#if he did though…trust it would be just as gross as you’d think it was

[cruesuffix]

Alien mick could buy all the shampoo smoothies bottles he wants but if he wants to make his own

can you even make your own shampoo? no no jokes aside, if he wanted to make his own smoothie it would probably include a lot of blended up bars of soap and maybe motor oil and/or gasoline. maybe he’d add little scraps of metal if he was feeling adventurous. i can’t really see him take the time to make his own smoothie though, so he’d mainly just drink the shampoo…it’s like a premade smoothie you’d get at those bougie stores.

[minswriting]

ONLY NEED ME - Spencer Reid x Reader

About: You were scrolling on your phone, swiping left and right on tinder to find a date. Spencer finds you scrolling on your phone and asks what you’re doing. So you tell him you are looking for someone to hookup with. He decides to show you that you don’t need anyone but him.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, oral (f), pussy drunk Spencer, jealous spencer

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: happy valentine‘s day my little sluts. although this isn’t valentine’s day themed, let’s pretend that it is lol. i hope you guys enjoy!

It was a rare day when there were no cases and yet, you were still required to come into work, just in case something happened. Usually, these days consisted of paperwork, going over recently solved cases to ensure nothing was missed and that everything had followed protocol. But for a team that is so action-based, having to do paperwork was entirely boring for everyone except Spencer, who was engrossed at his desk, the one across from yours, reading every file intently.

Meanwhile, you were sitting at your desk, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. It had been a long time since you had sex. With your line of work, it’s hard to find time to do anything outside the realm of your job. So you were doing what any normal person would do nowadays: resort to dating apps. You were scrolling on Tinder, mindlessly swiping left and right on people you thought were and weren’t attractive. You stopped at a certain profile, trying to decide if someone was cute or not and if you’d actually be willing to have them in your pants.

JJ walked past your desk and glanced at your phone. “Oh? Who’s this?” She asked, standing next to your chair.

You glanced at JJ before looking back at your phone. “Some random guy,” You said, showing her your phone. “Do you think he’s cute?”

JJ shook her head no, a small grimace on your face. “You can do much better, sweetheart,” She said, her grimace becoming a smile. “Are you finally looking to meet someone?”

You laughed, shaking your head no. “I’m just looking to get dick,” you replied bluntly, giving JJ a cheeky grin.

JJ laughed, nodding her head. “I get it,” she said, sighing. “Will and I haven’t had our alone time in weeks,” She rolled her eyes.

You pout in sympathy before swiping away the guy on your phone. “Do you want to help me look for the perfect person?” You asked.

JJ nodded her head, grabbed a random chair, and pulled it up to your desk. “Hell yeah, give it to me,” She grinned as she looked over your shoulder at your phone.

Unbeknownst to you and JJ, Spencer, though his attention looked as though it were on the files, had a frown on his face. To anyone, it would look as though he were deep in thought. But actually, it was due to listening in on your conversation with JJ. Why did you have to resort to some stupid dating app? Shouldn’t you know better than to trust random strangers on the internet? That’s like kind of what your job is about. Spencer felt a gross feeling in his chest, something he hadn’t felt before. Perhaps he’s been attracted to you since you joined the team some time ago and the idea of you seeking someone else for pleasure made him jealous. Not that he’d actively admit that.

As you and JJ sat there, talking and giggling with one another about random people you see on your phone, Spener bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his attention on the files in front of him. His jaw was clenched, and his hair tousled all over the place. It wasn’t until it was finally time for everyone to go home that he could get some peace and quiet. As everyone, including you, exited the bullpen to go home, Spencer remained alone with his thoughts for a little while longer.

He thought about you going on a date with some random person. How you’d get yourself all dolled up and beautiful for some random loser who likely wouldn’t even know where the clitoris is. Spencer may not have the most experience in the world but he definitely knows where the clitoris is located. He groaned to himself, realizing that his jealousy was consuming him. He rubbed his eyes before sitting back in his chair. And then, Spencer came to a sudden realization, causing him to quickly stand up and grab his satchel before leaving the Bureau.

You were in your apartment, sitting on your couch as you looked through the television channels. You were dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, your hair mostly dry but still a bit damp from the shower you took when you had gotten home from work. You were originally going to see about possibly going on a date tonight but instead, you opted to stay home, too exhausted to really want to go out and meet anyone.

You didn’t particularly care to actually date anyone. Your desires are always laid elsewhere, with a very specific coworker you had. And unfortunately, you could not have this specific coworker as it would break so many Bureau rules. But you were allowed to have your thoughts, thank you very much. And if those thoughts included thinking of Spencer pounding into you and whispering praises into your ear then that was your own volition.

It was currently eight o’clock in the evening when there was a knock on your apartment door. You glanced at the clock before standing up from the couch and walking to the door. You looked out of the peephole, seeing Spencer standing there looking a bit disheveled. You opened the door, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion as you looked at the brown-haired man in front of you. “Spencer…?” You asked. “What are you-”

“You know, some people use dating apps to target potential victims for violence or sexual assault,” Spencer interrupted you. “Which is why you shouldn’t use dating apps.”

Your look of confusion remained on your face. “You know, that could’ve been a text,” you replied sarcastically.

