#idk if i'm correct but is there a hole in the hand???

[liltaireissocute]

[PERC'ILDAN]

Vax is always gentle with Percy's hands, kissing them and massaging if they hurt after long day of work

[witchywcmans]

AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car. 

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked. 

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand. 

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller. 

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him. 

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose. 

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this. 

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

[loulovingho]

prompt: silly or angry sex? idk!

how about silly and angry sex? also, I don't write smut often so please forgive me.

“I really, shit, really don't wanna fight with you while your, oh yeah, fingers are in my ass.”

“Finger,” Tommy corrected, slowly and deliberately massaging over Buck's prostate. “Just the one right now.”

“God, you’re so annoying,” Buck huffed, his back arching slightly as Tommy's other hand rested over his stomach.

“Would you like me to stop?” Tommy asked. The way he was keeping his voice so calm and casual made Buck want to wring his neck a little bit.

“Stop being annoying?” he replied. “Yes.”

“Stop fucking you,” Tommy clarified, pouring a bit more lube on his fingers and adding a second along with the first, “so you can fight with me?”

Buck sucked in a breath, then let out a long moan. “Oh fuck no, don't stop.”

“Mm,” Tommy hummed. He ran his hand up Buck's chest, dragging it back down slowly. His fingernails scraping over Buck's nipple on the way. “So fighting while fucking it is.”

“Fuck. S'not fair,” he said with a glare, fucking himself on Tommy's fingers. One of his hands flailed out until it found Tommy's thigh, gripping it for dear life. “Kiss me.”

Tommy shook his head. “Tell me why you're angry first, Evan.”

“Mmm,” Buck's head lolled to the side, his eyes drifting shut in pleasure. “Don't remember.”

Tommy twisted his fingers, driving in with a particularly hard thrust.

Buck's eyes shot back open and up at Tommy, his hand squeezing tighter on his thigh. Tommy would have bruises in the morning, which sent chills up his spine.

“Yes you do,” Tommy said, staring back at Buck. “Now why are you mad?”

“Be- Because, oh right there, because you forgot to take the meat out of the freezer again.”

“And?”

“And I reminded you, uh, uh, uh, you like five times while I was at work.” He smacked at Tommy's thigh. “Add another finger, Tommy, please.”

Tommy obliged. He removed his fingers and added more lube, warming it up before pressing three against Buck's hole. “Deep breath in and-”

“Let it out slow, yeah yeah, I know. Not my first rodeo.” He rolled his eyes but drew in a deep breath, slowly releasing it as Tommy worked three fingers into him. “You feel so fucking good,” he said, sounding more annoyed about that fact than anything. He couldn't handle it anymore. He reached up and pulled Tommy down over him in a messy, angry kiss. He bit down on Tommy's bottom lip, causing him to hiss ever so slightly. He took that opportunity to practically stick his tongue down Tommy's throat, tasting his fresh mint mouthwash that he always gargled after dinner.

A dinner which was take out tonight.

Because he forgot to take the meat out of the freezer.

For like the fourth time in a month.

Tommy's fingers were moving inside him earnestly now, Buck meeting every thrust. “I know you, mhm, apologized but I really, uh, don't understand, yes, yeah, how you could f- forget like that, faster, Tommy, fuck me.”

“You feel so good around my fingers, Evan, God.” Tommy moaned into Buck's mouth as Buck reached down and took both of their cocks in his hand.

Their bodies were at awkward angles, with Tommy not able to move as deeply into Buck with each thrust. But, judging by the sounds coming out of his mouth, Tommy was still hitting all the right spots.

“Fuck, I'm close, Evan.”

“Me too, Tommy. S- so close. Just, oh shit yeah!” Buck came with a shout, Tommy following closely behind him.

They laid there for a few seconds in silence, their sweaty bodies pressed together as they caught their breath.

Eventually, Tommy pulled his fingers out of Buck and plopped down beside him in the bed.

“Shit, I love angry sex,” Buck admitted, rolling over to press himself against Tommy's side.

Tommy laughed, his arm wrapping around Buck's back as he pressed a kiss to his temple. “Why do you think I keep forgetting to take the meat out of the freezer?”

“I knew you did it on purpose!” he exclaimed, leaning up just enough to look at Tommy.

“Well, after the aggressive blowjob you gave me the last time it happened, I had to test my theory. I do, however, promise not to use this knowledge against you in the future. No matter how tempting.”

Buck's eyes darkened as he pulled Tommy in for a kiss. “You're incredible,” he said. “You can use it against me anytime.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at that and Buck continued. “Well, not any time. Like, if people are coming over for dinner, or if I have a special meal planned. Actually, I could make a detailed list of exact times where it would be appropriate to-”

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“You know there are other things I could do besides not take food out of the freezer, right?”

“Like... Like what?” Buck asked, shivering a little as Tommy's hand ran up and down his spine.

“I could occasionally leave my laundry on the bathroom floor.”

“E- Even your gym clothes?”

“If you wanted.”

Buck could feel his heartbeat speeding up. He'd be a little concerned about what this literal dirty talk was doing to him if he didn't currently find it so damn hot. “What else?” he asked.

“I could not take out the trash on trash day. It'd have to sit there another whole week before it got picked up.”

Buck pressed a kiss against Tommy's jaw, then started working his way down, ghosting his lips over Tommy's pec. “I would be livid,” he said before giving the skin there a little bite.

“I know. I could forget to pay a bill. Make you deal with a late fee.”

Buck was on top of Tommy in a second, his thighs straddling Tommy's hips. He was mad at the mere thought of that happening. But so fucking turned on he was already hard again. It wasn't just the idea of more angry sex that made him horny, it was the fact that Tommy was so competent with his forced incompetence that Buck needed him inside of him immediately. It was all very confusing, and Buck made a mental note to dwell on it later.

But for now. “Tommy?”

“Yes, Dear?” Tommy asked with a grin, his hands coming to rest on Buck's waist.

“I'm gonna need you to fuck me.”

Tommy gripped Buck tight, flipping them over quickly so he was back on top. He pressed a chaste kiss to Buck's lips before reaching for the lube. “Yes, Dear.”

[flan-tasma]

He's a gentle lover

💖~ It was just Diluc, but then everyone fell into the same hole. I'm not complaining about that btw.

I have just finished a homework assignment of almost forty pages and my hand is hurting, my very strong and beloved menthol has carried me through the whole week.

Warning: Smut, not very dirty, lovely I guess idk(?, Fem!Reader maybe | English is not my native language, so if I have made any mistakes in the translation, I am open to corrections | Content in spanish and english!

Spanish:

Él era tierno, gentil. Con sus manos que te brindan calor con cada caricia, cuando levanta tu mentón para que lo veas y le permitas besarte. Siempre es tan gentil, un amante cuidadoso que te desviste con lentitud y traza tu piel con sus dedos.

Le gusta cuando no lleva guantes, pues sus manos toscas y rasguñadas te sostienen con firmeza y confianza, sabiendo cuál es el curso adecuado para que suspires contra sus labios.

Adora besar tu cuello, chupando y lamiendo la carne hasta que llega a tu escote y muerde, siempre buscando tus ojos para saber que te gusta lo que hace.

Jadea cuando ve que arrugas las sábanas, hundiendo tu cabeza contra la almohada con los ojos cerrados y cristalinos. Él bebe la sal y el azúcar de tu imagen, de tu piel y se emborracha hasta que sólo puedes chillar cuando se hunde en tu interior, descansando después de haberte arruinado lo suficiente.

No necesitas pensar, no necesitas meditar, ni elegir. Él lo hará por ti, él te cuidará con la mayor dulzura posible que se le resbala de la garganta mientras te mira a los ojos, esperando que tú también lo veas y que lo ames de la misma forma que él te ama.

No necesita que lo montes o que lo dejes follarte la boca, eso puede quedar para otra ocasión. Solo míralo con la misma adoración, sostén su rostro mientras te hace el amor lentamente y acaricia tus tetas y tus hombros, déjale escuchar tus gemidos como susurros en sus oídos. Él quiere ser egoísta contigo, guardarte para que nadie más que él pueda verte de esta manera, sollozando y llamando su nombre, mientras que él te responde con ternura y te hace suspirar.

No quiere que nadie se robe tu figura, ni la luna ni las estrellas que se asoman por la ventana. Solo quiere retenerte para él, hoy y siempre, así que déjalo hacerte el amor en la oscuridad, solo compartiendo su unión por las pocas velas que los alumbran y les reflejan los ojos cuando llaman al otro.

Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Baizhu, Kazuha, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Neuvillette.

English:

He was tender, gentle. With his hands that give you warmth with each caress, when he lifts your chin so you can see it and allow him to kiss you. He is always so gentle, a careful lover who undresses you slowly, tracing your skin with his fingers.

He likes it when he doesn't wear gloves, because his rough, scratched hands hold you firmly and confidently, knowing the right way for you to sigh against his lips.

He loves kissing your neck, sucking and licking the flesh until he reaches your cleavage and bites, always searching your eyes to know you like what he is doing.

He gasps when he sees you crumpling the sheets, burying your head back in the pillow with your eyes closed and glassy. He drinks the salt and sugar from your image, from your skin, getting drunk until he can only scream as he sinks into you, resting when he has ruined you enough.

You don't have to think, you don't have to meditate, you don't have to choose. He will do it for you, he will take care of you with the greatest possible sweetness that slips from his throat as he looks into your eyes, hoping that you see it too and that you love him as much as he loves you.

He doesn't need you to ride him or let him fuck your mouth, that can be left for another time. Just look at him with the same adoration, hold his face while he slowly makes love to you, caressing your tits and shoulders, letting him hear your moans as whispers in his ears. He wants to be selfish with you, to hold you so that no one but him can see you like this, sobbing and calling out his name as he responds tenderly and makes you sigh.

He doesn't want anyone to steal your shape, or the moon, or the stars that look out the window. He just wants to keep you for himself, today and always, so let him make love to you in the dark, sharing your union only with the few candles that illuminate you and reflect your eyes when you call the other.

Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Baizhu, Kazuha, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Neuvillette.

[nanamisdickrider]

GAME OVER !

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ——

Character : Satoru Gojo

-summary : Gojo loses in his game and takes his anger out on you <3

- 18+ / NSFW

–—–

"Told you I won't be going easy on you Gojo!" Geto says from the other line.

Gojo was currently playing this brand new videogame with getou, you were there sitting on the bed, watching your daily show episodes since your boyfriend was too caught up on that game with his best friend. After a while, you heard gojo groan and getou laughing loudly on that phone call, you assumed that gojo lost in the game and..you were correct. Gojo turned off his PC off and cut the call, you put down your phone to comfort him but as you were about to get up from the bed, he walked towards you and pushed you back on the soft mattress. "I'm so pissed off baby" he sighed and sat on his knees, looking down at you, his eyes were a dark shade of blue. You felt your body tensing when his cold hands touched up your thighs, dangerously close to your cunt, his fingers pressed on your clit, going up and down on that thin clothing which was separating his fingers from your cunny:( "Want to be a good girlfriend and help me relax? Yeah babe?" He pulls your panties down and his index finger immediately goes to your entrance, pushing it inside you slowly, you let out a small moan.

Gojo was between your legs now, he was lapping at your wet cunt so harshly, his tongue abusing your pussy and your hole for so long, sucking and biting at your clit every now and then just to make you scream his name. You came 2 times already, and Gojo just can't get enough. You were pulling on his soft hair, trying to get him off of you. "Don't push me off like that love, jus' trying to relax"

Gojo pulled down his gray sweatpants and you saw his hard cock, it was so veiny and the tip was a very light red colour, he leaned down, his face inches away from yours, he was looking down at his cock gathering all your slick from between your folds. He looked up at you and smiled, pushing it in slowly, you were whimpering under him "it's...s-so big—Ngh~"

"And you're gonna take all of it baby, every inch of me. I'm going to fill you up with my cum, you'll be so full of me, just how I like it♡"

A/n- nvm gojo don't even sound angry I think he's just..??? Idk bro my exams r near I gotta study goodbye⁉️🗣️🙏

[sturnsiolos0]

Study session-Chris Sturniolo

THEY SEEM LIKE SUCH NERDS IN THIS LIKE EWW idk i hate this

You had been sat in the library with your friends studying away together, the pinging of whispered questions and fluttering of book pages as each of you diligently searched for the correct answers a familiar and comforting pass-time. It was a fail-proof method of studying, and you had all gotten on by successfully for months with it.

Someone drilled you with questions, almost an hour in to the rigorous study session. You reel off answers, tapping your pencil absentmindedly against your notes.

"Wrong." An arrogant voice drawled, and you had jolted in surprise at the volume after conversing in only whispers for so long.

"Excuse me?" You squeaked, shock painting your features as you whipped round to catch sight of Chris draped languidly across a library armchair.

