#i cant stand strong dog smell

[piknim]

Why do cats smell so good

[cadotoast]

Kinktober 1st, 2024: Leather

Biker Simon Riley x Female Reader

MINORS DNI

Content Warnings: leather kink// hair pulling// dom Simon Riley// Simon's a little mean// Bit of a biker kink which is a bit self-indulgent as my fiance is a biker, hehe// Hand kink if you squint// grinding

Summary: Simon catches you in a questionable position with his leather riding gear. Smut ensues.

"Simon? Are you home?" The front door clicks shut behind you, a tad ominously in the dark of the unlit foyer. The house is quieter than you expected, as Simon is usually home by this time of evening.

There's an odd urge to not disturb the silence, so you slip your shoes off at the bench near the door, setting them next to your husband's well-loved riding boots. Well, one of his three current pairs, that is. You take a second to straighten them, a little needlessly. But if you're honest with yourself, you will never pass up a chance to feel up Simon's boots.

It's not a foot thing, you swear; it's the leather.

You yourself don't tend to wear it a whole lot. But Simon? You think Simon would live in leather for the rest of his life if he could.

Some of his leather is functional, like his protective motorcycle gear. His boots and jacket always carry the musk of leather polish and metal.

Other leather items are more... aesthetic. Leather pants that suffocate his thighs and ass. A cuff bracelet that can be turned into leather cuffs for bondage, a "spicy friendship bracelet" as he jokingly called it once.

Regardless of the item, if its leather, you love it.

The house is quiet, and remains so as you soft-foot your way to the bedroom. Warm lamplight fills the room when you flick a switch, revealing a magnificent German Shepherd drooling all over your favorite pillow in his sleep.

"Radar! Get down!" The dog startles at your voice, and is off the bed before he seems fully awake. He then snuffles you affectionately with a yawn. "Hello to you too, Mr. Trouble." You glance at Simon's bedside table, seeing it bare of his personal effects. "I guess its just you and I for a bit."

Radar, thankfully, does not reply back to you in English, but simply nudges your hand before leaving the room. Moments later you hear the sound of his dog bed rustling, and then his earth-shaking sigh. You promptly switch out both pillow and pillowcase for spares in the linen closet. You may love the dog, but you dont exactly love his slobber.

You slip into your nightly routine fairly easily, warming up leftovers for yourself and getting ready for the following day. While organizing the office the two of you share, you come across an unfamiliar jacket lying on Simon's desk. As you approach, you're hit with a very strong smell of leather. The musk startles you, breath hitching in your throat as a warmth burns in your cheeks.

Bemused with your own intense reaction, you settle in Simon's chair and gather the coat to your face. It still has a tag on it, though you don't see a price listed.

Each inhale of the jacket's scent seems to go to your head, a dizzying sensation that has you leaning back in the chair. You close your eyes, focusing on the scent. Imagining the jacket on Simon is not hard to do. A man of his stature would appear the size of a mountain, broad-shouldered and towering over everyone. The dark clothing only serves to make him appear even larger than usual.

The leather is cool under your touch as you press the sleeve against your cheek, biting your lip as you breathe deeply.

Now you're imagining the bar where you and Simon met, one of the sketchy bathrooms with a lock that seems dubious. Simon stands behind you, wearing Kevlar riding gear and the leather jacket, motorcycle helmet still in place. You cant see his expression behind the tinted visor, but the way his hands ghost over your body betray his desire, rough palms gripping your hips and pulling you back into his undoubtedly throbbing erection.

Fuck. Now you're horny, and Simon isn't back yet. You drop the jacket into your lap, trying to get a breath of fresh air. You can feel the burn of a blush creeping down your neck to your chest, a sure sign of your arousal.

"Dammit, pull it together," You grumble to yourself. All the same, when you get up and exit the office, you bring the jacket with you. There in your bedroom, you succumb to your desire, stripping out of your clothes so you can lie on the bed with nothing between you and the jacket you now hold.

Eyes closed, you hold the collar of the jacket to your nose, the scent flooding your brain. The sleeve of the jacket you grasp in your dominant hand, and begin to drag the leather against your heated and sensitive skin.

"H-oh..." The whimper comes unbidden, a breathy sound escaping your parted lips as your skin seems to tingle under the touch of the leather. You press a little harder into the leather's touch, wishing it were Simon's hands on you. His riding gloves have this roughness to them that would make his grip on your heated skin even more exquisite.

You whimper, the noise shrill in the quiet bedroom as you begin to rub the jacket sleeve against your swollen clit, pleasure radiating up your spine and through your limbs.

In your gaze of pleasure, you don't notice the front door opening and closing; you don't hear Radar's woof of greeting, or the heavy thud of boots on the hardwood.

"Well what do we have here?" You tense in shock as a weight presses down on your chest, and your eyes fly open as you shriek. Simon, still in full riding gear, peers down at you through his visor, gaze fixed where his gloved hand is planted on your sternum-right between your breasts.

"Honey!" Your voice sounds unnaturally high and shrill. "I didn't know when you were coming home--"

"Don't. Move."

You freeze, having been previously trying to scooch out from under Simon's hand. Being unable to see his expression, but being on full view to him... It's almost like being blindfolded. You can read his body language sort of, but not his face. The skull printed on his helmet stares down at you.

"Having fun without me, Birdie?" Simon pulls a yelp from you as he tugs on your erect nipple. The abrasiveness of his glove makes you whimper again.

"Only a little..." Simon's hand suddenly skims your body, his gloved thumb pressing into your clit harshly. You can't help the helpless roll of your hips as you seek out pleasure. "Simon, please." You pout adorably up at him, hands reaching for the visor of his helmet.

"Needy," Simon scolds, shaking his head and stepping away from you and out of reach. "Needy little wife."

You pout again, folding your arms over your breasts, squeezing them together on purpose.

"Price gave me that jacket, n'know?" Simon's voice is a rumbling growl. "Kind of you to break it in for me." His loved hand is in your hair then, and you're being pulled from the bed and made to kneel, right on top of Simon's riding boot.

"you're gonna rub that pretty little pussy on my boots, and you're going to polish that leather until it shines, won't you?"

The material is already abrasive against your sensitive clit, but with Simon still holding you on your knees, there's little left to do than obey. With a wanton moan, you succumb to the list, rolling your clit over and over the shoe, the scent of the jacket strong in your nose.

"Open."

The taste of leather and grime on your tongue makes you grimace as Simon sticks his middle and ingex finger into your mouth. But you suck obediently as the musk quickly joins the intoxicating scent

"good little whore, eh?" Simon chuckles deeply, watching you rut on his show and suckle on his fingers. "Are you going to cum for me?"

You whine, nodding your head as your hips pick up speed. Simon smirks at you, letting you chase your high and indulge. Your climax begins to approach in a rush, and you whimper and moan around the gloved fingers in your mouth. Simon tilts his toe up and pulls back on your hair, a moaning shriek escaping you as your climax washes over you, and you're suddenly no longer gagged.

Your cry echoes through the house as you say against Simon's thigh, his hand now patting your head as you recover shakily.

"I'll tell the cap'n that the missus likes the new jacket."

Author's Note:

If you made it this far thank you, lol. This will be my first attempt at several things, including posting my own naughty shit instead of reblogging other's naughty shit, and beginning my first writing challenge. My goal is to try and post once a day for each day in october. Will it happen? Fuck if i know, but I'm gonna try

Also I don't really like how this one came out. Don't be too harsh with me 🫣

[sucker4sixx]

Relight my fire

Pt.2

plot: generation swine release party!!

Warnings: alcohol?

The next morning you wake up to nikki sitting beside you, holding a glass of water, the gesture reminding you about your pulsing hangover. “Hey.. drink this, i figured youd be ill with the hangover” nikki smiles alittle, hoping somehow you wouldnt remember the kiss as you gulp greedily from the pint of cold water like a warm dog “thankyou..” you look at his eyes for a few seconds before he stands up, leaving your room. After 20 minutes you walk to the kitchen, nikki sitting outside having a smoke like the morning before and the morning before that. You take a cigarette out your own pack and slip on his thick zipper, walking out to him and sitting beside him.

“You’re up already?” He smiles, passing you his lighter “and in my zipper?” You smile back to him, sitting beside him on the cold, hard bench, the smoke both of you blow out intertwining “yeah well.. its comfy, you cant blame me”

“No.. i cant” his eyes linger on you for a few seconds before he looks away. “Last night was… fun” he adds, wanting to speak about the kiss that you so desperately tried to get out of your head. “Yeahhh..” you reply awkwardly “it was..” he coughs, none of you sure how to talk about the elephant in the.. garden? “Listen i-“

“Listen-“ you speak at the same time only making things worse, his cheeks even red with the tension “you go..” you whisper and nikki nods, facing you as he stubs out his cigarette. “The kiss was.. something, and the confession and just.. listen, im not in the right place to start anything, im just out a fucking marriage..” he sighs in frustration but not to you, to his heart for letting him feel these feelings for you. “I know, nikki is promise this will be the last time this happens”

A week later you are both at vinces house, hes throwing a party for finishing their album “generation swine”, nikkis busy away talking to people the whole night, leaving you drinking alone on the white leather couches.

Eventually he flops beside you, passing you a rum and coke “hey stranger” you smile wide, your cheeks automatically heating up at the sight of him “sorry hun, been a busy night” you shake your head, taking a sip of the rum and coke “no, dont apologise, this is your night.. im proud of you” nikki laughs bashfully “you sound like a parent telling their kid that their shitty drawings good.. to be honest.. i dont have a great feeling about this album” he admits, looking at his feet. You move your hand to his back and scratch it softly “well.. i think it sounds amazing” you kiss his cheek softly and he turns to face you, smiling “your a sweetheart, honestly.. dont know where id be right now if you werent with me” he moves in and kisses you softly before moving away like it was natural “i need a piss” he slaps your thigh softly and stands up, leaving you red faced and confused.

You get up after a few minutes and look around for him, pushing past the crowd of drunken rockstars, souring your face at the strong smell of cigarettes and hairspray untill you find him, hes leaning against a kitchen counter talking to some tall blonde woman. Without a second thought you walk up to him, your heart pounding when his eyes catch yours, he knows whats coming. You grab his hair and pull him down as you kiss him desperately, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his large hands hold your hair. He turns round so your standing with your back to the counter so you couldnt leave him as he kissed you like a dog in heat, moaning into you. “Jesus darlin..” he pulls away and you try to meet his lips again causing him to move back “your so desperate” he grins wide seeing the effect he has on you, just like he has on every other woman. “Nikki please-“

you both get cut off by a woman saying nikkis name, he turns round and its his ex wife, she smiles and runs over to hug him, clearly not seeing what had just happened. Beth.. they were married for years but cheated on eachother and it ended messy. Nikki wraps his arms around her and even though you knew they had more history, you cant help but feel your heart sink so you just step away, walking off back to the party. An hour later your tired and upset but nikki doesnt seem to want to go home, you approach him and tap his shoulder, beth raising her eyebrow. “Nikki could i get the house keys? Im really tired” you ask and beths face drops, thinking you were his girlfriend. “Of course sweetheart, here.. ill be home soon” he smiles up and you.

Two hours later nikki returns drunker than when you left, your surprised when you dont hear anyone with him. You get up and head to his room where hes stumbling around, struggling to get his clothes off. “Hey nikki” you smile, his face brightening up when he sees you “sweetheart!” He slurs and stumbles over to you “your so drunk, do you need help getting this off?” You tug at his shirt softly “yeah.. undress me baby” he laughs, wiggling his eyebrows “your so annoying” you smile, taking his shirt off as he sways alittle.

“So.. you and beth?” You ask carefully “i still love her.. of course” your smile drops and you nod, trying not to seem bothered “but she fucked you over nikki..” he falls silent “she cheated-“ “yeah well i cheated too” he buts in, its clearly a sensitive subject, you both fall silent “sorry.. i just want the best for you” you say quietly “i know.. but what if she is the best for me” your heart sinks even further , you knew you were the best for him, you knew you could treat him right “why did you cheat on her?” You ask as he struggles to take off his pants, you help out and unbutton them, helping him to his bed. “She cheated on me and.. i wanted to hurt her back, im no angel sweetheart” you nod and lay in next to him.

“Your sleeping here tonight?” He smirks “well, need to keep an eye on you dont i?” You smile and he pulls you onto his warm chest. “No.. but i dont mind if you do”

[stinkyhorsebitch]

Thamks for the tag:3

Hmm thats a hard one... maybe 3 the candles? If ur anything like me u cant really stand strong smells

1. Im an avid collector of stupid lil model animals lol

2. I mostly draw my art on a tablet

3. I have a black cat that can do ticks like a dog

Taggin: @pinkphonepillz @alchemiccolored @benjamin-benny-ben

Two Truths and a Lie!

Rules: Share two truths and one lie about yourself, tag five people to guess your lie and to share their own, make sure to guess the lie of the person who tagged you!

and 🤔 mmm I wanna guess that 3, you never went to music festivals, is your lie? I’m real tempted to say 2, but even smart people can repeat grades for one reason or another. Ohh I love this game, though I’m pretty bad at guessing games. I got tagged by@de-sire-blog

Now mine, which I had a lot of trouble coming up with xD

1. I used to get into lots of trouble for fighting and what not in school because anger issues~

2. I was basically raised at renaissance fair for how often my parents and I attended from my birth until I was about 6-7.

3. I once had plans to become a musician and/or actor until I realized my social anxiety was way too terrible, so I settled for doing art instead.

Tagging, but no pressure ~ @thebattlehamster @miss-bibbles @jegulus-trash @clifford-thebigreddog

[tropicalsnuggles]

Entry #2

TW: Mature themes - Thanatophobia, Cancer, Death, Manipulation, Graphic Violence, Swearing, Bad Grammar

----

Dear Boardmembers, 

I want to initially express my gratitude for your efficiency. Ever since I started working at the University of Cryptozoology I have admired your timely responses to issues such as mine. My appreciation for the time you have taken to read and respond to my concerns is neverending. Thank you. 

Regarding the response that I have received in the mail. It appears as if my original letter of caution has not provided the proper information to show the complete urgency of this issue. Despite my earlier misgivings, I do plead for a second chance for this matter to be taken seriously. In this letter, I will more coherently explain the grave operations of The Dealmaker. 

I will start off by focusing on the only two accounts that explain the workings of The Dealmaker. Entries #74 and #290 show actions instead of pure results. These entries can be found in their pure format along with all of the twenty thousand entries I have gathered. Please open the blue envelope for this information. 

Entry #74 concentrates on Martha Gaywash from Canada. Around the time of her disappearance, Martha was sixteen. Since the age of twelve Martha had a personal blog that she would update daily. She was best described by her Amber Alert, “last seen wearing a blue shirt with the greek goddess Athena,”

In the fall of 2016, Martha was diagnosed with leukemia. This diagnosis caused her mental health to rapidly spiral out of control. Section B in my annotations regarding Entry #74 highlights her rapid decline in emotional and mental stability.

Section E is an unedited version of Martha’s last post that was uploaded to her blog. This post was made on January 1st, 2020. Ten minutes before she would do what she did. The post would also reference what I believe are the effects of The Dealmaker. She comes across as what can only be described as having a mental breakdown, with sentences that lead to nowhere, and improper grammar. She claims that she is worrying herself sick over “the voice in the wind that mukes fucky fuck shit shit goo byed bye,” As you can see later in her final sentences she questions if the so-called “voice in the wind” were the greek gods trying to save her from her gradual demise. 

Police investigations reveal that at 1:04 a.m. Martha left the family house through the sliding backdoor. She entered a terrible blizzard with only her coat, boots, mittens, inhaler, greek mythology books, and a picture of her dads with the family cat. A day later; police dogs followed her impressive twelve-mile hike into the forest that was a part of the family’s property. The dogs lost the scent along the frozen pond. Where it is assumed that she fell in. Yet, no body has been discovered. 

What was found was one of Martha’s worn-out mythology books. On the inside of the book cover was a message from Martha- written out with melted snow and blood. Her sentences are more comprehensible. It reads; Dad, Papa, I contcantfucking stand myself i now you say tha t this curse is not my fault but i cant help feel guilt thee disney trips the dontians from neigbors the fundraising i cant i cant take it it feels like its my prison sentence my punishment for existing and getting this this this thing i just wnt to go back back to when it was just the three of us instead of the forth draining one i need ot it go back i just have to find a way so i idid i did your gonna think im a mad madperson but i finally found th e answer i im likea  bee following th e smell of nectar im following this voice that tlls me everythin will be alright i truly think its Athena she knows ive been devoted its hard to follow im so tired i cant tfeel my teeth i ts ahrd to write my hands are freezing im inhaler isnt working im starting to get scard dad papa thewind is strong but these damn crows their just chilling watching me the thoughts that im gonna die out hea r im truing to ignore becasue the thoughts of a happy life are all that ive wanted when ive come abc and athena has made me strogern il life those thougts with you

My assistant Mr.Lim went to the victim’s house for further information. The interrogation was refused and Mr.Lim had the police called on him. The parents of Martha showed textbook Type D post-interaction behavior. This is where Entry #74 ends. 

I believe that before I can truly analyze Entry #74. I must explain the details of Entry #290 in a similarly comprehensible manner. 

Entry #290 focuses on victim Mdlui Cele. On November 14th, 2005 Mdlui would travel from South Africa to California in order to visit the Sequoia National Park. He had planned to take pictures of the park over the course of the week. His plans would fall apart. As two days into his vacation at 3:37 p.m. Mdlui was officially announced as missing. 

Only Mdlui’s camera was found. The photos that have come from the camera have not yet been released to the public. However, I have managed to gather police descriptions of these photos. Out of the five-hundred photos that had been taken the last three are of notice. Photograph #498 is described to be from the perspective of Mdlui. He is on the dry forest floor. His clothes were tattered and worn by oceans of blood. His organs were in places that they shouldn’t have been, near his feet, his duodenum on his thigh. The cause of this displacement is unknown; the damage was bad enough that he would have had twenty minutes before he bled to death. 

Photograph #499 focuses on the towering Sequoia trees. Their large branches are being pushed by a large gust of wind. The tree trunks are hunched over as the stress of the wind overwhelms them. The issue with this picture is that November 16th, the date this picture was taken, had been a notably breezeless day. There are no signs of alterations in the photo. 

Photograph #500 is exceptionally particular. Based on the police report, there is a fuzzy distortion that is associated with cryptids and their effects on pictures. Only Mdlui’s blood-stained hand can be barely made out. Everything else is distorted in a tv static haze. The official report does not mention the following anomaly. Further investigations reveal that several officers are to have stated that there appears to be a tiny hand resting on one of Mdlui’s fingers. I believe that these photographs are vital to the understanding of The Dealmaker. With your backing, the possession of these photographs should be manageable. 