Spencer bit his lip, looking at you. “Maybe,” he replied. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You were always so beautiful at work, dressed in mostly professional, sometimes casual clothing with light makeup on your face. But right now, you were ethereal. Dressed in lounging clothes with your hair perfectly natural and no makeup on your face. At that moment, Spencer didn’t understand why you even bothered to get yourself dressed up each day when you were perfect just the way you were.

“Why are you here?” You asked softly, noticing the way Spencer was looking at you. You didn’t question it, however.

Spencer remained silent for a few seconds, trying to think of a proper response to give you. He hadn’t completely thought this through when he made the sudden decision to visit you. Finally, he spoke, “Do you want me to leave?”

You shook your head. “No!” You responded immediately. “I just- I’m surprised you’re here is all.” You bit your lip nervously. You hadn’t invited Spencer in yet and that had suddenly dawned on you. You moved to the side, allowing Spencer to step inside before closing the door behind him. You leaned against the door, looking at Spencer as he turned to look at you.

“You shouldn’t resort to dating apps,” He spoke. You furrowed your eyebrows at Spencer, confused as to why he would come here just to tell you that. Just as you were about to respond, Spencer cut you off by speaking once more. “Not when I could help you.”

“What?” Your voice came out more hoarse than you intended.

Spencer cleared his throat, the only sign that his confidence had slightly diminished. “If you need someone to pleasure you, you don’t need to use dating apps when I’m right here,” he said again, rewording his earlier statement.

“Are you saying you want to have sex with me, Spencer?” You whispered, biting your bottom lip.

Spencer moved closer to you until he was right in front of you. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered.

Spencer nodded his head. A silence overcame the two of you before he spoke again, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” you responded.

Spencer leaned in and gently kissed your lips. It was nervous and hesitant, as if unsure if you’d actually want to kiss him or not. But when you kissed him back, Spencer became more sure of himself as he kissed you deeply. He brought his hands to your cheeks, cupping them. The two of you moved in sync, kissing one another slowly. Eventually, Spencer pulled away slightly to look into your eyes as you stared back at him. The gaze the two of you had held a hunger that neither of you had admitted to yourselves in the entire time you’d been working together.

Spencer kissed you again, this time more roughly and hungrily. A soft noise escaped your lips from the roughness but it wasn’t unwelcome whatsoever. As the two of you kissed, you gently pushed him around the apartment to try and get to the bedroom. Spencer accidentally bumped into a side table, causing a vase to fall to the ground but luckily it didn’t break. “Whoops,” he said, pulling away from the kiss to look at it.

You put a hand on his chin. “Don’t worry about it,” you said as you pulled his face back to yours. The two of you continued moving throughout the apartment until you reached your bedroom. Spencer’s lips left yours and began kissing your jawline, making his way down to your neck. His touch was like feathers as he lightly kissed along your skin. His lips brushed against your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine and causing you to clench your thighs. An action that wasn’t missed by Spencer.

“Needy?” He asked against your skin.

You nodded your head. “Very,” you whispered.

Spencer let out a hum as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt. He slowly pulled the material up, moving his head away from your neck so he could pull it off of you and tossing it to the side. You weren’t wearing a bra and Spencer couldn’t help but just look at you. “Can I touch you?” He breathed out, eyes locked on your tits.

“Yes, please,” You replied breathily.

He didn’t hesitate to use both of his hands to massage your tits, feeling the flesh in his hands. He thumbed your nipples, causing you to moan softly at the feeling. “You know, some women can orgasm just from having their nipples stimulated,” he murmured, eyes fixated on your breasts.

You let out a small laugh. “I don’t think I’m one of those people,” you exclaimed.

Spencer let out a hum as he leaned down and captured one of your nipples into his mouth. The action caused you to let out a whine as he tongued the nub, his hands still massaging your boobs. He moved to the other nipple, doing the exact same thing. Your cheeks were warm as felt the sparks of pleasure being sent down your spine. Eventually, Spencer pulled away, pressing gentle kisses along your chest before returning up your neck and to your lips.

He guided you to your mattress, sitting you down at the edge of the bed as he pulled away from you. You looked up at Spencer, watching Spencer as he got on his knees in front of you. “Do you want me to continue?” He asked softly.

You licked your lips, nodding your head. “Yes, please,” you murmured.

And that’s all Spencer needed to put his hands on the waistband of your sweatpants and pull them down, tossing the material to the side. You weren’t wearing underwear underneath, causing Spencer to let out a soft hum of approval. “I want to taste you,” he said, looking at you with his puppy brown eyes.

“Please do.” You whispered, biting your lip as you spread your legs for Spencer, revealing your cunt to him.

He let out a groan, his eyes immediately moving to look at your glistening pussy. Without hesitation, Spencer dived in, licking a strip down your slit and then back up, causing you to moan. Spencer hummed against your cunt, his eyes fluttering closed as he tasted you. His tongue began lapping around in figure-eights, teasing your clit with each flick. If you had told yourself that your night would end up with Spencer on his knees, eating you out, you would’ve laughed. And yet, here you were.

Spencer made out with your cunt, his lips moving against your pussy like you were the sustenance he needed to live. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the nub. You let out a loud moan, bringing your hand to Spencer’s hair and tugging on his curls. The action alone caused Spencer to whimper against your cunt as it encouraged him more.