One of his brows had arched as he tilted his head back, the arm propped up on the armrest of the chair reaching up to rest his chin on his pale knuckles. "I said, you're wrong."

You had flushed deeply at his sneer, momentarily lost for words before scrambling for a comeback. "I-I'm not." You still felt like crawling into a pit to die every time you recalled that response.

He had laughed, dropping his hand back down before leaning forward, completely ignoring your friends glaring at him. He corrects you, explaining it to you like you were a child. Sniffing indignantly, you had shuffled in your seat a little before muttering your thanks and turning back around to continue with your group, trying your very hardest to pretend that Chris's pale eyes were not carving identical holes into the back of your head.

He didn't interrupt for the short remainder of the session, and when you and friends had all finally left, you found that he had slipped out of the library unnoticed. You had dawdled behind your friends, the weight of the stacked books in your arms dragging you down and diverting all of your attention to the task of not dropping the pile, as opposed to your surroundings. Which was why you had let out a feeble yelp and dropped most of the books in a pitiful heap when suddenly you were dragged into a darkened nook of the wall.

You had clutched the remaining book in your hands like a weapon, ready to hit your captor over the head with the dusty volume, except you had frozen when your eyes locked with none other than those of Chris.

"You're terrible at this you know." He had commented dryly, to which you blinked. "Not as terrible as your idiot friends, but still terrible."

Another blink. There had been too much spite in his words for you to take his comment as a backhanded compliment, but part of you had wondered if that was what he was going for. "Uh, okay. Thanks for letting me know."

He rolled his eyes, and your brows had formed a deep furrow at his next words. "Meet me in the library tomorrow evening at eight o'clock. Don't be late."

And before you had even thought to formulate a reply, he had stalked off, leaving you gobsmacked and with a pile of books to pick up.

Ever since the following night, you had been meeting with Chris for weekly one-on-one study sessions. It wasn't something you outright enjoyed initially; in the beginning, he was snappy and outright degrading to the point that you'd rather have literally anyone else tutoring you instead, and you had asked yourself more than once why he had even bothered to offer - or demand - his time to tutor you. But as the weeks had worn on, he began to calm down, his snappiness mellowing out to a tolerable curtness which only presented itself when he felt particularly frustrated, and he no longer insulted you with every opportunity.

In fact, he had started to praise you. Sort of. He no longer called you an idiot, at least. And your time with him had started straying from the austere regimen of studying and even delving into casual conversation. You had even made him laugh a handful of times , you were certain that his laughter was completely genuine, no traces of arrogance or cruelty to tinge the altogether pleasant sound. Each time, you had fought to quell the sticky heat the light sound had filled you with, swallowing it down alongside the whisper in the back of your mind that hinted towards something more than doing just studying with Chris.

These days, much to your surprise, you actually found yourself looking forward to the weekly study sessions. (🤓)

Every Thursday night at eight o'clock, you would eagerly venture to the darkened corner of the library towards the restricted section to meet him. Which is exactly where you were headed now.

Slipping into the library hall, you scurry through the crammed tables, no more than half of them occupied by hunched groups of antsy students, and dart around stacks of precariously piled books until you come to a stop before your regular hidden table.

Chris is already there, lounging in his chair as he flicks lazily through the thick volume propped before him on the table. He doesn't bother to glance up at you - barely even raises an eyebrow - as he continues to turn pages, and you shuffle over to the chair opposite, only to pause in pulling it out when you find his feet propped up on the cushion of said chair.

"You're late." He announces, ignoring your huff as he remains in the same position. He reaches out his hand to draw the chair beside him out from under the table.

"Now sit." He demands, nodding down at the seat expectantly, and so with little room for argument you find yourself plopping into the chair next to him. You reach into your bag to rummage around for your book, but he reaches out to stop you, a pale hand wrapping around your wrist. You jolt, and his fingers tighten as he tugs your arm away from your bag before letting go and depositing it onto the table top. "No textbook, I'll be testing you today."

"Testing?" You echo, taken off guard. You glance at him curiously, but his face remains as cool and passive as ever.

"We'll start with something easy.“ He says before he begins to test you. Clearing your throat, you begin to answer, but your voice cuts out suddenly. A hand is resting on your knee, the same hand that had been latched around your wrist not all that long ago. Your eyes dart up to his face nervously, but he gives nothing away, continuing to gaze down at the book he was flicking through with his other hand.

"Keep going." Is all he says, and you shuffle in your seat for a moment before nodding, mostly to yourself.

You attempt to continue on with your answer but once again, your voice gives out; Chris's hand all the while had been creeping up your leg, until it had slipped under your skirt. Cool fingertips press faintly into the soft flesh of your bare inner thigh, and you squeak quietly.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks in the same blasè tone, and your mind stumbles to decipher the vague question. He had said it as if referring to studying, but the fingers on your flesh squeezed gently on 'stop', and you take a moment to ponder. You glance over to the boy beside you to find him already staring intently at your face, no trace of cruelty in his expression - only patience as he awaits your response. As if on it's own accord, your head slowly shakes in wordless disagreement. No, you realise you don't want to stop, and he nods once.

"Carry on, then."

Swallowing thickly, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing on with your answer, though your voice trembles with each word. The entire time, his fingers continue to skim up the sensitive flesh, and it's the moment before you almost finish your response that those cool digits finish their journey up your thigh to make contact with the edge of your panties. He’s then suddenly playing with the elasticated edge, rolling the hem between his thumb and forefinger absentmindedly, and your legs are parting in invitation.

Chris is toying with you, enjoying the way you stutter and stumble through your words, relishing at how your breathing hitches and jumps with every inch of skin his fingertips caress. He watches you from the corner of his eye, the crimson flooding the high points of your cheeks that he had admired from afar for so long, even before his first interaction with you in the library all those months ago. Your chest is already heaving with laboured breaths, lips parting as you huff quietly, and a faint smirk finds its way onto his lips as he continues on his exploration.

He's so close to you, his fingers so close to your core that they send jolts of blazing liquid desire coursing through you, and yet all he does is run those slender digits along the elasticated band, the soft pad of his finger brushing the fold of your flesh between the top of your thigh and what lay beyond the soft fabric of your panties. Squirming, you bite down on your lip, trying your best to control your breathing when you remember that you're sat in the library, and your eyes dart around anxiously, even though no one had ever interrupted you back in this corner ever since the first study session.

He asks the next question, but your throat feels bone dry, and you have to swallow several times before your voice successfully squeaks out, your response being littered with whimpers and cusses.

Chris’s fingers had abandoned their grazing of the crevice of your groin to brush a single digit through your folds. Both of his brows shoot up at your exclamation, and he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

"Didn't realise 'fuck' was part of that answer." He comments casually, hand shifting deftly to cup your pussy, fingertips pressing lightly. Your thighs clench in response to the pressure, and a breathless whine slips out of you. "Explain further?”

You bite out answers as he continues to touch you, gasping slightly as he pushes your panties aside to slide two fingers between your wet folds.

Fingertips find your clit, and your breath stutters at the contact. Chris brushes circles against your throbbing clit by nimble fingers before they return to running up and down the folds of your pussy.

"Very good." He murmurs, voice like honey and velvet as he praises you. "Next?"

You can barely think straight, his fingertips are paused at your entrance, and despite your hips desperately pushing forwards, he remains stubbornly still, and you whine, trying to recall the answer.

A single finger presses into you as soon as the answer comes to you, the digit long and sure as you take the first, then the second knuckle, until his entire finger is surrounded by your slick walls.

You moan loudly as he draws his finger out, quickly returning with two, and your hands scrabble with the edge of the table before you, nails biting into the aged wood at the sudden stretch.

He continues prompting you casually,head lulling forward as his fingers begin to move, pumping in and out at a languid pace.

Biting your lip, you fight against the drag of his fingertips and stretch of his knuckles.

Chris begins picking up the pace and grinding the heel of his palm against your clit. A startled moan escapes you, loud and breathy and high-pitched, and your hand flies up to clamp over your mouth in a desperate attempt to quell any similar noises that might betray what you were doing to the rest of the students in the library. Chris freezes, and your eyes, which you can't recall closing, snap open.

"That's cheating." He chides, pausing in his page-turning to tug your hand away from your mouth. His fingers linger on your heated cheek for a moment, eyes like molten silver as they connect with yours, before he turns back to his book. "Next answer?"

You grind out words, his fingers still pressed deep into your pussy.

"What was that?" He asks, and you blink, certain that you were correct.Your confusion is wiped away when he moves his hand, adding a third digit into the equation. Chris pushes them in slowly, and you can feel your stickiness dripping down as he stretches you deliciously.

He puts a pause on his relentless questioning, instead turning his full attention to your pleasure as he builds a slow rhythm, curling his fingers every time he plunges in deep. You whine and huff, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes at the intense pressure he was building within you, and when he returns to adding stimulation to your clit, you almost cover your mouth again to hold back your wanton moans before remembering that Chris had already told you not to.

And so your hand drops to clutch desperately at his forearm, fingers scrabbling with the cotton of his shirt sleeve as you try to ground yourself. He doesn't stop, nor does he push you away, and so you maintain your grip. Your tongue darts out to dampen your lip, and his eyes follow the movement. His facade starts to slip as he leans towards you, and you watch from behind lowered lids as his own lips part.

Suddenly, his fingers are withdrawing from inside your pussy, and a tear of sheer desperation and loss slips from your eye before Chris is swiftly twisting to grab you by the hips and dragging you towards him. Your knees clatter against his as he pulls you onto his lap, legs splaying onto either side as a pale hand snatches you by the hair and yanks you down for an open-mouthed kiss.

It's savage, hot and fast, with teeth colliding and breaths mingling, and your trembling fingers are eager mess up his platinum hair, clutching at the silken strands whilst his free hand fumbles desperately at your shirt to tug it free from its confines of your skirt's waistband. Chris grunts in frustration, redirecting his administrations to harsh biting kisses along your jawline and down your exposed throat, and you catch a glimpse of his furrowed brow before your eyes slip closed once more.

His grip slips from your hair to join his other momentarily, and with one sharp tug, he yanks your shirt off. Your gasp of surprise is immediately swallowed up by a low moan as his mouth works its way along your collar bones before leaving a sucking bite over your left breast. His tongue laves over the mark, soothing the tender flesh before your hiss can turn to one of discomfort, and he pulls back to study it for a second before once again grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the edge of the table, his book forgotten as you knock it away.

"Chris…" You murmur, his name a breathless whisper as you look down at his face. Blown pupils are surrounded by a ring of starlight as he stares up at you, the sharp contours of his usually-pale cheeks tinged with scarlet, and the lips that are so often stretched in a sneer are kiss-swollen and parted as quiet gasps of breath break free. Your fingers loosen their hold on his hair to study his face, tracing his temples, the hollows of his cheekbones, along the razor-sharp jawline. One delicate fingertip ghosts over his lower lip, and he shudders.

Cool hands slide from your hips, mirroring each other as they brush down your outer thighs, pausing to squeeze your knees, and he tugs them apart before trailing back up, fingers splayed to caress as much skin as possible. Your hands drop from his face to brace yourself against the table on either side of your hips. The pads of Chris's thumbs press against your inner thighs, and you tremble with anticipation as he tilts his head lower, gaze travelling over your face, your throat, your exposed chest, down your stomach, to pause on your skirt, half-hitched up your thighs and concealing his hands.

You wait with baited breath, frozen in the moment as you anticipate Chris’s next move. His eyes only flicker up to your face for a split-second before hiking your skirt up around your waist.

"Hold it."

You abide his instruction, one hand sliding further back on the table as you lean back whilst the other clenches the crumpled fabric into a fist. Your blush deepens as he stares down at your exposed panties, the white material soaked through from his attentive administrations on your dripping pussy, meanwhile his palms rest atop your thighs, fingers millimeters away from the sodden material.

"Good girl."

Whining at his hum of approval, you almost miss his smirk before he leans forward in his seat, tugging your panties aside in the same moment. He drags his fire-hot tongue through your folds without warning, lapping up your fluids with the tip, and you jolt forward, eyes clenching tight as you bite back the high-pitched moan he evoked.

"Eyes open." He commands, pulling back a fraction, and your bleary eyes snap open to meet his hyper-focused gaze. "On me."

Nodding desperately, your nails claw at the table surface as he resumes, burying his face in your pussy as he laves at your swollen clit, running the tip of his nose through your folds and teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. Chris's hands grip your ass, holding you still as your hips threaten to buck against him.

You can only watch Chris for so long before the intense pleasure takes over. Head thrown back, you gasp and moan as quietly as you can, failing to catch sight of Chris staring up at you, watching as your flushed chest rises and falls with each jagged breath drawn, admiring the arch of your throat and the inviting curve of your parted lips.

