#i wanted to clean the bathroom but its not like i have a job yet so i can do that tomorrow -_-

[horse-shit]

yknow sometimes i forget that im like. actually traumatized. like its not something i can joke about forever it did actual damage that i should sit down and stew about to see how to work past it or improve on it. idk. i feel like i sound like my dad. i think i got the 'i just have to push through this or past it' even though all i do is sit around when i have things to do

[boyfeminism]

i had a lil panicky moment this morning worried i wouldnt get all my tasks done but im like 90% done already i may get to play skyrim while alondra and i call

[petew21-blog]

Like father like son, Part 1

Father P.O.V.

My ex-girlfriend is a witch. Fucked up right? Yeah I never believed in any of this and she knew. And after cheating on her she said she would "make me believe". What a load of crap. I thought. Well, not anymore. Me and my son found ourselves in each others bodies. It happened just as we were normally chatting. We weren't that close, cause I was working most of the time and he was out with his friends enjoying his teen years. I wanted to get close to him, but he seemed to not want to open up to me.

If you have seen a movie Vice Versa where the Dad and son swap bodies while touching the skull. Or is it a transformation? Ah, doesn't matter. Well it happened a bit like that too. We swapped bodies literaly. The clothes stayed where they were previously.

After the initial shock and realisation that it was my girlfriend who caused it, we went to get information from her. My son had to drive, cause his body didn't have a license yet. The start was horrible. He couldn't even keep his eyes on the road, so I had to yell at him what to do. But eventually we got to her house.

On the front door was a note that said:"Went on a holiday for a month. And to my lovely ex-boyfriend - having sex with someone else makes it irreversible :) have fun"

Yeah, so we found out that we were fucked until she got back from her holiday. A month in my teen son's hormone filled body and him in my horny middle aged one. Our chances are very slim I tell you

We got back home, staying quiet on the ride home. We went into the living room and got on the sofa. Then we made a deal. We had to respect our bodies as if it were our own, no sex allowed, no drugs and alcohol. We had to scratch the alcohol, has David said he wants to enjoy the adulthood. But besides that we agreed on everything. We then proceeded to tell each other the details of our schedules. I had to mentally prepare for being in high school again and he had to prepare for a real job. I was actually kind of happy to get back there. I missed being a teen, having less responsibilities etc. Being you, enjoying life, music, love, sex. Ah, fuck. That's gonna be hard

We even had a talk about respecting each others privacy, but after we thought about it, we came to a conclusion that there was no way we could avoid looking at our new bodies naked. We had to take shower some day, or take a shit. All of these are gonna be pretty intimate so that's why.

We agreed that our bedroom's are gonna me our own places that the other can't got to.

And so we went on and parted our ways while leaving to our bedrooms. Maybe we shoould have went to each other's bedroom, but we haven't thought about that. All our clothes were in the other room, but neverminf. My room has its own access to the bathroom so I'll enjoy that.

I took off my shirt first. My sons's athletic lean teen body just being there. My finger tips touching my haird, my lips my cheeks. Tracing my neck, through the ridges I now had, going down to my beautiful abs covered in hair. I was getting hard, is it weird being hard from touching your son's body? Jesus that sounds horrible. But I am not touching my son, he is touching himself, I am just the one in control now.

I got on the ground and took off my jeans. Revealing black boxers with KISS logo and two hairy and long legs. Quite similar to mine actually. Genetics is strong I guess

I headed to the bathroom to get a proper look and clean my new body. I can't neglect my son now.

I took off his boxers. His dick flacid now, but still big. "That's my boy". I went to the bath and turned on the water. But I had no intention in lying in the water now. I had much exploring to do. I started from my feet. The beautiful and clean feet. No hard skin. I took the water and sopa into my hands and brought it up everytime I explored a part of his body. Everything wet marked a place I already knew now

I was now soaping his body above the waist line, enjoying the tight skin of his body. Being young is so amazing. He is mostly hairless, if you don't count some private areas.

I was now soaped up completely, just scrubbing the body up and down. Enjoying every movement I took.

Wow his butt is really nice, almost woman-like. Maybe I could let some guy fuck me. Wait, I can't do that. We can't have sex in each others bodies or we would seal the deal. But masturbation is not off the table I guess.

I took my middle and index finger to try out the resistsance of his hole. Nah, this hole already knows what is about to happen. And then it hit me. Fuck, his prostate his so sensitive. I went and pushed my fingers inside, while my other hand started jerking my already throbbing cock.

It couldn't have been long cause I was almost collapsing from the abundance of strong emotion and stimuli. I shot cum into the bath and then got down into the water.

What a body. Maybe this month isn't gonna be so bad after all

I got out of the shower, to find my body in his own clothes staring at me

"Wow, dad. I see you didn't waste any second huh? Hope you enjoyed it"

"Dave, it's... I'm sorry, it's the hormones. I haven't been this horny for so long. I couldn't control it"

"It's fine dad. I am gonna do the same tonight"

The rest of the week went on pretty smoothly. There were some embarassing moments, like hearing myself having an orgasm in the other bedroom, or finding open porn videos on tv, but besides that not much. I was enjoying being a young guy in high school again and having David's friends around was really great. We hung out all the time. But his friend Liam seemed like he wanted to be more than friends with David. Which complicated things a bit. I was in David's gay body now and his body wanted Liam. But I was holding on

One day we were on a beach just enjoying the weekend. We played some beach volleyball and then we got back to our towels to sunbathe

Andrew, my straight friend, then said:"David? Isn't that your dad with a new chick? Damn, he scored a nice one this time. Would like this one for myself too. Look at those tits."

And he was right. David was walking around with a blonde woman that had a hand on his waist. What took me off guard was that my body started making out with her and grabbing her tits. Not caring who might see.

Wait, does this mean what I think it means? Are we really stuck like this now? I just hope he didn't have sex with her

I changed the story a tiny bit. I was really inspired by the photos so it went to a different direction than I hoped for. I hope you don't mind. If you do, please message me and I'll do another one especially for you :)

A story request from inbox: Hi, can you write a story about a closeted widow muscle dad swapping with his straight twink son and somehow their nethaw body fits their role? The dad in his twink son's body came out as a bottom gay and the sun in his muscular dad's for found a girlfriend which he fvcks every night. Thank you

[novemberheart]

{overview} Ammends are made

{warnings} fem reader, poly 141, a/b/o dynamics, some threatening, slight emotional angst

Chapter 37 <- Chapter 38 -> Chapter 39

They are wearing you down. The near clawing and whining at the door, like two pups. Even John had given up trying to deter the two betas. John entered Simon’s room, heading straight past the man and towards the bathroom. They shared a bathroom, the other door leading directly into his room- your shared room. It wasn’t just his room anymore. He didn’t want it to be.

The door was unlocked, lucky for him. Your eyes narrowed at him, a growl dying in your throat.

“What do I have to do to make this better?”

It caught you off guard. The man with an answer to everything was unsure of how to approach this. Why didn’t he? He was your alpha. It was his job to know how to fix this.

“How do I remind you how much we love you?” He said just above a whisper. Your eyes welled, your throat constricting painfully.

“I’m mad at you,” was all you were able to get out.

“Sweet girl there was nothing we could do,” he rasped. He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers aching to grab a hold of you.

“I just think the timing is convenient,” you started. “I’m marked, then suddenly all of the gestures go away. Marked omegas leave their packs all the time you kno”-

“Don’t be cruel,” John chided. “Threatening to leave,” he spat to himself. “When are you going to stop looking for a reason to leave us before we leave you?” he questioned. Your breath caught in your throat, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“You’re worse than I am,” Simon spoke from the doorway. How long had he been there? “Remember when you marked me and you asked me to not run away from it?” he asked. “Remember?” he pressed after you didn't answer.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Well I'm asking the same of you,” his voice was firm- unwavering.

He headed towards the door unlocking it for the betas who charged in, nearly tripping over each other in the process. Kyle reached you first, the beta resting you against his chest. His scent was anxious while Johnny's was sad. It made you whimper, your heart twisting in your chest.

You couldn’t refuse anymore. Your stiff body relaxing between theirs, a soft purr rising in you at the sheer comfort they brought you.

This was deeper than the rest of your pack knew. The only people who knew its depths were you, Anais and Briggs. Maybe that was part of your resentment. You were scared. Scared of who was tracking you and scared of what your pack would do if they found out. Why would they want anything to do with you? You did nothing but cause problems.

Maybe you should just rip the bandaid off now.

You were already upset. The storm had already been unleashed. You were in the eye of it now.

What about Anais and Briggs? You couldn't get them in trouble.

But what if what Briggs said was true? What if your pack already knew about your visit. They had already known you went to the medical center. They were your alphas and it would be well within their rights to question the procedure that had been done. Why didn't they call you on it? Maybe they didn't want to deal with it. It was your problem- not theirs.

What would happen if you just came clean? Either way you would know where you stood within your pack. Either way you would have an answer to the question that had been eating you alive the past few days.

“I lied,” the words fell from your lips and landed against Kyle’s shoulder. He shuddered from under you. Johnny brushed the hair away from your face, the never ending ache in his chest flaring up again. “There was a wire in my leg- one meant for tracking. It was supposed to have dissolved by now, it hadn't, my body rejected it. That's why I went to the medical center. They removed it and sent it to a lab so I could see who it belonged to,” your words were shaky. You couldn't bear to look at any of them, your eyes trained on the headboard.

You waited for the vile scent of an angry pack. Yet it never came. It was like you were surrounded by statues. None of them breathing, moving or speaking.

“Not happy about you keeping it from us,” John broke the silence. “How long ago was it placed in you?” he asked.

“The doctor guessed eight-ish years ago,” you replied, holding your own breath.

“Just because we weren't with you then doesn't mean it isn't our concern,” John continued.

“Are you mad?” you asked suddenly.

“No,” he replied instantly. “I don't know- or want to know how long you were planning on hiding it from us. But you told us now, that's what matters.”

Where were you?

Why wasn't he bearing his teeth and charging towards the medical center for not informing anyone? Why wasn't Simon scolding you for not telling them as soon as they walked through the door? Why wasn't Johnny rolling up your pant leg to inspect the injury? Why wasn't Kyle already logged into a computer tracking the person down himself?

Why was everyone so calm?

“Let me see Bonnie,” Johnny murmured. Well at least one thing came true. You rolled up your pant leg, Johnny's fingers pulling the small band aid that covered your measly four stitches. “They'll need to be taken out soon,” he sighed, his lips connecting with your knee. “Hate you had to do this alone,” he growled, tucking you back against Kyle. Your heart warmed, the uneasiness beginning to settle.

“Me and John’ll go to the lab tomorrow. See if they've found anything on it,” Kyle added. That seemed more like it. The uneasiness flooded back when you remembered one little detail.

It was under Anais’ name. Not yours.

Think fast.

“It's under Anais’ name,” you explained. “I thought that would be a better idea just in case the person who placed it could still have access to it because it wasn't fully dissolved. If it was under my name there would be a record of it and they would know I know about it. If it was under her name they’d think it just dissolved and I know nothing about it,” you explained like the script had been written for you.

If they knew you were lying you think amongst their anger they would be secretly impressed.

“That's quite clever,” John muttered. “We’ll still have a look at it tomorrow,” he assured. “Don’t want you worrying about it anymore,” he insisted. “It’s on us now,” his large hand ran up and down your back, your skin erupting at his touch. You couldn't help but lean into it.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

You woke up to everything being right in the world.

The past few weeks left you exhausted and your sleeping schedule showed that. You woke up to your body being moved upright, your head lulling into a perfect spot against John’s shoulder.

“Time for lunch,” he murmured, his hands running up and down your sides. “You need some food in ‘ya,” he pressed, his lips firm against your forehead. You agreed, begrudgingly. Still half asleep as you untangle yourself from his lap, not bothering to change out of your sleep clothes, just throwing one of his sweatshirts over top.