These two detailed accounts present us with questions and answers. I will start with the answers first. The Dealmaker targets victims who are on their last leg, close to death. This cryptid only hunts in edge habitats. The wind is an element that is closely associated with this cryptid. In the original Basil Smith account and in Entry #74 the wind appears to be the tool that is used to manipulate victims, possibly animals. This manipulation causes people to act irrationally, such as entering a violent snowstorm. Victims are emotionally, mentally, and physically unstable, and in need of a way to get out of their dire situation. Families of victims inherit Type D post-interaction behavior, further research must be conducted in order to validate this claim. The Dealmaker-related disappearances are always associated with near-death, edge habitat, and wind. Victims are never seen again. The Dealmaker is clever, wickedly so,  in all of the two-thousand accounts that I have gathered. Only three accounts have given the smallest bits of information. This explains why this cryptid has barely been acknowledged by cryptozoologists. Imagine the horrors that we have yet to shed light on. 

The list of questions is alarmingly dreadful. It is almost impossible to have a comprehensible list of questions. It is my duty to at least try.

 If The Dealmaker is the cause of near-death experiences or if it waits till victims are near death is unknown. Why these people are chosen as targets is unknown. Whenever the victims of The Dealmaker are alive or deceased is unknown. It is my assumption that victims are deceased since a victim has never been seen again. 

The common theme of using the wind to manipulate victims is concerning. Does this mean that any gust of wind is dangerous or does it mean that certain windy areas are dangerous? How can the University even protect society against something as perpetual as the wind? It’s incomprehensible. 

The Basil Smith document and Entry #74 both mention crows. What is the significance of crows? Why was Mdlui sliced open so badly that his organs were spilling out? Why did he feel the need in his final moments to take pictures? How did a sick teenager make a twelve-mile hike in such horrid weather conditions? How come Mduli and Martha were able to give us clues but no one else could? Why did no one else notice such a large gust of wind in Mduli's photo? The apparently tiny hand in Photograph #500– is that some sort of illusion caused by the blurry picture or a clue? 

A large range in habitat over such a long period of time could suggest many things. Either The Dealmaker is unaffected by the passage of time, we’ve seen this in werewolves, or this means that there are multiple generations of The Dealmaker.

The Dealmaker is a despicable cryptid, might I add a true pure evil in this world. This manipulation and malice is something that the University has not seen before.  

I have run the numbers and The Dealmaker is 40% more lethal than the most previously dangerous cryptid known to the University. When The Dealmaker enters an area the rate of disappearances increases by 64.8%.  This cryptid can and will do damage to society. Who is the University to not stop this madness? To not stop the wretched acts that have been under our noses? Now that I have given the information I implore you to act. 

I propose more funding for the research of this cryptid. I am only a team of two. A team of two hundred can more efficiently find information on how The Dealmaker operates and how to prevent people from disappearing. The possession of the photographs from Entry #290 is also vital in investigating this creature. My assistant is currently constructing a possible protection plan for potential victims against The Dealmaker. With your backing, the University can finally let this monster meet justice. I will gladfully lead this project if I’m given the power. 

Once again I must thank you for your time and once again– I ask for this situation to be taken seriously. Thank you, I do truly believe we can get rid of the devils and monsters of this world. 

Sincerely, 

Dr. García

[thunderheadfred]

🦈Kirishima HC’s🦈

Absolutely no one asked for this i just like him a lot

He’s an adult in all of these. 20s-30s at least. Some NSFW because I’m a big perv. Minors do not interact. Shoo.

- - - - -

General:

He is in the dictionary under Himbo, right next to Kronk.

Works part-time as a fitness instructor before making a name for himself as a pro hero. Most of his clients are middle-aged women, because he makes people feel safe. Before long, word gets around and he amasses this like. Loyal army of jacked housewives and older ladies who are his biggest possible fans. They mother-hen him like crazy.

Has a large and complicated extended family. Lots of cousins. You will never learn all their names, don’t even try. I have no idea if his parents have canon occupations but no matter what Horikoshi says, they actually own a mountain onsen. Kirishima went to the city by himself to go to middle/high school, his family is all off in the country somewhere and he gets homesick a lot but never admits it. He’s broke for a long time even after making it as a pro hero, because he sends most of his money back home.

He’s a dog dad. You cannot, WILL not convince me otherwise. Big dogs. Small dogs. Fancy dogs. Ugly dogs. He has a whole pack. He calls them all baby, sweetie, pupper, the worst and most embarrassing baby talk. Tells them about his day. All of his furniture is wrecked. He’s an active member in online dog groups, where he is careful to use a pseudonym and never show his face, but eventually people are going to figure out that Red Riot’s dogs look an awful lot like this one user’s....

He’s in a casual taiko group, always on the o-daiko. Loves participating in festivals and parades. He has never, ever, not once, worn a shirt while drumming. Probably has been gifted at least one antique taiko drum for his hero work, and he keeps it in his house but is too afraid to play it because it’s scary valuable “uhh it’s definitely haunted”

Regularly goes out drinking. Socially and responsibly, like clockwork, always with the same people. He’s a goddamned lightweight, and no one understands why. Will mope if he has to miss a night out at the izakaya.

So he’s clean, but sloppy. House looks like a tornado ripped through it, and nothing he owns matches. Not a single thing. I mentioned the dogs.

Will absolutely use “manly” as a replacement for “awesome,” and will constantly tell you how manly you are. Your actual gender is a non-issue. If you hang out with him for more than five minutes you’re manly as hell now.

He cries a lot? Sometimes it’s for show but he gets genuinely misty-eyed over the dumbest things. Do NOT show him pictures of puppies.

He’s good at braiding hair. His or yours. When his hair isn’t hardened, he likes doing all kinds of wacky stuff with it. He usually keeps it long enough for braids, ponies, buns, quirk-assisted faux-hawks, whatever. Mina has given him many bad ideas. He will definitely steal your hair bands and accessories, if you use them.

His fridge is just like, meat and beer. He will, if forced, consume perhaps one single vegetable. Unfortunately, his B.O. reflects this. God bless him - he showers and bathes daily, because he works out a lot and is just generally hygienic. But don’t ever touch his socks barehanded.

He wears the cheapest, most predictable cologne you can imagine, the kind that comes in an aerosol can and punches a hole in the ozone every time he sprays his pits. It smells stupidly good on him. How. so fucking manly. you kind of hate him for getting away with it.

- - - - -

And now, the 🌶 Spicy Ones 🌶

Does not date or hook up much; wants a serious relationship.

Has a tough time getting dates, weirdly. He’s still secretly insecure, but mostly he’s got rocks for brains and never knows how to flirt. He ends up friendzoning most of the people interested in him, because he is, in fact, a little too chivalrous for his own good and can never make the first move. He’s an emotional open book, but clueless romantically. I recommend being extremely straightforward. Draw him a map if you have to.

Is afraid to kiss you too deeply because of the teeth. Will take a lot of gentle encouragement to get him comfortable, but once he knows you’re safe, he’s going to be kissing you all the time. Like, too much. People are gawking, Kiri, for God’s sake.

He radiates massive doses of husband/dad energy. Will immediately marry the hell out of you. If you are capable of and willing to have his children, you are going to get extremely pregnant. Very quickly. Not necessarily a breeding kink (though why not), he just really wants to start a family with you.

He’s Big. Just huge. Tall and broad, and also... his dick is a summit and you will need to prepare for the climb. He’s had problems in the past because no, not everybody wants ALL THAT inside them. That said, if you can handle it? Woof.

Hard as a rock is No Joke with this man. Can and WILL use his quirk on his dick. If you don’t think that’s the first thing he mastered as a teenager I dont know what to tell you. Ever used a glass dildo? Well buckle up cuz it’s like if a massive glass dildo whispered sweet nothings in your ear and held you close in big strong arms and fucked you till you cried. It’s a sometimes thing. Otherwise you’d simply pass away.

He loves your brains. Your smarts and wit are a huge turn on, and he gets a boner when you use a word he doesn’t know. He also loves fucking your brains completely out, so that you cant use any words at all.

He’s a devout church-going body-worshipper. He’s so jacked that’s it’s constantly intimidating, like, how dare you stand next to this chiseled statue of a man?! but whether you love power-lifting with him or would rather die than exercise, he’s gonna treat you like the prettiest fucking piece of cake on planet earth.

Size kink ahoy; he gets his big grabby mitts on you... and you psychologically lose three feet. Doesn’t matter how tall or small or fat or thin you are, you are getting groped, squeezed, and manhandled. You didn’t even know it was possible to get thrown around like that; always onto something soft.

Not dominant. Not unless you ask very, very nicely. had a brief pushy phase at the peak of his teenage manliness obsession, unconsciously trying to be more like Bakugou, but he quickly realized controlling people wasn’t really him. It certainly isn’t very manly. Doesn’t want any toxic masculinity in his love life, even as roleplay.

That said, he can and will be a soft dom, if that’s what you want. After some practice, he’d get pretty good at it too. But his natural sexual groove is goofy, a bit awkward. Usually finds a non-sexual excuse to touch you at first; prepare to get tickled a lot. If you sit in his lap it’s all over.

If you get dominant with him, even a little, he’s gonna turn to putty in your hands. Go ahead and boss that big dumb puppy around. Nothing turns him on like seeing you get exactly what you want.

You’ll have morning wood pressed up against your ass. Every damn day. He might hump and grope you in his sleep, moaning a little. Usually it just wears off. If you wake him up to fuck, he’ll have no idea what’s going on but will be like “hell yeah i guess this is happening”

Gives oral like a starving man. Has absolutely zero reservations, because he knows his tongue and hands can’t hurt you. Will be as loud and messy as possible. If you get embarrassed or shy about it, he’s going to mumble sweet talk directly into your junk until your teeth fall out.

He’s vocal in bed. Growly. A moaning groaning disaster. He says the sweetest, gentlest things... has the cleanest dirty talk you’ve ever heard, but tenderness filtered through his bourbon-barrel chest comes out all dark and rumbly, especially when he’s close. you feel his “I love you” in your bones

He thinks making his partner cum is the manliest thing he can do. Any orgasm is good, but if you cum untouched on his dick, he’ll be riding that high for days

[cloudycrystalkpop]

Mayhaps a big doggo hybrid Yunho? Soft or angsty whatever you’re feeling hehe

You had been scared of big dogs since your childhood. The only ones you recalled from your younger years being strong and loud and aggressive. Barking at you or shoving your small kid self over to skinned knees and bruised palms. Needless to say you were not fond of them now in your adult life.

So upon your first meeting with Yunho, you were very intimidated, and admittedly a little frightened. He was a playful sort with his friends, with a deep voice and large frame.

He could easily shove you over or even break your bones if he wanted to. Now of course that was a bit irrational to worry about. he was polite, kind, and gentle with you, but the fear still crept up your throat.

Yunho was very aware of how frightened of him you were, and at first he felt horrible. He didn't want to scare you, had he done something wrong? It was only when the pair of you were left alone in a parking lot, waiting for your mutual friends to arrive that he finally asked.

"I know you don't like me much... And im sorry, i dont know what i did wrong but if theres anyway i can fix it or make you feel more comfortable-"

"You didnt... You didnt do anything." you sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you leaned against a concrete column of the parking garage.

"Then... Why are you scared of me?" he asked. "Youre not scared of the other hybrids, ive heard you talk about us, stand up for us... So i just thought you hated me."

"I dont hate you at all Yunho. Ive just-" and here it was, every flintch every time you hear a dog bark. It all came spilling out. You confessed to your childhood experienceses, the nightmares that resulted from it, and how far you've tried to run from it as an adult.

Yunho listened, attention devoted to yoy and your story. He didnt interrupted, didn't look away, he only held out his hand when the irrational fear became to much and you began shaking. You paused, looking down at his hand, before looking up at the canine man before you.

"Let me... Let me protect you. I cant change the past but i can help you heal." his deep voice was soft, gentle as he spoke to you. You whiped your eyes with your sleeve, and took his hand.

Yunho pulled you into a hug, wrapping his much bigger frame around yours, he smelled like trees and open air, mixed with something much deeper and earther. His sweater was soft as you fisted your hands in it, burying your face in his chest.

From then on, Yunho became your guard dog. Always going out of his way to be soft and gentle with you, slowly helping you overcome your fear, until one day, where he can rest his head in your lap and let to scratch at his ears, laughing loudly with his friends as they play.

[heyitsyn]

RANDOM SEIJOH HCs ACCORDING TO GIGI

a/n: this is a thing i cooked up between doing trig exam and ap gov review akdsjfldskfj

IM PRETTY SURE I ALREADY USED THIS GIF BUT IM WANTING TO RE-DO MY ENTIRE PAGE AND MAKING BANNERS SO THIS IS A TEMPORARY THING AJDJDJJD ALSO I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO THE KEEP READING THING ON THE APP BYE

oikawa def listens to indie music just bc he wants to feel unique and the 'iM diFfErENt fRoM oTHeR gUrLs' vibes

i FIRMLY BELIEVE IWAIZUMI HAJIME IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO CHOMPS ON HIS ICE CREAM BC HE LIKES TO FEEL THE COLD ON HIS TEETH AKSJSKSKSK

meanwhile kunimi eats a kitkat like its pizza just CHOMP

makki caNNOT sleep without a pillow between his thighs LIKE LISTEN he has 2 sisters and they all told him its so comfortable and at first he was like,, ??,, then he tried and now cant sleep without it

bUT MATTSUN LIKES TO SLEEP WITH PILLOWS SURROUNDING HIM bc it makes him feel safe and like there are two body pillows on either side of him and hes kinda trapped in the middle aksjskdk

when kyo was younger, he was really short and although he had other pants, he loved this one pair but they were really long on him and he wore it all the time and the part of the pants that touched the ground is torn in shreds

kindaichi steps on the sofa before sitting LIKE puts one foot on the cushion then the other until hes literally standing on the couch before folding to sit with his knees up to his chest (i do this)

watari sniffs his food before eating it no matter if its something he eats all the time or something new, he still sniffs it either way

yahaba is really particular with his feet and he likes to get a really big tupperware (duh one only meant for his feet) and fill it up with warm almost boiling water and he just soaks them

oikawa has sleep paralysis and he oftens hallucinates about aliens in the corner of his room

kunimi does this thing where he makes weird noises with his mouth like sounds of his mouth opening LIKE when youre tastinf something new and you do that sound with your tongue (I DUNNO HOW TO DESCRIBE IT AJDKSKKD)

makki bends his knees just to crack his ankles

iwa sneezes a ton but he has those sneezes where theyre quiet that you dont even notice or really loudly that it just echoes throughout the gym

kyo sleeps with one sock on bc his feet gets cold easily but both socks make him feel really hot so only one sock is perfect

for a tall and hunk of a guy, mattsun is a very light walker like his footsteps are very light and if he wants to, it can be practically silent

watari actually hates vegetables ajssksksk he particularly hates zucchini, eggplants, any vegetables that are that shape

kindaichi likes to stick or lean against walls because to him, they feel cold and can decrease his body heat

oikawa stands and places his feet at V position like \/ instead of ll because his sister did ballet and he was taught that was the right way of standing and it was considered graceful

yahaba has a fear of cactuses

mattsun does so badly in the heat because his body temp runs so high and the hot surroundings make him feel so uncomfortable and so he takes a lot of cold showers

iwa cannot swim like he freaks out immediately when his toetips can no longer feel the bottom and he panics with thoughts of drowning

watari has really small feet that he still buys big kids shoes to save money

kyotani considered playing baseball because he thought baseball bats were cool but he got angry and threw tantrum after missing his first pitch

iwa chomps on a whole raw chili while eating ramen akskksks

oikawa actually hates sweets bc when he was younger, he had cavities and iwa showed him a cartoon of cavities eating his teeth and will make him toothless

kindaichi really really likes hugs but hes too awkward to ask them even from his parents

yahaba chomps on mints so he goes through boxes of them in a week

i feel like theres a boy in the team who doesnt brush their teeth everyday and rubs a towel on their teeth to make it look clean and take mints to hide their bad breath

iwaizumi is actually iron deficient so he bruises super super fast and he even developed iron defiency anemia when he was younger bc his parents didnt catch on which caused him to be put on strong medication for months and still takes it now

WAIT,, OIKAWA IS LACTOSE INTOLERANT BUT HE LIKES MILK SO HE EATS MILK BREAD TO MAKE HIM FEEL NOT SO BAD OR GUILTY OF CONSUMING STRAIGHT DAIRY

seijoh four bonding time is watching gordom ramsey shows and yelling and screaming 'YEA! EXACTLY!' as if theyre also cooking genuises

watari used to eat grapes all the time until his mom got worried and told him if he doesnt stop, he will eventually turn into one. he only eats it every few weeks

when he was younger, kunimi cried because he had befriended a chicken on a trip to a farm and his mom took him to eat fried chicken after and he thought it was Chicky (his chicken friend :"))

kyotani used to stick out his tongue when it was raining so he could taste the raindrops. they taste better than bottled water

one time, during a seijoh sleepover, they dared oikawa to wear his sisters old uniform, skirt and all, and it backfired so everyone turned red and couldnt look at him in the face

their pregame ritual is touching each other's shoe tips

they tried doing yoga at yahaba's house before by watching yoga youtube videos but everyone ended up having to go to the chiropractor after (how did makki even turn into the human pretzel?)

the local gym gets so scared when they see the team coming through the doors bc these men are so LOUD like they HYPE EACH OTHER UP SO MUCH THEYRE SO ANNOYING AKSKSKDK

also never take them to an all you can eat sushi place. if you do, bring them earlier of the day like 30 mins after opening time so the cooks can cook enough for them without running out of ingredients (even then sometimes they still run out)

oikawa used to eat his mom's roses from her garden because he thought it would make his farts smell good like roses

takahiro is a surprisingly good artist like he draws really cool action fighting scenes in the corner of his papers and stuff

in my work: it's canon that iwa is half filo and his nanay used to dress him up in a barong all the time during halloween bc she wanted him to showcase his heritage

yahaba drinks a lot of milk because he hopes to one day grow strong and bulky like the 3rd years instead of being seen as a pretty boy

kindaichi's mom is a hairstylist and she always scolds him for using a lot of gel bc she's always the one who washes his hair

makki never learned how to do taxes and hes had the government knocking on his door a handful of times (BOKUTO AKKDJSKKS)

kyo has a dog: a chiweenie

there's someone on the team who wears those socks with individual pockets for toes

their pinterest is so different from what they look like for example, mattsun has a board of different flower decorations and arrangements

kunimi throws up during intense horror movies

watari's celeb crush is emma watson

the team alternates from different music genres like from ateez and bts to mxmtoon and beach bunny

they still dont know how to pronounce camila cabello's name

theyre all active in social media but only oikawa is on it 24/7 and in all platforms while the others have insta and snap

mattsun has twins as little siblings and he used to get them mixed up all the time that he used to draw a sharpie dot on the girl's forehead to determine she was his sister

watari hates sitting on the floor bc his butt bone hurts really easily so he can only sit on cushions for long periods of time

the team was supposed to have a party but everyone didnt know what to bring so they proved they shared the same braincell by bringing the same thing: a box of pizza

makki's an old soul and prefers to play records on a record player or watch old movies

kyo is surprisingly good at giving massages because he really pushed hard on those tense muscles

kindaichi knows how to crack necks so everyone goes to him a lot to do it (a friend of mine does this and can i say its terrifying yet so good?)

