#i will come out of this with more of an appreciation for dogs. i know that. maybe i will actually adopt one in the far far future

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The two weeks since you gave notice fly by. You’re almost buzzing with excitement. Once the day is through, you’re free. Well, free to finish packing and spend your last night in your apartment before your new chapter. 

The change couldn’t come at a better time. It’s best you get out of the city after your brush with danger. Back on the straight and narrow. For once, things are going according to plan. 

You’re barely focused on work. You have everything wrapped up and ready for the next poor soul. Brenner’s not bothered. He just sits at his desk, watching those videos that reflect in his framed certification. You try your best not to look. 

All you can think of is packing up at the rest of the day and never looking back. This new job is everything you ever wanted. And the interview was great. They seemed great and the culture was more than a slimy boss and elderly secretary knitting by the door. 

As if on cue, Geraldine squawks a greeting as the door open. You flinch and look over as she preens, “why hello, sir. Back again?” 

You don’t get too many walk-ins. You turn and your eyes bulge as Rogers lets the door close behind him. He wears a dark blue suit with a matching tie. His hair looks even longer than before, his beard thicker. It’s been barely a month but it feels like longer. 

You turn to your desk and click around your screen. Remember what he said. As far as you’re concerned, he’s a stranger. 

So why is he walking towards your desk. Brenner clears his throat and stands, his mouse bouncing off his keyboard as he scrambles. You swallow dryly and keep your head down. 

“Mr. Rogers, sir, what can we do for you this time?” 

“Got another job.” Rogers intones. 

“Sure, uh, we’re a bit short-handed but--” 

“Her,” Rogers stops beside your desk and taps the corner. “Come on.” 

You flinch and look up at him in dread. You frown. You’re confused. He told you to forget and you did your best to do just that. 

“Right, er,” you sniff and twine your fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “Happily, er, sir, but the thing is, it’s my last day. Tomorrow--” 

“I’m not asking. Come on.” 

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate. He sounds angry. You know what happens when he’s mad. The thought makes you light-headed. “Well, I’m moving out-of-town so--” 

“Get up,” he demands as he shifts towards you, reaching over your shoulder to grip the back of your chair. “Important work to do.” 

“Go on,” Brenner says, “help out Mr. Rogers.” 

Rogers’ icy blue eyes flick up to the other man and narrow. A warning. I don’t need your help. He pushes away from you and the chair rocks dangerously. Back to square one. Back to an angry dog bristling for a fight. 

“Sure, sure,” you show your palms then slowly pivot. 

You gather up your briefcase and check that all the drawers are empty. You wonder if maybe you’re taking so long but you really don’t want to come back here after whatever trouble this man has in store. You get up with your bag in hand. 

Rogers turns without a word and strides across the office. You follow. You catch up to him outside as he holds the door for you. As you try to keep pace with him, you muster all your courage. 

“I hope this is a short job, I have aa moving truck--” 

“I’m not negotiating.” 

“Alright,” you accept with a squeak. 

It’s all too familiar. There’s no explanation. Just blunt orders and tense silences. He opens the passenger door of his black car and you get in. He goes around the driver’s side and turns the engine. 

“Whatever job you took, won’t pay as much as this one so let’s stop with that,” he says. 

You blink. This can’t be happening. You had it all figured out. You’re done with criminals and Mr. Brenner and all of this. You frown. You feel his gaze in the mirror. He sighs. 

“We gotta go outta town. I need someone who can do numbers.” 

“Outta town?” You murmur. 

“Sounds like you’re already packed and ready to go, so we’ll drop by to grab some stuff and head off. No time to waste--” 

“What? I... but...” you stammer. 

You snap your mouth shut as you sense his roiling irritation. Oh, oh no. You know what this is. Too good to be true which means it’s all falling down around you. ‘Out of town?’ You know what that means. 

Your head bobbles as your breath burns in your chest. You grab at the door handle and whine, “please, don’t. Please, let me out. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, stop that,” he grabs your shoulder and pulls you back against the seat, steering with his other hand. “You’re going to get hurt--” 

“You’re going to hurt me?” You squeal and your eyes roll back into a fog. 

You feel the lurch of the car before you plunge fully into the darkness. It’s like blinking. You wake up against the seat. He’s still driving. You don’t recognise your surroundings. 

“No!” You erupt back into consciousness. “No! Why are you doing this? I promised! I didn’t talk to anyone, sir! I didn’t. I’m leaving town and--” 

“Calm down,” he grits over the wheel. 

“No! No! If you’re going to kill me, then I’m not going down easy,” you insist, “I’m going to--” 

The world turns gray again and you hit the door with a thunk. You sink again into your vacant mind. A shift in motion wakes you again. There’s music playing. 

“Am I dead yet?” You ask groggily. 

He scoffs, “what’s gotten into you? I told ya, we got a job.” 

“We? Job?” You sputter. “You know, I know what ‘out of town’ is. I watched The Godfather. Boring but they were streaming it...” 

“Huh? Godfather? No, no, look, I don’t kill people I can use,” he says plainly. 

“Oh... that’s not reassuring,” you utter. 

He lets out another long breath. Yours starts to pick up again. You brace the door. 

“Damnit, don’t you pass out again,” he demands. “I know you kept your promise. That’s why I chose you. This is an important job. Diplomatic. I can’t risk someone who might flip and I know you’re not going to do any of that. Because I know you don’t want to do any of this.” 

You consider his words. You clutch your head, “fair.” 

“Are you good? I got some water,” he points to the bottle in the plastic holder by the console. 

“I... I won’t...” you inhale deeply. “I just—you said we were done.” 

“Shit happens,” he shrugs. 

“And I’m just along for the ride,” you mumble. 

He snorts and shakes his head, “guess so.” 

[raeinyourdreams]

'call it what you want.' | l.h x reader

pairings: logan howlett x sway!reader

tags: fluff, no established relationship but.. there's something there, mutant!reader (they call her sway due to her mutation.. i love her i wanna talk ab her someone PLEASE ASK AB HER), AFAB reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, no specific petnames for reader (just bub and her hero name.. gets called kid like twice), no use of y/n, written with x2 logan in mind... sigh... save me x2 logan.. anyway, he gives reader his dog tags before a mission in case he.. you know.. so maybe angst? but only til the very end.

wc: 2k!!

a/n: OKAY SO BOOM! this is my first actual work that's not a drabble and i'm so anxious to post AAHHH, i got the inspo from a post i saw a while ago while fried as fuck from someone requesting a fic ab logan giving reader his dog tags, pref fluffy and angsty so i hope i did ur vision justice OP!! tysm for inspo, my reqs are always open 🫶🏻 also i know this is a very burnt card but if something in the wording is off lmk PLEASEE english isn't my first language 😭 anyway enough yapping plz enjoy!! any type of interaction is appreciated

'call it what you want, just know these are yours now.'

you've never seen him without his dog tags, he never took them off, not ever since the first time he came into the mansion. you'd been there the first time, you were a teacher in the school, and you'd seen him occasionally roam the halls and stay by the door, listening in on your class, quietly. but very rarely interacted otherwise, just a simple nod or a 'good morning' that he'd return out of good manners, but he'd mostly keep to himself.

you're a teacher. you're the fun teacher. at least that's what your coworkers seemed to agree upon, seeing how your students appeared to leave your classroom more cheerful than they entered. you'd be lying if you said you didn't use your mutation as an advantage in this situation, being able to read your students' moods every day, how they were feeling and why came insanely handy, especially when it came to giving each student the type of care they needed. which is why you were also a student counselor.

on the days you didn't teach, you'd put that psych degree to work and counsel. in your classroom filled with drawings and fairy lights and stained glass that looked straight from a fairytale, and a door you'd lock for privacy as a student came to confide in you.

obviously despite your title, it wasn't only students who'd come to your office to let a feeling go, teachers too, needed a space to blow off some steam, cry a little sometimes, because they knew you'd soothe them in the end, touch your hand feel the pain dissipate, make it seem as if they'd never felt that way.

up until now, only teachers and students seemed to come to you for help. teachers. and students.

so it did surprise you when the wolverine started showing up in your office after coming back.

"must be tiring. to handle others' emotions like your own all day." he'd say, sitting down on a chair, to which you'd playfully roll your eyes and shake your head. "i don't treat them as my own, i just do what i have to do so they feel better." you'd reply, walking towards the door to lock it out of policy. figured that he was here for counseling as well.

"you treat everyone with so much care it seems like it." he said, which made you stop in your tracks, turning heel to face him, your hair cascading on your shoulders and moving ever so softly as you spun. before you could speak, stunned, he asked again.