Price

Was painted across your back making the alpha more than pleased.

“Name fits you better than me,” he hummed, his hand traveling down your back. You peered up at him sleepily, a small smile on your lips. “Missed you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips finding their home against your cheek. “And don't listen to any pesky thoughts in your head tellIng you otherwise,” he urged.

“Missed you too,” you whispered back. You nuzzled your way under his arm, the affection making the edge in his scent disappear.

Johnny had picked up breakfast for all of you. You were grateful you didn't have to go to the cafeteria.

“Bagel with strawberry cream cheese for the pretty lass,” Johnny smirked, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “And a fruit cup,” he added. You smiled widely. This is what you had missed. Being doted on. You don't care if it makes you spoiled.

Johnny finished assembling your bagel for you, a grateful purr leaving you and you quickly gripped his jaw pressing rapid kisses against his cheek. His cheeks raised from under you.

“Anytime, peaches,” he smirked.

“You have a kickboxing class today,” Simon spoke, passing you the parts of his bacon that ‘weren’t cooked enough.’ Truth was that Simon just liked burnt food. “Still up for it?”

As soon as Simon saw the sign up sheet for kickboxing he added you to the list- in fact- you were the first name on it.

You nodded your head, mumbling a small ‘yeah’ through your bacon. The rest of breakfast was nice. Domestic. Familiar. The energy was still a bit off, mostly due to Kyle and John. Something strange was happening, but you didn't have the energy to press.

“Let’s get you ready, pup,” Simon sighed, grabbing your empty plate from you.

Getting ready included Johnny helping you pick out and outfit and then helping you with your knotted hair.

Maybe you were spoiled…

“We have to tell her,” Kyle spoke as soon as the front door shut. John sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “It's the perfect time. We can play it off like we never knew,” he continued.

“Then what if she goes lookin’ for her?” John reminded. “Especially after all that's gone down between us all. She may feel more inclined to find a different pack,” John gruffed, already working on his fourth cigar of the day.

“Give her some credit,” Kyle sneered. “She won’t just up and leave us,” Kyle defended. “And she has every right to want to reconnect with her mother.”

“Her mother doesn't deserve her,” John shot back. “She already left her once. It's not like her mother doesn't know where she is. She has probably been tracking her till it disconnected. Leave it up to her mom to decide.”

“Her mother is probably scared. Could you imagine leaving her then wandering back into her life after years have passed? She probably assumes she never wants to see her again,” Kyle illustrated. John shook his head, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“That may be true. Then what happens if she does reconnect? What if her mother moved on, has her own pack and wants to take our girl away from us? Then what? What if she could provide her with the stability we can't?” John questioned.

“What if our girl finds out we hid it from her not only once, but twice? She’ll never forgive us and I- I can't live with that,” Kyle breathed, his throat tightening. “We have to let her decide,” Kyle affirmed. “Whatever happens, happens.”

“No,” John growled. “It's our job as her pack to protect her.” John ran a hand over his face, his eyes falling onto the kitchen counter. An idea popped into his head. A compromise. “What if we track down her mother?” John hummed. Kyle’s brows furrowed. “We are her pack. We reach out to her and ask if she even has any interest reconnecting with her daughter. If she does we’ll access her- make sure her intentions are pure. Then we bring it to our omega,” John explained.

Kyle’s shoulders felt lighter already, his back resting against the chair.

“That's not bad. We won’t necessarily be lying and we’ll be able to keep our girl out of harm's way,”

“So you agree?” John pressed. Kyle nodded slowly. “Atta boy,” He smiled, his hand clapping against the betas shoulder.

“She's a fierce little thing, isn't she?” Johnny smiled. Simon was flushed under his mask, his eyes not quite sure where to linger. You were doing very well in your new class. It was much more fun than you thought it would be- especially with all your pent up emotions.

“That one yours?” A man asked from next to the pair.

Johnny smiled wider, a bounce in his shoulders.

“Aye, she is as perfect as she look”- he cut himself off. His smile faded from his face as he stared down the man. Simon’s lips quirked beneath his mask at the sergeant's change in demeanor. “She is mine,” The Scot kept it short and not-so-sweet this time. “Which one is yours?” he asked.

“I don't have one. I just like to watch someti”-

He had no opportunity to finish the thought before Johnny had him by his scruff, escorting him out of the room. “Well, you chose to watch the wrong one cause I’ll scoop out your eyeballs if I catch you looking at her again,” Johnny growled against his ear. It was a bit cliche- but it got his point across.

“Where’s Johnny?” you panted, taking a small towel from Simon to dab your face with.

“Your beta had some issues to take care of. Should be back soon,” Simon said blankly. He rested a hand on the back of your head, guiding you out of the training room.

“Did I miss the finale?” Johnny questioned, hoisting you up to press a kiss against your sweaty cheek. You giggled your feet swinging to find the floor.

“Coach said she did decent,” Simon approved, downplaying your success. You rolled your eyes, nuzzling your way into the Scots side.

“I did really good,” you smiled.

“Course you did Bonbon,” he whispered back.

Hi friends! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Ser you in four days for the next one! Lots of love 🧡

[dontopenfairies]

“Do you need your diaper checked?”

“No, I’m okay for now.”

“What was that, honey?”

“I said no,” he says, eyes on the jigsaw puzzle strewn out before him on the dining room table. He lifts a piece and finds its place easily.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been doing this puzzle for two hours straight and you haven’t gotten up for the bathroom at all. I know that pull-up is soaked.”

“Can you get out of my hair for five seconds?” he says, irritated. “I’m making really good progress on this.” He really is, quickly snapping together four more pieces.

“Are we really going to do this today?”

“I’m not doing anything. Except for this puzzle.” He scans what he has so far and swaps around a couple of big pieces. She watches his fingers moving quickly, sliding over the loose pieces and flipping them around, and almost gets distracted. That and the cute face he makes when he’s concentrating…She snaps out of it when he glances up, an angry crease in his forehead. “You’re breaking my concentration! Don’t you have something else to do?”

“You’re being such a brat! I can’t believe you! You’re being very, very bad!”

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, and snapping together two more pieces. “Wow! That one almost stumped me earlier! Look!” He turns around to show it to her, excited.

“Really? You were just telling me to leave and now you want me to praise you because you’re doing a good job at your puzzle? Come on, get your butt over here. I know you need a change, bad.”

He hesitates, hands on the back of his chair.

“Come on, sweetheart, come over here like a good boy and let me check your diaper. I know you want to hear me call you a good boy.”

“No! I don’t!” He’s blushing. His eyes are looking at the puzzle but his body is still turned towards hers.

“Do you need me to manhandle you?” She comes a little closer, getting ready to lift him out of the chair. She is just a little stronger than he is and she knows this is a sore spot of his.

“No!! I’m coming over.” He stands up slowly and carefully. Oh, yeah. There’s a little round wet patch on his pants on one of his thighs. And as he walks towards her she can see where his pull-up is sagging.

She takes him to the bathroom and pulls his pants down. The pull-up is completely saturated with piss. “Jesus, baby,” she says. “You should have told me sooner.”

“Why is that my job?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“Dude, really? Did you want me to check you by force every half-hour? You’re an adult man pissing himself on purpose and I’m changing your literal diapers, and you’re this ungrateful? Hands on your head, right now.”

He obliges immediately, knowing that he’s gone too far. She yanks the pull-up down and slaps his wet ass roughly. And again. And again, until it’s completely red and raw. He’s silent during the entire ordeal but when she turns him around and eases his hands off his head he has tears on his cheeks. It can’t be all bad, though, otherwise he wouldn’t also be sporting a huge erection.

“Aw, baby,” she says, roughing his hair and standing on tiptoe to kiss him. “It didn’t hurt that bad, did it?”

“No, mommy,” he says quietly.

“Let me wipe your eyes. Then I’m going to wipe you up down here. Does that feel better? I’m going to get you a new, clean pull-up.”

“You didn’t say it yet.”

“What was that?” She looks over her shoulder, hands in the diaper drawer.

“You said if I agreed you’d call me, um…”

Ohhh. That’s right. Wouldn’t it be fun to play dumb and make him say it? “What was that? I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. I said I’d call you something?”

He fidgets with his collar, looking down, while she stands in front of him with the fresh pull-up. “Um, yousaidyoudcallmeagoodboy,” he says very quickly, looking away.

“Ohh, that’s right, I did. But even when you followed me into the bathroom, you still talked back to me. Are you ready to be a good boy now?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Okay,” she says. “Step into this, honey.”

“Wait…can I go poop first, please? I really need to.”

“Okay, go to the toilet. I’ll wait right here.” She crosses her arms but he looks at the toilet with a weird expression, like suspicion. “What?”

“Um, that’s going to hurt. Um, sitting down…”

“Ohh, right. Yeah, it’ll hurt. Are you gonna go?”

He starts twisting his shirt between his hands very fast. “I was wondering, if, maybe, um, just this once, I could poop in the pull-up?”

“Sweetheart…Okay, fine. You can go poop in the pull-up. Help me get it on you.” He tries to hide his excitement as she slips the pull-up up his legs and makes sure it’s snuggly on his hips. “Squat over the floor.” She points a finger down and he obeys, wrapping his arms around her legs. “Now go poop in your pull-up.”

His face scrunches and she hears a crackling sound from the diaper. “Umf,” he groans.

“Are you finished?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Stand up. I want to see the damage so far.” The pull-up has a huge lump in the back and is wet from where he involuntarily pissed himself while pushing. She wraps a hand around the lump and shakes it a little. “That’s not a very big log,” she says.

“There’s definitely more,” he says. “I really need to go.”

“Can you finish standing up?”

He nods and braces himself on the counter, and then she watches as his pull-up expands to its limit, a huge, hefty log pushing against it. Holy fuck, that’s hot, she thinks to herself as he groans again.

“I’m all down now,” he says.

“Good boy,” she says, wrapping her arms around him and ruffling his hair again. “Come on back to your puzzle. I’m going to put a stack of towels down on your chair so you can keep working for a little while without worrying about leaks, because there’s no way I’m changing you again so soon. Besides, that’ll feel better than sitting on the hard chair right after a spanking.”

“What!! You expect me to sit in a—“

“At-tat-tat,” she says, shaking a finger.

“Sorry. Thank you for changing me, mommy. And thank you for letting me go number two in my pull-up.”

“Good boy. Let’s go back to the table.”

[borathae]

"Jungkook is always plagued with guilt when he has to leave you for a business trip. His anxiety that you might be angry at him for not being present is especially high this time around and only your safe embrace can help him calm down."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, mild Hurt & Comfort, Smut

Warnings: Jungkook is anxious, stressed & guilty, he cries, she is so comforting, hugs and kisses, needy sex, sloppy mutual masturbation, handjob, pussy fingering, penetrative sex facing each other, until he pushes her to her back and fucks her missionary, strength & muscle kink, he is so passionate and rough in missionary, I don't think that there are distinctive roles in this, I guess you can call it Top!Jungkook with a Mommy kink, she calls him Bunny at first before he fucks her to the state where she can only call him by his name, dirty talk, sensory deprivation in the sense that they fuck in complete darkness, they're so so desperate for each other, tears because it's so good, multiple orgasms for her, creampies, cockwarming as aftercare, with cuddles and kisses <3, they're fucking soulmates

Wordcount: 5.3k

a/n: i wrote this after kook's solo concert because he did it to me. i also reread THE angst chapter of aaol and i think this influenced me as well. i really want my kookie back

The plane wasn’t supposed to land this late. The plans were all ruined. 

Jungkook scans his eyes over the kitchen. Empty. Clean. He abandons his suitcase by the stairs leading up and walks to the fridge. He opens it. His heart stings. The plans were all ruined. He wasn’t supposed to come home this late. You made dinner for him. The prettily plated food is still on its original plate for him. You put a glass bowl over it to keep it fresh. 