the only one who has a license is matsukawa and thats because granny needs to go to the doctor a lot and he hates her walking by herself and cabs are expensive

kyotani and yahaba are actually,,, lowkey close,,, not like best friends but theyre nice to each other and they got a stick and poke together (yahaba's was: :) while kyo's was: >:))

watari has a collection of mangas (some bl maybe 👀)

WARNING SAD: mattsun’s future job is a funeral person right? he ends up taking care of granny’s funeral free of charge and he had to take a week off because it was really painful for him

oikawa learned spanish SUPER fast to the point he forgets japanese sometimes but there are moments where he forgets both languages and hes just,,,, ???

makki’s unemployed yea but he rooms with mattsun in exchange of cooking because makki’s surprisingly good at cooking

iwa is practically the nutritionist of the team because he knows everything about proteins, carbs, iron, and needed vitamins so they all go to him to know what to eat and what they need

kunimi has lots and lots of shoes but usually only wears 2

kindaichi has a habit of pretending hes chewing gum even though he doesnt have gum, his mouth just chomps and moves with air akasldfjkf

there was a clown phenomenon in america but in their city, they had a mascots and seijoh 4 went around scaring kids :”(

oikawa never manspreads he gets too insecure to spread out like that akdjfkd

kyotani can easily sleep anywhere like he would be standing and just fall asleep or he sleeps with his eyes open

yahaba’s parents own a restaurant somewhere in the city and he works there sometimes

IM REALLY GOING TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS YALL AKSDJFKL

SORRY IM WRITING TOO MUCH I FEEL BAD THAT I HAVENT UPDATED BUT IM IN A CAR RIDE RN AND I WAS ABLE TO WRITE AGAIN AND MY EXAMS HAVE FINISHED THIS WEEK IMMA CRY

PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO REPLY WITH ANY OTHER HCS YOU GUYS KNOW OF SO I CAN PUT IT IN HERE AND CREDIT YOU WITH IT SO WE CAN HAVE LIKE A HCS BOOK FROM EVERYONE BUT THIS IS WHAT I STARTED WITH

oikawa screams a lot according to gigi but he’s actually a really quiet guy and not easy to scare

OKAY YOU GUYS DONT KILL ME I SWEAR IVE BEEN SO TERRIBLE AT WRITING BUT YOU KNOW WHO TURNED ONE TODAY? THIS PAGE!!! MY BABY IS ONE ALREADY 😭😭😭 ANYWAYS, HOPE THIS CAN MAKE YOU GUYS SMILE TODAY AND SCHOOL ENDS NEXT WEEK AND IM ALREADY AT 132 DRAFTS AMSJKSDKSK SO OH MY GOD THERES GOING TO BE SO MUCH COMING AND IM SO EXCITED TO GET THEM OUT 😩😩

[legends-live-in-memories]

Focus On Me

i want yall to pretend i dont have outstanding wips i need to finish lmao. Have this instead:

Dickinette One-shot 1.9K words

Summary: 

“Dick is pissed as hell after arguing with Bruce.

His solution? Go to an underground fight club to get the shit beaten out of him.”

without further ado

Richard Grayson was many things. He was a professional acrobat. He was a dedicated vigilante. Son of freaking Batman himself. And now? Now he was pissed as hell. The fallout between him and Bruce wasn’t supposed to get this bad. Wasn’t supposed to go on this long. The radio silence was deafening and the cold shoulder burned hotter than any flaming hoop he jumped through as a kid. He knew Bruce had issues about Dick’s decision but that had nothing to do with his capabilities as a vigilante and everything to do with Bruce’s own fears and insecurities. Thinking about it just gets him riled up and he keeps replaying the harsh words they threw at each other before fists started flying too.

He needs to get out of his head for a few hours before he plans what his next move is. No. He needed to get out of his head, yes, but he needs to breathe and maybe punch someone who he doesn’t fear disappointing or someone who hasn’t dumped a ferry’s load of emotional bullshit on him. Planning what comes next can have the decency to at least wait a week. 

Trying to distract himself, he went to an underground boxing club he discovered when he was sixteen. The club was deep in the East End, hidden between the Black Bass Bar and 83rd Street. He’s been sneaking there every now and again when he wanted the time to recenter himself and get grounded before facing the world. It was therapeutic, the bruising knuckles, the blistered lips, the burning sweat in his eyes. It was rough, jaded and unpolished. Everything he wasn’t allowed to be. 

He snuck in through the regular back entrance that was reserved for fighters. The air reeked of tequila and piss and cigarettes. He could already hear the cacophony of roars and jeers from the club’s patrons as a match went on in the center ring. Making his way to the side of the ring to put his name into the bracket, he sees the current fight come to a close with a knockout. The poor guy was lying limply with a twisted ankle and a suspiciously dark bruise forming on his left side. The mat is soiled with blood, spit and what was possibly bile in one corner. Dick swung his gaze over to the fighter left standing. 

His breath feels punched out as he takes in the absolute powerhouse before him. A lean figure clad in simple matching black spandex and sports bra that left nothing to the imagination. Her bare feet were bruised and taped in seemingly random places but Dick recognised an arch to them that was only achieved through professional dancing or gymnastics. She was light on her feet, strong on her toes. Chiseled abs that put Superman to shame were marred by scars on pale skin and a fresh bandage over what could possibly be a recent stab wound resting near her hip. He eyed her wrapped fists that were caked in blood and dirt as she flexed and curled her fingers repeatedly. 

If he was left breathless by her physique then her face left him dead and buried. Bold blue eyes narrowed in concentration with her busted lips curled up in a sneer. Her cheeks were flushed and her entire face was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her hair is pulled back into a regular ponytail with loose strands framing her face. Her hair, pure black, except for bleached blonde ends, looks greasy and unkept, highlighting her lack of care regarding her appearance. Her shoulders are hiked up to her ears and her muscles twitch and flex with pent up energy. She carries herself like someone who’s addicted to pain and the worst parts of themselves, desperate for a quick fix; the perfect reflection for how he feels right now.  Dick can’t wait to get in the ring.

“I’ll pay you $50 to get me in the ring with her right now.” He turned his neck to the fight coordinator who was counting a wad of cash. The balding man barely looked at him and just held out his hand for the payment. Dick couldn’t get his money out fast enough and before he even confirmed that he was the next fight, he was already taking his shirt off and going between the rope barriers to the floor.

The loser of the last fight was being dragged off with no concern for his well-being, while the victor stood off to the side guzzling some water. She barely side-eyes him, a quick sweep of her eyes without turning to face him, and he already feels himself flushing hot from the attention. He preens and starts stretching out his shoulders, rolling his ankles and warming up his legs at the same time. 

He barely registers the presence of the announcer, ears filled with cotton and eyes narrowing at his opponent. He looks for weaknesses, anything that would get him an edge, as he crouches into a starting position. Her wound is an obvious target and she’s short enough for easy face and neck shots. Hair pulling is also an option if he feels particularly brutish. She mirrors his stance, crouch closer to her feet and legs wider to increase lunging distance, and the full force of her gaze almost bowls him over. His eyes harden into ice shards, not willing to be swayed by twin pools of blue fire. The bell dings. He charges.

He swings an uppercut that just grazes her chin and she recoils, spins back and jabs an elbow in his ribs. He grabs her by the same elbow and twists his wrist. She twinges in pain but the hold doesn’t last long. She follows the rotation of her arm and faces him. He smells faint traces of beer on her lips and his mind swims. Pain erupts in his nose as she smashes her forehead into him. She kicks into his knee and sweeps his other leg out from underneath him. She clasps her fists together and drives them into the protruding knobs of his spine, ramming him into her awaiting knee. She moves to pin him and he uses this to his advantage. He grabs the arm that was about to press into his throat and spins her around on top of him, his chest to her back. He locks one leg around hers and cants his weight to the side, pinning her face first into the disgusting mat; he completely blankets her with his much larger body. This position doesn’t hold for long either. She still has an arm free and she uses it to punch into the side of his head. It’s not a particularly strong hit, but with the pain in his nose, and his brain feeling like it’s underwater, it is enough to disorient him and she pushes him off by her hips. 

Her narrow escape lights a fire under his skin and he reaches to grapple for her again. She slips away, again, and stands. He scurries to stand as well and immediately ducks from a leg swinging for his ribs. 

“What brings you here?” Dick almost gets whiplash from how fast he has to move. He was not expecting her to engage in conversation, much less initiate it. But she doesn’t sound malicious, just curious, and she pauses in her assault in attacks to display how genuine she was.

“Same as everyone else,” he says. He swings right for her head and follows left when she ducks, knocking her in her shoulder. “I want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist and get slapped around for a while. You?”

She snickers at his honesty and drops into a leg sweep. He jumps over the leg but clearly she was expecting it. She rides her momentum into a roundhouse that knocks him flat as he descends. She doesn’t hesitate and charges to pin him again. 

He lets her.

“Why does someone as pretty as you want to risk ruining that nice face of yours?” Her face is close, much closer than this pin requires but he doesn’t want to push her away. But the show must go on so he kicks her in the stomach, digging his toe into her bandaged side to get her off. She recoils like a snake about to spring and regards him with cold resentment. She clearly doesn’t like the reminder of her injuries. 

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart. What’s a lovely lady like you doing here getting down and dirty with the local dogs?” She is many things he regards, but lovely is not one of them. ‘Stray cat’ would better describe the scrappy woman before him. The address sets her on edge and he almost regrets describing her as such. Almost. Her next series of punches have him on the defensive and he’s pushed back all the way until he feels the ropes rubbing into the bare skin of his back. The flurry of sensations is exhilarating. Suddenly it’s too much and not enough. He ducks the next punch and grabs both wrists. He made the mistake the first time and knows better now. She won’t escape him unless he lets her. Not one to be outdone, she pulls one more trick out. She doesn’t resist his grip and instead leans up closer to his ear. Her chest is pressed flush against him and he knows she’s tipping just to reach him. Her lips, damp with sweat and cooling blood, brush against his ear and a weight settles at the base of his spine.

“Got a firm grip there?” her voice is soft, almost delicate, and he almost doesn’t register the question. His tongue feels like lead and his mouth has run dry; his brain can’t make the right connections to form words. He tightens his hold on her as an answer instead. She gets it though because she chuckles a swift ‘Good’ before she’s leaping and bracing her feet against his stomach. She leans back and uses her weight to pull them both to the ground, then she lifts her feet and flips him over. His fingers loosen and she slips out of his hold again. She follows the momentum of her roll and sits firmly on his hips, one leg pinning each of his down. She grabs both of his wrists in her small hand and uses the other to tip his chin back, his skull crashing into the mat harshly, blunt nails digging into his skin.

Her face looms over his, again closer than is strictly necessary, and she smirks at him. Her tongue peaks out and swipes at the sweat above her upper lip. He holds his breath, waiting to hear what she has to say next. His patience doesn’t reward him that satisfaction, however. A ding echoes into the room, cutting through the shouts and growls of their captive audience. She won. 

Her victorious smile is a thing of beauty, he can’t really lament his loss. Before he could overthink and get lost in his head he takes a dive headfirst and gives into his impulses.

“I’m Richard Grayson. Call me Dick.” He sounds breathless and rung out. 

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” her name is perfect like her. She releases his arms and moves to get off him. She offers a hand to help him up and he takes it. Before he could say something stupid she continues her introduction.

“You can call me Nette. I hope to see you next week.”

She will.

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Twenty Six: Inferno

soulmate au Choso x Reader

Warnings: depictions of violence and injury. blood mention. death mention (not for any major characters).

synopsis: you and your brother head into tokyo to hunt for some curses.

a/n: ngl i kinda hate this chapter but at the same time its necessary enough to the plot that i cant just cut it because it's setting up a few things that are going to happen in the next two chapters, plus it furthers the arc of the retrieval of choso's brothers so :///

word count: 4.4k a bit of a longer chapter lol whoops

prev - next

masterlist

The rain has let up; going from a solid shower, to a light mist. You’re drenched to the bone, with water dripping off your hair, and soaking through your shoes. The only parts of you that are spared are your parka, which is mostly waterproof, aside from a few holes. As far as you can see, the streets are empty. The lateness of the hour doesn't help. If there is anyone—or anything—out at this hour, they’re in hiding. Something you have the feeling you should be doing.

There's one single apartment with its lights on. It's quite a few floors up- maybe ten or so. And the curtains are closed. If there are any figures behind it, you can't tell. With as dark as it is, you doubt they'd be able to see you all the way down here.

Still, you worry. You don't want anything sneaking up on you.

“Sense anything?” asks James.

You shake your head. “Nothing. Not even residuals.” Which is a bit comforting. Though you're more worried about human counterparts. Curses are predictable; people are not.

"Keep looking," he says, "I know we're not alone."

You have to jog to catch up with him. “What's your plan, anyway?” You ask.

“We're going to kill some curses.” He says. “What did you expect?”

Anything but tramping around Tokyo at night…

“I expected to be exorcizing curses right now.” You say.

“Don't be a smartass,” he says, “they're probably hiding. Anyone with a bit of reason wouldn't be out in the open right now.”

You stop, turning to him. “Like we are. Right now.”

“Yes.” He says. “I was thinking we’d check around the first Tokyo colony barrier. If there's going to be anything, it’ll likely be around there.”

Personally, you think anyone with a bit of sense would avoid the place. But maybe that's just you.

You smell it before you see it. Sunscreen. And burning rubber; like someone has lit a pile of tires on fire. The foul scent makes your nostrils burn. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and your heart rate picks up ever so slightly. A cursed spirit. It's different from the cursed energy of a human.

"One's nearby," you say. Can't be further than a block. It's on your left; the air gets staticy whenever you turn your head that direction.

"How close?" He asks.

"Maybe a block." You say. "Up ahead on the left. Can't tell how strong it is, though."

Can't be too strong. If it's alone, the two of you should make quick work of it. Making sure the two of you don't get overwhelmed is your main concern. A handful of curses aren't bad when you're fighting one at a time, it's when they appear in numbers that they become an issue.

"There it is," you say, ducking to hide in a doorway. It hasn't noticed you. Yet.

At first glance, it's not particularly threatening. The cursed energy that radiates off of it isn't too strong, and it doesn't appear to be too intelligent. At the very least, it's not capable of speech. It's vaguely humanoid—at least compared to some of the other curses you've seen—but doesn't appear to be a mutated human. Stringy black hair hangs over its face, which is gaunt, and boney. Greying skin hangs loose off it's bones. Two sunken eyes glare up at you as it hunches over a corpse, of which is too mangled to make out what it once was, but it's too big to be a dog.

“What's it look like?” He asks. “Can you tell what grade it is?”

“Not a clue.” You say.

It's true height isn't shown until it stands on its hind legs, towering well over your head. A clawed hand reaches for you, of which you knock away with the flat of your blade.

Read it's attacks. Where is it going to move next?

It's going right.

You take a step forward, then to the side, before breaking out into a sprint. Once you’re behind it, you bring your blade to it's back, slicing through a large chunk of its body, but not severing it. Foul smelling blood splatters back at you, coating your blade, and part of your face.

It's not enough to exorcize it. You need to hit it again.

You slip as both your feet meet the wet ground and your body stops, but the rest of you doesn't. Your bag falls down your shoulder, which you haphazardly sling back across your back, swinging your other arm out so as to not fall on your blade.

“Don't slow down,” James says, “you lose a lot of power when you’re stationary.”

“I know that!”

You thrust your blade out, jerking it upwards, catching the curse across the arm and severing it at the bicep.

It's pretty sturdy, you’ll give it that. Though it's not too destructive in nature, it is tough, so you’d put it somewhere between a semi-grade two and three.

"Watch your footing," he says, "keep a low center of-"

"You're not helping!"

“Then try to draw from the air around you,” he says. “Your cursed energy-”

“I'm trying!”

There's hardly anything to take. Such an action takes an immense effort to do—let alone on purpose. The air is dry of usable cursed energy. Maybe if he got up off his ass and used his!

For now, you'll settle on drawing from your own reserve.

In your free hand, gathering in strength, is cursed energy compressed to it's very limit.

With what you've gathered in your palm, you thrust your hand outwards, sending a beam right through the heart of the creature. Through its chest you see straight moonlight. A clean hit. The curse doesn't even have the chance to take another step before it drops.

You feel jittery. Like you've just swallowed a lightning bolt. Like electricity should be crackling from your fingertips. Whether it's adrenaline, or something else entirely, you can't tell. The only thing you can compare it to is a runners high: a sudden rush of endorphins, followed by a state of calmness. Your muscles relax, but you can feel your heartbeat between your ears.

Is this what the others feel?

“Did I do it?” You ask between heavy breaths. It takes another moment for your pulse to settle down.

“No, you didn't. We need to find another,” he says. “Also what the fuck was that?!”

He watches as your head tilts up. You smell something else. Another cursed spirit. This one is further away—by quite a bit. Hard to tell which direction it's in, but getting back to the main road should give you more to go off of. It's far more open—easier to see anything coming at you.

As you exit onto the main street, you find it empty. No surprise there. Unless someone was right by you, the noise shouldn't have attracted much attention.

At some point in time, you find yourself in what looks to have been a gift shop. One of the windows has been shattered. It looks to have had a rock thrown through it. Glass crunches underfoot as you step through the window.

It's far too dark to see on your own, you have to use the light from your phone. Racks of clothes, and various other trinkets line the walls. Nothing appears to be stolen, but the lights are out, and a thin layer of dust covers everything.

With a harsh click, the lights switch on. James has found a lightswitch.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Supplies. Food, ‘n stuff.”

“We have that back at Jujutsu Tech,” you say, “we don't need to scavenge around anymore.” At this point it's plain stealing.

“Yeah well we need to find you new clothes,” he says.

“What's wrong with my clothes?”

“You dress too much like a sorcerer.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” You ask, clearly offended. “And you dress like fuckin’ Charlie Swan, your point?”

“I'm gonna tell mom you said that.”

“And I'm gonna tell her you joined a cult that's currently trying to end the world. How would you like that? Huh?”