You can feel your climax drawing near as Chris maintains his attentions, nose nudging your sensitive clit as his tongue fucks you, his pace languid yet the force brutal, and suddenly, that elastic tension drawing taut within your core snaps, and a stuttering moan comes tumbling out of you as you cum over Chris's face. Slumping forward, you bow over him, and it takes you several moments to notice that you had, at some point, grabbed at his hair with both hands to ride his face throughout your orgasm.

Fingers spasming, you slacken your grip on his hair and struggle to sit upright, a blush of mortification washing over you when the reality of the situation crashes down. "I-I-"

He interrupts your stuttering with the simple act of sitting up, and when his eyes meet yours, your voice dies in your throat. Reaching up, Chris absentmindedly wipes away at the lower half of his face with the back of his hand, wet with your arousal, before gripping you by the hips to slip you off of the table and back onto his lap. He leans back, the epitome of elegance despite your panting form draped across his chest, the chair once again his throne as he rights the book he had been reading and resumes flicking through it.

"You didn't finish going through that last question," He points out, voice tinged with accusation and completely contradictory to the gentle ghosting of his finger tips brushing the stray hair from your face. "We'll do it again next week."

should i write them shorter like what are y’all’s thoughts😋⁉️cuz this is kinda rlly long idk

[narcissistshandler]

I don't know if you do request cause i'm just new to your acc but i love it already but back to the request, if you do take request can you do sae who's acting like a brat so the reader give him a punishment by not getting to come at all ;) i know it sounds weird idk.

If you don't do request feel free to ignore this! Also have a great day!

𝙍𝙐𝘿𝙀 𝘽𝙍𝘼𝙏

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. gn!reader x sae itoshi

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. bottom!sae, sex toys, orgasm denial

✧ 𝖠/𝖭. nothing weird anon, we love punishment around here (and I love sae). I don't know what's going on that every time I review this I see the same mistakes I already corrected, I'll go through it again as soon as I can but right now I'm on the bus and my cell phone is running out of battery

Your boyfriend had many flaws, you knew it even before you entered into a relationship and among those the biggest one was his sassy mouth and your biggest flaw was your lack of patience about it.

Sae wasn't stupid, he was aware of what he said and how he said it and especially, he knew how to push your buttons. He seemed to be constantly testing you, pulling on the rope to see how much it would stretch before it broke. This time, it barely lasted a day.

You couldn't find a coherent part of your mind when that crack sounded, ticking through your mind like a bomb about to explode. Sae's eyes didn't even widen when you climbed on top of him on the bed and without a word began to undress him, on the contrary, there was a curve in his lips. Damn proud of his accomplishment.

Laughter rose in your chest, sounding through your labored breaths. On all fours on the bed, with the face in the pillow, hips shaking in the air and making the filthiest sounds, Sae's pride was nowhere to be found. It started to be shattered when you placed that ring at the base of his small cock and started taking your time with him, first relaxing his hole with your tongue, then stretching it around four of your fingers.

"You're just a slut who needs to get his ass full to shut up, hm?" you provoked, slipping a small, as thin as your finger pink vibrator into him. It shouldn't hurt at all, yet Sae let out a slurred whimper as his whole body shook as if he had been shocked.

The sound was like music to your ears.

Your hands came up to grip his lean hips, helping him keep them aloft as pleasure coursed through his body. The denial of another orgasm lasted for what felt like hours, leaving Sae sweaty and shaking and the relaxed hole barely tightening around what should have felt like dozens of toys under your gaze. It was only five, but you would get there occasionally.

"H-how many... How many more?" Sae strangled, the nearly ineligible words pressed against the pillow, his knuckles pale where they clenched the fabric.

You hummed in the back of your throat, taking your hands away from Sae as your attention returned to the toy box on the bed. You still had so many options...

"One more," you replied, this time choosing a round purple dildo.

"Just one more?" Sae sounded damn naive, all the previous brat attitude gone. But you knew him very well, you knew he only became a sweet little thing so you let him come as soon as possible.

"Yes," you agreed, a smile Sae couldn't see on your lips.

Sitting back on your heels you lubricated the dildo, although a huge amount of lube still came out of Sae. He hated it, which was exactly why you did your best to leave an increasing mess on him. The dildo pressed against the other toys, jostling them for space. Rae whimpered, you having to grip his hips with your free hand to keep him still.

"Stop moving," you ordered, pressing the dildo inward. Sae's well-stretched hole slowly widened under your attention, making room for the new intrusion.

As soon as the purple toy joined the other colorful dildos and vibrators Sae's feet sank into the mattress, pushing himself away from you until he fell onto the bed with heavy breathing and what should have been curses being hurled at you. Your own breathing was labored, your skin hot under the clothes while watching the pleasure tighten Sae's thighs as he rubbed against the sheets.

You wanted to break him, you wanted to break that smart mouth of his.

One of your hands pressed the six toys deeper into him, as if to help him reach that peak, appreciating the discordant vibrations at different speeds and strengths, the symphony of pleasure, torture and denial that suited your brat boyfriend perfectly. Sae moaned and hummed, rocking against the sheets and against your hand, sweat glistening on his skin.

Then he stopped, shuddering and making a sound like a wounded animal as the orgasm was once again cut short by the silicone squeezing tightly around the base of his cock.

You laughed, your free hand pulling on Sae's tight balls to help stave off that 'just a little more' taste even further, after all, it wouldn't do any good if he had a dry orgasm.

"You..." Sae murmured, his voice hoarse and broken. He turned his head, letting you see the tears on his cheeks and the anger in his eyes. "That hurts, you bastard," he spat, furious , that attitude returning as if a switch had been turned. "I..."

You cut him off with a slap on his ass that echoed throughout the room. Sae looked at you as if you had personally offended him, shocked, angry and deep down, excited. "Silence."

Feigning a disappointed sigh, which actually concealed sadistic amusement, your focus turned to the toy box. Sae followed your gaze.

"It was just one more. You... you promised."

The more Sae responded or cursed you the better, it meant you had even more reason to keep using his body until you get tired.

"I did no such thing," you said, choosing a silver bullet dildo. "And I recommend you keep your mouth shut if you want to come today."

Sae's brow furrowed, mouth opening and closing, seeming to consider whether or not it was worth teasing you further. In the end, he closed his mouth, and you really wanted to see how long the silence lasted this time. You forced the dildo into him and delighted in the convulsion of the red edge stretched to its limit, your hands rubbing his taut thighs.

You wanted even more, wanted to have him crying and begging beneath you, a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

[lodeddiperactivate]

Gator talk

A/N: I had this idea of Rafe and someone who comes to OBX because she's obsessed with gators! I did some research on alligators in the Outer Banks to do this but nothing too extensive. I also started avoiding using Y/N as I find it better to not include this? Idk but there are instances when I had to specifically use pronouns instead. Anyway, Rafe is completely smitten and I'm not sure if I should turn this into a series but I really find this dynamic cute. Btw I imagined S2 Rafe in this, his pre-buzzcut era. Enjoy xx

"So why gators?" Rafe asked curiously as he took a sip of his orange juice.

You had visited the Outer Banks specifically to do research on alligators. There's something about alligators that fueled your lifelong devotion to studying them. You were driving along what is known as the Tannyhill estate when your car broke down. You asked for help from anyone around, and there he was, Rafe Cameron.

"Hey! This is private property!"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm having car trouble," you said as you pop the hood. Smoke was coming out of it and you started to go through your usual diagnosis. You don't really know much about cars. You know a shit ton about alligators but not cars. By this time, Rafe had walked towards you to survey the damage.

"Ah you might have a leak somewhere," he said as he rested his hand on the hood of the car.

"What should I do?" You asked and Rafe smirked at your cluelessness.

"We need to wait until the engine cools before we can check the fluids," he said, slowly turning to face you. You were looking at your watch, it's almost night time so you have no idea how to get to the swamps and set up camp there before it gets dark.

"You gotta be somewhere?"

"Yeah, I have to get to Alligator River and set up camp."

"I don't think you can set up camp there," he said in a know-it-all manner, closing the hood of your car.

"I can if I have a permit," you corrected him as you fished a piece of paper in your pocket to show him.

After reading it for a while, he handed the paper back to you. "Look, I can call AAA for you. In the meantime, why don't you come inside for a minute." He didn't wait for you to respond and proceeded to walk back. You quickly lock your car, grab your belongings, and thank god that the car is already parked beside the road so there's no need to move it.

"So why gators?" Rafe asked curiously as he took a sip of his orange juice.

"I don't know. I've always been fascinated about reptiles. Their sheer strength alone is impressive and did you know that alligators can go through over 3,000 teeth in a lifetime? That's crazy!"

Rafe was looking at you, smiling while his chin is resting on his palm. You thought that he was kinda cute looking at you like that. Of course, you were spitting facts about alligators, that's pretty cool. You took a sip of the orange juice that Rafe had refilled for you and continued, "Also, the Outer Banks is known to be a wildlife refuge for alligators. Gosh, I am so excited to see an actual gator hole," you paused again and took a sip.

"Wow, that seems impressive. Did you know that alligators don't hibernate?" He asked you but he already knew that you know that. He just can't seem to help himself.

"Uhmm hello? of course! Unlike other animals that go through a hibernation period, alligators are only known to go through a dormant period during the colder months," you said, lifting your index finger, trying to prove a point.

By this time, it was already dark. There was a hurricane a few days before you arrived so Rafe had mentioned it would be difficult to get help around this time but you were hopeful.

After a few hours, still no one.

"I don't think they're coming," Rafe said as he eyed you pacing the room. "I'd offer to drive you," he started saying.

"Yes, that would be nice!"

"But, as you can see," he said pointing to the Range Rover outside. A huge tree branch had fallen directly on top of it, "my car's unavailable right now."

"Great, this was supposed to be the first day of a great research program and I'm stuck here," you regretted the last part as soon as you said it. You looked at Rafe who was seated in front of you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean here here."

"I know what you mean," he stood up and walked towards you. The way he moves and talks is slow but very sure of himself.

"You know, you can stay for the night if you want. And tomorrow, my family would already be back, and I can use their car to drive you, yeah?"

"Yeah," you said mindlessly. Rafe was pretty tall so he was leaning towards you, particularly close too! Your breath hitches as you sucked in air before replying, "Thank you."

"Come on, I'll show you to your room."

The room was just beside Rafe's. It looked like a guest room. Everything was neat and there are towels ready for use in the bathroom.

"This house is huge," you commented as you looked around the room. You had the perfect view of your car outside.

"Welcome to Tannyhill," Rafe said as he sat on the bed.

You sat beside him and looked at him. You couldn't quite put your finger on him. He looks scary, acts as if he's better than you or everyone else, but does something sweet like listening to you yap about alligators and offering you a place to stay the night and offering to drive you tomorrow.

"What are you looking at?" He asked.

"You." That seemed bold of you.

"Yeah? You like what you see?" He flirted. You blushed at his statement but was quick to recover.

"I do, actually," acting as if what he said didn't made you wet.

You squirmed under his gaze. His lips slightly parted and his eyes on your lips. You leaned a bit closer, and he moves even closer. It was a light kiss on the lips at first which evolved into a makeout session with you straddling him.

"Listen, I don't normally do this but-"

"Oh shut up already," as you kissed him, arms wrapped around his neck. His hands on your waist, supporting you so you don't fall over.

He lays you down on the bed before taking his shirt off and lifting your dress above your head. You lie there in just your bra and alligator-printed undies.

"How cute is this," he said as he palmed you through those alligator-printed panties to feel how wet you are for him.

"Hurry up," you pulled him closer by the waistband of his pants, which you helped him get rid of.

"So needy," as he kissed you again, and then proceeded to kiss your neck, collarbone, and then removed your bra to suck on your already erect nipples. Rafe alternated between the two, with his other hand grabbing and squeezing the other. You wrapped your legs around him and ran your fingers through his hair. You hear and feel him moan through your skin. Rafe moved so that the tip of his cock is directly at your entrance. You moved your hips upward so he can enter you but Rafe held you down in place.

"Patience."

"Please."

He grinned and started teasing you by inserting himself in you then completely pulling out. He does this a couple of times before you wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer.

"Such a pretty little slut," he whispered as he allowed himself to enter you fully, you feel him hit the spot and you gasped for air as you adjust to his size.

"Too...big."

"You can take it baby, there you go, you're doing so well." Rafe then started to move his hips slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him. As he started to pick up speed, your moans became louder.

"Keep going, please, I'm gonna-"

"Shit baby," Rafe said as you cummed all over with him dumping his load in you after a few thrusts. You both collapsed on the bed as he wrapped his arms around you, and you both drifted off to sleep.

~

"Rafe?" Ward Cameron's voice pierced through the entire Tannyhill estate as he and the rest of the Camerons started unloading the car.