You were whining and moaning, relishing in the pleasure Spencer was giving you. No one had gone down on you in so long and you had almost forgotten what it had felt like. But Spencer? He was built for this. His face was sculpted to eat pussy. If you could live with Spencer’s head between your thighs for the rest of your life, you think you’d die a happy woman.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, throwing your head back. Spencer hummed against your pussy, his tongue dipping into your hole while his nose rubbed against your clit. He was breathing in your cunt, drunk on your juices. You could feel yourself getting closer, causing you to buck your hips. “I’m gonna cum,” you whined. With a slurp to your clit, you gasped and let out a choked moan, thighs clamping against Spencer’s face as you arched your back. “Spencer!” you moaned his name as you came.

And when you finished, Spencer pulled away from your pussy. His face was glistening with your juices as he looked at you with a smirk. “You’re so beautiful,” he said huskily as he gently rubbed your thighs. “Did I do good?”

“So good,” you breathed out, smiling at Spencer.

“Then you don’t need anyone else, right?” He asked, standing up.

“I only need you, baby.” You replied, looking up at Spencer with a dazed look. “Now fuck me.”

Spencer grinned, undressing himself before crawling onto you. “Gladly.”

And after that, you begin a new journey with Spencer where you explore each other’s bodies. Why do you need to use dating apps when all you need is Spencer?

[pochaccoups]

achilles’ heel — choi seungcheol

pairing — choi seungcheol x fem!reader

summary — after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

wc — 3.1k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, light angst, fluff, body insecurity, body worship, petnames (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m receiving), creampie

author’s note — hi i still think about when cheol said in a live that he wears big hoodies bc he’s insecure of his body and im still upset because i need him to know that he makes couprangs (ME) feel insane over his body that’s sooo big and strong ok enjoy

Something is bothering Seungcheol.

You’ve been with your boyfriend long enough to reasonably suspect when there’s something on his mind, and while he’s gotten relatively good at putting on a front to his members, it’s a little harder for him to conceal his thoughts from you. You, who’s ever observant and aware of his habits. You, who, when Seungcheol is sick with something even if non-contagious, somehow coincidentally feel the same symptoms. You, who is practically empathetically connected with him.

It’s not hard to notice that he’s been distant, though. Ever since he’d been able to walk again after his surgery, he’s had a weird edge to him that was never there before, like a rescue dog with trust issues. 

By no means had he become neglectful to you. Not once had he stopped treating you like you were his entire world, but it was all in the way his hugs weren’t as tight as usual. He insisted he didn’t need help with things like showering or dressing anymore—which was fair since he could walk now, but when you’d asked if he wanted to join you in the shower, suddenly he was too tired. Once upon a time you couldn’t even finish the question before he was stripped naked and next to you. 

You don’t remember the last time you’d been intimate with him. The moment your lips would make their way to his neck after a soft makeout, he’d ease you away from him, gently confessing that he just wasn’t in the mood, that he was just too tired again. 

And that’s fine with you—you’d die before disrespecting the boundaries which are so crucial to your relationship. You did miss him though, and deep down, something in your heart had told you that, along with everything else, something was not right.

You’re curled into his side one night when you find the courage to confront him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment his chest stiffens under your cheek. 

“I know… Why?” he asks, hesitant, as though he’s walking on eggshells.

“I feel like you’ve been acting, I don’t know, off. I’m worried about you, Cheollie,” you admit, poking your finger into his torso. 

Three of his breaths, full of contemplation, fill the air before he speaks again. 

“It’s my body,” he says. “I don’t like how much bigger I’ve gotten.”

You bolt upright, staring dead into his eyes with daggers in yours.

“That’s why you’ve been so squirmish?”

He nods his head, pouting absentmindedly, then continues. “I’ve just felt… gross.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him across the face. Your hands ball into fists, your face growing hot as rage bubbles and stirs beneath your skin. You climb on top of him, trapping his waist between your thighs as you sit upon him.

“Choi Seungcheol, you’re so stupid.” There’s an air of affection in your words, but you hope they’re stern enough to get through to him.

He groans as he hides his face in the fabric of his hoodie. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because you knew it was stupid? Cheol, you were in rehab recovering from surgery. You literally couldn’t walk for weeks. Besides, you’re acting like it’s a bad thing that you’ve gotten ‘bigger’,” you say, fingers wrapping around his wrists so you can pull his hands away from his face. “Do you know how feral you’ve been making me feel recently?”

“Feral?!” he says, eyes widening as he fails to stifle an adorable giggle.

“Your shoulders are so broad now and it drives me fucking crazy,” you say, falling into a fit of your own laughter because the sound of your boyfriend’s laugh is more contagious than any sickness. 

Lacing your fingers with his, your expression hardens. In the rich brown of his eyes, his insecurity finally rears itself to you—and you’re determined to destroy every last shred of it.

“Love everything about your body, Cheol. Love when you cuddle me and hug me with your big arms, makes me feel so safe,” you confess, your smile radiating warmth. Your fingers squeeze his ones.

“Love how you can carry me around, on your back, in your arms…” You let go of his hands to flatten your palms against his stomach, smoothing up his torso slowly. His own hands, eager to never be empty, find your hips, his fingers pinching softly at you through your leggings.

“Love your thick thighs, love sitting in your lap…” You’ve reached his chest now and Seungcheol is smirking — he’s well aware of your obsession with this part of him. 