Momentarily you stop at a display. Nothing in particular has caught your eye, so much as you need something to stare at, so you're not looking off into space. It's a sale display, holding an assortment of objects. Cheap headphones, phone chargers, snacks. Things people would buy while on a road trip.

“Hey check this out!” You hold up the box, “it's a disposable camera!”

James hardly gets out another word as you're tearing it out of the box, checking to see if there's any film in it. You haven't used one of these since you were a kid…

The first thing you point it at is his scowling face.

“I'm going to slap you,” he says, making a sudden dash for the camera, “give it here!”

“No way!” You say, hopping behind the counter, just out of reach, “this is perfect blackmail. You look terrible in this.”

“I know,” he says with a groan, “please burn it.”

“Never gonna happen.”

You snap one more; it's of yourself. The flash makes your skin look washed out, and the camera’s far too close to your face. In the background, the broken window is visible.

“C’mon,” he says, offering you his hand, “let's go fight some curses.”

When you refuse, he makes a sudden dash for the camera. You bring your elbow out and into his sternum, causing him to double over, clutching his ribs. The nearest exit is the window you came in. Your hands plant on the windowsill and you shove your body up and through the broken window. Your landing is less than graceful, but at least you’re still standing.

Tucked in an alley behind a laundromat and a thrift store, is a curse.

It's quite a bit smaller than the last, and far less human looking. It resembles a dog far more than it does a person. But it's head is much larger than its body, making it roll around on its shoulders much like a bobble head. The thing seems to struggle to keep its own head up. Cursed energy radiates off it in waves. Pulsing like a heartbeat. It swells suddenly as you look at it.

It's maw opens, sending a wave of foul-smelling breath towards you, and a scream so loud that the windows of the nearby buildings shatter. Instinctively your hands move to cover your ears, in a weak attempt to protect your hearing. They do little to deafen the noise.

You turn to your brother and yell, but instead of your voice, all you hear is ringing. Blood streams from his ears, down his jugular. His eyes have a glossy, dazed look to them.

Your ears ring too loud for you to gain your bearings. It takes you two tries to grab your sword. The first, your legs give out as you reach down to grab it. You land on your knees, then your hands, and a shock of pain is sent up your wrists. Cold concrete greets your hands, and you begin fumbling around blindly for your sword. Your hands hit the ground as you shove your body upwards, praying you’ll stay on your feet. You bring your hands to your own ears. Nothing. No blood. Which you hope is a good sign.

By the time you round the corner of the alley, and exit out onto the street, you’re met with silence.

It's… gone.

When the ringing finally settles down, it feels like someone has stuffed cotton in your ears. You move your hand by your left ear. Nothing. You bring it to your right, and finally you hear the sound of your hand brushing against your skin. It's faint, and muddled by a ringing noise, but it's there. You can only hope this will disappear with time. But something tells you you won't get off that easily.

As time goes by, the hearing in your left ear gets clearer. All you hear in your right is ringing. You can only hope that means you’ll get some hearing back soon.

This is going to be a pain to explain to Shoko.

“See where it went?” You ask.

James mouths something that you think is a “what?”

“Can you even hear me?” You ask.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, “ears are still ringing.” He brings his palm to the side of his head, wincing when he feels blood.

The next scream you hear is far quieter, but close. Maybe you're still too deafened by the first to hear it's true volume. It's hard to dictate the direction of it. You find your head turning to the right to make up for your lack of hearing in your other ear.

As you turn onto a connecting street, you're met with what looks like a crime scene.

A man hunches over the cursed spirit—it's corpse. The body is beginning to dissipate. It's only recently been killed. As far as residuals go, you only detect some. A fight went down here.

The man himself is rather unimposing in nature. He’s not particularly tall, or large of frame, and he's dressed as a simple businessman. Bits of congealed blood cling to his face. In the dim light it's hard to tell if it belongs to a curse, or a human. He has no weapons—not that you can see—and his cursed energy feels weak.

He's a sorcerer.

“What's your name?” He asks, not bothering to look up.

“Uh…”

He stands—suddenly—tossing something aside. “You're not a player…”

When he looks up at you, you find yourself frozen in place.

A new sorcerer. One made by Kenjaku. Why hasn't he entered the barrier yet? He must have… only a few days left to declare participation. Is this his cursed technique?

No. Can't be. You don't sense any residuals.

This is fear.

You have about a second to duck as he sends a column of flames towards you.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshit

You’re hit with a wall of cursed energy so potent it makes your head hurt. You quickly gather some cursed energy in your hands, using Rend to give him a shove. It doesn't do much in the way of damage, but you’ve effectively tripped him up.

You're not going to lose him out in the open like this.

So you turn and run, followed shortly behind by your brother.

“Listen, I really don't want to fight this guy,” you say.

“I don't think he’s gonna give us much of a choice.” Says James.

You exchange one last look before taking off in different directions. In a matter of seconds, you’re making a break for a nearby building, hopping in through the broken window. Glass breaks underfoot as you climb a flight of stars. The first emergency exit is locked, you have to head up a second flight of stairs to find one left slightly ajar.

Not a moment later appears the man, followed by your brother.

He's a few inches taller than the man, and maybe has fifty pounds on him, if not more. That size difference proves a clear advantage—at least when it comes to raw strength. James charges, and both hit the ground. His teeth clamp onto James' hand. There's a crunch, and when he pulls away, blood pours from the wound.

“He mentioned a player,” you say, “you think this has to do with the culling game?”

James shrugs. “Hold him down for me, will ya?” he says, pulling his knife from his belt, “I wanna see something.”

The tip of his knife presses into the man's arm. Enough to draw a bead of blood. James gathers a bit on his fingers, before popping them into his mouth.

A solid few seconds pass as you sit there, mouth wide open.

Did James just- why did he-

Gross!

You watch his cursed energy stutter, before fading out entirely. His body sizes up like rigor mortis has set in. The air around him shimmers similar to heat waves off a road.

The man’s foot finds your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You collapse onto your side, clutching your chest. Nothing feels broken, but it's near impossible to take in a breath.

He lets out a laugh. A hollow laugh that echoes in your sore chest.

He doesn't seem as concerned with your brother. Good. Now's your time to run.

If you can draw him away from James, that'll give him time to escape. From there you just have to lose him. After that, you suppose you'll rendezvous near the school.

The first fireball misses you entirely, shooting a hole through the wall directly in front of you. That's when you’re standing, making a break for some cover—the kitchen counter. The second catches you across the upper thigh, searing your skin, and burning a hole through your pants. You take a step and collapse. Without thinking, you use your hands to rip the burning fabric away.

The pain doesn't hit you until you look down.

Out of all the other injuries you've experienced, this is by far the worst. There's not many things you can compare burns to. Pain-wise, at least. The wound itself is about the size of an apple. Heat radiates off the flesh, which is both charred black, and a raw shade of red. Not like blood, and certainly not the color of your skin; more like a steak that's been cooked rare. Your hands are raw, but in considerably better shape than your leg. It’ll be a while before they blister. And the smell… you've smelled something like this before. Where? Any kitchen, really. It smells like cooked pork.

Those flames were pure cursed energy—why didn't your body absorb it? Did you not brace in time?

Fear prickles in your fingertips. The sudden burst of adrenaline has worn off, leaving you wobbly, and exhausted. You let that terror—that fear pool in your heart, gathering in strength. Maybe that's not the right term for it. It's agitated, practically vibrating in nature.

Your hands…

Healed. Good.

Now how about your leg?

You bring your hands to your leg and close your eyes. You try to replicate what happened the first time, allowing your emotions to fuel the flow of your cursed energy. But the action is awkward, and from the very beginning something feels wrong. You can't muster enough cursed energy to do it.

Can't do it.

"Fuck," you say, following this with a sigh, "fuck!"

Get up. Get! Up!

Your leg can still support your weight, which is good. But any movement of your leg sends shocks of white-hot pain up your thigh. The second your pants brush across the wound, your vision goes black, and you're doubling over, landing on your hands and knees.

Fight or flight has kicked in, and the fear you feel far overpowers any pain. Then you're on your feet, bolting up one, then two, then a third flight of stairs. The first two emergency exits are locked. It's only the final door that's been left ajar. You exit out into a hallway. All the doors are closed. At the end of the hall is a fire exit; a metal platform with stairs that go down a few levels, but not quite to the ground, facing a neighboring building. In the bottom of the alley, you can see a chain link fence, and what you think is a dumpster. Part of the railing has rusted beyond repair, and is marked off with yellow caution tape, and a sign warning people not to lean on it.

That's a long way down…

Cursed energy pours down your arms, into your closed fists.

Still, you make an attempt to barricade the door; slamming it shut. It doesn't lock from the outside. You’ll have to find some other way to keep it shut. You pry away part of the rusted railing, stuffing it under the handle of the door. When he tries to turn it, it gets stuck in the bar.

Good. That'll buy you some time.

To do what? You're not exactly certain. There's nowhere to run. Fighting isn't really a smart choice, but that may be your only option here.

"Why are you trying to kill my ass?!" You shout through the closed door.

You doubt he's going to give you an answer. You should be trying to run. He's clearly shown no problem with using his cursed technique in an enclosed space, so leading him out into the open may be a problem.

His cursed energy burns. It's volatile in nature; moreso than you're used to. The air around him feels as if it's heating up.

"I bet your cursed technique does jack shit out in the rain like this!" You say. Though you have no way to prove this.

And as if on cue, the rain stops.

Something akin to a stone hardens in the pit of your stomach. He doesn't want to kill you. At least not yet. If he wanted you dead, he wouldn't have missed. At the last second, you turn to avoid the mix of flames, and shards of glass spraying up at your face.

It's not long before he has his hand out the broken window, clawing the bar out from under the door handle.

Grimsever isn't much use in a narrow space like this. There's not enough room to swing. And hits you would land, wouldn't have much force behind them.

Screw the sword. Your hands work, don't they?

Your right fist connects with his sternum. Then your left—which has considerably more power behind it—strikes him square in the jaw. He takes one step back, then another, losing his footing on the wet metal. He makes an attempt to catch himself on the railing, but it's far too rusted to hold the weight of a human being. You reach out to grab his shirt too late. He falls right through that railing, and onto the concrete below.

A fall of a few stories- no human is surviving that.

The sound is the worst part. It sounds like someone’s thrown a sack full of eggs against the sidewalk. Immediately you take a step back, so as to not look at him—his body. But that noise echoes through your head on a loop.

You watch as your brother leans over the railing, grimacing as he pulls back. He curses something under his breath.

“He's still alive,” James says, “c'mon. Let's go down there.”

“Wait-”

“If you don't finish him off with a blow of cursed energy, he’ll come back as a curse.” He says. “Now come.”

You walk like a man being marched to his execution.

The ladder screeches from the railing as it's moved from its place. It doesn't reach quite to the ground; there's still a three foot drop at the end.

His limbs jut out from his body stiffly, and his spine looks to be twisted at an odd angle. He much resembles a wax doll in that matter. A doll that's been carelessly thrust aside. Much to your dismay, there's not a lot of blood. A little on the corner of his mouth. And some on his head. But not much.

It was you or him. You were only doing what you had to in order to survive.

It feels like a black mark on your soul. A weight clings to your shoulders that you can't shake. It settles on your shoulders and threatens to bring you down with it.

You find yourself frozen. No matter how hard you try, you can't force your limbs from their place.

“If you walk away, he’ll sit here and suffer.” James says. “This is a mercy killing.”

It's not like this is the first time you've taken a life—certainly not the first human one either. You've done it before, why can't you now?!

There must be another way. What about getting him to a hospital? Would he make it that long?

In the few minutes it's taken you to climb down, his face has paled. And if he is breathing, it's hard to see, but he makes a rasping noise like he's trying to.

He's trying to say something.

You can make out a few words. Standstill. Game. Nothing much more than that. You assume enough blood has filled his lungs and throat that speech is becoming impossible.

It takes too much effort to look at him. At either of them.

"Fine," James says with a scoff, "I've got it."

He pulls his knife from his belt. And though your head is turned away, you feel the swell of cursed energy. There's a crunch, and the cursed energy that lingers in the air dissipates.

Typically the body would be cremated to further prevent him from coming back as a curse. But you doubt he'll be given a proper burial. It feels wrong to leave him here. But you can't take him back to Jujutsu Tech. there's nowhere nearby to bury him.

"Jesus you're gloomy," James says. "Want a cigarette?”

You take one, holding it between your teeth as you light it. “What the hell was the- why did you-”

“I thought through the consumption of his blood, I’d be able to recreate his cursed technique.” James says. “In doing so I’d be able to mimic his soul.”

“Did it work?” You ask.

He holds up his hand. From his pointer finger, a small flame appears. It much resembles a candle in nature. Then he winces, extinguishing the flame. His fingertips look raw, and irritated.

"To a certain extent, yes," he says. “but I didn't take into account that he’s not protected from his own cursed technique.”

That's lame. He can wield fire but not without burning himself? What a useless technique.

“I suppose if I were to master a reversed cursed technique, I could wield it without worrying about any lasting damage done to myself.” He says. “But… I’d need more blood to do that. I think I consumed too much of my own—there wasn't enough of his in what I took in. It wore off before I could do much.”

“You think you’ll be able to do it with Fushiguro’s blood?”

He nods. “I don't think it’ll be easy, but I’ll manage.”

His hands tremble as he lights his cigarette, bringing it to his lips and inhaling. His fingers leave bloody prints on his cigarette. The moment he notices, he’s quick to wipe them off on his pants.

“Do I have a human heart?” He asks.

“I dunno,” you say, “if I stab you through it, will you die?”

He shrugs, before saying “probably.”

“Then I'd say you’re still human,” you say, “you haven't come back to curse my ass yet.”

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

Ghost Slander

I know I’ve done this before sorta but this is the Finial List of all the shit that’s really just bad about them. the first half of each is serious bad stuff and the second half is just silly annoying shit they do. I am not apologizing for this so that’s that on that. I also still love them anyways.

Papa I:  too old to do anything. he may be strong and smart, but he’s old, and tired, and gets grumpy when he’s tired. and when he’s grumpy hes a fucking asshole. he really doesn’t want to do anything, like go out for a fun day in the city, or try new things. can’t teach an old dog ne w tricks, and he doesn’t even try tricks he’s known about for forty years. He can be boring, and he can be punchy and shitty when he’s annoying (I don’t mean like punchy as in hitting, just you know when you were grumpy as a kid and you get really irritated and annoyed and kind of just wanna have a hissy fit and cant control it???? that.)

Papa II:  Super emotionally unavailable and it just becomes taxing to try and get him to open up unless he’s ready and willing - which, spoiler alert, will never happen. He really does have a shitty temper and when he gets angry he sees red. Refuses to delegate tasks to other people around him because he thinks no one else can do it right. When he does, no matter what they do it’s never good enough and he makes all his interns cry and/or quit. for fun: he gets the “man flu” in which he will not take medication or go to the doctor until he literally has muscle dystrophy. thinks Advil or Tylenol is some hippy bullshit brainwashing pill invented by liberals that are trying to trick him into being happy. conspiracy theories. thinks aliens built the pyramids. watches ancient aliens in his spare time and never shuts up about it. Unable to use technology, and falls asleep in “special chair” at home. 

Papa III: cant take no for an answer. he doesn't understand when someone refuses his advances because all of the girls in the clergy falling all over him his whole life has made his head a little too big. if you want major fucking ego, he’s the brother for you. if you don’t want flowers, and you don’t want random extravagant things, he’s not the brother for you, because if you tell him you don’t like the things he’ll assume you hate him and decide that you shouldn’t be together anymore. sure, it comes from a place of caring and wanting to spoil his s/o, but fuck, bro, tone it down. He’ll also talk at you for hours even if you’re not listening just because he loves the sound of his own voice. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to do something else, or are tired, or you just don’t care, he’ll stop talking when he’s ready and only then. For fun:  at a kids soccer game he would be That Dad that screams at the other kids like hes the assistant coach and probably be drunk and fist fight the other drunk dads in their lawn chairs. makes his s/o wax his back before they go to the beach or anywhere he has to be shirtless. its gross and hairy and he wouldn't care if his s/o didn’t bully his persian-rug body into it so hard one time he canceled a vacation. 

Copia: He has no back bone. He’ll work until people give him what wants but he’ll never come right out and say it, in any kind of relationship or work. You’ll constantly be guessing whether or not what he said has a second meaning and if it’s really want he wants or he’s been waiting for you to figure it out the whole time. It’s fucking annoying. He’ll never be the one to put his foot down, or silence a room, or command attention like the other papa’s have, he just doesn’t have it in him. For fun: Calls his stomach his “spare tire” like what the fuck who says that?? Talks to everyone, you literally have to drag him away from talking to strangers. The person next to him at the cafe has their headphones in and he’s just chatting away. Small talk but just gets worse, and he subjects everyone to it.  rides one of those bikes where you're basically lying down and doesn't shut the fuck up about how low impact it is on your back and knees. thinks the government is out to get him and everyone else but doesn't put two and two together and still has a google home thing or an alexa, buys that facebook skype camera thing for your tv that literally follows you when he walks. he just thinks their neat.

Dewdrop: Has a hot temper and genuinely gets mean when he lashes out. He doesn’t care that everyone has to chase after him all the time and has no remorse for what they have to do for him or what he ruins for them. He’s gonna do whatever he want’s whenever he wants and no one can tell him otherwise - everyone thinks this is so fun and quirky and great until it’s been a few months and they’re wondering why Dew hasn’t calmed down even a little. He’s too self obsessed to even care what other people want for him. A total mess wherever he goes, eats all the soap and candles and doesn’t replace them. 

Swiss:  saying someone is too good at everything doesn't sound like an insult, but it does when they brag about it. Swiss has always been the multi ghoul, meaning hes always been pretty good at everything, but never specialized in something. so rather than do more to hide the fact he’s a jack of all trades but master of none, he just brags about every tiny little thing he does. hes like 6′ but his ego is like 8′4″. Insanely jealous in relationships which can cause problems. he’s a liar. there. i said it. unless he’s your s/o, if his mouth is moving, it’s probably a lie. whether hes bigging up his own adventures, or trying to cover his tracks about where he was and who he was with, its probably all bullshit. the only reason he doesn’t lie to his partners is because he HATES being lied to in return and if he has feelings for you its a little harder to just shut you out once you realize he’s full of it. He mostly lies for fun, and partly just to see what people will really believe, so it get’s wilder and wilder every time. Refuses to do anything that’s boring to him like clean or do laundry, but he hates disgusting messes so he’ll just pay someone else to do it. 