“Fuck”, Jungkook presses out and closes the fridge. He feels so fucking guilty that he wants to throw up. He should have been there. He should have eaten your food and talked to you during dinner. He should have fucking been there.

You knew that he wouldn’t come home. He was aware that his text came way too late, but he still had hoped that you hadn’t started cooking yet. Of course you had. 

It has been longer than a month since he last was in Seoul and you always cook the grandest things as a welcome home surprise. Jungkook doesn’t expect you to cook, you do it because you want to. Which makes him feel all the shittier right now. He wasn’t there to appreciate it. He had one job - the most important job of all - and he fucking failed you.

Jungkook walks back to his suitcase and lifts it. He will carry it upstairs and then do the laundry tomorrow. He can’t be bothered tonight. It’s already too late. He already wasted too much time being his shitty CEO self.

The dressing room is empty and clean. It faintly smells like lavender in here. He knows it’s because you cleaned this room recently. Jungkook discards the suitcase by the dresser and leaves the room.

He takes a shower in the upstairs bathroom. He didn’t want to go downstairs yet. He is a little scared to do so. He shouldn’t have arrived so late. He is scared of your reaction. He gets so sad when you are disappointed in him. He hasn’t decided yet whether it’s his anxiety disorder talking or the truth, but he thinks that you will be angry at him.

He is angry at himself. He’s a fucking shithead of a husband. That’s what he fucking is. 

Jungkook manages not to cry in the shower even if he really wanted to. His feelings are eating him up alive. He feels so stressed. So tired. So exhausted. Work has been hell. And the fact that it was in a country he barely knew the language of and he had to be without you made it even worse. He feels so drained. 

The shower doesn’t help. It cleans him, nothing more. Jungkook doesn’t put on clothes and leaves for downstairs. He uses the never ending city lights as his guidance. The wind carries the distant purring of the traffic to the windows. The slightly higher pitched pitter patter of his naked feet on marble floor is loud in comparison. The sound stops in sync with Jungkook stopping in front of the bedroom door. 

His hand is shaking. He has to hold it to calm down. He is so scared. You will be so disappointed with him. He wouldn’t even be surprised if you told him to sleep on the couch tonight. You never did so before, but things can change. One month is awfully long and he left you hanging today. He wouldn’t blame you if you sent him away. 

Jungkook takes a shaky breath for courage and steps inside. The room smells like home. Jungkook feels his throat tighten in emotion. This is what home smells like. And he was too late for it. He swallows down his tears and tries to walk it off.

The electric blinds are closed all the way, putting the room into complete darkness. Jungkook uses the light of his phone screen to tiptoe to the bathroom. He still needs to brush his teeth. He does so using his phone’s flashlight as the only light source. He didn’t want to turn on the big lights and risk waking you. Or maybe he didn’t want to look into his own eyes. He can’t bear to face himself tonight.

Jungkook leaves the bathroom door open and tiptoes to the bed. His phone screen gives off enough light that he can see you once he arrives by the bedside. 

You are turned to his side, resting your hand on his blanket. Your cheek is squished as you are sleeping halfway on your stomach. Your lips are parted as soft breaths leave you. Jungkook looks back at your hand resting on his side and gulps down the painful lump in his throat. You shouldn’t have had to fall asleep alone tonight. You shouldn’t have had only his memory to hold.

Jungkook picks up your hand so he could slip under the covers. You react to the gentle nudge with a hum.

“Mhm”, you let out and roll over, now showing off your back.

Jungkook is aware that you didn’t do it on purpose, but it feels like it. You turned your back to him and it’s his own fault. 

Jungkook tugs the blanket under his arm and touches your back. Up and down. Up and down. He feels you breathe. Your warmth is so familiar to him. He missed it so much. 

He missed you so much.

His eyes start burning.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers shakily and turns his back to you. He can’t face you anymore. It hurts so much. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to cry. 

The sheets ruffle as you move around again. Jungkook doesn’t feel the movement because you and he have separate mattresses and separate blankets to get the best sleep ever. You shared a mattress and blanket at first, but decided to upgrade your bed a year ago. Jungkook likes his mattress firm and his blanket thin, while you love to have a softer mattress and your blanket to be thick. And the little mattress movements as one of you rolled around or the blanket wars which once managed to wake you are gone as well. Changing one mattress and blanket for two was the best decision ever. You and he sleep like royalty these days.

Jungkook hears the sheets ruffle as you move around and then the sound of a hand sliding over soft sheets. Warmth touches his back. He tenses up, stays silent. You draw paths along his back, feeling him up. Seeing him. Just like he did all those years ago when you were still masked soulmates aching to be together. It became a little thing between you and him to trace the other in darkness as to make out if it was your other half. You became so good at it these days.

Your touch dances up to the nape of his neck after exploring his upper back. Jungkook shivers and aches to lean into your touch. He is scared to do so now. He already waited for too long to speak up. You’ll know that he is intentionally acting asleep to avoid talking to you.

You close the distance, taking him into your arms to pull him against your chest. You are propped up on your elbow, using the position to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck so you could kiss him.  

Jungkook exhales shakily, releasing all of his tension with a tremble. This just broke him. To be cradled and kissed. It broke him.

“Are you awake?” you whisper softly. The words swirl against his neck.

He nods his head.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

He hesitates. Should he be truthful? Will you be hurt if he was? 

He shakes his head. He can’t lie to you. Not like this. Not when you hold him so safely. Not when you have broken him with your embrace. 

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m sorry”, he presses out and sobs softly.

“Hey”, you gasp, straightening up, “hey, are you crying? What’s wrong?” you babble and roll him to his back so you could cradle his cheeks. You wipe his tears away, keeping close by resting your chest against his’, “what’s wrong, Bunny?” 

“I’m sorry for tonight. I’m so sorry for being late and, and not showing up. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, hey it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. The flight was delayed. You couldn’t have known.”

“I saw the food”, he confesses and squeaks sadly, “I didn’t show up, I’m so sorry. I should have texted sooner, I should have-”

“How could you have texted me sooner if you didn’t even know that the flight would be delayed?” 

Jungkook falters. He sniffles repeatedly, taking sharp gasps for air to regulate his breathing. What you say makes sense to him. He didn’t even think of it yet, despite it being the most logical explanation. So it was his anxiety disorder kicking in. 

You caress his left cheek while your right hand guides your pointer finger up and down along the bridge of his nose. You call this touch your magic touch because there is some sort of magic in it to calm down any sort of anxiety Jungkook experiences. Jungkook flutters his eyes closed and sighs as comfort overtakes him.

“Now tell me how you should have texted me sooner, mhm?” you ask in a soft, comforting voice.

“I don’t know”, Jungkook whispers.

“Of course you don’t, it’s impossible. The flight was delayed. It was an unfortunate series of events and not your fault”, you assure him, “unless you intentionally stayed away. Mhm is that it? Did you not wanna see me already, you sneaky Bunny?” you add in a joking tone, making Jungkook giggle.

He shakes his head, “no Mommy, I wanted to see you.”

“Good”, you say in a fond voice and claim his lips in a smooch. 

Jungkook gasps because he hadn’t expected it. The feeling finally seeps into his consciousness. He is kissing you. After thirty three days without you, he is finally kissing you again. Jungkook whimpers and hooks his fingers behind your head, deepening the kiss with trembling lips. He is kissing you again. He is finally realizing that this is happening, that he is back with you. He hooks his arms behind your head and pulls you closer, asking for your taste. You part your lips and meet his begging tongue, while your fingers explore the softness of his hair.

You feel a little dizzy from sleep. You didn’t have the deepest sleep tonight because you knew that Jungkook would come home and you subconsciously refused to find deep sleep. So when Jungkook got into bed, the rustling of his blanket woke you. The pull was instant. You needed to feel him, make sure that he was finally with you again. Your body didn’t expect to be in the current position for such a long time. Your arms are weak and your head is dizzy.

You break the kiss because exhaustion makes you do it.

Jungkook chases you, rolling you and him over so he was the one on top. His right arm rests around you just a little under your breasts, his left hand is cradling your cheek while his right hand is deepening in your hair as best as your texture allows it. He claims your lips in a kiss again, whimpering into it as his body seeks your closeness. Two layers of blanket are keeping you apart. Jungkook doesn’t think, he merely acts and pulls his blanket off of him. Next your blanket. He opens it and slides his arm under it. He takes you softly in his hand and presses you against him at the same time as his body sinks under your blanket. He trembles. It is so warm under your covers and from what he can feel, you are wearing one of his sleep shirts. He grabs a bundle of it and twists, needing you to be so much closer than you already are. 

“Please”, he begs in a shaky voice, tugging at your shirt.

You sit up far enough that you can take off your shirt. You throw it to the side and fall back down.

“Thank you”, Jungkook whimpers and cradles you against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and places his right hand on the back of your head to support it for you.

You wrap your arms around him, letting out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding in. You have him back. This is how your Jungkook hugs. Thirty three days without him are unbearably long. So long in fact that your skin started to unwillingly forget the warmth and softness of him. It comes rushing back again now that you are hugging without barriers.

“___”, Jungkook croaks and presses you closer, “oh god.” 

“I missed you too”, you whisper, burying your hand deep in his hair. You pull him closer. Your breasts squish against his chest, the pressure feels like heaven. It gets easier to breathe and releases you of tension you didn’t even know you possessed. You have your Jungkook back. 

Jungkook feels overwhelmed. He ached for your hug ever since he left. Thirty three days without you were hell. You are his constant in his life. When he comes home from work, you are there, hugging him and talking to him and falling asleep with him. When he leaves for work, you are right by his side, talking to him and kissing his cheek as he drops you off at university. When he has free time, he knows he can spend it with you. You are always there. You are his constant. The person who will always be by his side. The warmth he can always return to. So to go without you for more than a month was hell. 

“I missed you so much”, he confesses. 

“Me too, Bunny. Me too.”

You felt just as lonely without him. Years ago, you wouldn’t have batted an eye at the thought of being along for a month, but Jungkook changed you in the most wonderful of ways. He is your person, the comfort you most look forward to, the home you never want to leave. You have him by your side in the morning and have him back again by the evening. You share the last second of consciousness with him before sleep and share the first right after. And for the last month, you didn’t. You had to live without him and it was agony. 

“Closer”, Jungkook begs, “I wanna be closer.”

“Closer?” 

“Closer please.”

“Lie down on your side.” 

Jungkook obeys, keeping his arms around you. You seek him and slide your hand to his length. You brush your fingers over his tip, eliciting a trembling gasp from him. A small whimper follows. 

“This kind of closer?”

“Yes”, he squeaks and grabs whatever he can of your upper back. 

“I missed this feeling. You’re so soft.”

“I missed you too. Ah please.”

“Kook…”

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

His left hand naturally dances down your body, trying to locate your clit. You drape your leg around him, giving him access. He connects his fingers with your heat, sending electricity through you.

“Holy fuck, I’m sensitive”, you get out and moan. You take his cock and begin jerking it. He grows hard rapidly. Just as you soak his fingers at a rapid speed. You want him. He wants you. Too long you had to go without each other.

“Me too. Ah mhm”, he gets out and buries two of his fingers inside you. 

“Bunny….”

“Mommy…”

You cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his face and stub his nose with your own. Your hands work desperately between your bodies, the tension is growing embarrassingly fast. 

“Bunny, I missed you so much”, you keen and squeeze your eyes shut. It feels so good. His long fingers are filling you up while his thumb is rubbing circles on your clit. He is so sloppy and needy in his touch, which makes it all the better.

“Me too, Mommy”, Jungkook gets out and whimpers, “oh god.” 

Your hand is fast around his cock. You are calculated on normal days, but not tonight. There is no coordination in how you touch him, just pure and honest desperation. 

“I don’t wanna cum like this”, you croak.

“Close?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking stupid. Fuck”, you slide your hand to his hair so you could twist.