“Love when you throw me around, manhandle me like a ragdoll, pin me down…” You’re grasping at his shoulders now, leaning forward until there’s hardly an inch between your faces.

“Love when you spank me…” 

It’s then that something in Seungcheol shifts. His pants grow tighter, his hips shifting underneath you as you straddle him. He likes to think he’s a man of self-control, even when it comes to your antics. But there are times where he abandons all discipline — right now, his head is cloudy because he hasn’t let you touch him in weeks.

“You’ve been depriving me of cock all this time because you’ve been eating too good?” you say, scoffing as you reach for the hem of Seungcheol’s hoodie to tug at it. You pause, glancing at him for approval. Still with a dash of hesitation he sits up, helping you shrug it over his head, exposing himself to you.

“Don’t get too bratty, I can keep depriving you,” he retorts, but it’s playful. 

It’s like your first time with him all over again. All you’d gotten over the past few weeks were glimpses of his bare skin, a peek as he came out of the shower or changed or when his shirt lifted up as he stretched. He’s always been a little modest, but never to this extent. 

The sight of his bare form knocks every last breath from your lungs. He’s always been beautiful—strong and dependable, now even more so. His body has always given you the urge to get on your knees and worship and pray to him like the Greeks did, now it feels as though you were born to do just that. 

Then there’s a pang of violence, too, because he hasn’t even changed that drastically. He’s a little softer in his tummy, his arms a little thicker, but that’s all, really. It’s definitely not something for him to have been hiding out of disgust. Of course, it’s not all too difficult to deduce why he felt it necessary to do it—he’s an idol. It’s his job to look picturesque and perfect and flawless. His mind is bound to become mean, to turn to cruel lies of not being good enough.

Your lips leave a trail along his skin, from his collarbones, to his chest, and down his abdomen. Your hope is that each kiss will help chase away Seungcheol’s every last insecurity. It’s naive of you, perhaps, because it will take a lot more than just this to unravel what he has convinced himself of. At the very least, it’s a start.

You paw at the band of his sweats, lips hovering below his belly button as you glance up at him.

“Can I take them off?”

A nervous pause. Then, “do it,” he says, sighing softly. 

And then you’re pulling them down his legs, down his thick, hard thighs—the ones made for you to sit on. 

His boxers come next, but not before you ask for his explicit permission again. More than ever, you’re utterly dedicated to his comfort. 

It’s instinct how your hand reaches for his cock, heavy as your fingers wrap around it and so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. The sight of it which you’ve missed so much, pretty, pink, and veiny, has you drooling already, your teeth baring down on your bottom lip. You’re aching between your legs. 

You need him inside you or you might die.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkle as he watches your lips leave wet kisses along his length, pecking along the veins as you make your way up, then spoiling his tip with sweet smooches and kitten licks in between.

“Missed you, Cheol,” you tell him, breathy and tender.

“I know,” he says, then you take his cock past your lips and he hisses as the warmth of your mouth greets him. 

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, missed you, until his tip bumps the back of your throat and you’re choking around him despite not even having half of him in your mouth yet. His hand flies to grab a fistful of your hair, still managing to treat you gently as he pulls you back.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he pleads, the rasp in his voice instilling within you an urge to listen. His effect on you is trance-like, his honeyed voice irresistible. 

You blink up at him, batting your tear-brimmed lashes at him, knowing how it makes his heart swell. You take him slowly this time, one hand stroking at his base so that no inch of him is left untouched, and you swallow him little by little. 

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, a gorgeous sound that makes the world spin around you. It rushes straight to your core, burning through you, turning you hungrier, greedier.

You can’t help but slip one of your hands down between your thighs, sliding your fingers between your folds which you find practically dripping. Your fingertips dance over your clit, circling it softly before you dip two of your digits inside to feed the insatiable flame that burns in your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seungcheol groans, catching sight of the way your fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you—his cock twitches in your mouth as he speaks. 

The sheer size and thickness of your boyfriend’s length always proves challenging for you, but the heat emanating from deep within your core begs for you to spoil him—because his pleasure is equally yours—and has you burying him all the way down your throat in spite of the tears that spring to your eyes and the clench of your oesophagus around him. 

And the thing about Seungcheol is that his mere existence is enough to toss you out of your mind, to make you throw all morals out the window until you’re no better than a cat in heat.

He lets out a noise that’s part-laugh and part-moan as your nose nuzzles against the wiry hairs of his happy trail, never failing to be caught off guard by your eagerness even after years of being your lover. His hand settles on your cheek, at the corner of your lips that are stretched around his girth, his thumb drawing soft strokes on your skin.

“I said go easy,” he says, voice strained, but he chuckles amusedly through his words.

You bob your head back up, popping off of him briefly. Webs of glimmering spit connect your lips with his cock, and Seungcheol thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He can’t help but brush his thumb over your swollen lips while his eyes drink you in with a tender gleam. 

“Can’t help myself,” you reply, smiling coyly, then the next moment you’re back on him again, swirling your tongue around his tip.

You pull your fingers from your pussy momentarily to drag your nails along his thighs, so thick and heavy with muscle that you’re certain when you sink them into his skin he feels no more than a soft scratch. It helps when you swallow him whole again, helps keep your tears at bay just a little, helps the muscles of your throat relax so that you can bob your head up and down his length the way both you and him like it.