"don't you get tired? i mean mentally. it must take a toll on you to be around so many emotions all the time." the way he seemed to read you stunned you, he seemed like a very gruff, cold person from the brief interactions you'd had with him before. truth be told, this was the closest you'd been to logan since he came back to the mansion. it's what other people thought of him, anyway.

but you weren't other people, you were different.

the feeling in your body when you perceive others emotions is strange. you could never put it into words. your mutation was mostly contact based, a small brush of the hand was enough to let you know that person's feelings, the reason behind them, what they needed to feel better and it made it easier to help everyone. you could, however, see and feel the emotions, sometimes even smell them if they were too strong, no need for contact necessary.

with logan, you almost didn't need to be in the same room as him to feel the amount of physical, mental, emotional strain he was constantly under, his superhuman body subconsciously tuning it out, making him oblivious to it. once, after a very dangerous mission, he isolated himself in his room for days, his expression cold and unfazed, but every time you'd walk past an area he was in, the emotions hit you like a truck. so strong you even cried over pain that wasn't yours, a life you hadn't lived.

you looked at him sympathetically, taking a deep breath to concentrate less on the seemingly invisible fog around you two as you sat on the chair, your expression calm and collected. "i'm okay, i promise. thank you, logan."

"like hell you are." "neither are you."

he stays quiet at your retaliation, a weak smile forming on his lips, letting you understand that you were right, not that you needed confirmation.

sometimes, when emotions overpower you, you feel compelled to speak, give words of reassurance, even if you didn't quite know if they'd help or not. "logan, you should let people into your heart, stop living in fear.." you blurted out, unsure of why you were telling him this, but you'd learned to not question it and just speak, because it helped to just hear the words sometimes. it certainly did get you a reaction from logan, as the overbearing feelings you were perceiving faded.. briefly, before they slowly crept back into vision.

it was the faintest of reactions, but a reaction at least.

he nodded, taking in the words silently, as if he were contemplating. you remained stoic, analyzing his demeanor out of pure habit. "did.. you come here for counseling?" you asked, suddenly aware that you were still working, and you weren't even sure if he was here for another reason, or if he did need your help. instead, he shook his head, looking at you as if he were conducting an analysis of his own.

"nah, just came to see you.. sway."

a knock on the door interrupted the brewing tension, a gloomy, childlike presence behind the door, to which you looked at logan apologetically. "i'm sorry logan, i have a student to attend.. but think about what i said." you spoke softly, your warm voice reverberating in his ears like a hug.. something he longed for but couldn't bring himself to ask.

you started seeing him around the classroom more, or rather, he started seeking you out more. in between breaks, before his training, during counseling. it got to a point where your children started greeting him hello and goodbye if he was in the classroom, interacting with him, playing with his hair, always styled like kitty ears. the way he just smiled and let them made something in you bloom, a feeling you couldn't recognize in yourself, but it was pink and warm and fuzzy all over. you couldn't help but wonder if he felt about you this way, too.

slowly, you noticed how, little by little, the gloomy cloud surrounding him would go away when he entered the classroom, how it would be replaced with a pink haze when he looked into your eyes, or made you laugh.. it would quickly fade away, but you'd notice, and noticed how much it resembled that feeling inside you: pink and warm and fuzzy all over.

as time went by, you got used to seeing him around, swinging by your classroom as if it was his haven, a small break from the world he knew, because you were in it. you'd be lying if you said he didn't make you day too, the gloomy atmosphere that once came along with him every time he entered your classroom slowly changing into a lilac haze.

one day, he showed up as the kids were leaving for the day, no colored cloud, but something seemed off. you invited him to sit down as he locked the door after getting in, his expression serene. before you could even speak his hands were on you, pulling you close to him in a hug, and you swore you could feel him shaking slightly. the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water and you just hold him tighter to you, since it feels like the only correct thing to do.

"you're scared."

"no one gets to see me like this, so feel special." said he, almost as if he was confiding a secret in you, which he was.

"oh, trust me, i feel quite special." you replied jokingly, which caused him to let out a chuckle, though it was dull and almost no feeling was tied to it.

you two let go and you asked him what was wrong, and he opened up like it was routine.

"i leave tomorrow. there's a mission out of state and they're asking me to go.. might be off the grid after that for a while." he explained, his voice remained calm but his eyes seemed to reveal to you more of how he was actually feeling.

"i dunno.. thought someone should've known in case.. things go south." your expression changed at that, and logan noticed. "ah, c'mon bub, change that frown, it's just reality. sure, i might be a piece of work to kill but it doesn't mean i can't die."

the silence that fell upon the classroom as you two finished speaking made the words fall with more weight into your heart, it did little to nothing to comfort you as you came to terms with what he said. it shouldn't have been hard - he was just stating a fact -, but it didn't mean that it didn't cut deep for you. you opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you were even going to say, but he quickly cut you off.

"logan-" "listen, bub, you told me to start letting people into my heart.. i'm letting you in."

slowly, his hands went to unclasp the chain that always dangled on his neck, dog tags adorning his neck with his names, his identities. you looked in awe as he held them out to you. "gimme your hand, kid." and surprisingly, you did as you were told, holding your hand out as he placed the piece on your hand, feeling the cold metal clink softly as it fell and heat up under the temperature of your palm. you looked up at him, unsure of what it meant, of what this changed between you two, but it felt undeniable, even if unspoken.

“now, these.. they’re very special, bub. a reminder of everything that happened that led to here.. and it’s leading me to you right now.” he explained. “feels right for you to have them, i guess.. keep them safe, kid.”

the silence that fell between you two again was more comfortable, filled with a newfound tension that left much to question, but it didn’t feel right to interrupt with all that noise yet. the only sound filling the room was the breathing and a faint humming of the white noise machine you kept in your room, next by the door. you opened up your mouth again, your mind utterly blank and filled with thoughts and questions at the same time, unsure of which one was going to breach through your mind to materialize out in the cold, tense air.

“.. why me? trust me, i’m flattered, but i’m no one special, logan..” you questioned, and it made him frown.

“you are special. you're special to me.” your eyes widened at the confession and you watched as a soft smile settled on his face, one that made your heart flutter with the sheer tenderness he held in his gaze. “call it what you want.. just know these are yours now.” he said it so calmly, you wouldn't have tought he was handing you his heart, placing it in soft, tender hands and pleading you to not break it, not change it, and instead embrace it and accept it as it came, rough around the edges.

with that, he stood up from the chair, took your hand to squeeze it briefly, and walked out of the room, not before looking back at you one last time, the heaviness that he carried as he entered the room seemingly gone, all that you could perceive was a haze, all too familiar, one that left as quick as it came as his eyes met yours.

pink, warm, and fuzzy all over.

additional author's note: BOOM SHAKALAKA I POSTED FINALLY!! i think it's a little rushed BUT!! it's cause i have a (smutty) part 2 planned for this HEHEJEHE i don't like writing (or reading) series bcs i get sad when they end but i just might.... hehehe... anyway pls lmk what u think!! or i kill off logan 🥰🥰 your choice 🥰🥰

taglist: @allen-444

[accio-victuuri]

XZ Album 《我们 WE》 early cpns.

you know we just need a few things to see and it’s a whole bunch of cpns we can produce after 😂😂😂 that’s the magic of being a turtle. lol. we may be interpreting this whole thing wrong but that’s usual when it comes to speculations we make and i think that’s the joy of it.

i’ll start of with this one that made me want to scream and cry:

i mean… shut up…. noooooo… wdym 😭😭😭

why you gotta pull the wei wuxian imagery like that. i’m very very weak for this. the writing mimics that of a red ribbon. of all things. tho the WM here as how fans interpret it and how i think xz intended it to is WM: WǒMen (我们) as in We/Us or WM: We and Me (我和“我们”) (Wǒ hé “Wǒmen”). not to mention that the color scheme of this red is 911005. his bday. everything is intentional.

but still. red ribbon. come on. who can blame us for clowning like this when he makes it so easy. it’s not a secret that the untamed and the role of wwx is important to him career wise and well *ehem* personally *ehem* because of a certain someone. if you don’t wanna look that far then just go with the W as in WANG. lol. and if it’s WM, M flipped is still W. so that’s how transfixed he is with the letter W. i wonder why. 👀

now we move on to the snippets of what the song means & how it’s making us think of wyb’s previous single everything is lovely ( which has a separate cpn too between them )

QQ music said this line connected to the album/song:

“About me, about you, about TA (him/her), or the relationship between people in this big city.”

this is pretty similar to the message of everything is lovely — it’s about appreciating everyone and looking at life and your surroundings as interconnected. they both have that sense in them. what we do and say, it has an effect and we are all related even if it’s a big city we live in. plus the use of TA which does not specify the gender. we love that! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

we get more of an expanded idea too via xzs post of the activity for the release. it mentioned a description. you can substitute the we to us if that reads better to you:

“Some people say that WE are close friends, cats and dogs waiting for us to come home every night are concrete in life.

Some people say that WE make friends with all kinds of emotions... are virtualization hidden inside the heart.

These characters of “ME”, and emotions form different "WE".

We are placed in a prism named "life", where light breaks it down into multi-faceted spaces. We travel through different spaces as lights flow and capture our own colors.

Starting from "Me", feel the intersection related to "Me", and then return to understand "self". What is the "we" behind "Me"?