Jungkook moans, tilting his head back all on his own while his pouty lips brush against yours. You kiss without really kissing. Just featherlight touches, tickling moans and traces of your tongues. The tension between you and him becomes unbearable. You clench down on his fingers, feeling his cock throb in your hold.

“Bunny, I need your cock.”

“I need your pussy too, Mommy.”

“Good. Take out your fingers.”

Jungkook obeys, touching your hip instead. Neither of you care about the wet mess he leaves on your skin. It’s just another proof that you and he are finally reconnected again.

“Good boy”, you praise and shimmy down just a little so you can take his cock inside. There is no friction, no struggle, no pain. Just warmth and overwhelming pleasure.

“Holy fuck”, you whisper and push him in deeper. Past your entrance. Your warm walls engulf him.

Jungkook grabs you and accidentally scratches you. He couldn’t help it. He is with you again. No one feels like you. No one does.

“Ah!” the sound bounces off the walls. He trembles and pulls you closer, “Mommy.”

“Bunny.”

“Oh god, I’m home”, he whimpers and starts chasing you. 

Your leg is still around him, his thrusts go so deep like this. You are so filled up with him, so stuffed. You are eye to eye even if the complete darkness prevents you from seeing each other. But you don’t need light to see each other. Not you and not Jungkook. You have your hands and fingertips to see. You started it back in the stuffy sex club room you met in and perfected it over the years in your loving home. You know exactly how he looks right now and in return he knows as well.

“Bunny, oh god, my Jungkookie”, you get out and shake, pulling him closer by his hair. The darkness makes it feel all the more intense as you claim his lips in a passionate tongue kiss. The sounds of it mix with the desperate rutting your hips are doing. The rustling of the sheets is audible as well, as are the needy moans both of you choke out constantly. 

You are hot under the covers. Sweat has formed on the parts where you are pressed together. You pull each other closer regardless, basking in the heat because you had to live without it for far too long. This is the only way to melt with each other.

“I love you”, Jungkook gets out and kisses you again.

“-love- too”, is all you get out between your hungry kisses, but Jungkook knows regardless. Even without words he would know. From your kisses, your embrace and the way your pussy is convulsing around him. Jungkook knows every ridge, every bump, every inch of how you feel inside and being allowed to experience it right now is the only proof of love he needs. He is the man who you allowed to go in raw, even back when you pretended not to care. You claimed him and sealed his sweetest fate. You loved him enough that you wanted to be without barriers and you love him enough that you welcome him home right now.

“You feel so good”, you moan and rut against him before your lips suck on his lower lip needily.

Jungkook whimpers, spilling tears of ecstasy. He fucks into you, feeling his legs shake. He is so high on you.

This is fucking for the sake of reconnecting. This is emotional. Deeply, soul-consumingly emotional. Is it kinky? No. Will either of you last long? No. Will it stay in your minds as one of the most intense nights ever? Yes. Yes it fucking will. This is the kind of desperate, needy, passionate sex you can only have after you have been without each other for a long time. It is dumb. It is raw. It is carnal and it is the only good thing which comes out of having to be without the other. Because no amount of foreplay, kink or fetish will ever get you to the level of starvation than forced distance does.

And you are starving. Oh, you are parched and aching for each other. Jungkook fucks you as hard as he can, while you rut against him as roughly as you can. It results in these deep, fiery thrusts, which fills you with all his cock and in return makes him experience every inch of your pussy. 

You are burning up today. You are hot around him, as if you had a fever. Jungkook can barely breathe because of it, gasping for air between his desperate moaning. And you are soaking wet. Soft too. So soft. Jungkook scratches down your back and pulls you closer. His left hand cups your buttock and stills your hips this way. He pushes. The kiss breaks with your needy moan. You roll to your back just enough that Jungkook can prop himself up on his right elbow and use the angle to finally bottom out. Truly bottom out because the position finally gives him a chance to do so. Your leg is still around him, while the other is under his weight. You can feel his sculpted thigh shift and tense as he fucks you. His thrusts are sloppy and so perfectly uncoordinated that they seem coordinated. The mattress shakes because of it. 

You barely feel it because he is currently fucking the senses out of you. This is the kind of fuck which reminds you why he managed to steal your heart and the proof of why you could never want to leave him. It genuinely fucks every sense of control out of you and turns you into the neediest, wettest pillow princess in existence. Tonight it impacts you especially deeply, leaving you to arch your back and curl your toes.

“Bunny”, you moan embarrassingly high pitched, throwing your head back as best as possible while Jungkook shows off the strength of his hips, “Bunny, oh god. Ah Bunny.” 

“Mommy. So good, ah Mommy”, Jungkook moans and drops his head into the crook of your neck. He pulls you closer until your head rests on his right lower arm and you have his biceps brushing against your nose. The gentle headlock he has you in heals you from aches you didn’t even possess before. You are so safe like this. He smells hot. As if he is burning up.

“Bunny…”

You are burning up yourself, grasping his broad, muscular back as your only connection to sanity. He is making you cum and it’s happening soon.

“Don’t stop, please”, you beg.

“Mommy”, he moans and continues because he won’t ever ignore one of your begs. You don’t beg often, so when you do, Jungkook is overtaken with the need to fulfill your every wish. Which means a lot because he always wants to fulfill your every wish.

“You’re making me cum”, you choke out and sob softly as you hug him against you.

“Holy fuck”, Jungkook gets out and squeezes you strongly as your body falls into the high. You are so tight around him, burning up and throbbing. No wonder you are sobbing. Jungkook has to grit his teeth from how intense your orgasm feels to him and he isn’t even the one experiencing it. And there is one problem right now. He still needs it longer. He doesn’t know if he is holding back because he is greedy for more or if his body is just working this way right now, but he isn’t done even when you are already coming down. He needs more. He wants you longer.

You are soaking his cock, pulsating around him as you slowly recover and it’s fucking messing with him. He needs you. He needs you so bad.

Jungkook uses his strength and rolls you onto your back completely. His cock leaves you for a second, but you barely feel the disconnection as the darkness and your passed high leave you disoriented. Your legs are spread open, giving Jungkook a chance to take his cock and push it inside again.

Now you feel it. Now you’re whole again. You whimper, tensing up around him.

“Not done yet”, he rasps with his hand twisting the pillow next to your head. He bottoms out and chases you instantly. Fast and hard. He fucks the juices out of you, filling the air with the sounds of it just as he fills it with the sinful sounds of his naked body impacting with yours. The bed is sturdy and yet still croaks. His throaty grunts and guttural growls fill your ears as well. You know for a fact that he is frowning right now, gritting his teeth because he always does so when he fucks hard.

“Ju-Ju-Jungkook”, he fucks his name out of you. He is fucking his cock right against the spots which steal your sanity. You can’t stop getting wetter because of it. Every second with him feels fucking orgasmic, “Jungkook! Ah! Jungkook!”

You grip his arm. His muscles are so tense, bulging under your fingers as he drills you like an animal.

“Jun-Ju-Jungkoo-ook.” 

“Yeah, keep moaning my name Mommy”, he growls deeply and curses, “fuck, this is…fuck.”

“Jungkook, ah god Jungkook.”

“That’s it, Mommy. That’s it, keep moaning my name”, he encourages you and rewards you with harsher thrusts. Of course this wasn’t his final form yet. Not Jungkook. Not your husband. He will make you believe that the sex couldn’t get any better before showing you not to underestimate him. He fucks you deep into the mattress just as he fucks you deep into a blurred state of ecstasy.

You are utterly and entirely his right now. And you fucking like it, moaning his name as he rewrites your definition of pleasure one harsh thrust at a time. 

“I missed you”, he is using his deep voice to talk, “I thought of you, urgh, of you being mhm being cockstuffed with me, ah mhm I’m going crazy, Mommy. Fuck.” 

He could tell you everything right now and you would barely take it in. Your brain doesn’t work. You are so dumb right now. So utterly stupid. If you weren’t on your back, you would have drooled. Instead you sob his name and writhe desperately.

“Fuck”, Jungkook spits and growls. His hips stutter for only a second. This is how long he needs to find his composure again and then he is already drilling you again, pushing your body closer and closer to your orgasms, “have to go again?”

“Ye-yeah”, you keen, arching your back.

“Let go Mommy, I’m right here”, he tells you and cradles your cheek.

The touch is all that was missing. You break apart with a loud moan of his name and your fingers desperately twisting his hair. He fucked it out of you from the deepest parts of you, which makes it all the more intense. You can’t even moan as it happens. His name was all you managed to produce before your voice gave up on you. You can’t breathe either, lying there with your lips parted and your back arched as Jungkook drags heaven out of you.

Your second high gives him a hard time. The needy fucking he did brought him to the point where he has to let go even if he wanted to hold back longer. His cock aches, his balls feel tight and the tension in his stomach has reached a painful level. While your lungs aren’t working right now, his’ are working overtime, producing the neediest, quickest pants for air. He takes a deep breath and exhales it through his mouth, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum inside”, he moans in a pitched voice. His hips stutter, but don’t lose speed, “gonna creampie your pussy so hard. Holy fuck, Mommy.”

You wrap your legs around him, closing your arms around him as well while your left hand buries itself deep in his hair and your right grabs his tense ass. You are barely present yet, but the need to feel him paint your walls gives you enough strength to pull him close.

“I love you”, he chokes out and lets go. He isn’t silent like you were. He is loud. Oh so loud that after a few seconds he needs to muffle himself by sucking on your neck.

“I love you too”, you whimper, “my loving counterpart.”

“Oh”, he sobs and pulls you closer, “my soulmate”, he squeaks and tenses up again, “no-not done. Ah!”

“Let it all out, fill me up Bunny. Please don’t hold back.”

Jungkook paints you white until it drips out of you and his body’s strength forsakes him. The comedown is intense. Because Jungkook never stopped fucking you even after your high stopped, you never got to calm down and because Jungkook fucked himself to the point of ruin he feels just as needing for your embrace.

“Are you okay?” he whimpers.

“Yeah. You?” you get out.

“Yeah.”

He shivers and twitches on top of you, blanketing you in under his body weight and the real covers. They slipped off his back in the rough fucking so that now, they are only covering your lower bodies. You don’t feel cold because you have him keeping you warm.

Neither you nor him can talk for the first few minutes, sharing forced silence as your brains try to relearn how to speak. His ears are ringing, you can feel your pulse in your head. You are both sweaty, the heat grows in your bodies now that you are so melted together. His cock softens slowly, still filling you up and keeping most of his seed inside. Good. You don’t want him to leave yet.

You finally have him back after more than a month and you would be a fool to break the connection sooner than necessary. You know that sooner or later you will have to stop this. Not only because of your important post-sex pee, but also because Jungkook can’t fall asleep like this.

At least this is what you believe. Jungkook is in the midst of drifting off to sleep. Jetlag, stress and exhaustion are finally catching up with him. Now that his mind is cleared of that initial dulling desire for you, it is finally truly sinking in that he is back home. And being back home means comfort and sleep. Still being inside and having you cockwarm him while your fingers are drawing hearts on his back forces even more sleepiness to the surface. He is home. Sleep can finally come.

“Bunny?” you whisper, scratching up his back gently. Goosebumps follow your touch. He shudders as you drag shivers out of him.

“Hm”, the sound barely wants to leave him. It tickles your neck.

“Are you falling asleep?”

He nods his head slowly.

“Don’t”, you chuckle softly, shaking him by his back gently, “the post sex pee.”

“I’m tired”, he breathes and sighs, “so tired. Work…hell.”

“I know, Bunnybaby I know. But spending your break from it having an UTI is gonna suck.”

“Not yet. Please.”

You give up fighting him, exhaling deeply through your nose. He sounds so needing of what you currently have. You need it as well. 

“Fine”, you say and fish for the blanket to pull it over your bodies, “a few more minutes.”

You hug him against you, cradling the back of his head. Jungkook sighs and relaxes on top of you.