"Shoot," Rafe shot up and started getting dressed. You were still a bit groggy but quickly threw on your dress that was on the floor and fixed yourself up to look more presentable. "They're here early, come, let's meet everyone," as he smiled and extended a hand."

"Whose car is parked outside?" Sarah had asked.

"Where the hell is Rafe?" Ward asked, more to himself.

"Hey, I'm here," Rafe said as you and him entered the kitchen.

"Rafe," Ward said then looked at you, "Oh hello."

"Hello."

"Oh, she needed help with her car but AAA wasn't available so I thought, we can use your rover to drive to Alligator River?" Rafe explained the situation to everyone as they all eyed you, probably surprised as to why Rafe is so willing to help out.

"Why Alligator River?" Wheezie asked.

"Oh I'm doing my research on alligators."

"Alligators, huh? That's interesting," Ward said. "Well, of course dear, Rafe will drive you up to Alligator River and you can leave your car here until it's fixed." He extended a warm smile just like everyone else did.

"Your family's pretty cool," you said as you walked to the car with Rafe.

"Yeah, I mean, we have our problems."

"Much like all families," you smiled at him as he started the car.

The drive was pretty smooth, with the roads mostly cleared up by now, you can see how the Outer Banks seems idyllic.

"So uhmm, should we talk about last night?" Rafe asked.

"I'm not sure if talking about it is necessary, unless you want to?"

"Nah nah it's fine," Rafe turned a corner. "It's just that I would not want that to be the last time." He said without looking at you, his eyes on the road, the Alligator River now in sight.

"You don't?"

"Nope."

"Well, then," you smiled, "maybe you can visit me here sometimes," you arrived at the destination. "I'll be here all week."

"Yes, ma'am," Rafe said as he parked the car.

"Okay, this is me."

"Research the hell out of those gators, yeah?"

"Yeah," you responded, to him and that boyish grin that seems to be your new favorite thing, before leaning in and giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

OBX masterlist

[c-art00nish]

So uh. I made some Ocs for @elmushterri stories.

"The Knight’s Handbook" + gunntech because I swear they had me on a chokehold with how amazing the concepts are (*´∀｀*)ﾉ

First starting with The Knight’s Handbook;

Matilda Grayson. An OLD knight, she's been around for some time, but oh well who keeps count of the years anyways?

She died protecting her little brother from- what was it again? Nevermind, that's all she needs to know.

While I got carried away in her fighting poses + awakened form, she doesn't use them much actually! Her main hobby is cooking and if she could do anything other than being a knight then that would be it!

She does just enough knight work to not be scolded around or anything, but most of her time is spent either cooking in the kitchen of the castle or around earth tasting all new combinations of food!

Personality wise she's mostly chill (unless actually pissed off) and goes with the flow. Ever since there were two queens she's pretty much neutral on either, both are actual kids and Matilda is totally side-eying the fact that literal teenagers have so much responsibility on their shoulders.

Ig in the story she'd still hang around the castle and spend her time as always, though if there were to be a takeover from another queen, she wouldn't mind if she got to stay (also totally not to make sure the other teenager with too much angst eats well)

That's about all I got from her for now, but I still have another oc! (^o^)/

This time from Gunntech;

Oof! Isn't she a fun one?

From all the gunntech ocs I've seen (correct me if I'm wrong) none are non-gunntech kids, so I decided to play with that!

I thought it'd be fun if someone had a conspiracy-esque blog about the Gunntech company, that someone is her!

But she didn't start off as anti-Gunntech, oh no, she was actually a really big fan! It also helped the fact that her bestfriend was child of one of the engineers at Gunntech (oc not drawn yet). But one day he just. Dissapeared.

One thing led to another and a rabitt hole was open, every inconsistency that may seem like a coincidence. Every whisper or rumor about something else going on inside those pristine walls. Every single thing is recorded on her blog.

Ofc it is like, very unpopular bc who would dislike the very-good organization that saves the day every day? (With child-soldiers)

I think she'd be hanging out really, REALLY, in the background until last season when the city(town?) needs to be shown what's going on in this facility. Idk, I'd say she'd be a hacket-trope character and then get her hands on those info.

Anyways that's all! And a lot- (゜ロ゜)

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere glamrock freddy(maybe even his ruin self) with a darling who is Gregory’s older sister? And maybe with the yandere prompt 14?

Sure, decided to not do a prompt for this as another request asked for Prompt 14. May have plot holes, I know, but this is just meant to discuss the idea

Yandere! Glamrock Freddy with Gregory's Older Sister! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Parental yandere, Clingy behavior, Dubious/Forced companionship.

Honestly this is a bit tricky to think of but this is what I have.

You are the older sister of Gregory, I was thinking adopted but it's up to you.

(Only because idk if he's a robot himself or not?)

I'm personally a sucker for you being the "morally correct" one out of the pair.

You have always looked out for your more chaotic and rambunctious brother.

Regardless on his origins.

This already would put you on good terms with Freddy.

The bot already has trouble watching the kid.

The thing that is concerning me is how you two would meet.

For the sake of plot maybe you're also good with robotics.

(Would make sense if your brother was a robot.)

Perhaps even working day or night shift at the Pizzaplex.

If you worked at the Pizzaplex you'd have a better time at helping the two, which is a good way to start this.

So let's start there.

You have no idea Gregory somehow snuck in during night shift.

That is until you heard warnings of a kid running around with Freddy.

Going to check it out you end up finding Gregory and Freddy.

Freddy already knows you due to your job.

However, he did not know you and Gregory were connected in any way.

When Freddy sees Gregory run up to you he panics slightly due to encounters with Vanessa.

Except now you both share a hug... confusion and relief evident on your faces.

It's enough to make Freddy feel... odd.

He can't keep his optics off the sight.

He goes to question you... only to hear something he wasn't expecting.

"Freddy, he's my brother... I'm not sure why he's here though."

You're... siblings?

Freddy almost finds himself tilting his head at the question.

"You never told me?"

"It never came up."

It's then Freddy realizes taking care of Gregory will be easier than he thought.

Surely you can take him home?

Turns out you're not allowed to leave your shift... you may not even be able to due to being unable to open the shutters.

As a result you promise to look after your brother.

You try to get Freddy to go and charge but now he refuses to part.

"You could need help! Kids can be a handful, right?"

Reluctantly you allow Freddy to help care for Gregory while keeping him out of sight from Vanessa.

Said night guard isn't as understanding as you are....

This is the main way you could meet Freddy, the other is if there was an AU of one of the endings.

Maybe one where Gregory takes Freddy home and you have to look after both of them because what else is there to do?

The police may just arrest you for theft.

As a result, due to being good at electronics, you are able to charge and care for Freddy until you're able to figure out what to do.

Those are some potential backgrounds that can help fit in a darling who is a sister to Gregory.

Now I'll speak about how you two could interact.

Freddy would get along with you if you act similar to a parent with Gregory.

You may be his sister but you are certainly capable of "moming" him.

Something Freddy finds amusing.

Freddy is still a very docile yandere despite being overprotective.

Especially if you're close to Gregory.

If he escaped the Pizzaplex with Gregory and hid with you, he's grateful for you keeping him in working order.

If you are roaming the Pizzaplex with the two, Freddy knows something is wrong with his friends, so instinctively he tries to protect you with Gregory.

For the most part nothing changes compared to the usual yandere Glamrock Freddy.

He's protective, clingy, and emotionally manipulative.

For the most part he just wants to protect you.

He wants to help you take care of Gregory and maybe even grow a connection to you.

He claims it's just because he wants to help.

In reality he probably just wishes to be close to you and Gregory.

In his eyes you're family.

Maybe he sees you both as children to protect, even though you're an adult.

Something akin to seeing you as his cubs.

Or maybe he sees you as something different and out of his programming?

Honestly, it's up to you, as he acts nearly the same in both ways.

Freddy hates leaving you and often asks you to call him.

If you had to leave him with Gregory he doesn't mind.

He'll watch him for you!

But you will be back, right?

Freddy isn't really shy about showing his appreciation for you.

He hugs you and voices his appreciation for what you do for him and Gregory.

As a result, Freddy promises he'll do anything for you.

He'll stay at home if you ask or watch Gregory as you check something in the Pizzaplex...

He trusts you for the most part, he sees you as family!

You won't leave family, will you?

[sugar-omi]

TRANS MASC COVE TRANS MASC COVE (sfw +nsfw hcs pls,, id love your thoughts)

NO BC NOW YOU'VE PUT THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD N I NEED HIM DESPERATELY eta while im in the middle of writing: after this i... i can no longer hold onto my fem!cove thoughts. n i am eating up trans!cove like a starving ANIMAL.

tags : SFW + NSFW, transmasc (ftm) cove, switch cove/reader, some mentions of body/gender dysmorphia, im sure theres 1 transphobe walking around sunset bird so the smallest mention of that clown

SFW

i've been seeing a lotta top surgery scar tattoos on my twt timeline lately, and pls some of them i need for myself bc they're so!!!! pretty!!!!

so i can definitely see him getting tattoos there

not because he wants to cover em up, i just think he sees so many flash sheets over time that he's SOLD

mmm i wanna say that fem/afab!cove would have small boobs

or B cups at most

either way, i almost wanna say that his boobs before surgery wouldn't bother him as much unless someone was sexualizing him or he was exercising n his boobs were bouncing too much or smth like that

even then its usually complaints of, "ugh, this bra isn't supportive..." or something like that

ofc he still has his moments

i also think he only binds sometimes, rarely

doesn't do it often since it's often hot outside, or especially if he's sporty, its uncomfortable

(also looked it up just to be sure) but since he's always on the beach its inconvenient/unnecessary to wear if he can't wear it in the water

but like i said i think he'd be pretty flat/small anyway, so i think he's okay

mm definitely doesn't give up having long hair, or wearing the occasional dress/skirt ofc

but will correct one of the old sunset bird residents if they try and say "see honey, it was a phase, you're wearing a dress today!"

also idk abt yall, n this is more of a general thought, but i feel like step 2 cove's impulse control is. deathly low.

so one day, he has long/long-ish hair

and the next he has a mullet, wolf cut, or buzz cut.

he's so chaotic to me pls

now i've had fem!cove on my mind for weekssss now

so i'm not just saying this

but cove is still buff

thick muscly thighs, NICE ARMS. REALLY NICE ARMS

mm so i feel like he looks pretty androgynous or masc anyway

now im projecting here.

but cove has irregular periods, n they're pretty heavy most the time

or lasts awhile (ok im done projecting. sorry cove</3)

also think he deals with cramps (IM SORRY COVE)

i think his period is the biggest trigger of his body/gender dysmorphia too

although i think fem!cove would hate her period anyway altho tbf who doesnt

he'd definitely appreciate some comfort!!!

bring him another heating pad, your comfiest hoodie or blanket and snacks

he's very happy for the thoughtfulness and the company

step 2 cove would definitely be moved by such thoughtfulness... he's in tears

so after the first time it's a trend to spend time together in his bed, watching movies or something while he's cuddled into your side or next to you in a cove-rrito, all sleepy n comfy...

NSFW

had to stop writing the SFW to write this bc i had a thought

cove laid out all pretty... his chest rising and falling and he's all teary eyed as you're between his legs, eating his cunt until he's seeing stars.

pls his cunt with be so sensitive, and he'd be so pretty to fuck

would shake so much too

his thighs quivering so bad he clamps around your hand

you'd have to hold his legs up so he doesn't nearly flatten your head between his thick thighs

"y/n!" cove cries, his hands tangled in your hair and he's trying so hard not to squish your head between his thighs, but your tongue is flat against his sensitive clit, sucking and bullying the poor button while your fingers make a loud, sloppy mess of his hole.

he whines, hips shaking in your hands.

you tighten your grip on his waist, your fingers digging into the flesh, grumbling irritably around his clit but cove just cries out a loud moan and slurred word, torn between your name, a cuss word, and a cry for god.

you pull of his clit, your fingers still curling against that spongy spot inside his sloppy walls. "stay still, you're gonna crush my head..." you start to kiss his thighs, small kisses turning into you sucking deep hickeys into his tan skin, and that turning into biting.

cove gasps for air, his eyes fluttering closed as he squirms.

"fuck, y/n, please..." he mumbles, tugging at the bedsheets.

you stop the assault on his thighs, leaning up on your elbows so you can give cove a kiss, your lips lazily moving together...

anyway... horny aside for a moment<333

mm i could see cove not getting or really wanting bottom surgery

i think trans cove would be pretty comfortable with his body's appearance overall

and he's probably read into it a lot since it's not like he hasn't thought about it, i could just see him probably deciding its not something he wants

ARGGHH HE'D BE A DEMON WITH THE STRAP THOUGH

ahh. cove holding you down or folding your legs against your chest while he slams his hips against yours...

his strap hitting your poor prostate / cervix, he'd coo about how cute your whines are and that you're making him leak

would definitely upset he can't fill you up w cum

especially if you wanna get pregnant, rambles about how much he wishes he could fill you up with his cum again and again and again...

arghhh fuck imma lose my MIND

definitely takes advantage of those squirting dildos

can at least admire how you look oozing milky lube

omfg definitely wakes up all excited to tell you if he dreamed about it too...

has an array of straps

we already know he has a tentacle dildo or two deep in his closet...

yeah tries them out on you

"don't get tired yet, i have one more.. and it has a knot!!!"

he just likes to experiment on you a little~~ bit <333

ohh please tell him he looks handsome/sexy while you're giving him head

he'll die.