A trace of emotion, a thing, a friend... The bits and pieces around "Me" all make up "We".

i think if you are someone who have been watching them for a while and the messaging they are sending out then you will see the common theme/connection here. the cats and dogs waiting for us to come home every night. that reminds me of the cpn that they have a cat and dog at home, at some point. and it’s what they want too. the interconnection of you/other people and appreciating everything around you, that’s the vibe i’m getting right now. of course we will know more one we have the song/s and the full lyrics and possibly some backstory from xz.

a coincidence too that the “me and we” is giving the same energy as “ u and i” which is in wyb’s weibo bio. which i know is something UNIQ related but there you go.

what’s more chilling i guess is the “we” was emphasized and used as a caption between them by hui-ge ( cpn about this fansite here which is a primer of sorts but there are other instances aside from what’s there ) which was i have a we / i have us. i mean. come on. too bad they haven’t posted in so long especially because fans were looking too much into them ( cpn about this photo/ post here )

the use of “we” which they have mistakenly said back in 2019 when talking about themselves:

other minor similarities:

* the concept of multiple xz and wyb through something prism/mirror like.

* both xz and ybo using similar captions which is not new but most importantly, starting an activity for fans to participate in. which i’m not sure but possibly other artists do too. but whatever, let’s add that 😂

* and the PINK! because pink is the color of love! what are the chances they will use the same color?

lastly, one of the release dates is 11/19. and as cpfs we have a whole story about that and it’s nice that we get to continue that timeline. cpfs think it’s a confirmation of the importance of this date too ^^

-END.

i surely missed some things on here and that’s fine. if something important comes up i will make a separate post! i’m so excited for this month! xz really blessed us 🥹🥹🥹😅

[dark-konohagakure2]

Hi can you write Teuande and sakura with a young female worker who they like to grop, sexually harrase. And force her to be naked 24/7 around them. Maybe she has clit leash or nipple claps and they always pull her from their like their own dog.

tw: noncon, abuse of power, workplace harassment, degradation, nipple clamps, clit clamps, mild petplay, exhibitionism, manipulation, cunnilingus, age difference

All characters depicted are 18+

Tsunade is very particular about who she allows to be her students. Sakura is her most trusted disciple due to her strength and intelligence, but the Hokage could always use another promising young lady to mold and guide, just not in the ways of medical ninjutsu and taijutsu, instead Tsunade requires someone who can provide something that has been sorely lacking for both women; some entertainment.

Tsunade really knows how to pick them, the kunoichi she picks to train with her and Sakura is a very cute and skilled young lady. Strong, but not strong enough to fight back against the Hokage, not to mention she is a very obedient shinobi. The girl is of course thrilled at the rare opportunity to train with both the Hokage and one of the strongest kunoichi of her own generation, she'd be a fool to turn down such a privilege.

All is well at first, but not for very long. One minute the girl is thanking her Lady for letting her learn underneath the Sannin, the next Tsunade is telling her to remove all her clothes. But not to worry, Tsunade is going to give her a brand new, and much more fitting uniform; a set of nipple clamps and a matching one for her clit. It'll be abundantly clear that she's not here as a student, but as a pet.

Sakura isn't the type to seem like a bully, but she is going to enjoy teasing her underclassmen, enjoying the seniority she has over the new student. The pink haired medical ninja is always looking for an excuse to tug on the clit leash or to tighten the already snug nipple clamps. While not as strict and domineering as Tsunade, Sakura is much more teasing.

"Oh come on! This is just some simple endurance training, hun! So be a good girl and take it before I tell Lady Tsunade how disobedient you've been today."

Tsunade is no better than her student when it comes to being mean to her little student. She'll use her power as both a Sannin and a Kage to force her subordinate to remain naked at all times, even when others are entering the office, Tsunade will even casually play with the young woman's naked body in front of others, this will quickly earn the poor girl quite the reputation, she'll be known throughout the village, and even by a few people in other villages, as Tsunade's obedient little fucktoy.

The humiliation doesn't just stop with the forced nudity and bondage, the two medical nin are very busy women, with Tsunade being the head of the village and Sakura being the head of the medical department, so they need some serious stress relief. It's not rare for the two women to pass her back and forth, forcing her to take turns eating both of them out until they're satisfied, praising her for getting so much better at eating pussy after all her training.

Getting passed around will soon become routine for the poor kunoichi, she'll be used as a reward for any shinobi who does a good job at their missions, she'll mostly be used by those who are close to the two women, such as Shizune and the men of Team 7, her cute body is perfect for boosting the morale of the Leaf jonnin, and it gives the girl the occasional much needed dose of dick, so everyone wins.

Tsunade is still a kind woman however, she's not going to be nothing but cruel to her beloved pet. She'll still be punished if she's a bad girl, bit if she's a very good girl, Tsunade will reward her with affection and pleasure, she'll even occasionally get the girl some gifts, although they aren't always very appreciated...

"You've been very good for me, haven't you? Well I guess that means you get a reward. If you put this collar on then you won't have to worry about me pulling on that cute little clit of yours! Isn't that nice?"

The wannabe medical ninja ended up getting exactly what she's always wanted, albeit in a twisted way. She wanted to be known throughout the entire village, and now she is. Just not for any of her combat of medical abilities...

[mariistaa24]

oh lord they make me ill (don't mind bill he's just being silly) ALSO 2 POSTS IN 1 DAY??? saturdays are awesome man BTW THE @ IN THE DRAWING IS MY TWITTER!!!! side note anyone who unironically calls twitter X dni /j -- LORE -- fiddleford and emma-may were arranged years ago and have lived together in a lavender marriage. they are on good terms. stan is bisexual and ford is gay. fiddleford went up to gravity falls where he and ford fell in love and happily worked on the portal together. however, ford's growing obsession with bill and violent tendencies whenever he was posessed put a heavy strain on their relationship. eventually, after the whole portal incident with fiddleford, they got into a huge fight and fell out. fiddleford is too ashamed to go back to his wife and son empty handed because he was the breadmaker and emma-may was probably struggling financially without him around. (they both work btw it's just that fidds makes more money) so he began to keep a journal /j traumatized from what he saw in the portal he invented the memory gun, which, while succeeding in erasing his memory of the event, also caused him to completely forget the fallout. he wandered back to ford's house thinking nothing happened and met stan, initially very confused as to why and how ford had magically sprouted a mullet and was dressed like a hobo. obviously they clear things up and stan explains what happened to ford. fiddleford, having forgot all the awful things ford did to him, is still totally head over heels and is devastated hearing that he's gone. over the course of a few months or so, stan falls in love with fiddleford, and is way more guilty about it than ford was (because stan has a way bigger appreciation for family and feels awful being a homewrecker and ALSO this is his first time falling in love with a man so that's a whole other story with his upbringing and morals being questioned blah blah blah). fiddleford on the other hand is grieving the loss of his bf HARD. and it's even worse having to see his face every day but none of the things that truly made him him. but when stan finally told fiddleford how he felt...? god, he couldn't tell you what came over him. fiddleford could have sworn it was just like the first time he and ford had kissed. he was left panting, gasping for air while the latter gently caressed his face with broad, calloused hands. he felt guilty, telling stan he felt the same when his heart was still so set on his twin, but... he'd never know, right? wrong. stan was a con man. of course he could sniff out lies like a dog. and the worst part? he couldn't even blame fiddleford. after all, his brother was the better twin. he was smarter, more successful, and loved more than he could imagine. he was just a dumb, good-for-nothing loser. that was fine. it was a truth he'd come to terms with a long, long time ago. but through it all, he couldn't stop the tears that pricked his eyes while they shared that kiss. and he swallowed the words that tried to bubble up as he pulled away. "i know who you pretend i am."

[demonvampire180writes]

Right as Rain - A Buck/Tommy Fic

Thank you to @rowsandrowsofnothing for a prompt to help me get my mind off the shitshow that is the US right now. (If you'd like me to not tag you please let me know.)

Prompt: “cat distribution system hits Buck”

It was midafternoon when Buck checked the clock. Tommy had left for work hours ago, and seeing as he had the day off, and had been spending more time here than at his loft, Buck decided to help Tommy out by doing a few of the things on his ever growing laundry list of chores. Being a first responder himself, Buck understood just how hard upkeep could be and he lived in a loft; he couldn’t even imagine having a whole ass house to take care of.

Being just after noon, Buck decided that it was probably time to stop and eat lunch, so he finished polishing the kitchen counter he’d been working on before dumping his cleaning rag aside and setting the cleaning chemicals a safe distance from his food prep area. Going into Tommy’s fridge, he pulled out supplies for one hell of a hoagie, multiple deli meats and cheeses, pickles and black olives and who knew what else. What? He was a big boy with a big appetite and he needed to eat.

Piling the split bun high, he returned everything to the fridge and grabbed a beer, one of Tommy’s fancy craft beers that he loved so much. (And that Buck was coming to appreciate; a Coors was good but he could appreciate the nuance of… better beers.) Snorting, he used the bottle opener under the counter to pop the cap and took a swig as he sashayed his way out of the kitchen towards the back door. On the way, placing his beer in the crook of his arm, he picked up the book he’d been working on. With a grin he pushed out the back patio door and headed straight for the lounge chairs.