Mountain: Disgustingly messy. When I walk into a room i leave a hurricane of my shit everywhere, but if you took an actual hurricane and put it in his bedroom, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. No one in the whole church will go near his room, partly for the smell, partly for the fact of that there is no where to stand that isn’t a foot high with garbage and dirty clothes. If he cleaned his room i think a new disease would be unlocked. Super stubborn, and inpatient. He’s pretty chill, but refuses to wait for anything without getting super annoyed, and it’s impossible to change his mind about literally anything once it’s made up. Trying to debate him about anything is a fucking nightmare. 

Aether:  when you’ve been together for a while, and you’re comfortable with each other, things can get boring. he’ll stop taking you on dates every week, and stop thanking you profusely for everything you do, and stop treating you like a queen. things will get stale quickly, so unless you’re into routine, steer fucking clear or you're doomed.  when he’s in a shitty mood, he will say literally anything to you to get you away from him. he just wants to be left alone and if you wont let that happen he’ll break up with you, tell you to fuck off, tell you to get away from him, tell you to go fuck yourself, whatever it takes. he doesn’t mean it, and even if he knows that deep down, you’re still causing the problem by existing, in his mind. refuses to accept that there may be a different way to do things. it’s Aether’s way or the highway and that's it. he thinks that if somethings easier, or faster than the way he does it, then it’s not being done right, and it’s fucking annoying how he wastes so much time doing stupid simple tasks because its the way he was taught and its the way he’ll do them until he dies

Rain: A baby. An actual baby. Needy and clingy and even a little bit pathetic sometimes. Here and there it can be cute and you might feel the need to nurture him, but honestly most people can’t handle it all the time but for Aether. He constantly needs attention in the exact way he wants and if he doesn’t get it he’ll whine and cry and try and make you feel like shit. Maybe it’s manipulation, maybe it’s not. Who knows. But you have to make sure he eats properly, make sure he gets dressed properly, make sure he sleeps, pretty much be a parent to him half the time. The amount of emotional labor is borderline slavery. His attitude is insane, and he’s sassy and bossy all the time as if he’s actually in control, and if you tell him otherwise he’ll scream (at the top of his lungs). Uses baby talk at an inappropriate timing and makes people uncomfortable  sometimes.

Cumulus: Collects tiny little themed knick knacks that are literally everywhere and take up all the space in her and Cirrus’ little sapphic cottage. Nosey and wants to know everyone’s business all the time. The only person she tells is Cirrus but she won’t rest unless she knows every detail about a persons life and drama.

Cirrus: Leaves all the lights on wherever she goes. Leaves all the cupboards open. All the lights are on so much that it lights up the whole house all night, and people call them to tell them to either close their blinds or turn the fucking lights off.

[thetorturerwrites]

Sleep: A Sackler One-Shot

Summary:  You’re not sleeping.  Adam wants to help. The only way he knows how.

A/N:  18+ only.  It’s Adam Sackler – that’s the warning. Ha! (Smut. I’m saying its smut.)

Word Count: 4500+

Days. It had been days since you had slept. Everything was starting to blur together because your mind just wouldn’t shut off.

It started, of course, with the slightly manic, sugar-coated Saturday that was your group of friends. None of you were the clubbing kind. So, you would routinely be found in someone’s living room, basement, bedroom drinking together, eating together, creating together. When you all came together like that, it was magic.  And Saturday night had been magic.  The gathering had been at your place this time.  It was you, all of your friends, and Adam.  Tall, dark, sex on a stick Adam.

Adam had moved in about three months ago. The place he lived in before was bought out and all the residents purged so the building could be torn down. He said that he’d used it as an excuse to get a bit away from the heart of the city, and he’d moved in with you after Ray mentioned he knew you and you were looking for a roommate. When asked about why he was looking for a new place, you’d gotten the watered-down gist. Something something Hannah. Something something Jessa. Something something drama. You’d damn near said no because of the something something drama, but he looked earnest when he said he was done with it and wanted to find a calm space. You had calm space to offer; and so, in he moved.

You caught him watching you a lot that night as you flitted from friend to friend in your shared home.  He brought you a drink once or twice when you’d been carrying around an empty glass without noticing, but you were too high on the vibe, the magic, to notice the way his honey-brown eyes always followed you wherever you went or the way he made sure he knew where you were.

Once, he caught you in a quiet moment in the kitchen and moved to stand opposite you, filling your glass with water this time just to take a break from the booze.  You smiled your thanks at him, happy for the moment of silence and stillness, but pushed off the counter when you heard your name again.  But he wasn’t going to let the moment go by and moved to cage you there, arms on either side of you, large body bent slightly to look you in the eye.  His eyes dipped to your lips where he could smell the whiskey and then up to your colored cheeks.

“You’re a pretty drunk, you know that?”

You were about to say something, you were certain of it.  You were willing your brain to fire up and get ready to hit him with something witty and sexy and adult.  But your name was shouted again, and the bubble burst.  That was Saturday.

And so, it wasn’t surprising to you that Sunday was an up day, a productive day, a great, shining day because you were still flying so fucking high. But you fully expected to crash Sunday night after the house was clean, the laundry done, lunch with your best girl, dinner with your parents, two dog walks, and a flurry of this, that, and the other in between. Your body should have been done. And yet, Monday came with maybe an hour of sleep under your belt.

It was now Friday.

The first day, you’d been annoyed, but this wasn’t your first rodeo, and you knew it was only a matter of time. The second day, annoyance turned to irritation; and the third day, you were fucking angry. What the fuck was happening. Thursday was a blur of exhaustion and emotion because you always got emotional when you were tired and it had been DAYS at this point. Never more than two hours of sleep at a time and just fucking awake for no reason. So, you’d begun going through your insomnia arsenal.  

Friday found you called off from work, wrapped in too many blankets on the couch, and the heels of your hands pressed as far into your eye sockets as they could go to stop the tears that were forming. You sat going over the list of things you’d tried to get to sleep AGAIN to try to figure out the right configuration that would work. You’d tried (in no particular order)…

-Hot shower -Tea -Tylenol PM -Masturbation -Hot shower + tea -Tea + Tylenol PM x 4 (nobody fucking takes only one) -Hot shower + masturbation -All of the above in one night

None of it had worked, and here you were practically weeping on your couch because you were so utterly exhausted when Adam crashed through the door, loud and cursing like he usually was. You curled in on yourself just a little bit more hoping he wouldn’t notice you and would just go away.

“What’s up, kid?” He greeted while dumping himself onto the couch by you. When you didn’t reply immediately, he reached over and nudged you. “Hey… ” he said, nudging you again. Two more pokes to your shoulder had you snarling and unbundling your head from the mini fort.

“WHAT ADAM. WHAT DO YOU WANT.”

Your outburst didn’t seem to rattle him, and he gave your shoulder one more nudge with an up tilt of his mouth.

“Y'ok there? You look like death.”

Heaving what probably liked like a dramatic sigh, but was actually just Herculean effort to not burst into tears again, you dropped your head in your hands once more and muttered…

“I haven’t slept all week, I’m exhausted, and I can’t banter with you today, ok?” Because normally, the banter was fun. He made you think with his quips and humor. And you loved making him laugh because it seemed like he didn’t do it enough. But today was a leave-me-the-fuck-alone day. Adam, however, did not get the memo.

“Have you tried…”

“NO,” you nearly shouted, “DO NOT ASK ME if I tried tea or a shower or what the fuck ever. Because I did. More than once and I sincerely doubt that you’ve got any new ideas to cure insomnia.”

He smirked at you but didn’t say anything else. You watched as he leaned forward to unlace his boots.  Canting your head slightly, you let your gaze trail to the strong arms, biceps working, and the black t-shirt that sat tight across his chest.  But for you, it was two things in particular - his height and his hands.  You always had a thing for hands because a good-sized hand could do so many things – Lift, hold, squeeze, choke.  All yummy and delectable things.  You also had a thing for tall people because on one hand, it made you feel safe; and on the other, being able to reach literally anything in the world was attractive.  You weren’t extremely short, but tall came with bonus points in your book.  So, there you were daydreaming about Adam and his tallness and hands when he finally spoke and shook you from your reverie.

“You know…they say sex is good for insomnia.”  He was the one watching you now having shucked shoes and socks and leant back into the couch.  His gaze roamed you over, and you shrank further into your fort because, though you did shower and brush your teeth, you were certain that you did not paint a pretty picture.

“I’m not having sex with you, Adam. Besides…” You could not have helped the snort that came from your face for all the money in the world, and it came with a side of snarky eye roll, too. “I’ve already tried it.”

His brow quirked, but he didn’t look away.  Rather, he let his gaze rove down the bare shoulder, the only bit of you he could see, for a moment before speaking again.

“You haven’t had anybody here in weeks. And you’ve been wearing that same sweater since Tuesday.”  Fuck. It was true, but you didn’t think he paid much attention to your comings and goings.  AND ALSO, you definitely didn’t think he paid attention to what you wore.  Apparently, he did.

“No, but I did try to get off, and it’s the same thing.  And it didn’t work and so here I am being badgered by you about the state of my sex life.”  With the grumpiest face you could muster, you flopped against the side of the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.  

“Just go away, Adam. Leave me to my insomnia and insanity in peace.  I promise I will bequeath the apartment to you when I expire.”  And the Oscar for best actress goes to…. 

But your dramatics were cut short when you felt your entire fort being lifted from the couch, and the squeak that broke from your throat was decidedly less than composed, and you bristled at the noise.  Who the fuck squeaks.  

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”  Just as quickly, you were deposited on the end of your bed and shot to your feet with a glower.

“Come on, kid.  I don’t like seeing you like this because its literally fucking pathetic.  So, let me help you.  I swear I will keep all of my clothes on, and I will not fuck you.  Well…" he paused and let his gaze trail from your head to your toes and back again before finishing, “mostly.”

“You…,” granted, your brain was sleep deprived and fuzzy, but this was something out of a porn movie, wasn’t it? “You…want to help me sleep…by sort of fucking me?”  What. What was even happening.  Was this real life?  And then, he laughed. He fucking laughed. Hand on the stomach, head tilted back laughed. That was it. Murdering him was your only option now.

“I want to help you sleep by helping you get off.  Orgasms you have to give yourself are still work. Just let me give this to you.”  

Apparently, you’d already begun this bizarre experiment because he reached up to pull the clip from your hair and toss it over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in the room.  Your mouth opened to chastise him, but he plowed forward before you could formulate the words.

“I told you. I’m gonna stay just like this, and you’re gonna feel better.”  You were still contemplating - because sleepless brain = slow as fuck - when he pulled the heavy white sweater over your head and off your arms.

“I’m going to burn this sweater, by the way.”

He balled it into a rumpled mess and threw it clean out of the door and into the hallway. He was serious about that sweater.  Again, you opened your mouth to object, but he was now working on your leggings.  He nudged your feet to get you to lift one and then the other, and they, too, were tossed over his shoulder. In the span of minutes, you had been rooted from your fort, undressed, and were now standing in front of your dangerously handsome roommate in nothing but your favorite blue tank top and black boy-short panties.

“I’ve been wondering what you kept under those ugly, baggy sweaters,” he murmured while not being shy at all about the way his gaze traveled you over.

“Look. Adam.”  Reaching up again, you pressed your fingers into your eyes and just took a breath because this was stupid, right? Adam was manipulating you by weaponizing your exhaustion, and you weren’t going to stand for it.  You were hardly going to stand for standing.

“This is a bad idea, ok?  This isn’t going to work, and I think you sh–”  Christ on a cracker what was that?  He had cut off your objections by sliding all ten digits into your hair and against your scalp.  The large fingers attached to those very large, very strong hands splayed out all around your head. And THEN, he started to rub and scratch at your scalp.

“Fuuuuuuuck,”  The curse-groan that came from you was definitely unladylike but sweet Jesus did that feel good.  Your head dropped forward against his chest, and you felt the reverberation of his soft chuckle against your forehead. Instinctively, both of your hands came up to rest on his hips because he was messing with your equilibrium but god did you hope he wasn’t going to stop.

“Better?“, he asked with his voice a bit softer than before, and you nodded against his chest again without saying anything just in case your voice would break the spell.  Your pity party began to puddle away – no, that was YOU turning into a puddle under that heavenly scalp massage.  He was looking down at you now, where you rested your head against him, and he cleared his throat as quietly as he could.

You tried to lift your head to retort, but he shushed you and just kept right on going with those magic fingers.  Each drag of his nails against your scalp elicited a happy groan or moan that made his fingers tighten or flex momentarily, every noise provoking a physical response.  His hands moved down from your scalp to wrap around your shoulders and start kneading, and you moaned.  Loud. No fucks given.

“Jesus Christ, Adam, please do not stop doing that.”

Adam’s large, wonderful, dexterous hands massaged your shoulders first, then deltoids, then upper back, then rib cage, and you wobbled and teetered depending on where his hands were. You were pliant under his ministrations, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath. Finally, you tipped your head back from his chest and unscrewed one shut eye to look at him.

“Hi,” you said.  That was it. That was the best your brain could do.  He smirked down at you, tilting his head back in amusement.

“Hey, kid. Get up on the bed before you fall over.”  He laughed. He was laughing at you. Again.

You contemplated it for a moment while staring up at him and his long eyelashes. Was he always this attractive, you wondered.  Yes, yes he was.  But now what? So far, he’d been true to his word, but you couldn’t be sure that he would in the long run.  Maybe you were relaxed enough now.  Maybe the massage was enough. Maybe you didn’t have to potentially wreck your roommate relationship by whatever it was he was planning to do.  But he could, apparently, read it on your face that your brain had started whirring again because he lifted you once more and unceremoniously threw you on the bed. You hadn’t even finished yelping from the surprise of it when he was crawling up in the bed beside you and arranging you on your back. He slid your now very-relaxed arms upwards so they crooked on either side of your head.

“Trust me, ok? Try.”  

You didn’t trust him. It hadn’t been long enough, but you were so, so tired.  Your brow furrowed again, and you bit into the plump of your bottom lip.  He nudged the side of your chin with his nose, and you knew the anxiety crossing your face was clear, you just knew it. Your brain was kicking up again. Fast, fast, too fast.  Sliding up beside you, Adam nudged one of his knees in between your legs, and you jumped.

“Adam, I…”

He hushed you yet again, but still gently, and dropped a hand on your stomach, fingers sliding to the side and down until it curled over your hip. His face found the space between ear and shoulder, and those full lips found purchase there. He murmured something against your flushing skin, but you had no clue what it was because that spot, right there, was fantastic. His lips trailed up to the lobe of your ear and then back down again, raising goose flesh in their wake. You sighed against him, a satisfied, almost eager sigh.  You tilted your head slightly to the side to give him more room to explore that valley, and he took the invitation raining kisses on the skin that soon gave way to his tongue and finally teeth. You hiccuped at the feel of teeth on skin. You knew he was a fan of marking and bruising - his calling card to the world. “Adam was here.” It almost made you laugh.

Finally, Jesus Christ, finally, you began to relax against him.  The stiffness from your aching arms and legs began to recede, and tears sprang to your eyes at how fucking amazing it felt to not have that tightness in your shoulders, your back. Both hands dropped down from where he’d set them to fall on Adam’s shoulders, hips shifted against him and tilted - a decidedly languid undulation matched with a contented sound through parted lips. He glanced up at you then, eyes raking over your flushing skin, watching your lashes flutter open at his pause. The slight dig of your nails into his shoulders drew a thrust from his stuttering hips before he could reign it in.  He could not, however, stop the things coming out of his mouth.

“You’re doing so fucking good, kid. Doesn’t that feel better?  Told you I was going to take care of you.”  All you could do was nod.  Yes, it does feel better.  Yes, he was taking care of you. But your brow furrowed again because the ache was shifting from arms and legs into your center.  The core of you began to throb in time with your heartbeat, and that ache was torturous.  

“Adam…” You breathed it out, something of a plea, and he lifted his head to look at you, groaning softly at the look of wanting found there.

“I know. Just let me…” His voice trailed off, and he began to scoot around you – propping himself up on this side, coming up to his knees for balance, both legs caging one of yours to keep it apart from the other. When he had you just the way he wanted, he leaned forward - the bulk of his weight up on the arm so he could look down at you, your face, the length of your body. And look he did. You watched him, through your lashes, as he stared down at you. Canting his head to one side so he could look all the way to your toes.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured - more to himself but loud enough for you to hear.  And then, he began to move again, heaving a satisfied hum that you could feel vibrate through his chest.

“Ah sshhhit!”  The surprised cry broke from you as two large fingers slid up and down against your labia, the friction from your panties just enough to drag. Instinctively, your uncaged knee drew up slightly, the ball of your foot finding ground in the blanket to give you a bit of leverage to lift your hip - granting more access to the lower parts of you and eliciting an appreciative sound from the looming figure above you. A few passes in, that enticingly long middle finger slipped between the two labia to rub from the tight bundle of nerves hidden there to the slick entrance of your core. When you began to lift your hips to meet his strokes, he cursed.

“These need to go right fucking now,” he muttered and sat up on his knees to peel away the offending panties and toss them away. He turned back to you and just stared. In another life, you’d have shied away from his gaze because there you were naked under him, your breasts swollen high and tight from arousal with pebbled nipples straining the fabric of your shirt, bare legs parted, swelling cunt all on display, and all of you heaving with breath coming in short bursts. In this life, however, you were too lust-rattled and tired to think about how you might look.  With no shame whatsoever, he reached into his pants to adjust himself, and you held your breath. He smirked that asshole smirk of his holding your gaze steady as he did it.  Adam Sackler was a devious beast, you decided, but you couldn’t help yourself from licking your lips at the thought of it.

In a second, Adam dropped back down over you and buried his face into the crook of your neck again hiding whatever tortured faces he might be making.  You didn’t have time to dwell on that notion, however, when you felt the pads of his fingers find the fount of your slick again. Your own self control wavered.  With a gasp, your hips jolted forward against him again, and you began to rock upwards and down with each press and pass of his fingers. The sounds spilling out of you were uncontrolled, frenzied - particularly when he abandoned the long passes for short, tight circles on your clitoris.  Your fingers curled into fists in his shirt, clutching the fabric as though it would help. When your hips began to buck and your head pressed back into the pillow, he lifted his head from the valley of your throat to watch you.

“Come on, kid. Quick and dirty this time. Cum for me.”

You nodded your head blindly, agreeing with him that fucking yes, you wanted to. It was right there and he was charging towards it for you. Bless this dirty, dirty man. Every part of you was clenched tightly, terribly tightly - eyes, fingers, toes, knees, hips, core. And then fucking yes, there it was. As the tightness in you exploded outwards, you came with a series of shouts that had him planting his free hand on your chest so he could feel them. He started to talk to you again, punctuated with his own arousal now, riding you through the orgasm the only way he could in this arrangement - with that filthy mouth.