“I fucking missed you, Kook.”

“I missed you too.”

[ckret2]

Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes. 

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks." 

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk. 

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

[antiwhores]

My king ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

King!Bakugou x servant!reader

I’m on break rn but its Bakugou’s birthday so heres this for you guys. I haven’t wrote anything this long in a HOT minute. only ogs remember when I used to write more than just drabbles

Learning not to feel self conscious about every move you made around King Katsuki was like learning to walk again.

You had to be perfect, everyone had to be perfect with the King’s temper. If a plate broke, you’d be shamed and degraded until you were holding back improper tears to avoid more degration, then you’d be fired and kicked to the curb. If you messed up an order, say goodbye to the kingdom cause you’re banished. And if you even showed the slightest disrespect then plan your funeral in the next 20 seconds because you’re dead.

Atleast, that’s what everyone told you when you first started your job as King Katsuki’s personal servant.

So far, you have not been degraded to salty tears when dropping a plate. You get a simple, “Tch, stupid woman.” As you apologize profusely and bow down to the man.

You had not been banished for messing up an order. During a quiet afternoon one week, you were flustered. You had bills to pay, a close friend just died, you needed to restock grocery, and you had gotten 3 hours of sleep from all the crying over your friend. He noticed your puffy eyes and unusually sluggish frame. He spoke nothing about it. But when you gave him peach tea instead of chai he didn’t make too much of a scene. He mearly asked, rudely of course, what was wrong with you; he scoffed at your excuse.

And he definitely didn’t have you hanged when a groan threw itself out of your mouth when he bitched about you being absent yesterday. He only made you get on your knees as he grabbed your face and made you apologize and beg for forgiveness. It sounds harsh but considering his reputation, you were called extremely lucky.

The other staff said that he’d taken a liking to you. They always sent you out to take care of his needs when he was in a pissy mood cause you had a better chance at living than the average servant.

You didn’t speak much unless directly told to. Its how you were trained. He didnt talk much either but he would ask you casual questions sometimes, like you’re anything but an ant in this heirchy.

“Oi.”

You gracefully turned around to face him and bowed down. “Yes, your grace?”

He clicks his tongue at your formality. “Stop it with the your grace and shit. Are you beheld yet?”

You softly shake your head, trying not to show your surprise at the intimate question. “No, your majesty.”

You feel embarrassed telling him your status. Usually girls around here would be married at 17 but here you are still single.

He seems pleased at that, “Why?”

You shrug as if the answer is simple. “I haven’t found someone who I can holeheartedly call my beloved.”

He starts to get nicer to you after that. He makes sure you eat and orders you to tell him (in detail) about your day.

No one is allowed in the King’s room. He says if he wants to clean it, he’ll do so himself. And no one dares to step foot into his den and you are not an exception.

You are still scared when he tells you to run him a bath in his room. You had to conform with him so many times that you invoked him to snapping on you.

His room reked of him. It was intoxicating.

You forced yourself to disregard everything around you in fear that if you looked up from your shoes you wouldn’t be able to control yourself from snooping.

You allowed yourself to look up when you reached his enormous bathroom. Did one person really need a bathroom the size of your house? It wasn’t your place to say so you began to prepare a bath.

Just as you were done you went to head out only to be stopped by the King himself.

“Where ya headed?”

You almost screamed from being startled so badly.

“I’ve prepared your bath, my king. I figured I should head out now.”

You wait for his word to leave but it never comes.

“Stay.” He commands.

“But-“

“Are you arguing with me?”

You definitely were not. You just thought that he didn’t understand that you were done and he didn’t need you anymore. But as he began to strip down in your silence, you realized he understood fully.

You turned a full 180 degrees around to avoid disrespecting him. A lowly servant like you shouldn’t have the privilege of seeing a king indecent. Even if you have grown found of him, you need to respect your place.

You hear the water splash as he gets in.

“Come.”

“What?”

“Get in with me.”

“But sir-“

“Do we need to correct that attitude? Arguing with the King isn’t smart.”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking, you thought as your cheeks grew red. Your body moved on its own as you began to strip down. You couldn’t disobey the king, not that you wanted to. You’ve always had a thing for him. From his biceps to his booming personality.

You suddenly feel subconscious with his eyes on you. He licks his lips, or did he? You have to be dreaming right now.

But you’re not dreaming, his hand dragging you on top of him in the bath isn’t a dream. And its definitely not a dream when your hand try to find something to stable itself and end up on his shoulders.

“You know, I’m quite fond of you.”

He strokes up and down your sides before moving onto your arms. The waters warm but it feels like its boiling against your skin. He smells so good and he feels so… hard?

Hard, against your thigh. You blush a deep red. He looks down with you.

“Like what you see, yeah?”

Fuck, it was big. You expected him to be big, but you hadn’t comprehended how that would feel inside someone.

“Wanna sit on it?”

You didn’t even realize you were now straddling him. You didn’t know if you moved of if he had moved you. All you know is that your here now and its taking everything in you to not grind against him without permission.

Lustful eyes meet lustful eyes. He gives you silent permission with a nod of his head so you began to grind your pussy against his cock in a desperate attempt to get rid of the heat in your belly.

His head is thrown back, “Just like that…”

You grinded until you could find the angle to catch your clit against him. The water was splashing back and forth against the tub. Your pussy clenched against nothing and it drove you crazy.

Just as you were about to cum, he stilled your hips with both hands.

You whined, “My king-“

“It’s Katsuki.”

“I couldn’t possibly call the king by his first name as a commoner.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not a commoner anymore, my queen.”

Before you could even begin to comprehend what he was alluding to, he slammed his cock inside you and thrusted into you at a wild pace.

You gripped his shoulders to study yourself, the stretch being painful but quickly residing into pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed through his teeth. He just got in and he’s already ready to cum. You felt so good, nothing like anything he’s had before. He was ready to make you queen before hand but now he’s ready to make a heir to the throne.

Your head dove into his shoulders, it was too much and it felt too good. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten. He grabbed you by your hair and shoved you against his lips.

“Wanna cum inside, that okay?”

He was gonna do it even if you said it wasn’t so you didn’t bother responding. You were too focused on meeting his thrusts anyway.

His cock pulsed inside of you, his hands marking your back up with scratched and vice versa.

The coil inside you snapped and you came on his cock with a scream. He followed shortly after you with an uncharacteristic moan.

His ropes of cum filled you up until his body relaxed against you.

Water was everywhere, on the walls and the floor. It would take a lot to clean up but you couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Does this mean you like me?”

“I just said I was making you queen, fuckin’ dumbass.”

[suempu]

Falls to floor your writing is so lovely Do you perhaps have any kabru x reader sfw/nsfw hcs…

thank you so much for the kind words. “lovely” 🥹 ahh you got me blushing anon lmfao

gn reader + on the receiving end !!!

<3

kabru would be the casual type of lover. he’s nothing but calm and suave with you, which is attractive.

he’s quite attentive of people and you’re no exception. although he really goes out of his way to be accommodating when it comes to you if you’re his lover.

mindful of your expressions and body language. once he sees a sign of you being uncomfortable, kabru will pull you away from the group and talk to you softly.

i feel like he’d be good at taking care of his partner, though he’s not the best, he tries.

kabru’s good at talking you down, grounding you into reality whenever you’re on the verge of a breakdown. let’s say you feel very unstable, he’ll whisper in the most softest tone you’ll ever hear while he holds your hand. he asks permission to touch you beforehand of course.

“here, you can feel my fingers, right?”

“mm.”

“my palm, feel it. you’re here with me,”

“i’m here…”

“good job. can i ask what happened?”

he’s good at radiating a calm atmosphere when you need it and he’s always ready to help you.

praises and compliments come out of his mouth like a piece of cake, he’s not shy when it comes to showering you with love. the whole party is grossed out by him whenever you’re around. it’s like when the parents are being all lovey-dovey and the children just groan out an ‘eww’ (its mainly mickbell complaining tho lmao)

i believe he’s had one or two intimate relationships before you, but none of them has ever lasted long enough as yours. so he’s had some experience before you.

he’s certainly a tease. have you seen that face? that face screams unfairness and mischief (in bed)

kabru loves your whining whenever he purposely denies you release. one moment his fingers will go fast and wild on your most sensitive spots, and the next he goes painstakingly slow.

“aww, but if i let you cum this early, then what about me?”

he’s a cheeky bastard. the real reason why he draws out your orgasms is because he believes that edging you will result to a much pleasurable and hard orgasm for later (he’s right.)

you will get overstimulated with this man, no question about it. he strives to make you cum at least 5-6 times in one session, which is overkill but he really loves the way your eyes glaze over.

kabru loves your tears and whining, though it kind of makes him guilty so he makes sure to absolutely spoil you after.

his hips are bad for your body. with the way he thrusts into you so precisely. its like he already knows which spot to hit, he rolls into you as he teases and whispers in your ear. he’s actually fucking crazy.

“right here? oh yeah, here?”

he moans in time with his thrusts. he loves watching your face, how your half lidded eyes look so lost yet so present. missionary is definitely his favorite position. loves being all up on your face, he kisses your cheeks, forehead, lips, and jaw while he’s inside you.

nights with him are long and wild, but he can go slow and be more gentler if you asked him to. he lives for your reactions, he thinks its really sweet how you trust him so much with your body.

kabru makes up for all his teasing with aftercare. he pants as he pulls you close, hands on your back and caressing you gently.

“you okay? did i break you?”

“shut up.” you breath out hoarsely.

he chuckles, “i love you too.”

he gives you a massage after that, quietly kissing your hips and stomach as his fingers rub at your skin. whispers small apologies while his hands work on your body. he always checks in on you whenever he hears a whine or groan when he touches a sore spot.

while he is content with just sleeping and cuddling in your own sweat, he’ll take you to the bathroom if you want to be cleaned.

solid lover, tries his best, just don’t ever have sex in his own bedroom (its messy)

[brownskinlemon]

Adore (D.F.)

summary: REQUEST (could u possibly do a story of dom calming y/n down after some like degrading disgusting sex bc he can tell it was a lot for her and have him be all soft and sweet. thank u gorl i love u)

warnings: dom! dominic fike x fem! reader, degrading, daddy kink, overstimulation, angst, fluff

word count: 907

authors note: thank you hun, muah! Thank you guys for your patience and kind words, such a great community. Here's one on the shorter side for my lovely requester <3

It had been a rougher week for you and your boyfriend Dominic. It seemed like at a moment’s notice you two were once again bickering over something small and insignificant. 

The dishes not being done: argument. 

A lost sock in the house: argument.  

Dinner being late: argument.

By the end of the week, you had been exhausted and worried that this bickering would truly never end. It reached its peak when he breathed “too loudly” for your comfort while getting ready for bed, causing you the most explosive argument yet.

Now, here you were, pinned between him and the edge of the bed, no urge in you to argue, your brain trying to form thoughts and failing miserably. Dom had milked 3 orgasms out of you driven by pure spite. Time blended together as his hips grinded into the second hour, knees hoisted up near your ears as he drove into you over and over, hitting the deepest spots inside of you. 

His hand gripped around your throat firmly, the other hand circling your bundle of nerves that was far beyond the point of overstimulation. Hickies galore decorated your body, along with some markings around your thighs from how he gripped onto you earlier while devouring you until you were a pitiful, begging mess. You both were covered in a sheen of sweat, bodies grappling onto each other like your lives depended on it.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself? Hm?” His thrusted not faltering as he began to tease you, eyes not leaving your flushed face. “You had so much to say all fucking week.” He hissed at you. 

He suddenly grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes that had rolled back to meet his. “Say it or I pull out right now.” The threat of him leaving you empty was all too real and too terrifying. 

“Dom I-” You stammered, being interrupted by your own whines. “Please I need-please-”

“Please who?” He taunted.