You don’t go too fast lest he pulls you away for ignoring his pleas, but there’s also no need for you to go too fast. Yes, you’ve missed him, missed having him like this, missed touching him, but right now that’s not what you’re concerned about. All that spurs you on is the want —the need—to make Seungcheol feel as desirable as he is to you. 

So you take him steadily, at a pace that’s enough to get him worked up and simultaneously lets your affection drip from every drag of your mouth along his length, lets you taste every inch of him and every drop of his salty precum. Your soft moans muffled by his cock merge with his ones, breathy and whiny, broken up by praises and light mewls of your name. 

One of your hands moves between your legs again, squelching as your fingers enter your throbbing cunt once more.

You refuse to break your eyes away from his, as though averting your gaze from him even for a second would mean he would vanish before you. It’s also Seungcheol’s Achilles’ heel—look into his eyes and he doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

You could predict the way curses start spilling from his lips and the way his cock starts to throb lightly in your mouth and the way his hips start to buck every time his tip reaches the back of your throat. When it comes to you, he’s weak and he will never hide it.

“Baby, I’m close,” he says, a near whisper. 

His confession prompts you to pull your mouth off of him and he whimpers, pouting shamelessly like a kicked puppy. Some alpha leader. 

“You’re really teasing me right now?” 

“Cheollie… You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and you think I’d just let you cum like that?” you say, but your voice is full of playfulness. You want to make up for the affection you haven’t been able to give him for so long, yet a part of you wants to get back at him a little. 

“I’ll remember this,” he grins.

“I know you will,” you tell him as you clamber up his legs until you’re straddling his waist, bending forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth and pouting at him. “What if I want you to finish inside me though?”

“Then let me prep you first,” he insists, giant hands finding your hips and drawing circles with his thumbs. He’s about to flip you over onto your back, but you shake your head and press a hand to his chest to keep him still. 

“I’ve already prepped myself, Cheollie, you wanna taste?” 

Before he can bicker back, you push your soaked fingers between his lips and into his mouth, and he sucks them subconsciously, lapping up every last drop of your arousal with a moan.

When his mouth is free of your fingers, he smiles.

“I still wanna touch you,” he rasps, resolute.

You lean over him until your mouth is on his again, but this time your lips slide sloppily against one anothers’ from the mess of saliva and cum that drips from them. Your hands travel up his torso, palms smoothing over his bare flesh, but touching him is not enough. 

“I wanna take care of you, Seungcheol, so please just let me,” you whisper against his lips, grinding your hips over his cock where it lays against his abdomen. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, sighing as your lips drop down to his neck and nip at his tender skin there. “But I’m eating you out for at least two hours next time.”

You perk back up to shoot him an unamused look, in spite of the fact that it’s really a win-win situation for you. You just hate that there’s no budging your boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“I love you,” he says, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk.

And here is your Achilles heel, because you’re just a girl, after all. A girl not immune to her breathtaking lover’s sweet words, whose heart sways at his whispers of affection to her—to only her. 

Warmth floods your veins. The need to be one with him becomes urgent. 

Grasping onto Seungcheol’s broad shoulders, you sink down upon him, inch by inch until he’s bottomed out inside you and your moans of relief are perfectly in sync. He grips your hips so hard they’ll probably bruise, no doubt having become unused to how sweetly your warm walls envelop his cock like a hug. Meanwhile you’ve forgotten how his dick, in all its thickness, is capable of punching the air from your lungs.

Still, there’s no hesitation in the way you start to bounce your hips on him and it’s not long before the burning stretch fizzles into a glowing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. 

When you’re above him like this, you’re able to take in the sight of all of him. His biceps, bulky and thick, his shoulders, sturdy and broad. Every inch of him is so perfect that you wonder how he’s all yours. You hate to think about how he could have possibly felt disgusted by himself. If he wasn’t already yours in real life, he would be in your dreams, exactly as he is as he lays beneath you. 

It’s overwhelming. Feeling him again after so many weeks, the way his cock drives into you so deliciously, his sculpture-like body—you’re not sure what does it, probably a mixture of everything, but before you know it your pussy is clamping down on him and your entire body quivers with a wave of

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby, I’m right with you,” he utters, staring at you as if you descended straight from Heaven.

“No,” you say, and your hips halt their bouncing, yet your fingers are still toying with your clit as you recover from your orgasm. 

Seungcheol whines at the cruelty of it.

“Not until you agree this body is sexy,” you say, teasing, grinding your hips painfully slowly along his cock—certainly not enough to keep up any kind of stimulation.

He gives a pained, exasperated laugh, and thinks fuck, he’s in love with you. He’s not sure what he’s done, maybe saved a life or two in a past life, but even that seems like it’s not enough for him to deserve you. 

The way your walls squeeze down on his cock makes his head spin. If he doesn’t cum soon he thinks he might die.

“It is, okay? I love this body. Now please, please, keep going,” he blurts out, stroking his hands up and down your thighs sweetly, pouting up at you so irresistibly.

“Say it’s sexy.”

He whines again, painfully desperate. His voice breaks when he repeats your words; “my body is sexy.”