FUCK HE'D GO CRAZY IF YOU RIDE HIM TOO I KNOW IT

yeah he's still the same cute, secretly horny, big crybaby pookie <3333 i love him pls

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 12

Part 11 | part 13

↝a/n: two updates back to back??? Don't get used to it 💖

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝Warning: not proofread, possible spoilers, cannon events, the upside down, Nancy being mean to reader?, pining, feeling bad as a person, Vecna? Idk anymore, guys... I give up.

↝⎙ 7.31.24

“I think there’s something in there.” Robin stared up into the pulsating gate, her fingers twitching at her side, the nerves getting to her.

Seeing movement to her side, her gaze shifted.

Your gaze was casted down, your hands shaking.

She moved an inch closer to you, close enough to whisper in your ear. “Need a minute?” Her eyes softened when you looked up, eyes glazed over.

With a nod, you were making your way back out of the door, gently shutting it.

Tears instantly cascaded down your cheeks. Your lungs burned. All the emotions hit you at once.

Since you all had started this mission to find Vecna, Robin had paid you more attention than your own sister. Robin was there to ask if you were okay, if you needed a minute.

Sure, there were bigger issues at hand, but Robin still went out of her way. Why couldn’t Nancy?

When she had lost Barb, you were there, helping her search when Steve, her boyfriend at the time, was too busy being “King Steve”.

You offered comfort when Fred was killed, but she pushed you off. You were there when Nancy and your mom would argue. She didn’t have to ask or beg for you to be a good sister, why should you?

Just as you hiccuped, covering your mouth to keep quiet, a clock ticked from behind you.

To say your body froze would be an understatement. Every hair stood up, chills littering your skin.

Against your better judgment, you turned slowly, watching the grandfather clock. The exact clock Max had described stood twenty feet in front of you, chiming loudly. The hands on the clock were spinning faster and faster each second. “Time’s up!” A voice growled in your ear, before the glass of the clock shattered, going everywhere.

A scream from inside had you jumping out of the trance. Turning back to the trailer, you opened the door and rushed in. Everyone looked scared shitless. The gate had a hole in it, light pouring through.

“No way,” An upside-down Dustin laughed in amazement, waving with Lucas, Max, and an added Erica. A broken sigh of relief ripped through your throat, a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Robin gawked, a smile forming on her face, “This is trippy.”

Dustin cackled, “Bada-bada-boom!”

---

Max and Lucas plopped Eddie’s mattress down with a thud.

“Those stains are, uh…” Robin side-eyed Eddie. You didn’t really want the answer if you were honest. “I don’t know what those stains are.” Eddie conceded. Robin made a sound of disgust.

All the kids stood around, watching with hopeful eyes as Dustin grabbed the sheets he had tried together.

“Not quite sure how this physics are going to work. But uh…here goes nothing.” Dustin held his breath as he threw the bundle up. The sheets flopped on the ground in front of you. “There we go. And if my theory is correct…” Dustin let go, watching in amazement as it did exactly what was needed. “Abracadabra.”

Max stared in awe, “Holy shit.”

“Alright, pull on it, see if it holds.”

Robin grabbed the sheet, pulling with all her strength.

“This is the craziest shit I've ever seen in my life.” Erica spoke, “And I've seen some crazy shit.” Dustin held up his hand to high-five her.

Robin grabbed the sheets again, “Guess I'm the guinea pig.” She made her way up the sheet, grunting. You watched as she slowly but surely made it out of the Upside Down and back into your world. “Oh my god!” She yelped before she fell onto the mattress. “Thank god.” she smiled, sitting up, before taking Dustin’s outstretched hand. “That was fun.”

The four of you look at each other.

Eddie looked at you, who happened to be the closest to the sheet. You instantly stepped back, putting your hands up to point at the sheet. “Alright, guess I'll go.” He was next to flop on the mattress. “That was fun.”

“See you on the other side.” Steve waited for a reply from Nancy, but never got one. Looking over, he saw her in a trance. “Nancy?”

Looking away from where you had been staring up, into the gate, you set your eyes on Nancy, feeling your blood run cold. The scene from before, Max floating in the air, so close to death.

You were frozen. As much as your brain screamed at you to move-to help- your bones were stiff.

“Hey! Stay with me Nancy!” Steve shook her body, “Nancy, wake up. Y/n, help!” Blinking hard, you pulled your eyes away from Nancy, into Steve’s terrified eyes. “Help.” His voice cracked, begging you.

“Time’s up!”

The words from before rang in your head over and over. That was meant for you-not her. She wasn’t showing signs. She didn’t deserve it.

Fighting against your body, you grabbed the sheet, climbing, ignoring how dizzy you got from entering the other dimension upside down.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, you were up, ignoring Erica as she tried to help you. Instead, following the yelling from Eddie’s room. They were arguing and yelling as you ran into the room, only stopping when you yanked a box of cassettes into your grasp, throwing them around the room when they didn’t ring a bell.

Erica ran in shortly after, “Steve says you need to hurry!”

You weren’t listening to her or any of the others as they started a commotion.

“Seriously-what is this shit?” Robin threw cassettes on the bed.

“What are you looking for?” Eddie yelled.

“Madonna, Blonde, Bowie, Beatles? Music! We need music!”

Eddie yanked the small box out of her hands, waving it in front of her. “This is music!”

Your eyes shut, palms digging into your eye sockets after the crate of music fell out of your hands, clattering on the floor.

You tried tracking your brain around any music Nancy had listened to or even talked about, only to come up empty-handed. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

Except it was.

---

“He showed me things that haven’t happened yet.” Nancy croaked out, sitting on the edge of Max’s living room sofa. “The most awful things.”

Biting into your cheek, you hung onto her every word. Just 5 minutes ago you could’ve lost her, never hearing her voice again.

“I saw a dark cloud spreading over Hawkins. Downtown on fire. Dead shoulders. And this…this giant creature with-with a gaping mouth. And this creature wasn’t alone, there were so many monsters- an army. They were coming into Hawkins, into our neighborhoods, our houses. And then he showed me my mom, Holly, Mike, Y/n,”

You looked away, feeling sick to your stomach.

“The-they were all….” Nancy’s bottom lip quivered, breath shaking.

“Okay, but…he’s just trying to scare you, Nance.” Steve said, trying to ease the tension that had become very thick ever since Nancy had come out of the trance. “Right? I mean-” He stumbled over his words, “I mean, it's not real.”

“Not yet. But there was something else.” He showed me gates, like the one in Eddie’s trailer, but they didn’t stop growing. And this wasn’t the Upside Down. This was our Hawkins, our home.”

“Four chimes.” Everyone turned their attention to max as she spoke up. “Vecna’s clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly.”

“I heard them too.”

Thinking back to the grandfather clock you saw, you didn’t count the chimes, as that wasn’t your concern at the moment. You certainly weren't about to tell them that you had seen the clock.

“He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.”

“Four kills,” Lucas went off Max’s words, “Four gates.”

Dragging a hand down your face, you sighed, glancing up at Max through your fingers.

“He’s only one kill away.”

---

“Try ‘em again. Try ‘em again.” Steve watched as you walked over to Max’s phone, punching in the numbers to the Byers’. The line continued to bleep.

“Anything?” Dustin asked, hopeful in his stare.

“No,” you sighed. “Rang a few times, then went to busy signal.”

“Maybe you punched it in wrong.” Steve suggested, “try again.”

“I didn’t punch it in wrong.”

“Pretty sure she knows how to use a phone.” Dustin squinted his eyes at Steve.

Steve raised his hands, in defeat. “I’m just saying, she could’ve typed it in wrong.”

You turned back around, yanking the phone from the wall, before carefully typing the numbers.

Ring, ring, ring, busy signal.

“Same thing.” Exhaling, you leaned against the wall beside the phone.

“How is that possible?” Lucas folding his arms in frustration.

“I told you,” Dustin mirrored his movement, “Joyce has this telemarketer job. Always on the phone. Mike won’t stop whining about it.”

“But it’s been busy for, what, three days now? It can’t be Joyce.” You grumbled, bringing your hands up to scrub at your face in frustration. “Something’s wrong.”

“She’s right,” Nancy started, finally agreeing with you on something. “It can’t be a coincidence. It can’t be. Whatever’s happening in Lenora is connected to all of this. I’m sure of it. But Vecna can’t hurt them, not if he’s dead.” She turned back around, back toward the window she had been staring out, in thought. “We have to go back in there-back to the Upside Down.” Everyone opened their mouth, disagreeing in every way possible.

“No, no, no. Let’s think this through.” Steve stood, pacing the living room.

“What is there to think through?” Nancy stepped forward, venom behind her words.

“We barely made it out of there. Steve nearly got strangled by a bat, Nancy.” You spoke, trying to avoid the argument that was about to unfold. “You nearly died.”

“Yeah, because we weren't prepared, but this time, we’ll get weapons and protection. We’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Or he’ll kill us.”

With your attempt to de-escalate the situation failing, you accepted defeat, sinking to the floor beside Robin.

“They fight like an old married couple.” Robin leaned over, whispering in your ear.

She was so close. If you were honest, you didn’t register her words, too busy focusing on her breath fanning against the shell of your ear and how it had your brain short-circuiting.

Your train of thought got interrupted when she stood, adding herself to the conversation. “It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin countered, “you’re right, he’s like Eleven. But that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths and weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” Erica questioned.

Dustin nodded, pointing at her, “When Eleven remote-travels, she goes into this sort of trance-like state. I bet the same is true for Vecna.”

Lucas cleared his throat, “That would explain what he’s doing in the attic.”

“Exactly,” Dustin agreed, “When he attacks his next victim, I’ll bet you he’s back in that attic, physical body defenseless.”

At the mention of Vecna’s next victim, your eyes traveled to Max. Almost like she could feel your gaze, her eyes met yours.

What were you supposed to do? It wasn’t like Vecna was throwing a bomb that you could jump on to save Max. You couldn’t just let her die, she’s just a kid. It seemed to be a waiting game between you two. Maybe Vecna was playing with you guys, trying to distract you. You were also young. You haven't lived yet. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to do after Senior year.

The mental battle wasn’t helping your case any. Your mind wasn’t clear. Maybe you would’ve been able to think of a single song that Nancy had listened to if your mind wasn’t cluttered. Maybe Vecna wouldn’t be in your head if you weren’t worrying about him so much.

It wasn’t a competition, it didn’t have to be. You just had to find a way for neither of you to have to die, without alerting the others. They were already busy. You can figure this out on your own. If it did come down to it, you were willing to be the one to be Vecna’s next victim.

Max had family, friends, Lucas and their on and off relationship, a future, and a childhood to continue. She deserved to go out with her friends, to the arcade or the park. She deserved to go to school dances with Lucas.

Just like that, you decided.

⚠️Important a/n⚠️: I need help picking a song for this fic. I have been listening to different songs from the 80's to see which one should be reader's favorite, but then I had the idea that I could just use the song that this story was based off of (since the series kinda went off the tracks with the original plan). I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkey's is a good song and I could make it work. Obviously it wasn't released in the 80's but this is fiction anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Should I continue looking for better songs or use I Wanna Be Yours? Your opinion would be highly appreciated 🩷 I will even credit you if you want. Thank you.

•© 2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

• My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

🫧 Taglistׂׂ ૢ ~ @overtrred28 @ihatepeanutss @jovana1234578 @dobbycarl @kyleeservopoulos @marirxse @ch-3-rry

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

I haven't written McDanno in forever, so idk if the characterization is anywhere near correct. But some McDanno for you all.

****

"Shut up," Steve practically growled as he glared through the windshield from the passenger seat. There wasn't much to glare at, as the pouring rain was coming down so hard, if he hadn't crashed into any of them on their way back to the truck, he couldn't know there were trees out there.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then why can I hear your ranting anyway, Daniel?"

"Maybe because I am both flabbergasted and amazed at the same time that a previous boy scout turned Navy SEAL who grew up on this island is the one who keeps getting hurt on these adventures you insist on dragging me into!"

"Did you really just say flabbergasted?"

Danny sighed and they returned to silence between them, the only noise being the pouring rain in the jungle. "I can't believe people have paid for this noise to help them fall asleep."

"Not everyone associates any form of water with drowning."