“Please daddy. I’m sorry.” Your voice betrayed you as it shook with every thrust deep within you. “ Please please-” 

“Be a good girl and let it go for me. Give it all to me.” He continued to talk you through the waves of pleasure wracking your whole body for the fourth time that night. He relished in the way you became a babbling mess of his name and pitiful pleads leaving your mouth. Your nails dug into his tanned biceps as he soon became undone with you, unable to hold off as you clenched desperately around him. 

He gently pulled out of you, careful not to throw your body into more sensitivity shock than it already was. Dominic’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in your shaking frame, watching how hard your chest heaved with small whines and your body shook. He leaned over you, gently trying to get your lulling eyes to look at him.

“Hey angel, look at me.” He cooed gently, cupping your face with his palm. You tried to find your grounding, forcing your eyes that wanted to close so badly to peer up at his brown puppy eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Concern laced his voice. You nodded gently, causing him to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stalked off quietly to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” 

As he spread your legs to gently clean you off, you whined at the sensitivity. “Sorry baby. I know how sensitive you are right now. But you did such a good job for me, took it so well. ” He cooed, eyes switching between cleaning you up and your fucked out face. After throwing the towel in the hamper, he crawled back into bed with you covering you both in the blanket, silence blanketing the dark room. 

“Dom.” You finally broke your silence gently, causing his head to snap to yours.

“Yes angel.” 

“I thought…” You began to get teary eyed.

“Woah woah, did I hurt you? I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to, where does it-” He shot up, eyes scanning over your body and eyes blown wide from fear.

“Dom. You didn’t, I’m okay, great actually. I was just…scared this week. Scared that we were doomed or something.” He settled back down, biting down on his bottom lip as he took in your words.

“I was too. We’ve never been the bickering type and I just- I don’t know. You know I’m not good with emotions, but I do wanna say I’m sorry. My attention has been on work and I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned.” He confessed.

You didn’t notice the tear falling down your cheek till his tattooed hand gently reached out to wipe it for you. His eyes were filled with adoration as he brought you in closer to him, kissing your forehead gently.

“I love you Dom.”

‘I love you more angel. Get some rest now okay? We can always talk more in the morning. I think I accidentally turned your body and brain to mush.” He kissed your nose, causing you to giggle. 

“Mush is the perfect word I’d use.” You replied, falling asleep in his arms.

He looked down at your sleeping frame, smiling to himself at how the furrow in your brow from overthinking and stress had finally settled as you were fully relaxed. His eyes trailed across your features, soaking up the way you couldn’t shy away from his gaze in this moment, free for him to adore you as he always had.

[porcelainseashore]

They Don't Make Them Like Her Anymore - VTM Bloodlines 20th Anniversary

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: I wrote this to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines and for a Gallery Noir server event by @vampemoqueen and @bigswordenergy.

Step into the shoes of our favorite sick freak, Vandal Cleaver, as he ruminates on the recent happenings in his life. Pliers and blowtorch included. Terms and conditions apply.

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, self-harm, body horror, mild gore, mild sexual content, obsessive behavior, blood bond, Hannah Glazer and Therese Voerman mentions, murder.

Hannah, Hannah… oh, Hannah. They don’t make them like her anymore, do they? It was sad actually—tragic—well no more tragic than another dead hooker found in a soulless apartment Downtown. Nothing that would make the headlines, not even worthy of a back page obituary in the local paper. Heh, I may be a sap for saying this, but she was good enough for me.

You see, they don’t make them like her anymore. No shit. The new girl? She can’t quite do the job like Hannah did, but since when were beggars choosers? Yeah, I know my place in the pecking order. At least she has the stomach for what I request of her. Doesn’t outright scream, “You fucking freak!” in my face, leaving me high and dry. I need my fix afterall, like the rest of you… Hiding dirty little secrets to dig out between your sorry sack of bones with a scalpel—do you know what a skilled hand can do with a scalpel? Have you ever run your finger across the edge of a blade? Any blade—come on, don’t lie to me now, we’re friends, aren’t we? Everyone’s done it once in their life, lost their innocence as blood blooms from the vulvic slit like a bouquet of roses. Sometimes it gushes like a torrent, depending on how deep you sliced. Shh, it’s okay to get carried away. Your secret’s safe with me.

Anyway, she does as I ask, like a good enough girl, then pukes her guts out—politely—in the bathroom next door. I know, because I hear it. Her chest concave and hollowed, heaving, organ crushing against organ as she squeezes her lungs, gagging on saliva and air. They don’t make them like her anymore, you get what I’m saying?

Earlier, I watched as the flimsy fabric of my skin peeled away, acid pink flesh melting from bone, and the charred layers curling under the blue flame like burning plastic. What remains blisters and festers. I’ve done it so many times I think all that can be salvaged from me are deadened nerves and an empty husk. I like being empty though. Sprawled out on the floor, naked and clean as a newborn while the world around me spins in circles. For a moment, everything feels attainable and unattainable. 

My queen… queen of all queens—

And just like that, it’s gone. I’m left with the chick who has a blowtorch in one hand and her nose in the other, pinching it as though the fumes are toxic. Her hands are always trembling, like an addle-brained patient, maybe because I don’t know whether I’m laughing or screaming half of the time.

My body is already mending at twice the speed when she brings out the pliers. I am a god and a shitty mistake all in one—not quite like the bitch goddess who owns me, but almost. Give it another hundred years, and I’ll be standing in this exact room, cutting myself open with my bare hands, alive and kicking to see the process. Imagine tucking my fingers under the sagging flaps, flaying skin from tissue as I pull it apart. Wet, stinking clumps of flesh and its sinewy tendons will stick between my nails, overstaying their welcome, yet impossible to scrub out. And that smell—mmm, that smell! A putrid, cloying tang of filthy pennies, assaulting my senses like a hammer to the head. I want to untangle my entrails like the wires in my brain that got crossed somewhere, just to check and see if they’re the same as everyone else.

Oh, so the new girl needs a bit of encouragement, does she? Lingering there slack-jawed and taking her sweet time. The missus—no, I mean, Hannah never needed to be told twice. Deep down, I think she even enjoyed it, the sick fuck. They don’t make them like her—

“Do it,” I hiss, saliva drooling from my lips like a rabid dog.

I hear bones snapping before the pain hits me, rattling my teeth as an excruciating jolt shoots up my arm. For a split second, I’m blinded by a searing white light. My thumb is dangling at an awkward angle and I must be howling, because the look on that girl’s face… well, what wouldn’t I give to have a picture as a keepsake? Frame it up on the wall like a goddamn Picasso.

Sometimes I feel the hairy legs of spiders skittering around my skull. It tickles like the high strings of a violin being plucked—faintly, daintily, as if it were never there. Sometimes I say things, but my words aren’t my own. And it’s happening right now. The girl before me is no longer a girl, but the queen bitch herself.

“Therese,” I weep and moan. It’s lewd and urgent like a fever prayer falling from my lips. I swear I could cum from her name alone, and I hate myself for it.

“What did you just call me?”

Therese in body and blood, spirit and flesh. Therese in all her unbearable glory. The cold metal clamps down on my trigger finger and her grin is so wicked I can only grovel and lick the dirt off her boots. She’s inside of me. When I hurt myself, she hurts too, and I enjoy it.

“Yes, please! Oh, mistress, oh fuck—”

My eyes shut as I throw my head back, mouth in the shape of an “O” that’s simply ridiculous. I try not to imagine how it looks like one of those snuff tape suckers in post-coital, or should I say, post-feast bliss. Disgusting and vile. I remember mocking them with Phil as I forced him to watch every single Death Mask film in that dingy basement of the Santa Monica Clinic.

When I come to, my balls are no longer heavy and aching, like an oppressive, shameful need. Semen trickles down my leg, pooling in my pants as though I wet myself. It smells of rotting fish and I’m trying not to cry. I wish it were the Nectar of the Gods instead.

A flash of anger rears up in my chest and I tear my eyes open. Therese—no, the new girl lies like a crumpled doll on the floor, mouth agape in that stupid “O.” Good enough like a pair of single-use gloves to dispose of in the trash without a second thought. Except, I used mine again and again. What’s the point if they break apart so easily? They don’t make them—

I yank her face towards me. The whites of her eyes loll back as I squash the fat of her cheeks within my bloodied hand, and her lips mime a fish sucking in breath.

“Tell me I’m good enough! Say it!” something that sounds more akin to a pig squealing explodes like a burst tap.

The stumps of my fingers move her mouth like a ventriloquist, but she says nothing. Blood smears across her dull skin. She doesn’t wake up. That can only mean one thing: useless. They don’t—

I let her body fall to the ground with a thud. Whipping a phone out from my back pocket, what’s left of my fingers fly over the keypad, punching in a line I’ve rehearsed a thousand times.

“A special order for the mistress.”

Tears cloud my eyes as I hear my quivering breath. It’s shallow and erratic. I still can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying half of the time.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[notjustjavierpena]

Siggy, the real question is pls get some more pregnancy joel…..bc tempers has me feeling some type of way 😮‍💨🥹

The Making of Ellie - Part IV: Libido

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, anon ❤️ Hope it is worth the wait. 

Summary: Your libido has increased since getting pregnant. Joel doesn’t have a problem with indulging you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni!), teasing, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, pregnancy sex, bit of fluff, intense orgasms, handjob, come-eating, desperate and whimpering joel is a warning in itself, the tiniest use of daddy.

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Libido

Since entering your third trimester, your libido has increased significantly. It is to the point where you feel painfully hot and bothered throughout the day, having described it as an itch that simply won’t go away no matter how much you scratch it. You’ll cross your legs, bite your lip, flush pink and be short of breath just by catching a glimpse of Joel, and he’ll be on you as soon as humanly possible. In short: You just want to, and you do, fuck all the damn time. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, in the hallway, once on the staircase, car. 

Joel is happy to oblige, at least inside the four walls of your shared home. Sarah has completely fled the house at this point; despite it starting with your temper tantrums, her distaste for being home was really set in stone when she walked in on the two of you in a compromising position. 

“Dad, I’m really happy for you and all, but Jesus Christ, I’ll be home again tomorrow,” she’d said, and now, she comes home for dinner and to pack her soccer bag. He lets her. She’s practically grown at this point, and he’ll see her when she needs him, he knows this. He has made it a habit to text her goodnight too, and she always responds quickly with a heart emoji.

You on the other hand are a whole different story. You are always in close proximity to him, circling him like a goddamn cat who does not want to admit its attachment to you and waiting to strike for the right moment to get attention. 

Joel is emptying the dishwasher, a thing that he has made clear is his job after the incident, when he spots you out of the corner of his eye. He smiles to himself and pretends not to see you, continuing his work on getting all the mugs into the cabinet above him without crushing any of the million amounts of snacks you have hidden in the back. 

You move closer. He watches still, catches the way your skirt flows as you walk to stand on his right side. You grip the edge of the kitchen counter, leaning against it and eyeing him up. 

“Hey babe,” you say, tapping a finger on the front of the kitchen cabinet. 

“Hi honey,” he replies nonchalantly to make you work for it. He starts filling up the dishwasher too, causing a microexpression of frustration and confusion on your face. 

“Do you wanna do something together?” You suggest. 

“Sure, when ’m done here.”

“How about now? Skip the cleaning up thing?” 

“Is there anythin’, in particular, ya wanna do?” He acts oblivious. He goes to wash his hands, “Somethin’ that can’t wait?”

“Well,” you say with confidence, “Wouldn’t you rather get with—“

You push your hands down onto the counter to lift yourself up onto the kitchen table, but the act is hardly successful; you’ve become too stiff to do it, and it ends up a lot less sexy than Joel assumes is your intention. You try again, but you can’t get your ass onto the table, round belly in the way of being flexible enough to be seductive. 

“Hold up,” you furrow your brows, trying your act again and using your legs to kickstart the jump off the floor but yet again to no avail, “I can do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says, one hand resting on his chin as he hides the urge to laugh out loud. He clears his throat to cover up a chuckle. 