You smile like a little minx when you start to bounce up and down him again, even harder this time. Seungcheol moans, such a gorgeous sound, and before long he’s grasping at your waist and pulling you flush against him as his cock throbs and he fills you up with spurts of his warm seed.

As he comes back down with heavy breaths, you pepper his neck and jawline with saccharine kisses. 

“I love you,” you say, relishing in the weight and warmth of his strong arms wrapped around your nude body, in the feeling of his soft yet firm torso that’s one with your own. “You’re perfect to me.”

[strnilolover]

٠ ࣪⭑ Vampire!Matt isn’t afraid of a little blood

This writing below the cut will contain the action of eating someone out while they’re on their period. If this idea disturbs you or is not your preferred writing then do not read or read at your own risk.

You were curled up on the bed, wrapped tightly in a thick blanket as if it could shield you from the world. Your legs were drawn to your chest, your fingers clutching the fabric in a death grip. Across from you, Matt sat perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

It was that stillness that unnerved you now. His gaze was unrelenting, burning with something you couldn’t quite name. Love, yes, but also something deeper — something primal and hungry that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You don’t have to stay,” you finally murmured, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, almost lost beneath the sound of the storm outside, but you knew he heard you. He always did.

Matt tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lips quirking into a familiar smirk. It wasn’t mocking, but it held a knowing edge, as if he already anticipated every excuse you were about to give him.

“And why would I leave?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, one that left no room for argument.

You dropped your gaze, your cheeks flushing as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself. “Because I’m not…feeling like myself tonight,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk softened, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “Go on,” he urged, his tone coaxing.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I’m bloated, crampy, and just…gross,” you confessed, your voice shaking slightly. “And on top of that, I’m on my period, so I—”

“Ah,” he interrupted, leaning forward slightly. The candlelight caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting his cheekbones and the faint curve of his lips. “And you think that’s a reason for me to walk away?”

Your cheeks burned hotter. “It’s messy,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. “And I don’t feel attractive, Matt. I feel the opposite.”

Matt was silent for a long moment, but you felt his presence — his energy — surrounding you. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but firm.

“Messy?” he repeated, his tone almost incredulous. He shifted closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His cool touch sent a shiver through you, and his fingers lingered on your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing about you that’s gross or unattractive.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched his face for any hint of insincerity. But there was none — only unwavering conviction in the way he looked at you, as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m a vampire,” he continued, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You think blood is going to scare me away? If anything…” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “It makes me want you more.”

Your breath hitched at the raw honesty in his tone, the heat in his gaze leaving you momentarily speechless.

“Matt,” you whispered, unsure whether it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, his voice grounding and steady, cutting through your hesitation like a knife through fog.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, the word leaving your lips before you even realized you’d spoken.

“Then let me take care of you,” he murmured, leaning in closer until his cool breath ghosted over your lips.

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and consuming. His lips, cool and smooth, moved against yours with practiced ease, coaxing you to relax. His hand slid from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just below your ear.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into him, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his dark hair.

When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes burned with an intensity that made your pulse race. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice rough and possessive. “Every part of you.”

His hands slid down to the edge of your blanket, his fingers curling into the fabric. “Can I?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with intention.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, your cheeks flushing as you let him pull the blanket away. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, and you shivered slightly, but it was nothing compared to the way Matt’s gaze roamed over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice thick with reverence. His hands found your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles along your skin as he knelt between your legs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You squirmed under his intense gaze, your hands twitching as you fought the urge to cover yourself. “Matt, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh. His lips were soft and cool, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Let me show you.”

His hands slid down to the hem of your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband. He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When you gave a small nod, he tugged them down slowly, his movements deliberate as if savoring every second.

Then his lips were right back on you, working slowly, lips and tongue moving with deliberate care as he trailed kisses along your thighs. His hands gripped your hips gently but firmly, holding you in place as he worshipped every inch of you.

He moved his lips higher, placing kisses dangerously close to your aching pussy — you clenched around nothing, a mixture of arousal and blood seeping out of you. Matt’s eyes caught a glimpse of that, a smirk tugging at his lips as the sight of you and smell of you aroused him. Finally, his lips connected to your puffy clit.

And he didn’t hesitate, his tongue moving with precision as he worked you over with a devotion that left you trembling. The coolness of his touch contrasted sharply with the heat pooling in your core, the sensation overwhelming in the best way.

Your fingers reached down and tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as soft moans spilled from your lips. He growled softly against you, the sound vibrating through you and pulling another cry from your throat.

The worry of the mess and your nervous thoughts were completely disregarded, your mind slowly fogging with each swipe of his tongue and each suck to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Matt,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and needy.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips stained crimson. “You taste divine,” he murmured, his voice low and rough before he delved back down, his tongue moving faster.

His hands moved down to grip your thighs tightly now, putting them over his shoulders and holding them wide open to get better access to your now sopping cunt. Your hands tugged his hair, earning another groan from his chest, the vibrations and the action of his nose bumping into your clit made you squeal.

Your head was thrown back against your pillow, your hips now grinding down against his face as the knot formed in your stomach. You desperately wanted to chase the release you now needed — and your actions made Matt speed up.

“I- o-oh fuck! Matt.. m-matt-“ you cried out, bucking your hips wildly against his face now. And he just smirked against your folds, his tongue continuing to move rapidly.