"Yeah, well, that's just another bit of evidence that I'm just smarter than almost everyone," Danny grumbled. There was a pause before he looked over and asked, "How's your leg?"

"Hurts like a bitch. Pretty sure I sprained something but nothing feels broken."

"You're not escaping a doctor visit."

"I never said I wasn't."

"Good."

"I just don't really see why I'd have to. Once we get back, I can ask Max to look me over, get the better bandages, we have over-the-counter pain meds at home. Done and done."

"No," Danny said firmly.

They entered another bit of silence that stretched on, despite the air being filled with a tension of both of them wanting to say more.

Steve sat up, and reached over, while calling out, "Hey..." When he turned Danny's face toward him, he captured the blond's lips with his own in a tender kiss. When they pulled apart, Steve smiled at Danny and ran his hand through his lover's soaked hair, "I'm sorry for ruining your hair."

Danny scoffed but cupped Steve's face and pulled him in for another kiss. This one came with Danny licking Steve's bottom lip. They adjusted as best as they could in the front of Steve's Silverado so they could deepen the kiss into a proper make-out session. When they pulled back this time, Danny flicked Steve's forehead with a nonheated glare, "When are you going to apologize for hurting my boyfriend?"

"That really more important than messing up your hair?" Steve asked with a small, but amused smile.

"Damn right, it is. He's mine. And I hate it when he's hurt. Only acceptable instances are bites from me or bruises left by grips when we're having some fun at home on lazy mornings."

"It's not just lazy mornings."

"If it had been, we'd be at home, making lunch and watching a game..."

This time it was Steve's turn to sigh. He turned back to facing forward but reached for Danny's hand and interlocked their fingers. He brought Danny's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, "I want you to see the island like I do. To see it as beautiful and enchanting. I...I want you to like it, if you can't love it. So you're not just tolerating it."

"...hey," Danny echoed what Steve had done earlier and cupped his face and made Steve face him. He leaned in and gave him a gentle, loving kiss, "The island and I are...getting used to each other. Grace's opinion on it matters most to me, and she loves it. But next to being able to be near my daughter, I got another reason for this pineapple infested hell hole to actually be paradise for me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And he's got some shit luck every time he tries to get me into the jungle. And hopefully will read into that, that it's a sign from some spirits, to stop bringing your boyfriend out to the jungle!"

"I don't know, Danno. I think we gotta try again. To show whoever keeps fucking up my jungle dates that they can't win! We're winners!"

"Next time you ask me out on a jungle date, you're really gonna have to work for it."

Steve grinned devilishly, "You know I love a challenge. And I know all you like. I'll enjoy getting you to agree for a next time, Danno."

"With what you'll have to do to get me to say yes, not as much as me, babe."

[valentinoappreciator]

a new and utterly deranged fic from yours truly <3

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Valentino x Female Reader

Rating: E for Explicit (account of the graphic violence, not steamy hot sex, for once lmao)

Word count: 4.6k

Where else to read: AO3 (username: TheWeirdDane ; title: Una Hermosa Noche) (not sure about correct-ness of Spanish but ah well) (will also be added to my masterlist)

Warnings / tags: graphic violence. Cannibalism. Blood & Gore. Soft Valentino (yes truly in his own funky way). Emotional manipulation. Love Confessions.

Author's Notes: PLEASE read the tags, my dudes 😭 I tried to make it graphic since I'm a blood & gore porn whore, but... idk.

Anyway, here we go~

-------------------------

“It’s a beautiful night. Isn’t it, babydoll?”

You nodded. It was all you could do, what with you being gagged and all. 

Valentino put this cigarette holder to his lips, took a deep drag, and let out the smoke in a thick plume of scarlet. You watched, enthralled, as the cigarette in the holder smoldered. You drooled a bit; how utterly pathetic. 

With your heart racing in your chest, you felt almost sick with barely-contained lust when Valentino bent by the hips to get on your eye-level. Your own eyes widened while his narrowed, pulled into tight slits by his wide, menacing grin. 

“Ya know what else is beautiful?”

You felt a blush burn across your cheeks, reaching all the way to the tip of your ears and down your neck. When he raised an eyebrow, you shook your head, eagerly awaiting what you were sure was going to be a compliment in your favor. 

“Me.”

He laughed loudly before flicking the cigarette butt into your face. Not for the first time, you found yourself wishing that he would light a cigarette, only to snuff it out on your skin. Perhaps your tongue. You weren’t picky. 

A muffled whine escaped the holes in the gag. Valentino snickered, tilting his head, as if in sympathy. You both knew there was no sympathy in that man’s heart. Not right now, anyway. 

In that man’s heart - page-long essays could be written on whether he had one at all - there was currently nothing but an obsession that ran deeper than even the deepest pits of Hell. A possessiveness that rendered it impossible for you to hang out with others, let alone be on set with your fellow porn actors. 

Valentino was not a man who shared easily - if at all. Sure, he could share Vox, and he could share Velvette, but they were business partners. They were assets.

You.

No, you were his.

“But of course,” he purred, dragging a hand down over your cheek, passing the soft leather strap with ease, “you aren’t too hard on the eyes, either.”

Your blush intensified. Your eyes automatically turned down, looking at your current predicament; hands tied behind your back, your knees strapped to and pressing into the softest, most velvety pillows that money could buy. Pillows that would set you back several months, financially speaking. 

“In fact,” Valentino continued and straightened, cocking a hip to one side, “word’s been getting around. You’re quite a... catch, according to the peasants of Hell.” He paused briefly to position another cigarette in the holder and light it. Then he went on. “‘Cause, babe, you see, I’m not a peasant, now, am I?”

You shook your head vehemently. Valentino snickered and patted your head. You felt liquid heat sear your veins. 

“Good decision, doll. You’re right. I’m no peasant; I’m an overlord. I say jump, and you say...?”

How high! you screamed in your head. All that came out of your mouth, however, was a dollop of spit. 

Valentino caressed your cheek once more. 

“Being an overlord grants me certain... perks. I can do whatever I want. Whoever I want. Whenever I want. My word is law, basically, sweetcheeks.”

You nodded eagerly, looking up at him with wide, glistening eyes. You couldn’t be fawning more over him if you tried. It was a pathetic display of adoration, but Valentino was eating it right up. And you couldn’t pretend it wasn’t real, either. 

“So,” he said, exhaling wisps of pinkish smoke into the air while grinning down at you, “right now, I’m saying you don’t have to do nothing.”

For the first time, you managed to find a creak in the suffocating lust, and a light frown entered your face. You didn’t have to do nothing? What did he mean by that? You couldn’t do anything; that was kind of the whole point. You were tied up and gagged. 

Uncertainly, you tugged on the padded leather cuffs, making the buckles and chain between them rattle. 

Valentino chuckled at your apparent confusion. Took another puff of his cigarette. 

“Oh, doll. You never were the brightest girl on the payroll, now, were you?”

You blushed again. Granted, you knew your IQ wasn’t, like, fantastically high, but you had done well in your schools in your living life... Besides, your audience loved the ditzy school girl fantasy, and it was a no-brainer why that particular scenario had become your main income. So, what could Valentino possibly mean with this...?

Your frown deepened a tad. Valentino patted your cheek, and you knew you only imagined the warm tenderness that his hand left behind. Or did you...? The look he sent you was... different, in a way you couldn’t quite decipher or describe. It lingered on your lips for a fraction of a second. Then he was all wide grins and thick, heady smoke. 

“I own you, sweetheart,” he purred, bending forward once more. He even took off his shades, which made you nearly choke on the spit you inhaled. Without his glasses, his eyes were so much clearer, so much brighter, but even so, you couldn’t read them, or his face in general. 

“That means every part of you. All of you. Do you agree?”

You nodded eagerly, and foolishly tried to inch closer to him. He merely snickered in that mocking way that made you shudder, before pulling away from you. 

“So, if I were to, say, devour you, you wouldn’t object. Would you?”

Once more, you shook your head without really paying attention to the words. Sure, you heard them, but they didn’t really register.

Not until he continued, anyway. Then they clicked into place. 

“And if I were to eat you, you wouldn’t object. Right?”

Your eyes widened so far they must’ve looked like saucers, and you went completely rigid. He was... he was kidding, right? Making a joke? Cracking a fun one? No way he was... serious, right? 

“Doll,” he sighed, straightening up and subsequently pulling a desperate whine from your stretched lips. “That attitude simply won’t do.”

You shook your head, the crevice of doubt long-since sealed up tight with impenetrable concrete. 

“What were you before you came to me, hmm? Before I so generously gifted you this penthouse apartment where you host parties and do drugs all day and night?” He stretched out all four arms, gesturing to your surroundings. “Before your career really took off, where were you? Were you living in splendor?”

You shook your head. 

“Were you popular? Were you likable? Were you even anything?”

A whimper while you shook your head hard. Valentino glared down at you, his eyes once more obscured by his shades. 

“Did you have anything? Did you have a bed, a couch, a roof over your head? Did you have a golden credit card that could open any door in Hell? Did you have friends? A job? Anything?”

You shook your head once more, breathing fast and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

“Did you have a purpose?”

For some reason, that struck your heart like an icicle had been jammed through the rapidly beating organ. Once more, your body went completely rigid, and you simply stared up at him, eyes so wide they threatened to roll out of their sockets. Panting hard, saliva trickled down your chin and dropped onto the expensive pillows. Your fingers felt like they were buzzing slightly. So did your toes. 

“Doll?” he asked sweetly, cupping your cheek. “Did you have a purpose before meeting me?”

You shook your head, slowly at first, then with more conviction. No. Valentino was right; you were nothing before you met him. You had had nothing. Valentino had made you. He had taken you from an innocent - well, mostly innocent - freshly fallen sinner, and turned you into a porn star, known and lusted-after throughout Hell. 

He smiled, and it seemed... too genuine, somehow. You knew Valentino was a master manipulator, but you felt certain that no one could fake that kind of smile. 

“That’s right, baby. You were nothing before me. A useless bag of bones. A sack of meat not even worth looking at. A waste of skin, even. But I so generously took you in. I offered you clothes. I offered you an apartment. I offered you a job. And you took it all.”

The tears slid from the corners of your eyes and down over your cheeks. Valentino noticed - of course he did - and stroked them away with his thumbs. He looked... strangely sincere. Until he grabbed your jaw with a hand. Then his menacing grin was back in place. 

“You took everything I offered,” he repeated, and every word was like another icicle stabbed through your heart. “So, it’s only fitting that I now take everything that ya owe me, right?” 

You swallowed hard. For the second time tonight, another crack of worry appeared. You were foolish enough to let your gaze stray. It went to the emergency exit door for a fraction of a second but it lasted enough for Valentino to see. 

“Right?” he then growled, squeezing your jaw so tight you genuinely feared the bones would snap, and you instantly looked back at him.

Hurriedly, you began nodding. It was true; it was only fitting that you repay the favor. 

Whatever you want, sir, you tried to telepathically communicate to him. Maybe it worked; either way, he seemed appeased, and released your jaw, throwing your head back with a force that nearly sent you sideways into the floor.

He smiled warmly. 

“Good girl,” you blushed fiercely, “so that means you’ll let me do anything. Right?”

The crack of worry grew, if only a fraction. 

You nodded again. 

“And I do mean, anything. Ya can’t wriggle your way outta this one, babygirl.”

You shook your head and swallowed hard. If you had had a tail, and if you had been a dog-like sinner, it would have been wagging cautiously. 

I won’t, you tried to say, but all that came out were a few muffled grunts. 

“Good girl,” he purred, flicking the butt of his cigarette away. It landed on the floor somewhere behind you. “Let’s begin, then.”

He turned away from you, and you couldn’t contain a pathetic whine. That didn’t get him to turn back, though; instead, he went to the kitchen. You could hear him rummage around the cabinets and drawers. 

“Babe, where do ya keep the good knives?” his voice drifted into the living room. You froze, eyes widening even more, if that was even possible. Then he laughed, and you heard a light slap, as if he facepalmed. “Of course. You don’t have good knives. Not the kind of knife I’m gonna need, anyway.”

He came back into the living room and strutted towards a small leather bag he had dropped onto the couch upon his unannounced arrival. Your breathing came hard and fast; knife play was a good old favorite of yours, and his as well, but you failed to see how that would be repaying the favors. 

He made a big show out of turning around so you could see him open it. From the bag, he pulled a gorgeous, black leather sheath, the handle embedded with massive rubies that spelled out his name. 

Your breath hitched in your throat once the blade was finally free of its confines. It was stunning; slightly curved and somehow looking soft, it was big enough that the blade couldn’t fit in the palm of Valentino’s hand. The blade had a vague, rippling pattern, like waves were rolling across it. As with most knives, the tip tapered to a sharp point, but an interesting design choice was that the dull part on this one curved inwards. 