Tommy had a few super comfortable lounge chairs long enough to accommodate their huge bodies with a small hand carved wrought iron table between them. Setting his beer and book down, Buck cozied himself up on the chair he was beginning to think of as his, the one on the left facing the lawn, before placing his food in his lap. He tilted the chair up just right, not straight up and down but not laid out on his back either.

Not a few minutes later he had his book held out in front of him with his sandwich alternating with his beer at his mouth. It tasted just as amazing as he thought it would. The sun felt warm, not hot, against his neck, and the air was quiet except for the occasional flutter of bird wings or the chitter of a squirrel. Buck was at maximum relaxation.

That was until he heard a familiar, yet not, kind of sound from the bushes that fenced in his boyfriend's backyard. The first time he heard it, he looked up and shrugged before returning to his book - things were just heating up - when thirty seconds later he heard it again. Being a first responder, his ears had been trained to pick up on the faintest signs of life. Frowning, he snapped his book closed and set his plate down on the patio table. Slinging his legs over the side of the chair, he stood and approached the bushes slowly, straining his ears hard.

There it was again. A pitiful, mewling sound. His heart picked up speed.

“Hello?” He called out as he began pawing through the brush, wishing he’d brought his phone so he could use the flashlight to see into the shadows. There was no response and he began to think he’d misheard when he heard it again, much clearer. A plaintive, pained, mewl of an animal. “Shit.” He breathed, eyes going wide. Frantically he began to push aside the branches, not caring about the way that they scratched up his bare arms. “Here kitty, kitty. I got you.” He tried not to sound panicked. Although he was a bit more of a dog guy, he was an animal guy at heart and he would never leave one to suffer if he could help it. And this baby sounded like he was in pain. “Where are you sweetheart?” He hissed, checking every nook and cranny but coming up empty.

Until he saw them - a gleaming pair of bright green eyes attached to a void that blended in so deeply he’d have missed it if the poor thing hadn’t had them open. His pupils were blown so big that there was only a rim of green visible. When the cat spotted Buck, he howled and scrabbled for him, reaching out a paw that was covered in muck and… Blood. That was definitely blood along its claws. Buck drew in a sharp breath as he felt his heart cracking in two.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you. Okay? Just hold on. I’ve got you.” Using his broad shoulders he pushed aside the bushes until he had a clear shot before reaching out to wrap his hands around the tiny body. Immediately he knew that the poor thing was likely malnourished, and possibly even dehydrated; Buck could practically count its ribs and every knob along its itty bitty spine. Tears pricked in his eyes but he held them back by sheer force of will. With trained precision, he extracted the creature from its possible tomb, cradling it to his chest. One of his, Buck checked, paws hung at an odd angle and he had been right about the blood. It seemed that the baby had been trying to claw his way out for who knows how long, or had possibly been running from something before getting stuck in the brambles.

Buck’s heart melted when he turned his head and stared up at him, mewing quietly as his one good front paw attempted to make biscuits on his pecs. “Oh aren’t you just the cutest little thing. What the heck happened to you?” Cooing, Buck petted the creature from the tip of its nose, all the way down its spine. “What should I do with you?” He sighed. “I guess we should at least get you cleaned up and take you to the vet. See if you have a chip or anything.” The cat slow blinked at him, and Buck felt when his little engine started to roar, vibrating his entire little body. Grinning, Buck shook his head and made his way back inside, leaving his lunch out on the patio. The local wildlife could have what was left of it.

In one of Tommy’s bathrooms, he made the cat comfortable on a pile of towels as he half filled the sink with lukewarm water and some Dawn dish soap. He kept a watchful eye on his new friend, making sure he didn’t seem to be in too much pain while he waited. The pitiful thing just kept on purring and making tiny little biscuits, occasionally chirruping when he saw Buck watching. Cursing his soft heart, but not really, Buck once more picked up the cat, grabbing gently at his scruff as he lowered him into the water. To his shock, the animal didn’t fight him in the slightest. He even seemed to breathe out his own sign of relief. Buck could only assume the heat felt good on its aching front limb.

For the next forty or so minutes, Buck scrubbed and scrubbed at the cat's fur, refilling the sink innumerable times as the dirt, grime, and blood sloughed off. When the water eventually ran clear, Buck bundled him up into the fluffiest towel he could find, which wasn’t all that fluffy, as Tommy seemed to subscribe to the idea that men used sandpaper, and not clouds, to dry off. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that as he squeezed out the excess water before gently wrapping the little one up into a purrito and setting him on the counter to dry as he made some phone calls to find a vet that would be able to get him in immediately.

Once the cat was mostly dry and had been fed half a can of fresh tuna, and drank down an ocean’s worth of water, they were off to the vet. In the front seat, still bundled in a blanket, the cat fell fast asleep as if it knew it was safe. Taken care of. At every stop sign or light, Buck would reach over and scritch behind its velvety soft ears or run his finger down the bridge of its tiny baby nose. Once at the vet, the little bundle was received as well as a pallet of gold. The techs cooed at him and consoled him over his hurt little paw, lamenting how anyone could do such a thing to such a sweet baby. He lapped it up, head bunting anyone that so much as looked his way.

Once in their room, the vet came to take a look. “Well,” he was an elderly man with graying hair and kind brown eyes - his brown skin leathery and soft with sun exposure and accent think - “this little guy is lucky you found him. On its own, it’s nothing too serious, but if he had continued to struggle for much longer, I’m afraid either the damage would’ve been irreparable or he could’ve gotten an infection from all the micro cuts on, and near, his claws.” He stroked down his back, grinning. “I don’t know why they say black cats are bad luck because I’m pretty sure you’re the luckiest kitty alive.” The cat squinted at him and purred louder. Chuckling, the vet turned and grabbed a small apparatus from the counter behind him. The screen lit up as he explained, “We’ll do a quick check to see if he’s chipped and then I’ll bring him back to get a cast to set that front paw. After that, assuming he has no owner, you’ll be set to go.”

Buck nodded but for some reason his chest squeezed tight as the doctor ran the chip detector over the cat's neck area. They’d only been together for a few hours but Buck wasn’t sure if he could let the small creature go. It was the owners fault, after all, that the cat ended up this way. Not a minute later the little screen blinked red and Buck let out a relieved breath. “So…?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up but…

“No chip. He’s all yours.” The vet gave him a knowing smile as he bundled up the black cat into his arms. “Now, I’ll be borrowing your sweet little friend,” he scratched under his chin, “for a short while so my techs and I can set his arm. Sound good?” Buck nodded and slumped back into his seat.

The rest of the appointment went by in a whirlwind. While Buck waited for the doc to come back, he started doing his due diligence by making lost and found posts on Facebook and Instagram, and all of the local lost animal pages he could think of. He didn’t want to, but considering how he felt right now at just the thought of letting him go, Buck would never do that to someone else who had a pet they loved. (Even though he still thought they were bad owners for letting their cat out in the first place without supervision.)

If no one responds by midnight tonight… He thought, hitting post on the last message board. Just then a tech came back with his new furry friend, bringing a small card reader with her.

“What a sweetheart!” She exclaimed as she readied the machine. “So for the chip exam, all of his vaccines and the cast…” She laid out the cost. Buck winced a bit at the price tag but he happily paid for it anyway knowing that the innocent thing would get better.

While the machine thought Buck asked, “Do you know how old he is?”

She smiled softly at him. “The doc's best guess is about seven or so? Not elderly but definitely not a youngling either.”

He nodded again. Once he’d gotten the receipt, and they’d said their goodbye’s, they were back in his Jeep and headed for the nearest pet store to spend even more money. And Buck spent like he knew that this baby was his for good. Oh. Did he forget to mention he still hadn’t talked to Tommy about him, and that his loft didn’t allow pets? He hadn’t necessarily been ignoring his phone but his mind had been occupied by other things the last four or so hours!

Both of them exhausted, Buck pulled into Tommy’s driveway. Grabbing only the bare necessities - litter, litter box, and a few toys - both boys dragged themselves into the house. Buck set the little guy down and watched for a minute as his natural curiosity took over and he hobbled around, sniffing at everything. Then Buck grabbed up the litter and such and went to find someone unobtrusive to set it up. To his surprise, his little shadow followed along after him, chirping and meowing all the way. Grinning happily, Buck stopped every few feet to let him catch up and to give his head a pat.

When that was all said and done, Buck went to the living room and made himself comfortable, flipping on the TV as he opened a few of the toys - a crinkle ball and a wand toy. The cat went immediately for the crinkle ball and it was hilarious watching him having to bounce to balance on his back legs while using his good paw to bat it to a fro. Settling in, Buck grabbed the throw blanket that rested on the back of the couch and prepared to veg out until his wayward other half came home.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Evan, I’m home.” Tommy called as he dropped his keys into the dish at the door. He’d noticed Evan’s car in the driveway and had been a little surprised to find it still here. Sure, the man had been spending a lot of time at his house but he usually went home for a bit on his days off just to grab the mail and do some cursory cleaning. When there was no reply, he frowned. He could hear the TV so Evan was definitely downstairs.

On soft feet he made his way through the kitchen, past the back door where he spotted an empty plate upturned on the patio and a half full beer bottle on the table, and turned to go into the living room. He stopped cold when what he saw finally registered. His boyfriend was sprawled out on the couch, the tiny throw blanket thrown haphazardly over him, one foot dragging on the floor and the opposite arm bent against the back. But that wasn’t what took him by surprise.