“Look how fucking good you look.” He huffed, heaving a breath against you. “Bet you taste like candy.” You felt the vibration of his low, hungry groan. “Shit, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” He pressed his hand down into your chest just a bit more until your eyes opened and looked up at him. “Time for take two, yeah? Wanna make sure you sleep. Let me taste you.”

The delirium in your head made you question if he was saying those things out loud, and you certainly weren’t sure if that was you nodding your head, but his weight was gone from you so fast there was little doubt that it was definitely you who had agreed, and it was definitely him pushing your thighs apart wider.  

Laying himself along the end of your bed, he traced the outline of your labia again with his finger.  You looked down to see him gazing into your pussy, pearlescent from your arousal and orgasm. He treated himself first to the taste of your thighs, licking away the sweat and slick that was spotting the flesh and applying a trail of hungry bites to your center.  When he finally - FUCKING FINALLY - lowered his mouth to your taste, he groaned loud.  The reverberation of it against your already sensitive sex sent a shudder up your spine. Hungrily, he tasted all of you - labia, clit, slit outside and in - and you were never so grateful for a debauched man.  His tongue circled and he sucked on your clit until you squirmed. He scooped up all of the slick collecting at your entrance and sucked it down like ice cream with a lascivious moan.

But then you moved, and that drew his eyes open and up along all of the curves of your body. He watched you as you shifted a bit, scooting your hips down closer to him.  Both of your hands came down to thread into his hair, and you began to move his mouth against you, and Adam lost his fucking mind. He growled and moaned, digging fingertips into the flesh of your thigh as you brazenly showed him what you liked. You moved him, then, up and down, side to side, and he hummed hungrily with each thrust of your hips as you worked yourself on his mouth.

You were almost there. It was right fucking there, but your brow knit with frustration because you were chasing something that seemed elusive. A pained whimper broke loose from your chest, and you threw your head back against the pillow. Watching Adam devour your pussy should have been enough because, good god, he was beautiful between your thighs. And the hungry look he gave you when you began to manipulate him made your insides pool that much hotter. But still you chased, frustrated, until finally, one of those large hands came to push one leg higher up.  On the heels of that came two long fingers sliding into your heat, and your chest shot up off of the bed like you had been electrocuted.  A shouted curse broke loose from you as those fingers began to move, pumping in and out, curling to drag against the spongy spot inside. Your trembling fingers curled harder into his hair, and your hips began to dance against him again. Rocking, rocking, rocking…

“Fuck, Adam!”  Your chest arched upwards until the only parts of you touching the bed were head, shoulders, and hips – your pelvis punched down low and open for his thrusting fingers. That coil began to tighten again, and you trembled right at the edge of it. Teetering. Keening. Still chasing.

“Goddammit! Say something!”  

And oh, thankfuckinggod, he moaned into your cunt, and the vibration of it ricocheted through you and shot you like a slingshot.  The force of your orgasm shook your legs, your hips rolled and bucked, and you cried out hoarsely.  The new surge of hot and wet that met his lips had Adam reeling a series of hungry, sloppy moans alongside yours. He chased every drop, every taste of it until you’d rode him through the high and had begun to collapse against the bed.  

Happy, contented sounds rumbled through your body and you patted his head affectionately - that was the only thing you were capable of currently.

With a chuckle, he crawled up the bed beside you and settled himself gingerly by your side.  You watched him move, and your brow furrowed slightly.  Did he hurt himself? Was it that bad? What the fuck, man! But before you could think of too many more scenarios, he captured your chin in his fingers and kissed you once, light but enough to impart his enjoyment of you. The tang of you now on your lips had you smacking them blissfully. Man wasn’t wrong. Tasted like candy.

“Don’t think. You’ve got me hard, painfully. Sleep.”  

As he talked, he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you close, settling your back against his chest so that he could bury his face in your hair. Pulling up the blanket around you both, he wrapped himself all around you and whispered into the back of your neck.

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

Because it had worked. And here you were – sweaty, sticky, sated.  And fast, fast asleep.

[obsessive-ego]

Pillow humping

when your vibe is dead you gotta get creatvie

musical beetlejuice x fem reader nsft DUH

you know the drill with me, masturbation voyeurism

Home alone, you lay there on your bed staring at the ceiling, just thinking, it's been awhile since you got some time to yourself, not that you didnt mind, you adored your alone time, hell you spent most of your adult life alone. Until an certain born dead demon weaseled his way into your everyday life, making for a much more interesting loud day to day life, not that you were complaining.

Beetlejuice has made it a habit to mess with your neighbors when he was over, to give you some space from time to time, saying how 'breathers enjoyed their alone time' and he's 'just being respectful of his pal' not sure how true those statements were, he was probably just looking for an excuse to run amok in an apartment building.

All and all it was nice to be alone, that being said, it would be alot nicer if you remembered to buy batteries while you were at the store the other day, you huff in frustration.

It's been what? Almost two weeks since you dealt with your sexual needs, with beetlejuice constantly hanging about, the chances to have some legit alone time were slim and none, but now, being all alone, you would think youd jump at the opportunity, but no, vibrator was dead.

You could always get creative with taking care of business, it's been awhile, you've used a vibrator for such along time, did you really want to try something else? What if it wasnt good? All that effort wasted for nothing?

The thought of dealing with the built tension you've gained while having to 'babysit' beetlejuice while the Deetz were out of town made you core twitch.

You sigh, sitting up from your bed, looking down to your hands, you mumble "I guess I could use my fingers...?"

Or maybe?

You glance to your pillows, specifically the pillow Beetlejuice used every night, the ghoul has made the habbit of sleeping with you, at first he would sneak in while you slept, then he just kinda stopped being subtle, embarrassing yes, but enjoyable, as hard as it was to admit it, you liked the ghoul.

You stare at the pillow way longer then youd like to admit, you couldnt, snapping your head away, glancing back, could you?

You weren't naive, you knew people sometimes humpped pillows to get off, but using his? I guess you could wash it after. You sigh, getting up from your bed, you begin to pace around your bedroom debating with yourself on the morals of this dirty deed.

Unknown to you beetlejuice has returned early from bugging your neighbors, hiding his presence from you in hopes to scare you, as he often enjoyed to do, ever since you sucker punched him in the jaw for scaring you, he's been trying to get you to do it again ever since.

The ghoul strolls around your little apartment looking for you, with a nasty trick up his sleeve of course, he approaches your room, phasing his head through the door, his jaw nearly hits the ground, you were bent over sliding out of your panties, wearing nothing else but a bra, picking his jaw off the ground, literally, the demon decides the prank can wait another day, what you were up to would be FAR more fun~.

You have came to the conclusion of 'this was my house, my pillow, I can just wash it after' you sigh, it's been so long since you messed around like this, you could feel your bits pulsing already, climbing back on the bed you take the pillow beetlejuice has been using and plant you face directly into it, inhaling the scent, it was hard to describe, but you did detect weed in the smell.

Beetlejuice watches you like a hawk, eyes wide, hair electric pink buzzing with excitement, what were you up to? Was that the pillow he used every night? He chuckled to himself, and here he thought he was the only one here who had a scent fetish.

You let out a small moan like sigh, quiet, but still auditable to the ghost in the room. Beetlejuice bites his knuckles, how he LOVED that sound, sitting himself down at the edge of the bed, eager to see what kinda show you're about to put on, since your vibe died, what were you gonna do? Smell his pillow and finger yourself? The demon couldnt help but drool and that picture.

You mutter a soft "okay" and maneuver the pillow between your legs, straddling it.

Beetlejuice nearly screams with excitement, not that you could hear him in his invisible state. His cute little breather was gonna do something REAL dirty to the pillow he used every night, this was just too good, wiping the excessive drool from his mouth he purrs "didnt know you had it in ya sugar".

You slowly begin to move your hips, as if to test the feeling, and with that you begin a more steady pace panting and moaning softly "beej, please, so good" you babbled, you've been so worked up with no outlet of course you were already heated.

Beetlejuice drooled at this little show you were providing, pillow humping, especially the one he used, was way dirtier and better then you using a vibrator, this had a more perverted personal touch. "You naughty little thing, I would love to have those hip move on me like that sugar~ you really know how to move huh sweet stuff? Driving me nuts over here" he chuckled to himself, cock already in hand, his strokes trying to match your pace.

This was so gross, but it felt really good, you can deal with those negative feelings later, without a second thought you grab one of your breats and begin playing with the nipple, while your other hand grasps at the pillow between your thighs, the sensation of your fingers pinching and flicking your nipples was enough to make you whine.

The ghoul groans watching you play with your breast, god slash satan he want it in his mouth, if something like a little pinch was enough to make you whine, his mouth would have you in a screaming fit, without a second thought his jaw hangs down letting his long black and white striped tongue hang free, drooling.

you couldnt help but imagine Beetlejuice's hand in place of yours, gropping and pinching, giving your chest the love its deserves, you sigh in contentment.

The idea of riding the ghoul has crossed your mind way more then youd like to admit, you could hear it now all the dirty things he'd be saying, how he'd probably let you start, setting the pace, and doing the movements on your own until his large strong hands would grab your waist as he would slam into you with no mercy, the thought alone made you buck harder to the point the bed was creaking.

Beetlejuice was drooling like crazy watching you hump his pillow like you were a dog in heart, what he wouldn't give to switch places with it, hell it didnt even have to be his cock, to have you going that hard on his leg would be hot.

His stroking picks up in pace to match your enthusiasm "such a dirty girl, arent ya babes? I love watch you work those beautiful hips~ you gonna cum soon? Cum all over my pillow and leave it for me tonight? You're so thoughtful sugar~" he purrs.

"Fuck" you utter, beetlejuice recognized that strain in your voice, hes herd it multiple times watching you tend to you needs, it ment you were gonna cum, cum all over his pillow, he hoped you were gonna go to bed early tonight solely to join you and rub his face in that sweet spot you left behind for him. The demon began picking up his pace, wanting to cum shortly after you did.

You buck your hips at an unsteady pace, chasing your orgasm, the image of Beetlejuice coaxing you to cum all over his cock, and praising you for being such a good girl, while he slammed mercilessly into you aching pussy was more then enough to push you over the edge, you Yelp out "beetlejuice" as you cum, you ride out your orgasm clumsily grinding against the pillow until you finished, you stare off into space for a bit enjoying the after glow and trying to regain your composure.

The demon at the end of your bed wasnt too far behind after seeing that cute face you make when you come, not to mention how hot his name sound on you lips when you're shouting it out while you cum, was more then enough to get him to blow his load all over his hand. As he watch you regain you breath it hits him, a ghoulish idea, since you were so kind so leave him a personal gift on his pillow, he should do the same, and with that thought, he crawled forward and wiped his cum cover hand on your pillow. Pleased as punch with his doings, his attention is drawn back to you once the demon sees your on the move, watching you redress yourself.

"Alright" you mumble as you grabbed the freshly humped pillow.

"Wait, sugar, what are you doing?" Beetlejuice panicked, of course you would wash it after doing that, he completely blanked out on that.

"I guess itd be weird if I only washed the one huh" you mumble to yourself as you pick up yours, you werent stupid, you knew how to cover your tracks when doing something less then wholesome.

"Babes come on, don't, they're fine, it's fine, wouldn't it be a hot idea to leave them? PLEASE" Beetlejuice on his knees begging you to reconsider not that you could hear or see him in his current state. His heart sank when you left the room, he groans, cant win them all huh.

Bonus

You enter the laundry room with the pillows in hand.

"Hey sweetheart what cha up to?" You were greeted by Beetlejuice sitting on top of the dryer.

You nearly jump out of your skin "hey, I didnt expect you back so soon" you give a nervous laugh.

"Doing some laundry huh? How bout I give ya a hand? It's the least I can do sugar"

"No thanks" you were quick to respond

"Babes, I know how, it's not that hard, you've been so nice to me and putting up with me, it's the least I can do" Beetlejuice had jumped down from the dryer and had practically pinned you to the wall "i insist doll" he purred, his mouth practically on your ear.

This was all too much especially after just jerking off, you really didnt have it in you to argue or stand your ground, so you cave.

"Okay"

And with that beetlejuice took the pillows from you and practically pushes you out the door, locking it behind you.

"Weird, best not to dwell on that" you mumble, straightening yourself as you head to the kitchen for a drink.

[nyainheat]

wow i cant believe the second full fledged smut piece i’m releasing is between an oc of mine and my friends, @ashengro-tto

tw: tentacle pp, not revised we die like men, they/them pronouns w/ female genitals, naughty adult time themes, age difference

“Marlowe?! What’s wrong?!” Meglapus sprinted to them as they suddenly collapsed in the doorway. He recoiled when the scent hit him, knowing immediately what was wrong. “They just started acting weird a few minutes ago! I don’t know what happened!” Grim wailed, tears in his eyes.

“Grim.” Meglapus snapped his fingers at the grey cat monster, “Grim! Listen to me.” he waited for his attention. “Where did you just come from?” Grim sniffled, “O-Octavinelle, we ate dinner th-there.”

He clicked his tongue, knowing instantly what had happened. “Let’s get our dear housemate to your room for now,” he cast a sleep spell, though it didn’t do much. In their sleep they continued to breathe deeply and moan, legs moving in an attempt to get some friction going.

Carefully Meglapus lifted them and headed for their room, instructing Grim to bring him his phone. Marlowe’s red husky, Minestrone, had heard the commotion and was pacing around Meglapus’s legs, whining. He jumped on the bed when his master was laid upon it. He licked their face, hoping to bring some comfort in their restless sleep. Grim joined him on the bed once he’d handed the phone off to it’s owner, sitting on the opposite side still sniffling.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

A few minutes later, Meglapus told Grim to head over to the water witch’s dorm. “You’ll be spending the night there.” he explained, “Azul will explain the situation once you get there.” Grim wanted to argue, but knew if their housemate had been the one to settle things everything would be fine.

“I’ll go with you!” Minestrone spoke up, “I don’t like seeing master like this, and you’ll need some company.” Grim flung his arms around the husky, “you’re not so bad after all, I guess.” Meglapus couldn’t speak dog well, but got the gist of what had been said.

“Our dear Marlowe will be fine by tomorrow, I assure you.” he promised as seeing them off, “I’ll text Azul the moment they’ve recovered so he can tell you asap.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Once he saw them off, he inhaled deeply. Walking back into the room, Meglapus wondered if a gas mask would be helpful in clearing his mind of this sweet smell. Snapping his fingers, he dispelled his magic.

“Marlowe,” he spoke gently as they roused, pinching himself when they groaned. “Marlowe, it’s me. Wake up dear, we need to talk.”

Marlowe curled into a ball, sweating profusely. “M-Meglapus,” they groaned, clutching their clothes, “everything’s hot and my body feels weird…”

“Shh, shh, I know dear, I know. You’ve been given an potion that makes you horny, a very strong one to boot. Do you want me to put you to sleep until it wears off?” they shook their head so violently he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Then you’ll have to relieve yourself, that’ll help the effects wear off sooner. Is there anything I can do to help-!”

Marlowe yanked the tall male down onto the bed, straddling him. “I want you.” they began kissing him roughly. Meglapus instinctively returned the gesture, mind becoming hazy thanks to the sweet scene oozing off them. But the merman quickly snapped out of his trance.

“Wait wait wait,” he sat up, pushing Marlowe away with a whine, “now, let’s be rational about this.” the human pouted, hands clutching onto his vest. “I want you, I want to feel you inside me! I’ve wanted to for a while now. I want to feel your body on mine, I want it so badly. Meglapus, please please fuck me!”

Staring at the small human, a smirk slowly forming across his handsome face.

“Very well, I shall treat you tonight, my dear angelfish~” wasting no time, Meglapus carried them to his own room. Even if this was out of the blue, he wanted to make the night as romantic as possible. Using his magic, he disgared any blankets covering his bed except the thinnest one.

Setting his partner down gently, Meglapus pulled back from their kiss. He chuckled when they whined in protest, “now now, be patient my dear. We need to get some things out of the way,” he creased a hand up their leg, grinning as they shivered.

“First and foremost, have you been touched before?” Marlowe let out a shaky breath feeling his lips ghost over their neck, shaking their head. “Do you want to take the lead?” another head shake. “Where do you want me to cum?” “i-inside me- AH-!” Marlowe moaned loudly as he bit down with his sharp teeth. Drawing his tongue over the love mark, he pulled away.

Pulling off his shirt, Marlowe got a full view of their partner. Beautifully toned muscles enveloped his arms with a chest and eight pack littered with scars. “Enjoying the view?” he asked with a smirk, snapping his fingers so the lights dimmed down. He took off his gloves in a less showy fashion, that could be saved for another time.

Following his lead, they started removing their skirt. “Allow me.” he stopped them before they could start on their shirt. Lifting them up, he sat them on his lap so they straddled him. Slowly, he unbuttoned them, leaving them only in a bra and panties. “You’ve got a wonderful eye,” he said, giving their legs a squeeze. “These colors match your eyes perfectly~”

Suddenly feeling shy, they tried to shrink back. “Ah ah ah,” he tutted, “no need to shy away my dear, you’re gorgeous through and through. See?” moving his hands to their hips, he pushed them down as grinded into them. The moan they let out only made his cock twitch with anticipation.

Moving them to lay on their back, he kissed them. It was gentler than the one from before, mouths moving slowly together. A surprised squeak left Marlowe feeling his tongue invading their mouth.

A sting of saliva stretched between the two as they separated. Meglapus moved down to their crotch, pulling off their panties. He licked his lips seeing how wet they were. Their juices had drenched their panties and coated their pussy so much any light that hit it caused it to shine. His cock staining painfully in his pants twitched.

Standing on his knees he unbuckled his pants, quickly removing them along with his boxes. Marlowe’s eyes widened, his dick wasn’t like a humans. Instead it had suckers like the tentacle of an octopus would have, and the top was tipped in a bright blue, and was a LOT longer.

“Now then,” he spread their legs, pulling them around his hips. “Are you ready?” and with the okay, he eased his tip into them. Marlowe moaned louder than they had all evening. Their toes curled and hands gripped the sheets below.

“Tell if it’s too much, my dear~” the merman purred, easing himself into the tight hole slowly. All Marlowe could do was moan, all thoughts becoming lost in a haze of pleasure.

When he bottomed out, Meglapus congratulated his partner. “You did so well, taking all of me in like this. How does it feel to have me inside you? To feel me touching all your special spots? Hm?” he moved his hips slightly, earning a lewd groan from them. “How would it feel, I wonder, if I were to…” pulling back a few inches, he pushed back into them, feigning innocence when they jolted in pleasure. “Oya oya, guess that’s one way to make you sing~” he mused, pulling back again and beginning a steady pace.

The slapping of skin against skin filled the room, accompanied by sinfully lewd moans. It was too much, it all felt too good. The heat in them was building up. They would be undone any moment now. And then they were.