It was so beautiful that your eyes were fixed on it, to the point where you didn’t even realize that Valentino was moving, or that the tip suddenly slid down your cheek. 

You gasped. Not because it hurt - because, weirdly enough, it didn’t - but because of pure surprise. Then you looked up at Valentino, eyes brimming over with abrupt understanding. 

He wasn’t going to just do knife play on you, was he? 

Devour. 

Eat. 

He was, quite literally, going to eat and devour you. 

The realization sent a shockwave through you. You couldn’t help but recoil, although the effect was greatly de-dramatized since you were strapped down. Valentino laughed mockingly, slicing a thin line into your other cheek. 

“Don’t worry, babygirl. This knife’s so sharp, ya won’t even feel a thing. Well. Not the cutting part, anyway. See?”

To demonstrate his point, he slid the tip of the blade along both of your collar bones. You had to admit that, like with most things, he was right. You didn’t really feel the cutting, but you did feel the trickling of blood. 

Now that fear was pumping through your veins, you began trembling, and you tugged on your restraints again. They rattled helplessly. Valentino snickered, patting your cheek and smearing the blood that began dripping down your jaw. 

“Don’t worry. I made sure those cuffs are on tight. Wouldn’t want ya to wriggle out of this, now, would we?”

You didn’t move a muscle, aside from your eyes following Valentino. He squatted down in front of you, bringing him to your eye-level. He lifted the knife for you to see it properly, the tip slightly stained with your blood. 

Then, with cold waves of fear washing over you, he brought that tip closer and closer to your left eye, until you were sure it was touching. But it never did. You leaned back. The knife followed. You went cross-eyed trying to focus on the blade. 

You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until Valentino burst out laughing. 

“Oh, doll, you’re too easy. Don’t worry, I won't gouge out your eyes. Not my style.”

Not feeling out of the woods just yet, you eyed him warily. He twirled the knife between his long, deft fingers. 

“Where next, hmm? Have a wish, baby?”

You were quiet, save for your quick, shaky breathing. 

Valentino sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, but you knew him well enough to know that he was having a fantastic time. He was feeding off your fear. 

“I always have to do all the work around here. Very well, then.”

Grasping the hilt tightly with one hand, Valentino used his remaining three to steady you. 

“This might hurt a bit, doll. But you’ll be a good doll and take it for me, won’t ya?” 

Tears trickled into the open wounds on your cheeks. You didn’t even wince; simply nodded obediently. 

“Oh, and when I say ‘a bit’, I actually mean ‘a lot’. But you know that, don’t ya?”

You nodded again. It seemed this was the only movement your otherwise paralyzing fear permitted you. 

“Good girl,” he purred, and his voice was thick with... something. It wasn’t quite lust - although there was plenty of that in there as well - but something sweeter, something lighter. Something... warmer? 

You looked up at him, very purposefully not looking at what he did next. However, with each agonizingly long and slow cut, your eyes fixed on a different feature you loved about him to try and distract yourself from the pain that was starting to sneak into your flesh. 

By the time he had finished carving along your ribs, you were trembling. You didn’t feel lightheaded yet; your stamina for knife play always amazed your audience, and although there was no audience right now - that you know of, anyway - you didn’t want to appear weak in front of Valentino. 

“You’re taking it so well,” he praised, sending liquid fire through your veins that heated up your face. 

Barely had he finished talking before he jammed the knife into you, right below your sternum. His grin widened impossibly much when a muffled scream ripped itself from your throat. Your eyes went wide, and you automatically tried to pull away, but every twitch and every move sent paralyzing jolts of pain through you. 

Panting, and feeling sick to your stomach from the agony as Valentino dragged the knife down, slicing through your flesh as easy as a knife through warm butter, you felt beads of sweat trickle down your forehead and down over your face. 

The pain was immediate, and it was sharp and stinging. It made you sob, the sounds muffled by the gag, and as a result, you trembled all over. 

“Hold still for me, sweetheart,” Valentino rasped, appearing spellbound by how easily your stomach opened for him. “Yeah, that’s it, good girl. You’re trembling so much already! And oh, doll, we haven’t even begun.”

Your eyes rolled back, showing white, and you tried to steady your breathing. With not much success, if any. Gurgled, choked-off sobs left your wide open but occupied mouth. Vaguely, through your paralyzed state, you heard Valentino moan, and you vaguely registered the clattering of a heavy knife falling onto the floor. 

Next thing you knew, the most surreal feeling overcame you - it was the same feeling you had when missing a step while descending a staircase. All air was knocked out of you when Valentino stuck all four hands into your abdominal cavity with a moan so loud it threatened to tear down the walls of your apartment, and so hungry one could be led to believe he hadn’t eaten for weeks.

Your eyes closed. It wasn’t even intentional; it just happened. As if to block out the sight of Valentino pulling and tugging on your innards. Blood poured from the gaping gash, as did your intestines. Valentino was there to catch them, though, and another moan left him, this one quiet and shaky. 

Eyelids fluttering, you felt weirdly empty. You didn’t want to know what that could possibly mean, or how you could still be awake, not to mention alive. You refused to look at what he was doing. However, the sounds were enough. They were more than enough, in fact. 

There was, of course, the slick sound of guts being rearranged - and not even in the kinky way - and the sound of... your heart thundering in your ears. 

You focused on that. Decided that each aggressive heartbeat was proof that you wouldn’t give up so easily. You wanted to, but you weren’t going to.

The pain was paralyzing, and you couldn’t do anything but sit there and listen to Valentino doing... whatever it was he was doing to the insides of your stomach. 

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious, doll?” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “You taste positively divine!”

That got you to open your eyes. Your eyelids felt like curtains of lead, but you managed to pull them back and tilt your head forward. In doing so, however, you realized your mistake; by tilting your head forward, you had used the last of your strength. If you wanted to not look at Valentino cannibalizing you, you would have to close your eyes.

And somehow, having seen Valentino right now, you couldn’t bring yourself to do that.

He was practically beaming. Blood and viscera smeared over his face, his hands, his arms, his clothes. The white fluff collar around his neck was stained to such a degree that you couldn’t tell the red hearts and your blood apart. His glasses were splattered with the red liquid. His nails had bits of intestines under them, and a piece of... liver? Was stuck between his sharp, now bloodied teeth. 

But despite being so messy, despite being covered in blood and gore and viscera, you had never seen him this elated. His breathing was hard and fast. His hands trembled slightly as they dug back into your cavity to pull out more of your innards. 

Then, fingers threaded through your hair on the back of your head, before they gripped tightly. You let out the most frail of whimpers. A whimper that morphed into a cry when his nimble fingers opened the gag’s buckle, and it fell onto the floor, bouncing a few times before rolling under the couch. 

The chances of you finding it again were slim. 

“You’re ravishing,” he croaked, and abruptly surged up to catch your lips in a searing kiss, the force of which pushed your head slightly back. It was rough, and demanding, and possessive, and so very good. Even now, on what was surely the brink of collapse, you could recognize the arousal and lust that simply oozed from Valentino and seemed to infect yourself. 

Thus, a weak, pathetic moan left you. 

“You’re such a doll,” he continued against your lips, his voice throaty and thick with what you imagined was blood and viscera, but what you wanted to be adoration. 

You kissed him back as hard as you could, eager to pour your own admiration into the kiss. As the kiss went on, he pushed your blood into your mouth, his tongue and saliva mingling with yours. 

It was foul, it was disgusting, and it was completely exhilarating. 

Despite being on the verge of - temporary, at least - death, you had never felt more alive. Your heart was fighting tooth and nail to keep you that way, the sound of rushing blood so loud in your ears that you almost missed Valentino’s next words.

“And you’re. All. Mine.”

The grip on your hair tightened hard, and you moaned into the kiss. Your eyes drifted closed again. Next thing you knew, his fingers quickly undid the cuffs on your wrists, before going to the straps around your legs. You couldn’t help it; everything that had happened tonight, and continued to happen, meant you slipped sideways and fell onto the luxurious pillows. There were so many of them that it was like a second layer of carpet, strewn over the already lush carpet on the floor. 

The kiss was broken. 

Immediately, Valentino all but shoved his face into your stomach, feasting on your organs. All four hands pulled them into his mouth, and he moaned so loudly, so passionately, so without shame, that you finally knew, with absolute certainty, that this wasn’t just a kink thing. Well, sure, that might be a part of it, but the most important thing was that Valentino had never been this honest with himself around you. 

Even without saying anything with his words, his actions almost screamed that he was deeply, utterly obsessed with you, in a way that could never be good or healthy. But, well, you were both in actual, literal Hell. 

He panted. The sound of loud, wet chewing filled your ears. 

Your own breathing was sharp and superficial. Once more, you wondered briefly how you were even alive right now. It shouldn’t be possible. Sure, you could only die to an angelic weapon - Valentino had divulged this during a particularly rough porn shoot, assuring you that this little session wouldn’t kill you but a holy bullet just might - but surely, this had to be up there, right?

... right? 

Not that you wanted to die.

The realization hit you like a freight train. 

I don’t want to die. Not now. Not when Valentino finally loves me.

Because surely, this was as close to ‘love’ as Valentino was capable. It wasn’t much, but you’d take it.

You stared up at the ceiling that seemed to disappear in the darkness of your blurred vision. You felt a wide, dopey grin spread on your face. You would’ve laughed if it wasn’t because blood was pouring out between your lips. The only other thing that escaped was a wet, gurgling sound that could have made it out for a deranged bark of laughter. A big, thick, glistening bubble of blood sat by the corner of your lips. 

You poked it with your tongue. 

It broke. 

You made another wet sound in the back of your throat, and Valentino lifted his head. 

Despite your face-reading abilities being quite limited at the moment, you could see that he was as if hypnotized. His jaws were slack, and his eyes big and round and almost empty. He looked almost high.

“What is it, babe?” he grunted, stroking your still rapidly-beating heart with a few claws. Your entire body shuddered. Your brain screamed danger, danger, danger! As it always did when Valentino was around. You had never listened to it, and you weren’t about to start now.

You shook your head, delirious, the big smile still on your lips. Your fingers buzzed pleasantly. Maybe you were the one who was high? Was this all a hallucination? Had you taken any drugs today? Not that you could recall...

Your tongue didn’t work. It barely moved, and felt heavy and swollen and limp in your mouth. Having been rendered speechless, you instead - somehow - managed to lift a hand. Weakly, and without any coordination whatsoever, you slapped it onto Valentino’s head. Still smiling, you felt around his head with your fingers until you reached the back of it. You heard the breath hitch in his throat when you caressed his skin. 

“You’re mine,” he repeated in a low snarl, leaning up to kiss you harshly again. “All mine. No one else can have you. Got that, baby?” 

You nodded, whining into the kiss. It had the rich, sharp taste of blood and guts. Once more, Valentino shoved his tongue in your mouth, but this time, it wound down your throat as well, nearly choking you. Your body jerked and twitched weakly. 

Once the tongue left your throat and mouth, your brain felt even more empty, if that was even possible. His hand rummaged around in your open stomach, pulling out the remains of your organs one by one, until they were in his lap. It was done slowly. Tenderly. Kindly. 

Eventually, the only organs left inside your body were your heart and your lungs. 

“You’re mine.”

But where the other announcements of possessiveness had been gruff and throaty and demanding, this one was soft. It was full of warmth, and so subdued it was more akin to that of a lover’s gentle caress. 

You looked down at him, blearily. Suddenly, all the ferocity was taken out of him. All that was left was a man who shook so hard it was like he was having a long and on-going seizure. He sagged against your torn up and deeply mangled body. 

“Mine.”

Now, it was said weakly. There was exactly none of the obsessive possessiveness that had driven him to eat you in the first place. It was like being smacked in the face with a wet, rolled-up newspaper. 

You blinked slowly. In your current state, you couldn’t quite make out what he was trying to say, until he whispered,

“Please.”

Then, as if that one little word made all the difference, you understood. 

Valentino never said please unless he was teasing. Which had to mean... 

Valentino was capable of love. 

It was just... a kind of love you had never, ever known. And now, he had cast it all on you. 

“I’ll fix you. If I have to sew you together myself, stitch by painful stitch, I’ll do it.”

You felt weirdly warm throughout, especially considering that most of your blood was not inside your body anymore.

“Just... be mine.”

You let out a small, bloody blob when you opened your mouth to try and answer. Your hand on the back of his head slid to his neck. He shuddered hard. 

“Please.”

Weakly, you squeezed his neck for a second. 

How could you possibly refuse him? Sure, in your current state, you might not be thinking straight, but you were clear-headed enough to know that you didn’t mind Valentino loving you, or you loving him back.

“Let me love you. Let me love you like only I can.”

His voice was painfully sweet and desperate. 

The decision practically made itself.

You nodded.

