, little guy. Missed me?” You rubbed his back. Or what you thought was his back, anyway.

“Pretty sure he’s just trynna eat you up.”

“Shut up.” You glanced at Wormie’s mouth, just in case. “You’re simply jealous of what we have.”

“Sure.”

Satisfied with the image he left behind, Toji finally opened the door and walked out of the apartment.

“Don’t let that idiot get into trouble.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“And I wasn’t talking to you.” He smirked. “Later.”

A moment passed before his comment registered, long enough for the elevator gates to separate his snickering from your dissonant complaints.

“You’re such a lousy boyfriend!”

In the hours that followed, two things became apparent. One, you’d probably make for a decent parent, because when you instructed Wormie to sit quiet on the counter while you cooked a meal for Toji, he did as told without protest, and two, he was the greatest sous chef you could’ve ever asked for.

“Wormie! Pitch me the ladle,” you’d say, and a second later the item would fall in your hands.

Not just that. You could cut away vegetables without walking to the trash whenever the counter became clogged with scraps. Wormie ate up everything you fed him, whether that was onion peels, lettuce butts, or a spoonful of the stewed beef that had him singing toot after toot like a trombone.

Toji was right. It wasn’t as lonely with Wormie around. But he was dead wrong about his pet only obeying him. The second you wiggled those leeks, the little glut switched loyalties.

You wondered whether you could train him to give paw.

Stacking a bunch of Toji’s favorite side dishes inside a lunch box, you phoned the one person who could give you an address. Shiu picked up right away, his tone lax as he accused you guys of having his number on speed dial. You profusely apologized and carried his words to a piece of paper, renewing his dinner invitation with little to no zeal. You were grateful toward Shiu, but all you looked forward to was a weekend alone with Toji.

You hung up the phone and turned to Wormie, gesturing for him to gobble up the tupperware.

“Let’s go see your dad, mm?”

Toji’s workplace turned out to be an impressive thirty-story building on the outskirts of Minato. It belonged to one of the largest telecommunication companies in the country, with an enormous silver plate that bared its three-lettered logotype. Shiu did claim he pulled some strings, but a lobby big enough to double as a landing zone was not what you expected.

The guards at the entrance welcomed you with a curt bow, seemingly undisturbed by the worm that hitched a ride on your shoulders. You remembered what Toji said. The vast majority were incapable of sensing cursed energy around them, and those who did would rather question their sanity than accept the notion that the folktales their grandmothers fed them were real.

You gave Toji’s name to one of the girls at the front desk, who in turn asked her colleagues, but none of them seemed to know him. You weren’t surprised. Thousands of people paraded through these doors on a daily basis, their only accomplishment being the white collars around their necks. You either made it big or died as a nameless corporate slave. Neither celebrated nor remembered.

The receptionist did, however, point you to your destination and provide you with a visitor card. You followed her directions to the elevator, barely finding a spot for yourself in the crammed space that, little by little, cleared up. Your reflection stared back at you—inaccurate, as Worm was nowhere to be found, despite shrieking your ear off a minute ago when you accidentally prodded his tail.

This doesn’t make any sense.

You navigated the maze of cubicle offices before reaching the mail room at the end of the fourth floor. Most employees ignored your presence, while some straight-up shot daggers at you like you were an intruder. You failed to notice the sickeningly amiable smiles Toji described until you saw him surrounded by a bunch of high-heeled man-eaters who vied for his attention.

He was making copies for each of those women, taking away their excuse to loiter around the copy machine and stomping on their confidence with one-worded replies. The less dedicated ones sorted themselves out, while the true contenders stayed back to help him with his workload.

You wished you could get closer and enjoy the show, but you didn’t want to interrupt. Instead, you knelt by an empty desk and placed Wormie on the ground, ushering him in Toji’s direction.

“Make sure he gets it, and I’ll fight for your rights!” You spoke in a hushed voice. “Good boy, Wormie. Now go!”

Certain of your partner’s success, you dashed to the elevator, leaving both him and the company grounds behind for good.

It never occurred to you how much time you spent with Toji since he moved in. And it never occurred to you how long it’d been since you’d last touched yourself either—not until you were lying naked in bed, legs arched and hands stuffed between your thighs, guiding the rabbit vibrator in and out of your sopping cunt while you panted out his name in broken moans.

The hows and whys were unclear. All you remembered was stripping so you could change into a comfier fit, and the next thing you knew, your toy was calling out to you from its hiding spot, fully charged despite its extended period of inertia. You didn’t dare use it when Toji was home—and he was always home. His keen senses trained on you, slashing through every illusion of privacy your bedroom’s paper-thin walls provided.

But he wasn’t there now. And he wouldn’t be there for hours to come. And he looked so damn sexy in his suit, that all you could think about was ripping it off.

“F-fuck, Toji.” You turned the ears speed up a notch.

Each little buzz circulated through your body as tingles of pleasure that enhanced the fantasies your mind crafted. You pictured him leaning over you, wearing nothing but the tie he’d finally mastered. The cocky smile that’d stretch wide on his lips as he’d part your knees with big, veiny arms and stick a thick finger in your pulsing hole, asking you whether that was all for him even when he knew it could only be his—you were only his. He’d ask you to say it out loud; have you repeat it countless times while drilling his cock into your pussy, discovering depths that neither your fingers nor the silicone were capable of.

He’d suggested he was big. God, you’d gotten so close to seeing for yourself. You wanted to touch it, lick it, kiss, bounce on it so many times that the room began to spin around you. Even if it was big, you’d make it fit. Even if it was too big, you’d let him split you open.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you thrust the bunny upward, trapping your clit between the little ears that flicked rabidly in sync.

You needed him to fill you up. You needed to somehow justify all those years of starvation for him, his body, and his cum—you needed to feel it running down your trembling thighs, hot and sticky, as you milked every drop he had to offer.

The tension in your guts finally snapped as you focused on the three little words you longed to hear the most. You didn’t care whether he whispered, moaned, or grunted them out. You wanted to hear them in his voice at least once in your life. You needed him to be yours just as you were his—to love you like you loved him too.

The sweat on your forehead barely had the chance to cool down, when your eyes opened to a sight far more palpable than your crumbling high.

“Is this what ya do when I’m not around?”

A/N: next chapter will have smut, i'm not that ruthless.