“Stop,” you snap at him as you catch him actually laughing at you. He tries to suppress it, but when it bubbles up in his chest without his control, you become stubborn, “No, no, just wait.”

You struggle for a few moments more whilst Joel bites his cheek to keep you from getting upset. Eventually, you groan, “A little help here?”

“Sure,” Joel stands in front of you. He pushes on the soles of your feet the next time you try jumping, giving you the boost you need to perch yourself on the surface. 

“Now,” you brush non-existent dust off your skirt, gesturing to yourself afterward. Joel thinks you’re adorable, “Wouldn’t you rather get with this than clean the kitchen?” 

Joel sends you a smirk, “After that whole display, I’m actually not sure. Can you jump down and do it again so I’m certain?”

“Joel,” you bite, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t know if you purposely squeeze your fuller breasts together or if he is just a dog, but he cannot help himself from staring. You catch him doing it, “Great. So you can stare at my cleavage, but you can’t touch me?” 

Joel says your name. You ignore him. 

“Have I not been paying ‘nough attention to ya?” Joel tuts in the softest voice, closing the distance between you to stand in between your legs, “Is that why you’re actin’ up?” 

You pout at him so prettily, arms still underneath your tits and fingers tapping on your elbows. It turns more fun when you don’t reply, gaze dropping after it becomes too intense to stare back at him. Joel loves this little game, can feel his cock twitch in his jeans and threaten to strain against the zipper. You look past his shoulder, chewing on your bottom lip with a sort of pained restlessness. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joel continues. He reaches out to place his palm on your round belly, rubbing soothingly as you continue to ignore him in your attempt to repress a tantrum. He knows you get angry and frustrated when you don’t eat, but after getting you pregnant, he has discovered that you react the same to not getting fucked on the regular too, “‘S not right for me to tease ya like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, placing your hand on top of his in a gesture of reconciliation, “Think you should make it up to your baby mama. She’s going insane, you know. Only you help.” 

Joel can feel his cock start to harden already. It is so easy for you to rile him up these days, hearing you talk about how he has ruined anything else for you. He is the only one to save you from this torment, and luckily, Joel likes to be useful. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Joel’s hand on your stomach slips down and then up under your skirt. He glides his fingertips along your inner thigh, watches you struggle to find the words as his digits go further north until they rest right by the fabric of your underwear. He can feel the warmth radiating from your core.

“Uhh,” you say as your mind fogs. Your legs automatically spread for him.

“This?” He hooks his thumb underneath the damp fabric right at your center, “Jesus, you’re so wet, baby. I’m so sorry. If you’d just told me, I would’ve—“

“Just touch me, stop talking, and—” you whine, scooting a little further towards the edge to give him more access, “Don’t have to worry now.”

Joel’s thumb settles on your clit and presses down lightly. It causes you to say his name desperately, the back of your head knocking against the kitchen cabinet when you crane your neck back. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Joel asks. He stops temporarily while you reach up to touch the back of your head. Though instead of wincing, you start giggling and Joel cannot suppress his own laughter. 

“Keep going,” you egg him on, “I’ll be more careful.”

Joel decides to pull your underwear to the side instead, so he can sink two fingers into you. You let out a shaky breath, “Oh, fuck. That’s just what I needed.”

Joel’s thumb is on your clit again. He fucks you on his digits slowly, searches for your g-spot for only a second before rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. God, the way your face goes slack. You absolutely love it. 

The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene enough to get him painfully hard in mere seconds too, combined with the feeling of your walls fluttering with your climax building.

“How the fuck are you so soaked?” He asks in disbelief. 

“May have pregamed,” you admit in your blissful state. 

“What?” Joel doesn’t stop what he is doing, but he slows down until he has almost come to a halt. 

You find his gaze with a frown, “Don’t stop.”

“I haven’t… pregamed?”

You squirm a little and try to move, but Joel places his free hand on your belly to stop you, “Tried to take care of it myself. Didn’t fucking work, okay? The angle is all wrong.”

Joel cannot believe his ears. He lets his hand go up to grab your chin and then starts fucking your cunt with his fingers in earnest. You cry out softly, holding his gaze intensely. 

“You find me, okay?” He puts on the voice that always makes you shut up and nod, “I don’t care what the fuck I’m doing. Say you wanna come and I’ll be there.”

Just like he predicted, you simply nod at his words. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and he marvels at how you are barely able to connect your fingertips when your hand is in a fist around it. He loves you. Sweetest little thing he has ever known. 

“Gonna be a good girl and come f’me?” He smiles devilishly when your breathing indicates that you are close. He lets go of your chin and splays the palm on your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat, “Make those legs tremble f’me?”

He curls his fingers upwards to torture his favorite spot inside of you, and then you are coming around them with fast pulses of your walls. He watches your thighs twitch once and then twice before actually shaking violently, making him wonder how long you’ve involuntarily edged yourself before finding him. 

“Fuck, Joel, Joel,” you gasp in a very particular way, and Joel quickly removes his fingers from your cunt to see how a wet patch forms on your skirt from how you gush repeatedly as your climax reaches its peak.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s in the fucking kitchen, because the pride that he feels at making you squirt knows no bounds, and he cannot help the boyishness in his chuckle, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Holy fuck,” you groan as you come down from your high. You rest your head against the kitchen cabinet again, this time without knocking it roughly into it. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Fantastic,” you sigh contentedly, “Just gimme a sec. Take your pants off. I wanna do something nice for you before I go take this stupid skirt off.”

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reassures despite how his dick hurts by now. 

“Pants off, Miller,” you commandeer. 

Joel follows through without further hesitation. He makes quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear, grunting at the friction along his hard cock. 

“Look at you,” you say with a pout, “Poor baby daddy.”

You reach out to grab a hold of his cock, watching the bead of precome that threatens to drip down from the tip. Running the pads of your fingers up and down the shaft teasingly, Joel lets out a relieved moan at finally being touched but it only lasts for a moment because nothing escalates. 

“You said something nice. This ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he tells you with a groan, squeezing himself further in between your legs to get closer to your smug expression. You swear the precome over the sensitive head and both of Joel’s hands fly to the kitchen counter. He places them flat against the surface, “Really not gonna say anythin?’

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head, eyes still glazed over with your post-orgasmic bliss but now also sporting an innocence that drives him mad. You start stroking his dick, fist tightening around his girth and he can feel himself pulse in your hand.

It feels fucking great as you drag your palm over the skin again and again, but something clicks in Joel’s head when desperation hits. Fuck, he wants to come.

It would be impossible to make his body listen to him right now as it feels disconnected from reality and control. He tilts his hips, looks down at where you’re touching him so expertly, and then fucks himself into your tight grip. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say in disbelief but never falter. If anything, you manage to squeeze enough to make it a tighter fit without hurting him, “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“Fuck,” he swears loudly and speeds up his hips. One of the hands on the kitchen table comes up to grab a cabinet handle, knuckles turning white as he strains to chase his orgasm. 

When the rubber band at the base of his spine snaps, Joel stills his hips. Your hand hesitates for a second, but then the first rope of come spills over your hand and you milk him for every drop he has in him. 

Joel hasn’t come like this in a while; always empties himself sheathed inside your soft cunt, but when you praise him absentmindedly as he comes, he finds that he might become partial to it. He pants through the almost painful clenches of his lower stomach and balls. 

When he whimpers at the over-sensitivity, your hand stills completely. Your free hand strokes his cheek with the back of your fingers, “You good? Talk to me.”

It takes a beat to find his bearings once more. His hand plops down onto the counter again. He mumbles with exhaustion coating his voice, “Alright. ‘M back.”

He thinks you’re as spent as him, but with your remaining energy, you lift your hand from his cock to lick his come off the back of it with the flat of your tongue. He groans, “Dirty girl.”

“What? It has vitamins,” you tease, giving your hand another kitten lick, “Unfortunately not D. Should’ve been vitamin D.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. He struggles a little with his balance as he gets dressed again, blood still not having fully returned to his brain. He gets the paper towels and helps you clean up, but you just look at him with a dazed smile.

“What?” He questions.

“You better fuck me like that tonight,” you muse.

“You know what to say, and I’ll be there. No pregaming,” he replies simply and helps you onto the ground again, “Now go change, momma.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications ���❤️

[ohcurseit]

Toji and the smells he carried (drabble)

Toji stayed over at yours from time to time. As time passes, he found himself staying over more and more. Some of his belongings crept its way to yours.

He started to have some spare clothes in a drawer for him, a towel in the cupboard, and another in the bathroom. He didn't have his own slippers because he refused to wear any. What a menace.

You used to have a single bed. He never complained about the bed when he stayed over. You found a new double bed in your bedroom with no bedsheets on someday when you were back from work.

"What happened to the bed?" You asked.

"The old one was tiny. Don't worry princess, you can still sleep on top of me." As cocky as he always was.

He pointed at the two packets on the floor.

"What about sheets?"

Here was a grown ass man, you thought. You sighed and opened one of them. To your surprise, he bought some made of fancy materials. You looked at the washing label carefully and put them in the washing machine. You turned back to him: "What are we supposed to do tonight?"

He raised a brow: "'We' did you say?" You nodded, though a little confused.

That seemed to flipped a switch inside him. He walked towards you in a slow but firm steps. Eventually he trapped you between his arms and the washing machine: "'We' can sleep on the couch, the floor, a hotel, or anything. 'You' are going to sleep on me."

The pair of you ended up of the floor. You slept on top of the single duvet that he hadn't thrown out yet. Heat radiated from him enveloped you and kept you warm all night.

You went to work the next day. He got bored lying on the floor by himself so he got up for a shower.

He never bothered getting himself shower gel and whatnot. He cared shit about those. He used your shower gel and your shampoo. He took clean clothes from the cupboard. The he plonked himself on the couch and mindlessly flicked between TV channels.

He got a call from Shiu when he was putting thee new sheets on the new bed.

When he met up with Shiu, it's alredy afternoon. Shiu raised his brow: "You look well, Zenin."

Toji yawned: "Do I now."

Shiu halfheartedly smiled: "At least you smelled nice now."

Toji bet him an eye with hidden warning: "Yeah yeah. What's the job?" Shiu moved on to business straight away.

Toji knew what he smelled like. He smelled like a family guy. Not how usually people in the industry smelled like. Shiu stunk of cigarettes. That's a common one.

He smelled like you.

He carried the smell of your shower gel, your shampoo, your fabric conditioner, and the food you made for him the previous night.

But you said 'we'. He gussed that's 'his' too now, all of the above.

==================================

No beta. I just wanted to write somthing. I was inspired by this post. And yea I am the weirdo who love sniffing my own bf lollll

[kit-williams]

Yandere Konrad

tw: baby trapping, Konrad Curze/Night Haunter having unhealthy interpersonal relationships, obsession, yandere

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

I took Liberties with the word night haunter in nostroman using the latin of the word haunted: Uada and adding the prefix from this "asha" which is theorized to be first person so its more so "I haunted"

He coos at you his little scribe... he remembers first meeting you... your eyes sparkled so brightly. You weren't from Nostromo so he tried to not judge so harshly... your being... your presence... your aura... tasted sweeter and clean when you were in his presence doing what you were told. Being good till he remembers hesitating one time trying to remember what Father had called him and you opened your mouth for a moment before closing it. It wasn't your job to speak it was your job to listen and write.

"What is it little scribe." He spoke.

He could hear the way you swallowed your saliva the nervousness in your heartbeat, "Do you have another title you go by?"

You were the first Scribe to ask that, "Solruthis Uadasha. The Night Haunter in gothic." He replied as he watched you pull out a smaller journal and scribble it down quickly. His eyes watched the way your mouth tried to mimic the same words and sounds. He moved closer and closer gently correcting your pronunciation of his name.

"Do you prefer to be called this?"