No. That was the furry void curled into the tightest little black hole Tommy had ever seen, minus the neon yellow cast on the paw that stretched out in front of it. Even from where he stood Tommy could hear it as it purred, content and cool as a cucumber. “Evan.” His voice cracked. “Evan.”

“Hmm?” Evan mumbled sleepily as his eyes blinked open, confusion written on his expression before remembering where he was. “Tommy?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and craned his neck back so Tommy could see his baby blues. “Welcome home, babe.”

“Evan. Why is there a cat?” Looking just as confused as Tommy felt, Evan looked down at the fluffy terror on his chest and then back at Tommy.

“I saved him.” He said as though it should be obvious.

Sighing, Tommy approached and crouched down next to the man, running a hand through his curls. “I can see that but… Why is he still here?” Evan’s lips turned down into a frown and oh how his heart squeezed. The Buckley pout was absolutely no joke and Tommy would fold in seconds if he didn’t hold strong.

“Because he had nowhere else to go.” Ope. And there was the bottom lip, even quivering a little just to dig the nail even deeper. “I couldn’t just let him back into the wild.”

Sighing once more, Tommy’s lips turned into a soft smile as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Why not bring him to the loft?”

“Because they have a no animal policy.” Tommy felt Evan shift so he could pet the cats back.

“You realize we’re first responders, right? We don’t have time to take care of an animal. Especially not when it's healing and we’ll both be away most of the time. What if something happens when we’re not here?”

Evan stayed quiet for an exceedingly long time before he muttered, so quiet Tommy wasn’t sure he’d heard right, “What if I just… stay here. Then someone will almost always be around.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away, caught off guard by Evan’s whimper of protest. “You… want to live here?”

“At least temporarily? Or you know… For longer.”

Tommy didn’t say anything for a long… long… LONG… time before conceding, knowing he would never win. “Did you at least post some pet lost and found posts?”

“Of course!” He pet the cat more aggressively until it lifted its head and nipped at his fingers, overstimulated. “If no one claims him by midnight I’m keeping him.” His tone brokered no argument.

Sighing, Tommy stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve named him already… Haven’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Grinning wryly, he asked, “Okay, let’s hear it. What’s its… his… name?”

Finally deciding to sit up, Evan stood in a less than graceful series of movements, so he could stand face to face with his boyfriend. He looked like a kid on Christmas with how happy he was. The cat clung desperately to his sweatshirt and Tommy couldn’t help himself as he reached out to pet him. His fur was downy soft, but he was most definitely too skinny. Tommy could see lots of treats in the future and a very spoiled animal. To his silent delight the cat purred louder, bumping into his hand for more pets.

“Rain.” He proclaims proudly, puffing out his chest. “Because I found him in your geranium bushes.”

Tommy snorts and throws back his head as he laughs. Evan pouts and steps back so Rain is out of Tommy’s reach, much to his displeasure. “Hey! Don’t punish the cat just because you’re mad at me.”

“No. No more pets until you admit my naming skills are awesome. Isn’t that right, Rain?” He kisses the tiny bit of white on the cat’s head and snuggles him closer.

Rocking on his heels Tommy says, though he’s not sure he totally agrees, “Okay, okay. Rain is a great name. So does this mean we’re cat dad’s now?”

Beaming, Evan says, “As long as I don’t get any messages before midnight.” Kissing his new fur child once more he says, “We’ll be the best cat dad’s ever, isn’t that right, Rain?” The kid chirps and licks the tip of Evan’s nose which sends him into another fit of laughter.

Eventually the two of them settle back onto the couch after Tommy whips something up for dinner; Evan doesn’t want to let Rain out of his sight for long enough to be safe while cooking. Once cozy, and feeding the little black void a piece of meat here and there, they flip to one streaming service or another to watch a movie.

Not one single message pings on Evan’s phone before midnight.

Everything was right as Rain.

[persephonesdreams21]

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up in his shop, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬

I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

[bucephaly]

BTW if you haven't already please take a minute to look up what venomous snakes are local to you and familiarize yourself with them

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

i think i finally realized why ive been feeling so damn depressed lately again

sorry for writing this here. im really hurting actually. im not good. i feel a bit helpless too. idk who to talk to bc i dont want to burden anyons and i donf feel like anything could console me right now

Like. fuck me man. thanks for saving me but. why the hell are you not here. i dont want to do this without you. i hate only being able to remember you. i was supposed to grow old with you, not without you.

And. honestly. even with all this bullshit i say here, all the endless times i spend trying to write down my feelings, abt you, about all the pain ive felt my life, it doesnt get better. not at all. and no words, no poetry takes it away and i truly feel like nobody will ever truly understand how suffocated i felt all my life.

and i want to change thanks to you but. i dont know. nothing's satisfying enough.

no matter what, i truly only feel great when im in that daydream like world you created.

and these past days ive been thinking a lot that. i really wouldnt mind dying right now. not at all. because at least i know what happiness feels like. and i want to stay in that state. probably, even in this life your music will bring me happiness, but i want to be trapped in it.

im tired of being so unseen, and even when im seen, im hurting. but i dont know whats hurting. i think im just really tired thats all.

and. ye. i feel brave tbh. i still havent posted my video to instagram, bc im not brave for that. i dont know. and i feel like a hypocrite bc everything is true that i wrote there but at the same time these are my thoughts currently

in a long while i looked up suicide methods again. i feel so hopeful, but im not really sure if really for the future. jm sorry this is probably alarming. i will probably not kill myself but. idk. im not sure actually. i dknt know what to say. i wasnt cut out for this wordly shit.i feel unlovable but even if im loved, i donf want to be. i dont want anything. just let me stsy in this quiet place snd just. disappear. i wouldnt want my family to hurt if i die but i wont know about it anyways. idk man. i feel strongly i could die calmly this time and thats nice. bc 6 years ago i was terrified, and hurt. but now im content and kind of ready idk man. its not a terrible feeling, its a "this is it, it was nice while it lasted" ig.

there are no clouds in my head actually. i truly dont feel like im thinking irrationally, i feel like this would just be like. the end goal i was looking for. to feel true love once. it was nice.

no goodbye yet bc idk how id kms even if i do. But ill tell u guys if i found something.

[luvevee]

Scarlet and Violet, performance wise really lacking to the point where it's obvious there needs to be changes to how staff need to be treated better and given more time to work, are really some of the best games in the mainstream series I've ever played and I just really want to talk forever about how amazing it all is

[wetbananapeel]

First gourd (and radish) I carved in my life 31 October 2019

[dunmeshistash]

One of the things I really appreciate about Dungeon Meshi is how the text is so clearly full of love for animals. Like the true kind of love Laios feels for the monster where he wants to know everything about them, but most of all he respects them and loves them as animals.

One of the chapters I can't stop thinking about is the one about Anne the Kelpie. It's kind of impressive how well it illustrates the different kind of love people have for animals. And how someone that loves an animal isn't necessarily an animal lover. If that makes sense.

When Senshi calls out Anne what he says is "Don't worry Anne's Harmless" but she isn't, she's a wild animal.

Marcille immediately reacts positively about it thinking it's cute she accepts the treat Senshi has for her. And hers and Chilchuck's reaction to Senshi wanting to cross the river on her back is more surprise while Laios immediately realizes how bad of an idea it is.

But Laios is the animal monster lover so how come when he finally is faced with a "docile" monster he doesn't react positively like the others? Marcille even calls him a monster. That's because Laios loves monsters, and Senshi loves Anne.

I've seen this attitude around me several times, where people love a specific animal but what they love is their idea of that animal, they don't really know them because they don't love the animal part of them.

It becomes a "this one is special because I love them" that can quickly become an issue for the animal as much as it is for the person. It's something unfortunate I see time and time again irl.

Anne wasn't wicked, Anne wasn't mean, Anne didn't trick him. Anne was a wild animal and Senshi loved her as Anne but not as a kelpie.

She acted on instinct, maybe she did love Senshi in the way kelpies can love, but animals are still animals and must be respected and treated as such. Climbing on top of Anne's back was the equivalent of putting your arm inside a alligator's mouth, the mouth is gonna close because that's what they're designed to do.

The real life equivalent I see the most of "I love this animal but I don't love the animal part of them" is with dogs. If you insist on loving an animal without acknowledging they ARE an animal they might hurt you, you might hurt them, it will only end in grief.

The best way you can love an animal is by understanding they're an animal.

That is all to say I don't mean that the love Senshi felt for Anne wasn't real or that it's all his fault. He couldn't have known with the information he had and unfortunately it came down to the worst outcome.

I just love dungeon meshi dearly.

[ratspider]

i have literally never been a dog person but lately i've been hit with What If I Got A Dog and it's rockin my world to be quite frank with you

[sourvers]

GHOST WHO runs his calloused fingers through the fabrics of the clothes you folded for him: now gingerly placed in his duffle bag for another month of service. Neat and compact just the way he liked it.