Meglapus grinned proudly as Marlowe came, but didn’t pause in his rhythm. “Now that you’re all loosened up,” he purred, eyes gleaming in the dim light as he watched their body twitch from the pleasure they’d just endured. “I believe it’s time for the main course.” It was going to be a long night.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Don’t Worry

Prompt: okay so i found your quarantine drabble "it started with a flower" merlin series and can we pls have more of gwen and arthur being worry warts while merlin continues to not understand why their worried? bonus points if merlin is immortal/cant be killed by human injuries so he's more reckless and gwen and arthur are just like "oh for fucks sake please stop merlin if for no other reason then we are mortal and you're killing us w stress" we love self-sacrificing merlin and his worried lovers

Thanks for the prompt, babe! It was so nice to look back at the true mountain of drabbles on this account...still can't get over the fact that a drabble is SUPPOSED to be 100 words exactly...also SHAMELESS D20 reference because that's how we roll babey

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, gwen/arthur, gwen/arthur/merlin

Warnings: none

Word Count: 5653

Merlin has lived through many, many things. He continues to live through many, many things.

The fact that he can do this does not prevent Gwen and Arthur from worrying when he makes some, frankly, quite questionable decisions.

Or, five times Merlin makes Arthur and Gwen worry, and one time they make him worry in return.

1: Poison

In hindsight, the visiting lord was absolutely trying to kill both Arthur and Gwen. The man turned up with all his servants and knights in armor. Even the servants, yes, in leather tunics and with many different squires juggling things that were definitely supposed to be kept hidden. Arthur, of course, didn’t realize this because he’s been trying to be more focused on his own presentation—at least that’s the excuse he gives Gwen—but Merlin knows better. He’s been doing this for a long time.

So when the lord makes a show of rising to his feet amidst a jubilant feast, raising a goblet high in the air, praising Camelot, her strength, and the power of a strong, worthy leader, Merlin has to hide the roll of his eyes when he deftly removes both Gwen and Arthur’s goblets from their grasps. Arthur opens his prat mouth to ask what the hell is going on, only for Merlin to raise an eyebrow, toast to the lord, and down the contents of both.

“Merlin!”

Lancelot is out of his chair in an instant, rushing across the hall to catch Merlin as he slumps, followed swiftly by Gwaine who bellows for Gaius. Percival and Elyan don’t hesitate to draw steel, watching as the servants of the visiting lord hold up their hands.

“My lord,” the visiting lord simpers, “I have absolutely no idea what could have—“

“Save it,” Arthur growls, standing, “you have brought poison into the heart of Camelot. You will explain, but I have no wish to hear your pathetic mumblings right now.”

He turns his back on the lord as the knights rush him, holding the others at bay as Arthur kneels down at Merlin’s side. Gwen rises as well, her chin aloft, looking every bit the queen she is.

Merlin, of course, can’t hear a damn thing past the roaring of blood in his ears. This one’s a nasty one—he can feel it burning as it goes down his throat, splitting off into slivers that find their way through his body, into his chest, into his arms, right down to the tips of his fingers. It feels as though he’s both deathly cold and about to sweat out every little bit of moisture in his body.

He can’t see much either, his eyes squeezing shut to deal with the pain, but he can sense the moving of blurry shapes above him. Probably Lancelot, probably Gwaine, probably not Gaius yet, he’s quite far away.

Oh, is he being lifted? He’s probably being lifted. Alright, so they’re taking him to Gaius this time. That’s new. Wow, is the walk to Gaius’s always this long? Yes? No? He’s having a bit of a hard time keeping track of time right now.

“Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Merlin tries to say, only for his throat to explode in agony again the second fresh air enters, so he just ends up making this horrible half-screech-groan sound.

“Don’t try and speak,” the voice orders, presumably doing something other than just standing there watching this happen, not that Merlin can feel anything, “just hold on. We’re doing our best.”

Merlin closes his eyes fully and relaxes as much as he can onto the bench. Which probably isn’t very much if he remembers how most of these poisons work. He breathes, reaches deep into his chest for his magic, and waits, letting the slow golden light work its way around his body, helped along by whatever Gaius is doing to him.

He opens his eyes an uncertain amount of time later, looking straight into the most disapproving eyebrow he’s gotten in a while.

He swallows, cracking a smile when his throat merely tingles.

“So,” he croaks, “did I miss the rest of the feast?”

“Oh, Merlin!”

Ah, there’s Gwen—she flies into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his middle, squeezing and holding on for dear life. Oh, her face is wet, has she—

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, clumsily trying to pat her back, “it’s okay, ‘m alright. You’re alright too.”

“Thanks to you,” Gwen says, drawing back and wiping her face only to join Gaius in staring at him with the face of a disappointed parent, “Merlin, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I have a much better chance of surviving that than you and Arthur?”

Gwen bats his shoulder with her shawl. “That is beside the point and you know it. You scared us.”

“Sorry, but—“

“No, Merlin,” Gwen says sternly, “no ‘buts.’ I understand what you’re trying to do, but you know this isn’t good for you.”

“I don’t normally down poison on the regular, no.”

He grins, big and cheeky, right in her face. And to give her credit, she manages to gold that stern queenly façade for a few moments longer before she breaks, smiling and shaking her head and rushing right back in to hug him.

“I trust you unconditionally,” she murmurs, “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“I have to keep you safe,” Merlin mumbles, still quite tired from fighting the poison, “and I’m alright. I’m always alright, you know that.”

“I know, Merlin.” She draws back and cups his face with a gentle hand. “But I worry.”

“So do I.”

“Not about yourself,” Gwen whispers, “not nearly as much as you should.”

“Well, when I start reacting to deadly things like a normal person, I’ll be more worried.”

2: Bandits

They’re just on a hunting trip. It’s not even a patrol. The knights aren’t even in all their capes and obvious things that flap about in the wind like signal flags saying ‘yes! Hello! We are here and we are obviously from Camelot! Please come and try to stab us!’ Seriously, Merlin’s going to have words with whoever decided that a mandatory part of the knights’ everyday patrol wear is going to be massive red things tied around their necks. It’s a serious thing that he’s run into at least four times. It’s getting a little ridiculous.

Anyway, they’re not wearing those this time, because this is a casual hunt for only the king and his most trusted. Also known as: Arthur the prat is getting tired of being a prat in the castle and wants to go be a prat outside.

Also also known as: court life is hard and the knights—and Merlin—can see Arthur getting tired. So they drag him out to the woods where he can’t escape any of their snark because “There’s no one else here but us, Princess, get used to it.”

Merlin knows Arthur well enough to know he’s secretly very, very grateful for it.

You wanna know what he’s probably not grateful for? The inability of one of their hunts to go without running into at least one mess of bandits after an easy raid.

One hunt, just one. Please.

Merlin doesn’t even like hunts. He just likes not being in the citadel all the time.

He ducks swiftly behind a tree as a bandit takes a wild swing at him with his sword, getting it lodged in the trunk next to him. Merlin’s eyes go wide as the bandit rips it out again with a vicious snarl, drool leaking from his lips as he grins angrily at Merlin. His nose wrinkles as he smells the bandit’s breath.

“Ugh, you’re worse than Arthur in the morning.”

He uses the bandit’s momentary confusion to blast him across the clearing into a tree, knocking him out.

“So Arthur in the morning, huh?”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Gwaine blocks another sword. “Listen, if you want to try and get the prat out of bed, you be my guest.”

“And deprive you of that honor?” Gwaine smirks. “Not on your life.”

Merlin opens his mouth to make some snappy remark when he notices four bandits rushing at them over Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Look out!”

He sends Gwaine to the side with a blast of magic, ignoring the shout of protest. The bandits get closer, swords raised high, one of them letting out a vicious cackle.

Merlin sighs. Honestly.

He raises his hand and sends them all flying backward, smiling a little at the way the vicious cackle turns into a whine that would’ve made the runt of the new litter of dogs ashamed. The bandits lie on the ground, dazed, swords lying all across the clearing.

“Merlin!”

Merlin glances over, seeing Arthur rushing at him. He barely has time to turn before Arthur’s bowling into him, hugging him so tightly he panics for a second that Arthur’s under some sort of enchantment trying to kill him. Only to realize no, this is just his prat hugging him because he’s scared.

“I’m fine, Arthur.”

“There were four of them, you—clot pole!”

“That’s my word.”

“Yes, and it suits you perfectly! Merlin, you could’ve been killed!”

Merlin makes a show of looking around at himself, still fully intact, then back up at a panting Arthur. “I think I’m all in one piece, sire.”

“Don’t you ‘sire’ me, Merlin, you—“

“Did Arthur just admit that he likes it when I don’t refer to him with the proper titles?” Merlin glances around at the other knights that are trying valiantly not to laugh. “Did I just hear that right?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Me too.���

“I mean we all knew it.”

“It’s taken him this long to figure it out.”

Leon simply shrugs. That man’s ability to keep a straight face is something Merlin will always respect and never understand. But he has gotten very good at spotting the way Leon will wink surreptitiously at him when he’s amused. Like now.

“Alright, alright, enough,” Arthur mutters, sheathing his sword and wrapping his arms tightly around Merlin again. “Don’t do that.”

“What, take care of all of our enemies really easily?”

“Scare me.”

“And now you’re admitting that you get scared when I’m in danger?”

“Only because I know Gwen would have my head.”

“Ah, yes, because Gwen is like that.”

Arthur glares at him. There’s a flash of something behind his eyes. Merlin spots it.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, too quiet for the others to hear, “and I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You’d better be.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Gwaine calls loudly to various laughs, “let’s go. There are still tracks here.”

Arthur looks back at Merlin. “You’re riding next to me.”

“You say that as if I don’t already ride next to you.”

“Shut up.”

3: Fall

Okay so listen: when you chase people around the castle, they inevitably look for a way out. And if they’re high up, they’re going to go for a window if they get desperate enough.

Yes? Everyone on the same page?

Wonderful.

So Merlin’s currently falling out of a window.

In his defense, there was a rogue sorcerer who hadn’t realized that the ban on magic had been lifted and Uther isn’t king anymore skulking around the citadel. Merlin’s best guess is that they were imprisoned somewhere and only just got free, otherwise they’d’ve known. And, well, they tried to explain that magic is legal now—he’s so proud of Gwen and Arthur, really.

Someone just burst into their chambers in the middle of the knight and Gwen had been out of bed, offering him a drink and sitting down while Arthur asked the guards if they could bring food. They’d told him the ban had been lifted and that he was free to practice magic now. Then Merlin had shown up and asked what was going on and apparently, they’d taken it as a challenge? That Merlin—the Court Sorcerer—was going to arrest them for practicing magic.

In their defense, it was the middle of the night. Not in their defense, come on.

So they’d run, promising to bring down the walls of the castle. Merlin had rolled his eyes because he just got here, and taken off after him. They’d run around the top floors of the castle for a while, trying to figure out first, where the stairs were, and second, what the bloody hell was going on.

Then the sorcerer had jumped out a window. Sure. Alright.

Unluckily for him, when he’d broken the glass, a large shard had decided to make its home in his chest and he was dead before he hit the ground. Merlin, not realizing precisely what the plan was—when had he ever?—jumped after him, only to realize that there is in fact, no courtyard over here, just empty air until the cold stone of the square below.

So, falling.

It’s surprisingly peaceful, as a way to go. Time to enjoy the view, a good reminder that they should really make sure there’s someone at the front gate, and Merlin simply closes his eyes and concentrates.

There.

At the last possible minute, he slows, reaching almost a stop, before letting himself drop the last few feet to land harmlessly on the ground. Well. That could’ve gone better.

“Merlin!”

“Right on time,” he mutters, getting himself to his feet, and brushing off the little pieces of glass, looking up to see Gwen leaning out of the window.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, thank god,” she calls, “you’re alright. Now get up here, this instant.”

He grins, sweeping into a low bow before heading up the stairs. He opens the door to their quarters and is promptly yanked inside and into an embrace.

“Hello, Gwen,” he says softly, “it’s good to see you too.”

“Good to see—Merlin,” Gwen scolds, "you could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” Gwen wipes her face and oh…oops.

“I’m alright Gwen,” he says quietly, “really.”

It’s late. It’s the middle of the night and it’s dark and Gwen just had to put on every single ounce of royal charm she has, and watch Merlin take a fall that would’ve killed pretty much everyone else. As he watches, her queenly mask starts to break as she keeps a hold of his sleeve, dragging him to the table and setting a plate of food aside, glaring at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“Not at all, my lady.”

“Don’t. Not now, Merlin. Not while I’m this worried.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he demurs, lifting his hands in surrender, “but really, Gwen, I’m not hurt. I’ve been practicing that spell, it won’t—“

“You’ve been practicing?” Merlin winces as Gwen draws herself up taller. “So you regularly throw yourself from great heights?”

“No, I just jump off my bed.”

“Off your bed?”

“The point is that I slow immediately when the spell takes effect,” Merlin says, “so I don’t need very much distance from the floor.”

She folds her arms and stares at him. “So what you’re saying is this is the first time you’ve done it from a great height and you weren’t sure it was going to work?”

Merlin’s hesitation gives her all the answers she needs.

“Gods, Merlin,” she mumbles, slumping into a chair and covering her face, “you’re going to scare me to death one of these days.”

“Nah. I’ll save you from that.”

“How, by doing some equally death-defying stunt?”

Merlin grins and takes her hand. “No. By not letting you see it.”

“Merlin…”

He relents, opening his arms and letting her give him another hug. He squeezes back firmly, trying to communicate that he’s here, he’s safe, and it’s okay.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Gwen whispers eventually, “and I’m glad that everything…worked out. We do need to make sure that the sorcerers no longer feel the need to live in fear…”

Merlin chuckles as he feels Gwen’s brow furrow against his shoulder, probably already drafting things to do.

“Not tonight, Your Majesty,” he scolds gently, pushing her toward the bed, “you need rest.”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Arthur?”

“Probably looking for you,” Gwen murmurs as she slides back beneath the covers, “so you have to stay up until he gets back.”

“…and so he can yell at me too, hmm?”

Gwen snuggles into her pillow and smiles.

4: Stab

So.

Uh, Merlin doesn’t really know how they got here this time.

Because—right, well, it’s not really a secret that Merlin is very close to both Gwen and Arthur. It’s just not. Anyone with a pair of eyes who can walk into Camelot and see them is going to figure it out. Even Uther realized it.

Merlin will never forget the way Arthur burst out laughing when he told him what Uther said to Merlin that day before the tournament, looking up with tears in his eyes and just managing to gasp: “you’re telling me that you and I got my father’s blessing before Gwen and I even started seeing each other?”

Yes. Yes, he is.

Anyway, the point is, Gwen, Merlin, Arthur, they’re very close.

Also something that should be fairly obvious to anyone who’s been to Camelot in the last little bit of time is that one: magic is legal. Two: Merlin is Court Sorcerer.

Get it? Wonderful. So.

The man who is currently holding Merlin hostage with a sword to his throat knows that Merlin is important to Gwen and Arthur. He doesn’t seem to realize that Merlin is Court Sorcerer.

How those two things are not the first two things he realized Merlin does not understand. Honestly, he’s going to chalk that up to why he’s too startled by the fact that he’s got people coming at him with a sword to do anything about it. The sheer inability of those facts to reconcile in his brain prevents him from taking any action.

Honestly, he’s still figuring that out. Enough so that it takes him a while to realize that Leon is desperately trying to signal him and ask if he’s alright.

He gives back the okay and Leon’s expression morphs into one of soft exasperation. To everyone else, it probably doesn’t look like Leon’s face has changed at all, but they haven’t spent several council meetings with the man trading insults only through shifts in micro-expressions.

It’s quite entertaining, especially when they start to get really, really creative.

Anyway. Sword. Throat. Yes.

He’s not sure why currently being held hostage. Someone who wants something, probably. That’s generally why people get taken hostage, right? The sword presses a little closer and Merlin makes an effort to focus.

“Do this,” Arthur warns, his own sword out, “and you will never leave Camelot alive.”

“What good is Camelot,” the man scoffs, “if it allows for the devilish act of witchcraft and sorcery that will poison it from the inside?”

“You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” the man snarls, spittle flying from his lips, “but not nearly as stupid as you.”

Arthur glances at Merlin. Merlin nods.

“Let him go,” Arthur says again, “and this might yet end well.”

The man throws his head back and cackles, the sword nudging insistently at his throat. Merlin winces. That was loud.

“This won’t end well,” the man says through his giggles, “and you know it.”

“Then let him go.”

“Alright,” the man snickers, “but you’ll have to give me a head start.”

Gwaine snarls, even as Arthur holds firm.

“I make you no promises.”

“I know. That’s why I’m giving myself a head start.”

Merlin’s about to wonder what the hell that means only for the sword to drive into his stomach.

Ah. That’s not ideal.

He slumps to the ground as the man lets him go, hearing the screams from the servants gathered in the hall and the shouts from the knights. He feels the breeze as they rush past him, two remaining behind to immediately put pressure on the wound and get him upright, wrapping his stomach tightly and promising that he’s going to be alight.

“‘Lyan?”

“Yeah, Merlin,” Elyan mutters, “it’s me. Leon’s here too, we’ve got you.”

“You’ll be alright, yes?” Leon whips off the bloodied tunic. “You will be fine.”

“Sit m’ up.”

They do, propping him up against the wall as the servants quickly rush for Gaius, for hot water, for bandages. Someone—maybe Malwen—sets a bowl at Leon’s elbow, followed by the quick assurances that Gaius is on his way.

Merlin closes his eyes and concentrates, trying to remember the few times Gaius tried to teach him about basic anatomy. Listen, it’s not that he wasn’t paying attention, it’s just that he��

Yeah, no, he wasn’t paying much attention.

Listen, like…three different people were trying to kill Arthur that day. He was preoccupied.

Stab wound. Right.

Merlin takes a deep breath, ignoring the way the breath aches and wheezes as it travels into him, and starts to gently draw magic from the well in his chest toward the stab wound. He feeds it slowly, trying not to overexert himself, just enough to staunch and stop the bleeding until Gaius can get here.

Something clatters to the floor next to him and he barely looks over enough to see Arthur.

“Stay still,” Arthur murmurs frantically, fussing with his tunic, “you’ll be alright Merlin, I promise, you’re going to be alright.”

Merlin knows, but he’s busy right now, so he can’t really talk back.

“It’s going to be alright,” Arthur repeats, over and over, “Merlin, you’re going to be alright.”

He manages to look over, catching sight of Arthur’s hair a mess, his eyes wild, his mouth a hard line. Arthur glances up from his slightly trembling hands and catches his gaze, doing his best to put on a brave smile. He reaches out and cups Merlin’s face gently.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says softly, speaking as much to both of them as he can, “you’re going to be alright, Gaius will fix you up, and then I can worry about how to make sure you’re safe, so this never happens again.”