Your stomach was hot — and tight. The band threatening to snap at any moment. But with a few final nudges to your clit, you were gasping and shaking. “C-cum…cumming!” you squealed, thighs snapping shut around his head and your fingers pulled harshly at his locks.

Matt continued to move his tongue, slowing the movements as he collected every drop of your release. When you finally started to push at his head, shying your hips away — was when he pulled himself back. His face was coated with your release and blood.

Your cheeks flushed, your heart racing as he moved back up your body, his cool skin pressing against your warmth. He quickly cleaned his mouth before his lips found yours again, the faint metallic tang of your blood on his tongue only heightened the intimacy of the moment.

“Did so good pretty-” he muttered against your lips, praising you. He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. “-never have to hide yourself or feel ashamed about this. Always love you — in every stage and form.” he said, and those words made you feel anything but flawed or imperfect.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. “Here — c’mon-“ he says, hand gently tapping the outside of your thigh. “-let’s get you into a warm bath okay? and then we can get your favorite food.”

[postmoe]

Borisin Warhead Hoolay x Reader - All You’re Good For

: cum, piss, degradation, blood (lil bit), aphrodisiac, Hoolay is a gross meanie :( , but he’s also a powerful tyrant so :)

This was all written on my phone during sleepless nights haha I can’t fix the spacing ;-;

It’s hard being a foxian in this world run by borisins. Allies are far and few between, even amongst your own kind. All it takes is one threat, one little push and you’re being sold out or used in the worst ways.

It had been days and you’re exhausted, paranoid and running on nothing but a few berries you have yet to see if are poisonous. It’s been a few days and nothing, so you’ll try some more tonight… if you make it out alive.

You were part of a group of foxians that plotted to run from the farm you were held in, what’s started as 11 now dwindled to five as most of you were either captured and killed in the escape or gotten too sick and died along the way. It had been a plan in the making that would have been perfect, had it not been for one factor:

Hoolay was coming.

Everyone knows the visit of the borisin warhead always lead to large feasts, having most of the ‘stock’ dead by morning. It was either make a break for it then or succumb to certain death.

So, you fled. Which leads to now, having you shaking beside the campfire, fingers anxiously brushing through matted knots in your tail, and the four men now looking to you like you were a burden.

“All I’m saying is that there’s no use having dead weight when borisins could jump on our tail at any second. We all play a part in this pack, but, what do you do?” One stated as though it was a matter of fact, hand held out in expression.

It was true you hadn’t really contributed much, though one could argue you found the berries, you were the only one brave enough to try them. You did plan on sharing if they were safe; that’s out the window now. Your lips thin as you refuse to make eye contact. Trauma has rendered your vocabulary useless, you don’t remember how old you were when you last spoke. Now, only pitiful sounds are able to escape your mouth, little hums and grunts of pain.

They took this as another sign of weakness, one of the other foxians scoffing, “You won’t even make conversation with us? We want someone we can rely on, not a pet.”

Everyone seemed to have different opinions of your value, all of which lead to one conclusion: you’re useless. It wasn’t until the fourth of them spoke that anyone even considered otherwise, “C’mon, guys, don’t be so harsh, you know she’s a mute. She can’t help it if she’s… underwhelming. Females are only made for one thing after all. Surely I can’t be the only one feeling lonely.”

It was that comment that made your heart pound most of all. A debate broke out of whether or not you’d be worth keeping around for something as trivial as sex when their lives were in danger. You look to starry sky above, the smoke pluming through the canopy as you think about their accusations. You were the most quiet of the bunch. You watched one of your comrades get their head stomped in right before you and didn’t even scream. One of the men here almost got everyone caught because a centipede crawled past. All in all, it could only be boiled down to blatant sexism. Their entire lives they’ve been slaves, and now there’s a taste of freedom and they want to turn the tables.

You’re being regarded again, everyone awaiting your answer, “So, wanna spread them legs and we’ll keep you safe? Cmon baby, you can trust us to protect you.”

It was a no brainer on your part, though you’ve never been one for conflict, you were prepared to fight them on this. Exhausted, paranoid, starving. You a pop a few berries from your pocket and into your mouth, thinking this might be your last meal if things go south as you shake your head in a silent, ‘no’.

The main perpetrator loses his smirk, obviously not amused by your response. He stands and cracks his neck, “No? I think you just need a bit of encouragement, baby.”

Immediately, you stand to take the defensive against him. You wonder if you could outrun them, given that you’re all in the same state of distress. One of the first foxians stands too, holding his hand out in hesitance, “W-whoa, hold up. Don’t start a fight here. Besides, you can’t just force someone to have sex with you.”

Another stood up, following the others straps as he comes to crowd you, “No no, I actually agree here. I think she needs to show us some gratitude.”

The last one merely sat in silence, avoiding his eyes from the scene, looking visibly uncomfortable but not wanting to step in.

Your eyes darted between the two approaching and you threatened by taking a deep breath, mouth opening as if you to scream. Their eyes panicked, not wanting any sound to alert unwanted attention. Regardless of their beliefs on your voice, they didn’t want to risk it.

A slight freeze from them was all you needed, you turned tail, beginning to run when a critical mistake caused your foot to get caught on the log you were sitting on. You went tumbling down, only barely managing to turn on the ground when you were tackled by your former comrade. His hand already over your mouth as he laugh, straddling you, “See? Pathetic! You can’t even run away by yourself. You need us.”