GHOST WHO has to push the delectable taste of your cooking another plate away as his taste buds prepare for stale food kept in plastic bags, despite the ache festering in his stomach.

GHOST WHO always drops you off to work the day or two before he leaves: admiring the radiance of your face amongst street lights and the upward curve of your smile like the delicate bend of a crescent moon. He'll squeeze your hand before you slip through his fingers, not before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, not before the wind whirls and spins; taking him away.

GHOST WHOSE tongue festers bitterness because he knows you're assistant and students will smile and laugh at your jokes and come to you for support because of your tenderness to the world: to which he has learned was your highest virtue, a weapon of undoing to his bruised soul. He'll clench his fist and furrow his eyebrows because he knows the cafe's barista will ask you more 'How are you?' than himself, he knows the youth living down the road will banter with you more as you share a cake you can't finish on your own, he knows the woman walking her dog every Saturday will acknowledge you more than he has in a month. He knows he won't be part of the small moments scattered about your life. He knows it damn well.

GHOST WHO seldom mentions you around anyone, even t141. Initially, it was all about your security: to keep the spark in your eyes aflame, it always is of course. However, amongst the dim lights of a bar, the rest drunk on the fleeting rush of victory and memoria, he'll make sure to silence the thrashing beat of his heart and the desperate desire crawling up his throat to join in on the drunken yearning and say: "I miss my wife."

GHOST WHO returns home to either your waking body or sleeping flesh. The cycle repeats anew.

cod masterlist. / similar posts

⤷ omg! first post of the blog. got a little angst out here... hope you enjoyed it. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

[lymtw]

Toji invites you over with a simple text of:

You busy tonight, doll?

To which you respond with:

I don't think so... Not that I know of. Why?

He laughs through his nose when he reads your message. Even the way you text him has your timidness imbued into it. It's precious.

Come spend the night at my place. You told me you're off tomorrow, right?

I am, but are you sure? Driving home is not a problem for me. I can hang out and go home after.

You're staying. I wanna try something with you and it requires you to stay the night. You can't go home.

Oh okay! I'll be there in 10.

Drive safe.

Toji likes that you're very precise about the time you'll be arriving somewhere, and if you're ever late when it comes to spending time with him, you apologize profusely, nonstop. You won't stop blubbering about why you're late and how sorry you are for making him wait, even after Toji's expressed that he's more than understanding. He's the king of showing up late to plans, so he can't be a hypocrite and scold you when you don't do it often at all.

You're so sorry, though, and you don't shut up about it until he makes you shut up with a kiss. You're helpless, and you can't for the life of you figure out where to put your hands when you're so focused on the grip he had on your waist to pull you up against him.

He releases your lips, cracking a grin at the look of wonder on your face. He can't deny the pride that swells in his chest at his ability to disarm you and prevent you from having a total meltdown over a three minute delay.

Toji has gotten so much better at handling situations like these with you. It's only fair for him to gain satisfaction out of making you feel better. After all, you are a first for him. You're emotionally fragile, you're a nervous wreck, and your voice competes with the wind just to be heard. Toji doesn't set aside the fact that you're also beautiful, warmhearted, and you try for him. He sees your attempts to be affectionate. You'll slowly reach your hand out to hold his and then bail the second he catches you. He ends up having to interlock his fingers with yours because your embarrassment doesn't allow you to try again. He still appreciates that you leave your comfort zone for him and allow him to guide you towards new experiences.

"Stop with the guilty feelings, ma. We have all night and all day tomorrow. What's a couple minutes to ensure you get to me in one piece?" He says, comforting your droopy self. You look like a sad, abandoned puppy, now sporting rosy cheeks from his surprising gesture.

"Okay," you say, feeling a little more at ease. "What did you have in mind for tonight?"

"Follow me," he says, leading you through his living room to his kitchen. He pulls out a stool for you and points at it. "Sit." You want to laugh at the way he says it like he's teaching commands to a dog, but you know he doesn't mean it that way, so you obediently sit down like one anyway.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asks, silently hoping you have because he doesn't have anything to make you dinner. He would have to order in or pick something up.

"I ate a couple hours ago. Still pretty full," you respond, watching him reach up for something in his cabinets. There's now a tall glass bottle with a red label and matching cap sitting on the counter.

"How 'bout it?" He says, a large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "We could go to the couch and watch a movie or something."

He's never seen you under the influence of anything, but based on your reaction, maybe he'll get a show tonight. He's always wanted to know what you would be like if you were more extroverted and outspoken. There's nothing wrong with the way you are, but if things keep going the way they're going between you and Toji, he's bound to meet your chatty alter ego at some point in the future. What better way to have this experience than in a secure place with someone who can handle their alcohol and take care of you if it turns out that you can't.

"Okay, sure." You giggle, excitedly.

You're a lightweight. Even the fruitiest, sweetest alcoholic beverage will quickly take a toll on you while you're sipping on it. Wine is a step up, so you'll have to try your best to keep it together for the sake of not looking sloppy in front of Toji.

Toji brings down two glasses, and pours out the deep red liquid into them. One for you, one for him. He hands the glass to you, and nods at your quiet "thank you".

Toji watches as you immediately take a sip. He sees the way your nose scrunches at what you consider to be a funny taste, but the second you put the glass down, you smile like nothing. You don't like it at all. You hate the bitterness, and the fact that it's made with fermented grapes lives in the back of your head.

"How is it?" He asks, holding back a chuckle. You're too sweet for your own good, pretending to enjoy this for him.

"I like it," you say, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah? I think it's kinda gross. Guess I was expecting more from a fancy ass bottle, but brands are gonna brand, huh?"

You giggle, almost involuntarily. You're one gulp in, and already you're starting to feel the effects.

One of your worst habits includes chugging drinks that don't taste good, just so you can get them over with. You even do this when your drink is messed up at coffee shop. You're too nice to ask the barista to remake it, so you suck it up and drink the incorrect beverage solely for the caffeine you hope it has in it. This time is no different. You hate the taste of alcohol. You don't do plain shots, you can't stand hard ciders, and wine is no exception, but you're doing this for Toji. He cracked open the bottle to share with you, so you're going to drink every ounce of the liquid in the glass, whether you like the taste or not.

You bring the glass to your lips again, taking a much larger sip. The glass is a little less than halfway now, and your eyelids are starting to feel a little heavy. Not in a sleepy manner, but you can't seem to hold your eyes open as wide anymore.

You exhale through your nose, shut your eyes, and then blink them back open to take note of your altered state.

"That was a lot. How are you feeling?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in your demeanor. You seem a little more sluggish now. You turn your attention to him, your eyes rolling when they turn to meet his.

"I'm good, how are you?" You ask, like it was the start of a conversation rather than an ongoing one. Your eyes almost shut completely when you smile at him.

"You're tipsy already, aren't you?" He asks, with a grin on his face.

"Pshh, what? No, i'm not," you say, contradicting yourself with a giggle. "Answer the question, baby. How are you?"

"Fine," he responds, lingering on the pet name. You've got loose lips, now. In any other circumstance, you would address him by his name. Most of the time Toji is the one giving you pet names, for the sake of flustering you. He loves the way you look at him when he calls you doll or sweetheart, somewhat shocked every time the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah? That's good." You pick up the glass one more time, sighing before you mutter, "'scuse me. Gotta finish this."

With that last sip, the glass was now empty. Even Toji thinks you drank that too fast, but he still has the courtesy to ask you if you want more.

"Mhm, I'll have a little bit more. Just a tiny bit." Toji pours as much as he did the first time, chuckling when you nod in approval of the quantity. "That's perfect. Absolutely, perfect. You're a genius, my love." You flash him a smile before starting on the next glass.

Toji was considering having another glass, but that was before you called him "my love" in a tone so warm that he felt like he just had a bowl of hot soup that was now settling in his stomach. That was before you smiled at him in such a free spirited manner. It was too late for him to see you in this state while completely sober, but he sure as hell wouldn't be adding anymore alcohol to his system. He can't miss something like this, so instead he leans forward on the counter, and intently watches your every move.

"I got something on my face?" You ask, dragging your sleeves all over your face. You examine your sleeves and they're clean. "You liar. You're looking at me like that for nothing." You squint at him, a slight scrunch in your nose to define your defensiveness.

Toji laughs, his focus now on the small pinch in your brows. "Don't go picking fights over nothing. It's not a crime to look at my pretty baby."

Your faux tough exterior immediately crumbles, the irked expression on your face dropping to the ground, at the sugary words he uses on you. Your face feels very warm, and now there's an indefinite blush on it. You can't stop smiling at the look on Toji's face. He's so focused that he's gone speechless, and you eventually break into a laughing fit because of it.

"Hey... i'm usually the quiet one. Why aren't you talking, pretty boy? Need me to shut up?"

The pet name has Toji glancing at your glass, noticing that it was full for less than five minutes. This was new— you being flirtatious towards him. He didn't have any complaints about it whatsoever.

Once again, the quantity of the wine in your glass was below the halfway mark. "Nah, baby. Talk to me. You must really like the wine, huh?"

"Mmm..." you lean forward towards him, with your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. "What makes you say that?"