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Kate slaps ghosts ass in a 'good job team' gesture and he stares at gaz and soap like don't say a fuckin word I'll kill you

I'm CRYING

also, lbr, Soap and Gaz are a leeeeeelll jealous. This is reminding me of Go Go Nighthawks from Nerdy Prudes Must Die " we're all giving the butt slaps now, with consent of course, cause we care"

Anyway Gaz is like "how do I get one of those (butt slaps not your girlfriend Ghost calm down mate!!!!!)"

Important to note: Ghost does NOT slap Kate's ass (in public at any rate) because he does NOT want other people getting the idea that this is something appropriate to do to Kate and he knows that some idiot new recruit will attempt this. Obviously he doesn't give a shit about the hypothetical recruit but Kate shouldn't have to deal with that shit and none of them need to deal with the paperwork that would follow when she beats the stuffing out of said hypothetical recruit.

Ghost isn't really a slapper, anyway, he's a groper. Favorite place to put his hand is Kate's back pocket. Girl thicc (also he fucking LOVES the hip holes. They are Stupid as fuck but he's a grabber) He also does some non-sexual boob grabbing. Like a comfort hold. Or if she's having neck/shoulder issues he'll hold them to take some of the weight off. Or they will be getting in the way of something and he'll hold them back for her. I can't stress enough that the boob holding is not sexual. (Gaz falls asleep on her during a mission and is like. ah, i get it now. Very Comforting.)

A lot of Kate/Ghost Hawkeye/Ghost interactions wind up with Ghost giving this "i will kill you if you speak of this" glare to the boyos (Kate/Simon is different because he doesn't care when he's in full civilian mode. loves when she stakes a claim on him in public like that. he's obsessed with hickeys)

Also Ghost is in charge of correcting the assumption that Gaz and Soap have that, as Kate is an AVENGER, an HONEST TO GOD SUPERHERO, she has to be a little more indestructible than they are, aye? Kate does not realize this is the assumption and therefore doesn't bother to correct it which leads to Ghost bursting onto the roof of a building or something idk and being like NO NOPE KATE IS ACTUALLY VERY BREAKABLE SET HER DOWN GENTLY and all three of them pout at him. How is this his life.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Shed

Perhaps a Janus shedding fic? Idk with who, but maybe with him getting some scratches on itchy scales, from whoever is helping him through it, especially after scratching wayyyy too hard himself. Even better if he’s shedding because Thomas is going through a change, so he’s never actually done it before :) so he doesn’t know what’s happening :) – cherry-sofa-756

Okay, so. You are hands-down one of the best Sanders Sides fic writers out there and I will die on this hill. I will die on this hill and take everyone down with me. Anyway. Dramatic declarations aside (heh), I was wondering if I could make a request? I know this has been done before, but a fic where telling the truth actually hurts Janus, but he does it anyway because [insert one of several reasons here]? You just do Janus angst so well (you do everyone so well, how are you this good, how do you exist, can I tuck you into my pocket for safekeeping and appreciation) and I am honestly excited whenever I get a notification from you, so I figured why not ask? No pressure, though. I wish you all the best, may your ideas flow endlessly as you wish them, my friend! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: shedding and body descriptions therein

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 2347

    It starts as auspiciously as it could have, he supposes, with a slight twinge of pain on the inside of his glove.

"Hey, Janus, do you remember what the consensus was of cinnamon versus blueberry?"

"Blueberry."

"Oh, great, thanks. Is the good baking tray over there?"

When Janus doesn't say anything, Patton glances up only to see him staring at his hand.

"Uh, Janus? You okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I just—mmph."

"You sure? You don't sound okay. Is something the matter?"

Janus looks at his hand for a moment longer before shaking himself and smiling at Patton. "Yes, I'm quite alright. You wanted this tray, correct?"

Patton gives him a strange look but doesn't push, taking the tray and continuing to gather the ingredients they need.

Later, back in the safety of his own room, Janus hisses as he carefully peels his glove from his left hand, wincing as it tugs and sticks in all the ways it shouldn't. When the last of the fabric is gone and he can see his hand properly, it's a curse he hisses between his teeth.

He's shedding.

"Of course I am," he spits, reaching for his first-aid kit tucked on top of his desk, "of course, can't just be a snake in the abstract and metaphorical way, no, I need to be a snake literally too, hmm? Have to molt and shed and hissssss…"

He takes out a tube of ointment and opens it, wincing at the crack of the scales on his hand.

"Sure. Why not?"

Getting a little bit of the ointment on the very tip of his finger, he starts to smooth it over the cracked and peeling scales only to stifle a cry of pain when it burns, leaping up from his desk and rushing to the bathroom to wash it off. He shoves his hand under the cold water and scrubs, almost chewing a hole through his lower lip as the pain flares bright and sharp up his arm.

"And of course, I don't have anything that would actually be useful," he grunts as he finally gets the pain to stop, "why would things I have already be helpful? That would be easy, and god forbid things be easy for me."

Alright. So no ointment. Shit, what do snakes do when they shed?

He could ask Logan, although Logan would want to know how he's feeling, what the scales are reacting like—would want to examine him to determine what snake he resembles the most, would want to see how much of him is covered in scales, because Logan is always curious.

He could ask Remus, but Remus might not understand that Janus wants this to be, well, as painless as possible, that he wants to just have a little bit of help and not find out what happens just for the fuck of it.

He could ask Virgil, who is the only one who might know what this is like with his molting cycle or whatever, but…

But trying to ask Virgil for a favor now, especially after all they've been through, seems like rubbing salt into an open wound.

Or rubbing that goddamn ointment over shedding scales.

"So," he grunts, sitting back down at his desk, cradling his hand in his lap, "the Internet it is."

He finds a dubious-looking article that says to try and keep the snake's environment moist and humid, suggesting paper towels and a plant-mister to keep the humidity levels high. Warm water…orchid bark substrate…and oh, not to forget that a snake's scales will become duller in appearance and their eyes will go all cloudy and blue before they really start shedding.

Great. Just great.

He looks back down at his hand, which is already starting to look dull.

"This is going to be fun."

****

The extra fun thing about it is that it seems that telling the truth makes it worse.

Try to tell Patton that yes, he'd like another cup of tea? Burning on the inside of his glove.

Try to tell Logan that no, he's not being ridiculous with his new paper idea? Side of his face itches like crazy.

Try to tell Remus that he needs to calm down and start trying to clean up? His clothes hate him now, actually.

Try to tell Virgil that everything's alright, that he can work out of the spiral he's in? No legs for him, he has to sit down and not move until his scales settle down.

Try to tell Roman that he cares?

More like try not to jump at the sight of his reflection in the mirror, one eye clouded and blue and almost blind.

The good news—if you can even call something good news in a time like this—is that he's forced to lie to keep up appearances for when the others start asking questions, which at least staves off the very worst of it in public. But when he hides in his room at night, he has to wince and tremble as he peels his clothes off of himself and clambers into a bath that is either too cold or too hot, trying to help the shedding go faster.

This hurts. This really fucking hurts.

Shit, how often does he have to do this?

He crawls out of the bath and dries himself gingerly on a towel, crawling into bed and curling up into a little ball. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, tries to get away from the terrible itching sensitivity that's starting to break out across his scales. If he can just weather this until it's over, he can figure out what to do next time and make sure he does it. If he can just fall asleep…

He lies awake for hours that night, fighting the urge to toss and turn to get some relief on his itching scales and fighting the urge to cry out at every rasp of fabric against his oversensitive skin.

The others are starting to get worried. He managed to plead off the issue with his eye by pretending it was a colored contact from Remus when Virgil cornered him about it, but he knows sooner or later Virgil's going to go confirm that with Remus himself and discover that it was a lie. He's got to figure out something before they all bust down his door, demanding to know what's going on.

"I'm fine," he chants in the sheets, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine…"

It's the only way he's able to get to sleep that night, because the lies make the pain a little bit easier to bear.

****

Of course, no lie lasts forever, and Janus wakes up in a dizzying blur of sensation, body on fire and eyes clouded over, twitching and groaning in pain as his scales do their very best to rid themselves of his body. A cry traps itself in his throat, his eyes welling up with furious tears as he tries in vain to find some comfort on the blankets that feel more like hot coals.

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

No sooner does the pain swallow his senses does he feel the tug of two Sides appearing in his room.

"J? J, I felt that, are you—holy shit."

"Oh, Snakey, you're an idiot."

"Now is not the fucking time, Remus, go go go!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going."

"Hey, J," Virgil's voice says, muffled through layers and layers of cotton, "hey, hey, it's okay. We're here now, we're gonna help you."

Help? How in the fuck are you gonna help me with this?

"Don't worry," he continues when all Janus can do is groan in pain, "I'm sure whatever quip you were trying to make was a winner."

Thank you.

"C'mon," Remus's voice says from a ways away, "I got the door open, bring him through. The cot's still in the spare greenhouse, we can put him there."

"Ready? One, two, three, up we go."

He's hoisted as gently as possible into two strong arms and carried like a babe through to somewhere warm and sweet-smelling. A confused moan leaves his mouth as he's laid to rest on something soft, a gentle breeze following him.

"We need to get your clothes off you, Snakey," comes Remus's voice, "they're only gonna hurt you. It's okay, it's just us."

Hands, gentle hands free him from the worst of his clothing, leaving his boxers to protect what little modesty he has left. When the slightly humid air touches his scales he could whimper from relief. Then there's something soothing and wet pressed against the scaled side of his face and he blinks awake, only able to make out fuzzy shapes as he turns his head.

"Shh, shh, lie still," Remus bids—Virgil must be the one holding the thing to his face— "we gotta get you in a bath, okay? You've started shedding in pieces, we gotta help make sure you get all of it off, okay?"

"R'mus?"

"Yeah, Snakey, it's me. Virgil's here too."

"Hey, J. Long time no see. Oh, shit, uh, I mean—"

A small laugh works its way through Janus's throat and Virgil chuckles.

"Swear that wasn't intentional." He leans down too and oh, there's the blurry Virgil. "Do you think it's okay for us to move you? There's a warm bath over there that'll help loosen up the process for you, okay?"

"Hurts."

"I know, bud, it's gonna hurt for a little bit until we can get you calmed down."

"Why?"

"Blame it on biology if you want. Stress makes the shedding process harder."

"That's stupid."

"Yes, yes, it is. Unfortunately still true."

Janus grunts and leans into Virgil's touch. Remus carefully cards his hair back from his face. "You okay to let us move you, Snakey?"

"Mm."

"Up we go," Virgil says again, carefully lifting him up to carry him across the greenhouse and set him down in a large basin of warm water. "Can we help wash you?"

"Mhm." He turns his nose into the crook of Virgil's neck, breathing in softly. "Smells good."

"What, me or the greenhouse?"

"Both."

Remus chuckles. "That's good to hear. C'mere, give me your arm…"

There's something terribly intimate about letting someone else bathe you. Remus's hands are gentle as they work over the smooth scales—well, less smooth now—and rinse the beginnings of shed skin free from his body. On the other side, Virgil carefully does the same to the scaled parts of his torso, careful to avoid any red and angry bits as Janus begins to drift under the sensation of it.

"You're doing real good, bud," Virgil murmurs, "really good. We're almost there."

"Can we wash your hair," Remus asks, "we'll bring another basin over so the shampoo won't get near your scales, but it might feel nice to not be all greasy anymore."

"Just be careful?"

"Of course." Virgil gets up and he laments the loss for a moment, but then Virgil's sitting behind his head and smiling down at him. "Hey, bud. You wanna let me wash your hair?"

"Mhm."

What kind of greenhouse is this, he finds himself wondering as Virgil starts to spray his hair with a faucet, and why is Virgil so good at this?

Then Virgil starts to work his fingers through Janus's hair and there goes his capacity for higher thinking. If he could be slightly more aware, he might be embarrassed of the noises leaving his mouth, but as of right now he's just going to enjoy not being first and foremost in pain. The shampoo Virgil's using smells really good, not too strong, and leaves a pleasant cooling effect on his scalp even after it's been rinsed out. Remus's hands are sure and gentle as they finish cleaning the last of his scales, sitting back and running a damp hand through his own hair.

"Let's have you soak for a little longer," he says quietly, "then we'll get you out and see what else you need, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Remus levels a stare at him. "Just come to us next time, yeah?"

Janus shifts a bit sheepishly under the look. "…yeah, okay."

"Good."

"You look sleepy," Virgil murmurs, still working the conditioner through his hair, "if you wanna doze off, that's okay. We'll wake you up when we need to move you."

"…yeah?"

"Yeah, bud, go on. It's okay, we're right here."

And so he closes his eyes, drifting off to the feeling of Virgil's hands in his hair and warm water lapping against his scales.

Maybe…maybe he needn't have been so scared about asking them for help.

Perhaps the worst of it truly is behind him, because the truth doesn't hurt as the warmth and safety lull him to sleep.

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