His mouth quirks when something flits across Merlin’s face.

“If you try and tell me you can take care of yourself,” he admonishes gently, “I am going to remind you that you currently have quite the stab wound.”

One that Merlin is handling quite well, actually, thank you very much.

“I know you’d rather it be you than us,” Arthur whispers, laying his forehead against Merlin’s, “but you—you can’t just let this happen to you, Merlin, you’ll…”

He swallows, his eyes drifting shut.

“…you’ll break my heart.”

A surge of magic shoots through Merlin at Arthur’s hushed confession, filling the wound with a burning glow. Merlin leans forward as much as he can, resting his own weight on the wall and on Arthur. Arthur holds him gladly, muttering that he can’t wait until Merlin’s better so he can scold him for being so reckless.

Well, when Merlin figures out how the man didn’t realize he was magic, he’ll have one hell of a defense. Who knows, Arthur might get a kick out of it too.

5: Plague

At some point, Merlin thinks as he heaves another stone out of the way, we’re going to stop coming across cursed objects. There has to be a limit. There just has to be.

This one has a plague attached to it because of course, it does. The entire citadel had been overrun with shadow demons that could only be seen by one person, everyone jumping at every little sound, unsure of whether they were seeing real people or the figments of their nightmares. What made things far worse is that some of them could be seen by multiple people and some of them couldn’t. So you could never be sure whether people would believe what you were seeing.

Someone called this the Plague of the Shadow Cat.

Gaius had gone into the books, trying to figure out a solution. Turns out the only way was to go to this cavern out in the middle of nowhere and destroy these four totems that allowed the Shadow Cat passage, in order to break the curse. The problem was that the cavern was in the middle of a massive forest that no one wanted to go close to.

Merlin had sighed and packed his bags.

As it turns out, the forest was designed to keep people out of it—reasonable—and used magic to twist someone’s fears to keep them at bay. You know what Merlin has? Magic.

It was easier than it would’ve been for anyone else, surely, which is good. What isn’t good is that Merlin still has to survive going through this massive forest. He’s had enough of dried meat and berries for a long time, thank you very much.

After about a day or two of walking and not getting lost, he’s just being thorough, he reaches the entrance of the cavern. It’s piled high with rocks from what looks like a collapse, and starts trying to get them out of the way. Unfortunately, most of his magic is going to keeping the nightmares at bay, meaning he can’t really risk using it to get these stones out of his way lest he let the nightmares in.

He’s had enough nightmares for a lifetime already.

He grunts as he heaves another one out of the way. Honestly. Is there a checklist he can look at with all the cursed objects in the world? They’ve got to be at least halfway done at this point, come on. It’s been years.

At last, he manages to get the stones out of the way and ventures into the cavern. Around the twists and turns he reaches the center, seeing the four totems. He snaps his fingers to create a light, peering at each one. It seems as if he’s just going to have to disenchant them. Well, that won’t be too hard.

And…it isn’t. Huh. That’s a little anti-climactic.

He’s sure if he had to battle his way past his greatest fears and the Shadow Cat was actually here fighting him, this would be a lot harder. But, it’s not, so here he is, all done. Now he just has to get back through the forest. Ugh.

Merlin rides back into Camelot to see the people in the streets, happy, content, not afraid. He smiles, letting their joy wash some of the forests off of him. He slides off Cara and puts her away, wiping her down and giving her as many treats as the stable master will let him. He makes it back inside, to Gaius’s chambers, ready to throw open the door triumphantly and announce he’s fixed it!

The second he opens it to see Gwen and Arthur he freezes.

“…hello.”

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, and oh shit he’s in trouble, “did you travel well?”

“A little damp, if I’m being…” He trails off when Arthur shoots him a look. “Yes. I did.”

Arthur nods sharply, leaning against the table and folding his arms.

“The curse is broken,” he tries, letting the door shut behind him, “and I don’t think it’ll ever come back.”

“That’s good, Merlin,” Arthur says in a tone of voice that suggests anything but, “that’s very good.”

Merlin nods hesitantly, glancing at Gwen. Gwen doesn’t look back at him, her eyes fixed on the vase of flowers in front of her. She withdraws one and holds it gently in her hands, turning toward Merlin, expressionless. Merlin fights the urge to flinch as she finally looks up at him.

“Do you know,” she says and this time Merlin does flinch, Gwen’s never sounded that cold before, “what happened the last time you vanished without telling us?”

Merlin’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry,” he says, starting forward, “I didn’t realize—I—“

“No, Merlin,” Gwen says, still cold, “you don’t realize.”

“We trust you, Merlin,” Arthur continues, “but that doesn’t mean that you can just leave, in the middle of a plague, on a mission that could get you killed without saying goodbye.”

“You don’t get to decide that it’s worth it,” Gwen says before Merlin can interrupt, “and you certainly don’t get to decide that we don’t deserve a chance to say goodbye.”

Merlin deflates, their words striking his chest with such ferocity that for a moment, he wonders if this is the fear he’s meant to face. “I’m…I’m sorry, I just…I knew I could do it.”

He closes his eyes. “I have to protect Camelot, protect you.”

“We know, Merlin,” Gwen says, her voice finally softening just a little, “but you don’t realize that we have to protect you too.”

Arthur walks forward, lifting Merlin’s chin. Merlin stares at him, desperately wanting Arthur to smile. Something.

“You’re the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth,” Arthur says instead, “but you’re still our Merlin. So we worry.”

“I know.”

“So,” Arthur says, giving him a gentle nudge, “don’t do that.”

“You may be nearly immortal, but we’re not,” Gwen adds, coming over to take his hand too, “and you will give us more reason to stress than any of the things you stop put together.”

Merlin looks back and forth between the two of them. “So you’re not…angry?”

“Oh, of course we are.”

Merlin winces, only for Arthur to pull him into a tight hug, his head tucking over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Completely furious,” he murmurs, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck, “aren’t we, Gwen?”

“Absolutely.” Merlin feels Gwen wrap her arms around him as well. “Totally and utterly furious.”

Merlin wriggles halfheartedly in their grasp. “I’m not getting out of this anytime soon, am I?”

“No. This is your punishment. Stay put.”

“…fine.”

+1: Cold

“No, Arthur,” Merlin grunts, shoving the prat back into bed, “stay, I will get you the soup.”

Arthur pouts, looking every bit a sad golden puppy in his read blanket as Merlin bustles about the room. “I can stand, Merlin.”

“No, you can’t, you’re sick. Now shush and eat.”

From the other room comes a sneeze that is far too close to the door.

“Gwen, you’d better be in bed when I come in there!”

He hears the quick pitter-patter of footsteps as he crosses the room to the other chambers, hands on his hips as Gwen glances up, guiltily letting the covers drop on top of her.

“I’m in bed,” she says, holding up her hands, “see?”

“Yes, I can see,” Merlin huffs, “but you have to stay there. You’re sick.”

“It’s just a cold, Merlin, I’m—I’m—“

Gwen is cut off by another spectacular sneeze.

“…handkerchief?”

Merlin rolls his eyes and offers her one, watching as she blows her nose and shakes out her curls. If Arthur’s the puppy, she’s the kitten, startling herself with the force of her own sneezes.

“What were you so desperate to get out of bed for?”

“The book on my desk,” Gwen mumbles, reaching for it, “I wanted to—“

“Keep working.”

“No!” At Merlin’s knowing look, she makes a face. “…maybe.”

Merlin sighs. “I will get you a book, but you promised you wouldn’t try to work like this.”

“But I’m fine.”

“Yes, and I notice your sneezes didn’t interrupt you this time.”

“Merlin, I am alright.”

“Yes, so let’s have you stay in bed and rest until you’re better, hmm?”

He hears a clang from the other room. He narrows his eyes at Gwen who blinks innocently at him. Without breaking eye contact, he waves his hand.

“Hey!”

“Get your arse back in bed, sire.”

“I’m fine, Merlin.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows at Gwen. “Will you stay while I get your husband back in bed, please?”

“…if you bring me the book on the desk, I will.”

Merlin glances over and waves his hand. Gwen’s poetry book—not her work book—flies into his hand and he gives it to her.

“All yours.”

“Merlin, that’s not—“

“You surely weren’t trying to work were you?” He raises his eyebrows. “Because that would be a bad idea.”

Gwen pops open the book and buries her nose in it. “…thank you, Merlin.”

“You are most welcome. Now you,” he announces, striding back to see Arthur trying to open the now magically locked door, “will go back to bed.”

“Gaius said we were fine, Merlin,” Arthur pouts, “so we can go.”

“Gaius also said that I was in charge, so you’ll go back to bed.”

“Well, I’m the King.”

“And I’m the Court Sorcerer.” Merlin lifts his hand, letting a little of his magic swirl around his hand. “Which means you should get back in bed.”

“Threatening a king is treason, Merlin.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure the knights would be thrilled,” Merlin replies dryly, shooing Arthur back to bed, “now you will stay put.”

He doesn’t quite swaddle Arthur in the blanket but it is a close thing. Arthur just grumbles a little, reaching out and grabbing Merlin’s tunic and dragging him down onto the bed too. “Then you stay.”

“I have to get your medicine.”

“Have the guards do it.” Arthur snuggles into his tunic. “You stay.”

Merlin resigns himself to his fate, curling around his king. Arthur rumbles happily, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck.

“That’s the last time I let you two go out for picnics in the moonlight,” Merlin grumbles to himself, “look at what’s happened to you.”

“Now you know how we feel,” Arthur mumbles sleepily.

“You realize that we are now even for all of the things I’ve done, then.”

“Oh, no. Not even close.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, sire.”

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Drag Me To Hell...

Monster Prompts #3 “i'm going to breed you” #11” look at you… I thought you wanted me to stop?” With Demon! King Bakugou.

Warnings. NonC. Group NonC. First Time. ImPreg. Mind Break. Blood.

You loved the supernatural . The Mercy Thompson Series, The Vampire Diaries. The TV shows, Lost Girl, Supernatural , Being Human . Even horror video games like Until Dawn. Anything horror and supernatural you loved. But you were taking that interest a little too far according to your friends. When you told them you wanted to try practising the Dark Arts and they just looked at you. ‘That's not a real thing ya know y/n’ is what they always told you. But who were they to tell you how to live your life?

You also wanted to buy a ouija board so you could see if you could talk to the dead. The website you ordered the board from seemed really into demons and hell but you paid no mind really. It would be cool to summon a demon but you were just a beginner . Before you were about to check out the site suggested a seance book. It was black and orange with an interesting star crest in the middle. You shrugged adding it on , smiling at that Free Shipping you just unlocked.

••

It arrived the very next day . In a pretty well put together purple box with a bloody red ribbon you couldn't see throwing away. So you made it into a bracelet and a necklace. It burned your skin once it made contact. But when you checked in the mirror nothing was there, no singes, nothing. So eh , what the hell. Right?

You sat down on the floor setting up the board and pulled the book on your lap to read it. You raised an eyebrow at the summoning items. Where the hell would you get goat's blood? A virgin sacrifice? Well.. you shrugged that off and found a chapter about the board. You set the book down and lit some candles, turning off the lights.

You grabbed the dial and held it over the board repeating the words in the book. The dial shook and you couldn't help but have a stupid grin on your face.

“ is anyone there?”

‘Y,E.,S”

You shook all giddy. “What's .. your name?”

“S.E.E. F.O.R Y.O.U.R.S.E.L.F”

You tilted your head. What did that mean? “How can i see you.?”

“B.L.O.O.D.C.H.A.L.K.”

“Blood and chalk? Like a chalk circle?”

“Y.E.S.”

You hopped up running to find some chalk and the dial spazzed out hovering over “M.I.N.E” .

••

He was sitting on his throne when you weakly summoned him. He looked up from his claws to see a wavy cloud of you reading a book. Oh look at you.. this might be fun. And you even have the ribbons on.. perfect.

He leaned on his knuckles while he talked to you. His long lizard tail slapping all around the hot ground. He was a Demon King in Hell. He had thousands of goblin minions who waited on him claw and foot. A giant red dog slept at his side , his fur was spiked on his back and the tips were black. The King though. Was at least 6’5. Lean, muscle, scary charred feet and legs that he covered with some kind of fur cloth. His chest was bare with scratches going in every direction along with the charred skin creeping up like hands up at his pecks. He had strong charred arms equipped with curved claws. The ashy blond hair traveled down to the middle of his back and his horns were long and mighty with a blood red crown hanging off the left horn. Curling back at the edge. Piercing red eyes stared into your soul. He chuckled deep at how innocent you were. He was going to break you.

••

You returned with the items and sat back down to see the dial where you left it. You made the circle on your carpet, placing the candles down on each tip. He grinned watching you.

“The knife. Use the knife my pet.” He said to himself leaning forward. His dog also woke up to see his master looking excited and hungry.

You held the knife to your head making a small cut . You winced, tipping your hand over and the blood fell in the center while you repeated the words in the book.

Bakugou grinned standing up as the cloud of you turned into a portal. He laughed alerting his goblins and they all ran over cheering for a new toy to arrive.

“Tonight we dine!!!” Bakugou yelled as his bat wings spread out bringing him to the portal.

The floor shook and you got very hot all of a sudden. The candles tipped over starting a fire and you backed away screaming. The circle opened up and a long charred claw rose out scratching at the floor .

You screamed again looking for the door but it was on fire. You started to cough and get dizzy. This wasn't actually happening was it?!? You summoned a DEMON? No no, i mean you CANT. A second claw appeared clawing up the floor and you saw two long horns along with a crown.

Bakugou pulled himself up stepping into your world with a very hungry grin on his face . His tail flicked around crushing your tv . His horns dug into the ceiling scratching it all up and his claws reached out to you, offering his hand. “Come. My little Feast. come meet your new Husband” He hissed at you , almost mocking you.

You backed up more and his tail shot to you grabbing your ankle making you scream out . He dragged you to him , his wings spreading out knocking everything over. You were getting hotter, burning. You could smell burning skin. You dug your nails into the carpet as if it would do something. Bakugou snapped his claws and the ribbon glowed making the burning flesh heal . You didn't feel any heat all of a sudden, you didn't feel like you were burning alive.

Bakugou grabbed your ankle and his tail let go . He laughed and laughed flipping you over, ripping your clothes off and licking your stomach to your face with his very long tongue. “Lets go , shall we?” He dragged you down with him, right down to hell.

••••

Bakugou grabbed your ankle yanking your clothes off and threw you right down once the portal closed. Right down to his minions and dog . The goblins caught you and immediately started touching you all over. Little slimy hands covered every inch of your body , touching your chest, pulling at your nipples and digging into your pussy. One of them tried to pry your mouth open and you shook him off , you rolled over and one of them humped your rear trying to get himself inside you.

You begged for this to stop but one of the goblins shoved his slimy cock down your throat and began to face fuck you. You screamed and he just went faster. another goblin went for your pussy and Bakugous tail grabbed him, tossing him into some lava. “No one touches my feast there. That's mine.” He said sitting back down on his throne watching the goblins stomp around forming a line at your mouth.

Bakugou laid his leg over his knee watching with satisfaction on his face. His dog rubbed on Bakugous side and Bakugou reached up to pet his nose. “Hungry?” He waved his hand and some meat appeared. The dog wagged his tail pouncing on the food and Bakugou turned his attention back to you.

••

Every single one used your mouth , and if one tried to sneak back in line Bakugou tossed them into the lava. You had cum falling out of your mouth forming a puddle at your chest. It was starting to form a bump in your stomach and your jaw was aching .

By the time they were all satisfied Bakugou got up and they all ran off on little short legs going elsewhere. Bakugou kneeled down grabbing your hair so he could see your face. You coughed up a bunch of cum heaving hard. He smiled at you showing off his fangs, talking deep.

“That was fun right? I'm surprised you lived through it. Most women dont. “

“I…”

“Hm? Why are you here? Why you summoned me of course. “ he licked at your face cleaning it all up from tears and cum. He spit into some lava and lifted you up more. “ Those words you repeated in the book? Were vows. Your mine. Forever. And if you think you're gonna die down here then guess again.” The ribbons glowed a shiny red. “Your immortal now. And I'm gonna breed you. Every.Single.Chance i get. “

“But im-...”

“But what.?!? A lonely little human? You thought you could .. play around with a little book?!? Practice some dark arts like they do in those fantasies of yours?!? Well guess what honey it's real. And you're never leaving this place.”

He dragged you to his throne sitting down and pulled you up, you tried to fight him but as soon as he grabbed hold of you he slid you right down on his hard cock all the way down. You screamed. It echoed all throughout hell . The smell of your blood made him go nuts. Fucking you hard and fast , he didint care if he was breaking you, didint care if it hurt. He only wanted to fuck you till your mind broke . Till you were begging him for his cock like a bitch in heat.

••

The days went on . And the goblins demanded service at least every other day. But fewer and fewer showed up since Bakugou had to toss them in the lava. Other demons showed up too, creatures you've never seen before. Wanting the same treatment. Your jaw broke a few times and Bakugou had to snap it back into place each time with an annoyed look on his face.

You were free to walk around Hell as you pleased, but if you did you had to service anyone you came across. And Bakugous dog had to go with you just in case anyone tried anything with your pussy. They could have your ass though, no matter how loud you screamed no one helped you. Just waited for their turn while the big demon dog wagged his tail watching the lava burst nearby .

Why exactly were you walking around Hell?!? A very small part of you.. the part that wasn't broken. Was fascinated with everything you saw. It was all you had left of yourself, your real self. You even found a quiet spot away from creatures and goblins. A shady spot with no lava , it looked like a little cave almost. You crawled inside hugging yourself . It had been a month? Maybe? Did anyone know you were gone? You looked down at your stomach rubbing the small bump. You had fallen pregnant at some point. All you could think about was what it would look like. And the king.

Your hand dipped between your legs and you rubbed your clit in circles , leaning back on the warm rock sighing with relief. The demon king rushed all around in your head causing you to breath hard and slip a couple fingers in. “My king..” you sighed into your shoulder. The dog howled and minutes later he was there, crouching down watching you with a smile.

“Look at you.”

“King..” you crawled to him in between his legs fishing his cock out and hugging his hips. He smirked turning you around to run a claw down your rear watching it shake . You offered your dripping pussy to him and he rubbed your stomach. “Look at you… I thought you wanted me to stop..,?”

A whine left your mouth and Bakugou got up on his knees rubbing his cock on you . You came hard just from that and Bakugou grinned, rubbing his cock on your clit . “Oh you little slut. I'm glad you saw it my way” He shoved all the way inside you and you looked up grinning like an idiot. You came again and Bakugou tipped his head back laughing into the dark.

••

@crushonkatsuki @knifeewifee @squeaky-ducky @maron-k-rh @lady-bakuhoe @kittifer @redflannel