He actually snickers this time, earning a sly grin from you. "You're chugging it like it's water. It's either you love it or it tastes like ass and you're dying to spit it out."

You pick up the glass again, one last time. "Let's find out if I like it," you say as if you're not on your second serving. You let the liquid hit your tongue, and you are instantly repulsed by the flavor. The glass is tilted all the way up, signaling that you've finished two cups of wine in less than fifteen minutes. Your cheeks are filled with the drink, blown up like a puffer fish, which makes Toji smile softly with anticipation for your reaction. Your tongue stays on the roof of your mouth, keeping the wine in your cheeks separate, to give you a break for a few seconds. You release the bubbles of your cheeks and your mouth is flooded with the bittersweet liquid. You swallow the burgundy mouthful and smile with your lips pressed together once it's all gone. The mouth drying effect of wine is your least favorite thing about it.

"So?" Toji prompts.

"It's-" you gag, clasping a hand over your mouth with wide, slightly teary eyes.

Toji's chest and shoulders shake as he contains his laughter, his lips pressed together tightly to stifle the smile threatening to show itself, but his eyes tell you everything.

"Wooo, sorry about that," you say, chuckling through the embarrassment. "It's good," you repeat, still muffled by your palm.

"Yeah? Want more?" Toji asks, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin on his face.

You almost gag again but manage to control yourself. "No, thank you. Any more and I'll doze off, and we both know that's not what i'm here for." There was a hint of sultriness in your tone, something Toji was not sufficiently familiar with. It was a completely welcome shift from your normally tentative way of speaking to him.

"I know why you're here, but I wanna know what you think you're here for."

You stand from your stool and lean more of your body onto the counter. Your hand reaches for his, and for the first time, you don't pull back before making contact with his skin. "To love on you, of course," you say, with those pretty rosy cheeks. Your eyes remained glossy and your nose was still red from trying not to bring the wine back up earlier, but Toji thought you looked so cute.

"Is that right?" His thumb brushes over your knuckles, feeling the softness against his rough fingertip.

"Let's go watch that movie you were talking about and you'll see what I mean."

Toji was loving this. Your confidence, your lack of holding back anything you had to say, it was truly baffling how you could be someone else entirely with just a couple glasses of wine.

You keep his hand in yours, and as if it were your house, you say, "come on," and drag him along to the living room.

This time you say "sit" and point at the couch. This time he's the obedient dog and does as you say, sitting on the exact cushion you were pointing at with a smirk on his face. He moves the couch pillow aside to make room for you, but you had another seat in mind. You take two steps towards him before slowly dropping yourself into his lap, straddling him.

"I see you're finally taking your seat on the throne, hm?" He grins, resting his hands on your waist. This is the closest Toji's been allowed to watch you giggle without you burying your face into his neck and it's a trip. He can see the details of the creases around your eyes and the lift in your cheeks as you smile. He feels fuzzy, and he didn't even finish his glass of wine, so he knows it's not that.

"Stop making me laugh and pick a movie, will you? I'm here for that, too."

He picks up the remote for the TV and turns it on. "How are you gonna watch the movie while facing me?"

"Actually,.. can I tell you a secret, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair that reaches towards the nape of his neck, combing through it gently.

"What's that, princess?" Toji asks, vert eyes flitting between your eyes and that sweet smile of yours.

"I don't wanna watch a movie. I... wanna look at you... and that's it." Your nails gently scratch the back of his head, eliciting a tingly sensation that makes chills run down his spine.

"That's cool, too," Toji says, turning the TV off again, not caring that it was on for less than a minute before you changed your mind. He sighs, adjusting his position beneath you. Your thighs are secured around his hips, your knees touching the backrest of the couch.

"You're so handsome, my baby. God, look at those eyes," you whisper in awe, before giggling and bringing your hands to his face. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumbs while admiring the haunting shade of green that scopes on you. Toji's hand comes up to loosely wrap around your wrist. He's not there to stop you, he just wants to move along with you as you observe his face.

"I know I don't say this to you enough, but I find you..." you sigh, blinking slowly, "enchanting..." You lean in and kiss the left corner of his lips—his right, and feel the smooth, tattered skin beneath your warm lips. "and I love you," you mumble into the cicatrix. "So fucking much, baby. And i'm sorry that you'll never know exactly how much because you aren't me." You're looking at him with so much adoration and touching him with a delicacy that can't be put into words. It's a deadly combination, one that has Toji in a chokehold and forces him to soften up even more for you.

He tightens the hold he has on your waist, pulling you closer until your stomach is pressed to his, as a result. You being so affectionate towards him is making him feel really good, and you have no idea because you're too focused on appreciating him. He's subconsciously leaning into your touch, his softened gaze meeting your lovestruck one.

"Fuck. I love you, too, princess," he murmurs, squeezing your wrist in his hand. He pulls your hand down to his chest. "Want you to aim for my lips, this time."

"Okay," you say, smiling before closing the distance between your lips and Toji's. He can still taste the remnants of the wine you inhaled minutes ago, but it tastes much better and a lot sweeter on you. Toji can hear your high pitched little hums as you kiss him, happiness pouring into your kisses. You're trying so hard not to laugh in his face, and trying is the best you can do, right now. You never were good at hiding your smile from Toji. He can't see it, but he can feel the way your lips widen, and he's occasionally kissing your teeth when your sluggishness keeps you from matching his pace. With little pants leaving you, you drag your lips away.

He sighs, frustrated by the loss of your softness against him. "Baby..." he groans, the sound almost whine-like to your ears. He wants more, so much more of you, and you're ignoring him. You're too busy kissing his chin, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

You drag your other hand down to his chest and keep your hands splayed out on it as you let your lips trail his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. Toji can't help but think about how this version of you will be gone in the morning. You won't be as outwardly affectionate, you'll go back to second guessing every move you make with him and shrinking every time he steals kisses from you, instead of confidently kissing him back like you did a minute ago.

You make your way down his neck, pressing kiss after kiss on him before you move towards his ear. "I love you, Toji," you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear after. "Love you, love you, love you soooo much," you barrage, before throwing him off with a bite to his earlobe. You giggle like a menace into his ear, the warmth of your breath luring goosebumps out onto his skin.

He chuckles, repeatedly squeezing the soft skin of your waist between his hands. "Yeah? Tell me again," he murmurs snaking his hands beneath the back of your shirt. Your skin is very warm, and there's nothing to blame but Toji and that shitty wine for making your body react this way.

With uninterrupted hands, you course your fingers through his hair and lean in to bite him again, this time on his neck. Toji chuckles at how you instantly rush to soothe him with your tongue and a warm kiss, even when you inflicted zero pain on him.

"I love you, Toji," you repeat into the wet indentations you left behind. "My love... my handsome man... I cherish you, you know?"

Toji is practically purring at all the affection you're showering him with. The slurring of your words is blocked out and they remain clear as day to him. He manages to hum a deep little "mhm" to your last statement.

"It's just so hard to talk to you sometimes. You... you're so intimidating, sometimes. I don't expect you to understand..." you divert your gaze to his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes as vulnerability takes sudden control of your emotions. "It seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—all the time, but I do, Toji. I do appreciate you, and I can't ever say I love you enough to show it. Words aren't always enough."

Toji catches the waver in your voice and his eyes dart to yours. You're tearing up, and you're trying to still your quivering lips by pressing them together.

"Shit," Toji mutters under his breath. You have the saddest expression he's ever seen and it's messing with his heart. He pulls his hands out of your shirt so that he can swiftly pull you into his warm embrace. "Hey," he coos. You're shaking against him, holding your breath to avoid sobbing. Your lungs burn, but you'd rather feel that than make a scene of your tears. "Don't be sad, mama. What's with the tears, hm?" he murmurs. He can feel your tears dampening his shoulder, but the fact that you haven't made a sound is concerning. "Breathe or you'll die," he says, only half joking. He rubs a soothing palm against your back, his other arm around your waist.

You let out what sounds like a mixture between a choked laugh and a sob, slowly but surely regulating your breathing. You don't even feel like saying anything anymore because you know your voice will give way to even more pity.

"You're more than enough for me," Toji says, his chin resting on your head. "I know how you feel, you know how I feel. We're complete." He can feel the way you scrunch his shirt up into your fists. As if he would go anywhere without you. "I get you and you're stuck with me. Got it?" You silently nod against his shoulder in response. "Sit up and let me look at you."

You really don't want him to see you this way. Your eyes feel swollen and you don't feel presentable.

"I can't..." you say, barely audible. You release his shirt and let your hands go limp behind him.

"Why not?"

"I'm not pretty right now. Don't look at me."

"I'm gonna look at you," he challenges with a teasing grin.

"Toji, don't look at me."

"Too late, it's happening. Plan's already in motion," he says, sliding his arms onto your shoulders.

"Toji, don't-" He effortlessly pushes you off his shoulder and gives you a once over. You look defeated and you're unable to look him in the eyes, but at least he can see you now.

"Don't know what you were so worried about. You look the same but more blush-y." You finally give him your slightly reddened eyes, a soft smile appearing on your face. You look like your sober self. "Yeah, you look the same."