"Yes."

You just nod as he sees you read over something and smile. "Few smile like that when learning my name little scribe." He speaks calmly.

"It is probably because I am not Nostroman that I find it appealing. Also the fact your name starts with Sol." He did not stop you so you continued oblivious to the darkness in his eyes, "Sol is the name for the star in the Terra system. And if you shorten your name to Sol well I find it very fitting to be in the presence of a sun." You said dooming yourself with a smile.

Sol and Uada is how you shortened his name; when he let you. His skin crawled pleasantly when you called him Sol with such tender affection as you were so easily distracted away from noticing the madness filling his gaze. You hardly noticed how fewer and fewer scribes would be working for important events... oh it was far too late when you noticed how close to the gates of hell you were.

Sex upon Nostromo was always a transaction... that was not the case for you. You had no ulterior wants when you let the Primarch ruin your body. "Sol... Sol...Sol..." You would chant and slur out as his body would rock against yours or as you bounced down on him. He was no better than any of the scum on his home planet as he took so much more from you during sex. Boundaries you tried to keep up crumbled under his wills and want and besides... few could say they took a primarch raw.

You didn't know yet. It was clear to the Primarch as you sat with the other scribes... you didn't know what half of the transaction he had given you. He tried to warn you that sex always was a transaction upon Nostromo... you simply wanted the emotional connection and to express your affection for the Primarch in such a human way... what he wanted? To give you his baby. To keep you by his side.

He found you sitting in the bathroom in your room retching up your breakfast as his eyes look over the recent medica report just sitting on your desk with the blood work telling them that you were pregnant. You look up at him with a soft whimper, "Sol, Please don't be mad." He allowed himself to be caught holding your recent medica report.

His face not betraying his giddiness he felt , his voice not betraying the way his hearts rushed with excitement. You wouldn't leave now. "My little Sorsollia... why would I be mad?" He moves far more like a creature with the way he cocks his head to the side as he slowly moves closer and closer as she lets him enter the space... crouching with ease as he grins as he nuzzles the top of her head, "I figured I was unable to create in this way." He tilts her head up slightly, "I should be asking... are you mad at me?"

Your sparkling eyes look away for a moment but unlike his brother Fulgrim he knows his prey so well... your eyes return to meet his own, "No... I'm not mad. It's just an accident." Your mouth hangs open as sadness fills your scent, "I've... I've ruined my career." You cover your face with your hands. "I... I... I... I'll be utterly blacklisted." You say as your fear and despair tastes so delightful as he pulls you closer to him. "I don't know what to do." You say as you start to cry just confused... so far away from what you know...

"Shhh shh Sorsollia... " He has you look up at him again, "Have you forgotten whom the father is?" He trills as his accent thickens just leaning in and kissing her neck... trailing up to kiss those tears away as he moves with ease out of the confined space. "I will take care of this... this should be seen as something to be celebrated. " He croons as he carries you off trying not to wickedly grin at how he's insured that you cannot and will not want to leave his side.

[tiramissyoucake]

not adding a title to this, it was supposed to be a drabble but i got too into it..... oopsie

MINORS+AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Toji Fushiguro x reader, characters are 18+, reader is pink bimbo coded, predator prey kink? idk toji chases reader around the house, 1.1k words

CW: nsfw heavily mentioned but no full smut, toji is horny but reader wants to paint her nails. plushies used as ammunition (reader throws them at toji lol), some proof reading

You usually liked the rain, but today it ruined all your plans and you almost swore hatred on it. You had an appointment with a nail technician which was canceled minutes after you began getting ready due to the rain escalating into a storm (honestly you wouldn’t have gone even if it was regular rain; that would mean ruining your adorable new shoes! You paid a fortune for those!), a friend of yours canceled plans due to said storm as well- Mother Nature was against you today.

It wasn’t ALL bad, you settled for staying inside in your cutest pajamas and you even got a few chores done, now you relaxed on your couch as you painted your nails, your nail appointment may have been canceled but that won’t stop you from your pursuit of aesthetics. The silence was annoying to deal with at first but after a snack and a few episodes of your favorite show, you found the atmosphere quite nice.

You were abruptly pulled out of your tranquility as the door slammed open and then shut, the rainstorm’s noise briefly filled the room before growing muffled again, your eyes followed the noise and saw your giant of a boyfriend covered in rainwater and.. you want to say grime but you think its blood from his latest job. Toji kicked aside his shoes and threw his bag aside grunting to himself, he hadn’t noticed you yet.

As he walked in, the water dripped off him and soaked into your floor, you grew irritated.

“Umm.. could you not?” You asked him with a look of disappointment, you had just wiped the floor earlier! He looked up at you with an indiscernible expression. “I just wiped the floor like 2 minutes ago! You’re cleaning that up!”

Usually, he’d whine and groan about chores but this time he just stared at you, slowly you became unnerved as those eyes studied you- the scariest part is that you didn’t know what he was thinking, but in the back of your mind you knew what was about to happen.

“… Toji?”

He took one step forward towards you.

“Toji, no.” you reprimanded, he took another step

“Toji, yes.” He simply replied as he cracked his neck once, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

“I said no! I’m doing my nails!!” A grin graced his features, one where you knew you have to start running.

You both stared each other down for a moment before Toji lunged at you, you narrowly escaped by climbing over the couch leaving behind a cushion in his arms, he quickly tossed it aside and followed after you.

“C’MERE!!” He practically yelled as he easily leaped over the couch and followed after you, you let out a loud ‘NOOOO!’ the adrenaline quickly spiked in your system as your lover chased you like some starved predator.

Your chase consisted of him almost cornering you in multiple areas of your house, he almost reached for you over the kitchen table, you barely dodged him near the bathroom, you had a moment to breathe at the kitchen doorway before sprinting away after he almost caged you in his gigantic arms.

“Where’re you going, baby?! you don’t love me anymore?!” he mocked you as he laughed, your terrified squeal fueled him, and seeing you run from him excited him to no end. He chased you to your bedroom arriving behind you just in time to see you climb on your bed as if high ground was going to keep him away from you.

“Shoo!! Go away!!” You yelled at him as you threw your plushies at him from where you stood on the bed, he easily parried the little stuffed companions as he let out a sinister laugh.

“What’s wrong? I just wanna show my girl some love!” He circled your bed looking for the right chance to capture you in his arms, you tiptoed and balanced yourself on the mattress- your ‘My Melody’ plushie clutched in your hand; she was your last line of defense.

“That’s what you said last time, and I ended up walking funny for days!” he smirked and his scar curled with his smile, you blushed at the memory of the time he practically shoved you into a mating press and drilled you until you were overflowing with his seed (you were confident this pervert took pictures during that time).

Aiming, Toji’s smug smile hadn’t faltered as you pouted at him, god he couldn’t wait to pin you under him and fuck all his stress away. Throughout his entire day he thought of you; that pouty look you gave him when he teased you, the obnoxiously pink yet adorable outfits you wore that made his dick throb, and of course- how could he live without that ass of yours that was practically begging to be groped by his large hands as he got an eyeful while chasing you?

“Baby doll you’re being dramatic!” Toji tried coaxing you into putting down the plushie but you knew better “Put the bunny down and jump into your Toji’s arms!” he emphasized his point by opening his arms to you, as if you were going to do that after he chased you like a madman all while he was dripping wet, oh and did you mention that you WIPED THE FLOOR before he came home?!

As he blabbered sweet nonsense to you, you made a plan to throw the plushie in his face as a distraction and escape your bedroom, additionally, you got the idea to shut the door behind you and lock him in when you caught the glint of your bedroom key slotted into the door.

It was risky but you know you can do this, this is perfect, your plan is perfect!

… not.

The moments flashed by after you launched your poor soldier at him, you only took one step forward off the mattress, a singular step that went nowhere as you blinked once, and suddenly, you found yourself on your back on the bed with Toji pinning you down with his weight straddling your waist. your expression was adorable; lips parted staring up at him as those wide confused eyes slowly registered defeat, the most humiliating symbol of said defeat was your plushie in his free hand as the other held down both your wrists in one hand over your head.

He let out a low chuckle, one that vibrated in his chest as he pressed his body as close to yours as possible leaning down until your noses were centimeters from touching. He lifted your little plushie to your line of sight and grinned “You put up a fun chase, but I want my prize~”

Toji tossed your trooper off the bed, and as the storm progressed outside your home you were glad you threw the rest of your plushies off the bed when you did.

[unknownperson246]

Current Rachel Bolan giving reader the best oral sex/ finger job of her life

Hi I am so sorry its late but I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Best Head

Words: 745

Warnings: *smut* *fluff* *oral sex* *begging* *f receiving* *cum play* *cum eating*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You had just stepped out of the shower. Your body was still wet and you grabbed your towel drying yourself off in the bathroom. You were being careful and tried not to let any water droplets hit the wooden floor. You are a nurse. You were exhausted after a long day of work rushing to see how patients were doing.  You took a night shift at the hospital. You got back an hour ago. You then decided to take a shower. You come out of the bathroom in your towel hugging your body. You watch your blue scrubs hanging messily on your closet door. 

“I'll take care of it later.” You sigh.

As soon as you say that you hear a knock on your bedroom door. 

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” Rachel, your rockstar boyfriend asked you.

“I’m fine, just a long day.” You smile slightly while watching Rachel.

Rachel watches you look at your scrubs with a scowl on your face.  Your scrubs hung on the closet door in a tangled manner.

“I can take care of that for you,” He says, making his way to fold your scrubs up neatly. After he was done he put them where they would usually go. You go to the bathroom and blow dry your wet hair. Once you finish with a simple task you found heavy, you go out of the bathroom. You felt bad that you and Rachel didn't get enough time together. You craved him and you wanted him to pleasure you. He could see the disappointment on your face while you were drying your hair. He knew what you were thinking about.

“Rachel. I want you” You say smiling at him.

He goes over to you and hugs you while you're still in your towel. He unravels you out of it like it was a dress. He hangs the towel on a nearby chair. He takes his pants off.

“No Rachel, I want some head” You whine. 

In a swift motion, he helped himself off the bed and got ready to give you the best oral sex of your life. Your pussy was pulsing for his tongue to touch you in an intimate manner. You felt yourself getting excited as Rachel pulled his tongue out. Your heartbeat was rising up and down. Rachel was getting turned on at the fact that he could solely get you to come with just his tongue. He went down to the apex of your thighs and he started licking the fresh coat of mint and citrus lotion that hadn't melted into your skin fully.

“Mmm Mint and Citrus” He groans in satisfaction as he can taste and gets a small whiff of your stress-relieving scent.

His mouth makes its way to your vulva starting nice and slow. His tongue fluctuates on your vulva. He slows down and licks your clit and sucks on your vulva again. You let out small moans and whimpers. His name slips out of your mouth dozens of times. You can feel his breath trickling down. Him eating you out is doing something to you. You don't ever want it to end. “Hah. Rachel” You whimper, having a strong urge to come already.

“Don't come yet. I'm not done” Rachel spits on your cunt as he continues sucking on your vulva.

“Rachel. Let me come please let me come” You beg as your grip on the bed sheets starts to undo both of the layers of bed sheets that were spread.  “Not yet.” Rachel pants as he gets excited seeing you begging him.

Fresh tears start to roll down your cheeks as Rachel's tongue continues to flicker on your tongue. His tongue swirls on your clit. You need to come soon, you can't handle holding it. Rachel tastes the gooey substance oozing out of you. 

“Fuck Rachel” You moan as you feel yourself helplessly coming on his tongue.

 He cleans all the wet and slick off. He gets up from crouching down and he stretches. He didn't mind you not sucking him off today. He knew you were exhausted as he was himself and he wanted you to rest up. You were unphased that you just received the best oral sex you had in your life. You didn't think Rachel had it in him but you were wrong.  He plops down on the bed and you both fall asleep together in that position of a long day of work you both had finished.