"Are you lying?" You ask, still not regaining the full strength of your voice yet.

"I wouldn't tell you if I was, but no, i'm not lying. You're so pretty." Toji wiped away tears that were stuck beneath your eyes, and you giggled. He washed away your sadness within a couple minutes. Toji always did this for you in exchange for your love and affection. He lifted your spirits when you didn't feel deserving of him, and with time, he got much better at recognizing the signs that came with this ridiculous idea you planted in your head.

"You're done loving on me? Already?" He asks in playful disbelief.

"You're not done with me? Do you actually want more?" You ask, hesitantly.

"Don't want more, I need more," he corrects, returning his hands to their rightful place on your waist. "Get all up on me, princess."

You giggle, leaning closer towards him to peck a kiss onto his cheek.

"Mhm, like that," he says, contently, when you pick up the pace and start smothering him. "Yeah, baby, there you go." His forearms go beneath your shirt, encircling around your bare waist and pulling you close to him like before. "Who's getting spoiled like me?" He says through a grin. You're holding back laughs as he continues to praise you for your affection.

"S-Stop," you say through a wheeze, not able to contain the sound any longer when you looked at him.

"What are you laughing at, huh?" He chases you this time, pressing his nose into your cheek before planting a light kiss into your jaw.

"You're so unserious," you say, turning your head as he keeps going with the kisses.

"Mmm... I'm serious about you," he says, feeling the vibration of your laughter against his grin. "So serious."

Your cheeks feel incredibly hot from how much you've been smiling. In this little drunken haze, things are so good. You're so happy, you're so affectionate, and you talk so much. This isn't like you at all, but it's not hurting anyone, especially not Toji. There was one minor slip, but you moved past it so quickly like the words never left your head to begin with. You're just so simple... so easy to take care of.

Toji notices the way your eyes are starting to lid with tiredness, and while he would love for you to doze off in his arms right then and there, you'd probably prefer waking up in a bed.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" He suggests.

"What? No! I just got here... We can still talk, and kiss and- I'm not even tired."

Toji grins at the way you fight him on this, and he has half a mind to indulge you when you look so adorable, but he has to stand his ground. He's right.

"But, you are. You can't even hold your eyes open, anymore."

You feel sad again because the rest of the night would be going to waste if you both go to sleep early. You're there to spend time with Toji, and yet you feel like it's your fault your time is being cut short. You're thinking you shouldn't have drank the wine so quickly, if at all.

"Listen, doll," Toji says. He doesn't like the sadness that resurfaces on your pretty face. He doesn't think you should look that way because of him. "We're just gonna go lay in bed. We don't have to go to sleep. We can stay up as long as you want. Light on or light off, whatever you wanna do, let's just move it to the room."

You sigh, still not completely convinced that the night isn't over, but Toji managed to persuade you. "Will you carry me, please? My legs feel like jelly."

"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I let you stumble into the room on your own?"

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your face buried into the crook of his neck. "You'd still be my favorite person, but i'd be a little upset..."

Toji stands from the couch, humming in response to your quiet mumbles.

"...but not really upset. Just a little bummed. Not for too long, though, 'cause I love you, but I would expect an apology from you if I fell down," you draw out.

Toji cracks at your little ramblings. It's a ten second walk from the couch to the bedroom, and the whole time you were working through a hypothetical conflict.

"Yeah? You'd want me to say sorry?" He asks, setting you down on the bed.

"Mhm, and then I wouldn't be upset or bummed anymore," you mutter to yourself as you roll onto your back.

"That's fair. Want the light on or off?"

"Off," you blurt. "Let's tell scary stories," you trill, enthusiastically. You pull the blanket over your lower body until it reaches just below your chest.

Toji makes his way to the bed after turning off the light. He takes his shirt off, and out of habit lets it fall to the floor. "We're not telling scary stories this late at night," he says, joining you beneath the blanket.

"But, they're funny," you say, turning to face him. "I don't get scared, either."

"Depends on who's telling the story. I'm sure as hell not gonna feed you a nightmare, doll."

"Boo," you say, lowly. "Whatever, i'm over it already," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Toji watches you grow more and more tired as you throw random, nonsensical topics at him. You're taking longer to respond by the minute, and you're dozing off while humming in thought. You shake awake each time it happens and try to keep the conversation going, but Toji just shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep.

"I can see the moon through the window," you mumble, looking past him.

"I know, shh..." he hushes you, again.

"There's only like... one star," you whisper, in awe.

"Baby, come here," Toji says, like he's about to lecture you about the rules of sleep, but really he's just thinking that if his body heat doesn't put you down, he's gonna have to stay up with you until you fall asleep on your own.

You scoot closer towards Toji, tucking your arms into your chest when he reaches out to pull you into him the rest of the way. His body exudes so much warmth, you feel like you don't need the blanket at all.

There was nothing left for you to say when you couldn't see or feel anything but him. It was as if you were gone the second he enveloped you in his arms. You were small to the brink of nonexistence, no longer there to tell him what your surroundings were, or to ask him thoughtless, silly questions. You were no longer there to fight off the sleep he only seemed to bring closer towards you. Feeling his warm skin against you made you change your mind about this invisible fiend that was pulling your eyelids down. You now welcomed the calls to rest from your steady heartbeats.

Your silence gave him the answer he needed, but for good measure, he poked at you with a whisper of, "Ma?" and waited a few seconds for your response. Nothing. He sighed and coiled around you tighter. Thoughts of the night ran through his head. Your soft, yet, occasionally bruising kisses and the imprints of your teeth on his skin, your unapologetic laughter, your certainty in using the pet names that claimed him as yours. He was weak for the amount of times you openly told him you loved him. It was a psychedelic dream, to say the least. One he hoped would continue once he followed you into slumber.

You woke up hours later, completely smothered by your bear of a man. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling, while you waited for Toji to wake up because he was literally breathing down your neck. His arm rested over your chest, his legs were tangled with yours, and his face was right beside your face. You weren't feeling the effects of the wine anymore, and luckily, you didn't have a headache or any signs of a hangover. You were back, which meant...

"What are you staring at?" A deep, raspy voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

You look at the handsome face next to you, and as if your heart can hear and see, it wakes up. "Nothing. Just woke up," you lie.

"Mm... you were staring hard at the roof. I thought it came to life or something," Toji chuckles. You smile, briefly, before looking at the ceiling again.

Toji releases you and flips onto his back, wanting to know what's so fascinating about the space you're looking at. "What are you thinking?" He asks, when he discovers nothing but blank space.

You take your time, not wanting to stumble over your words. Your heart skips a beat when he turns his head to look at you. In the time it takes for you to respond, you both could have gone back to sleep again.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he finally says, following the idiom with a question. "Did I even use that correctly?"

You can't help but laugh, nodding your head to answer his question. "I'm thinking about last night. Sorry if I said anything stupid."

Toji turns his body towards you again, thinking the only thing that's stupid is that he's still staring at the roof instead of staring at you. "You didn't. You were calm, from what I got to see, at least."

"So... boring."

"Not boring," he instantly catches. "You were perfect. You didn't have me running around chasing you, you weren't a brat—it couldn't have gone better, ma." He purposely missed something in his less than brief recount of the night to you. He can think back to the emotions that seeped through your little daze, and your insecurity about outwardly showing him love, all he wants, but there's no way in hell he's bringing that up to you, now. "You ramble a lot," he adds, a soft smile emerging on his face.

You can feel your cheeks warming up. "Oh god," you groan in embarrassment. "That's not- Sorry, that sounds... not so fun. Annoying of me, actually."

"Stop, it was cute," he assures, adding more fury to the blush creeping on your face. "Then you wouldn't go to sleep 'cause you kept seeing stuff outside the window."

You wanted to drown yourself in the blanket. Shame and embarrassment were winning their battle against you, as always.

"That was also cute," he says, watching the way your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. "You know my favorite part, though?" He says, grinning as he leans towards your ear.

"N-No, what?" You ask, trying so hard not to giggle.

"When you kissed me and told me you loved me," he murmurs into your ear like it's a dirty secret.

You snicker, the short sound of amusement evolving into laughter within seconds. You throw the blanket over your face and partially over Toji's face. The sight of your veiled body shaking with laughter lured out a couple chuckles of his own.

"That's funny?" He asks, pulling the blanket down, allowing you to see the sly grin he's sporting.

"A little bit," you respond, smiling— a remainder of your laughter.

"Silly girl. Come here," he says, dragging you back into his arms. "There's no reason you should be awake at six in the morning on your day off. Let's go back to sleep," he murmurs into the crown of your head. "We can go out for breakfast, later."

"Okay," you mumble, eyes shut already as you embrace the natural warmth of his body.

"One more thing," he murmurs. You don't raise your gaze, but your ears are open and you're listening closely. "Tell me you love me."

You didn't expect that, but you weren't going to deny him of such a simple thing. The words were easy to recite because you meant them with every fiber of your being. "I love you, Toji," you comply, immediately.

He sighs, contently, almost like hearing those words revitalized him. "Love you, too, mama."

That went out to every version of you.

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”