Your hands tense as your nails sharpen, ready to thrash when the other grabs your right wrist, pinning you down. Not long after, the first one grabs your other, his instinct telling him this was better than having you fight back and alert their position.

It wasn’t until his hand trailed under your shirt and caressed the bare skin of your stomach that something truly snapped inside of you. Pupils dilating, mind quieting and teeth sharpening, you managed to tilt your head enough to bite painfully into his hand, blood quickly spilling from the punctures.

His scream was loud, startling, the one on your right wrist jolting enough for you to wrench your arm away. Just as you were about to scratch at him, he gave you a swift punch to your face, nose cracking and pooling blood over your mouth. It disorientated you enough for him to grab at your throat, holding you down, “Fucking bitch. Maybe it’ll be easier to use you if you’re not breathing.”

His taste for violence was the perfect opportunity. As his face drew closer and no one retrained you, thinking you were knocked out enough to not need it, you thrust your hands to his head, nails digging into the back of his skull as you pushed him forward and impaling his eye over your thumb.

The others stepped back now, stunned and scared, leaving you to leap forward before he could recover and drive your teeth into his throat like a wild animal. Frenzied, scared, hurt and adrenaline coursing through your veins, it was enough to drive anyone to do drastic things.

You didn’t notice the rustling of bushes, the way your comrades bolted from the scene. Too busy focusing on ripping his throat out and showing him that you’re not just some foxian that’s going to roll over and heel. Tears streaming down your cheeks as the taste of blood came rushing over you, you are going to fight, too.

Once he goes limp is when you stop clawing and attacking, sitting back with a squelch as you reach up to wipe the water from your eyes. You were drenched. Blood painted from the lower half of your face, down your throat and over your teeth. Nose bruised and broken and leaking. Nails filthy and you’re sure there is flesh under them. You’re not a killer. You never wanted to be a killer.

And then the clapping began. Thuds of heavy footsteps rush past you as you look up, paling and almost vomiting from the surprise. There’s no mistaken that the borisin that stands before you now is Warhead Hoolay, and beside him is his right hand man, Mok Tok. The pack with him was chasing down the others that ran before.

Hoolay seemed very amused, crouching down and grinning as he picked up the foxian’s head by the ear before letting it hit the ground again, “Only the strong survive. This whelp was nothing more than all bark and no bite. You, however,” he gazes back to you, standing, “I’m impressed. Even foxians in the fighting ring have more compassion. You truly didn’t hold back.”

Running isn’t an option. In the fight he had gotten a few good hits and kicks in, your ankle throbbing in pain. Not to mention the stench of blood on you. Foxians had a great sense of smell - Borisins, an even better one. Your only option is to fight, and even you know the single outcome here is death.

Mok Tok stepped around, standing behind you as he examined your state of well being. He hummed gingerly before saying, “Dine in or take away, master?”

Another once over from Hoolay had him walking over to you. He didn’t have a care in the world, hand larger than your head reaching out towards your face. It was enough for you to kick into gear, using what was left of your strength and latching onto him with all the fight you had left. Your teeth barely dug through the fur on his paw, nails only strong enough to hold you to his arm without so much as pricking blood, your legs feebly kicking into his large chest. It probably felt more like a massage than any form of pain.

You tried with all your might and the only response you got from him was a boisterous laugh. He easily yanked you off and threw you to the ground, rolling until you hit Mok Tok’s foot, “Take away. This one amuses me, see to it she doesn’t succumb to her wounds.”

In no time you had some form of metal around your neck, clasping with the rattle of a chain. You’re dragged a few feet before being hauled onto your aching souls. Mok Tok handles you with little care, tugging you to a pace you couldn’t keep up with.

…

It was only you, the bystander foxian that didn’t stand to help, and the initial foxian that tried to keep everyone quiet that remained. The lackey of the culprit you fought had been tied at the end of your chain link, only to fall to his wounds and die on the road. The borisins had snapped his portion of the chain off like it was nothing, leaving his carcass to rot in the mud.

You were at the front of the line, trudging behind Hoolay and his bitch boy with your hands cuffed in front of you, connected to a chain on the thick collar around your throat. A longer, thicker chain trailed behind you to the others, walking in a single file.

It was quiet, the night turning from black to the blueish hues of morning. In the distance thunder rumbled, promising the relief of rain to come. Your feet were filthy from the mud, having lost one flat, uncomfortable shoe days ago and tossing the other at a wild animal that tried to bite you. It turns out bare feet was only marginally more uncomfortable. At least the dirt of the road and squelch of the mud was nicer than sticks and brambles in the forest.

Every closing of your eyes almost had you tripping in sleep. You tried not to blink but since the adrenaline was wearing off, all the pain and exhaustion was coming forward tenfold. It was probably stupid, but the man behind you decided to try their luck with a conversation, “Are we-“ they coughed, their voice a lot scratchier than you anticipated, starting again when they noticed their ears pricking back to listen, “Are we going back to the farm?”

Mok Tok was the first to sneer, his scarred face glaring at him as he snapped, “You weren’t given permission to speak, whelp.”

Hoolay raised his paw to silence him, “It’s fine. Let them wonder, the smell of fear is a welcome sense.” Once the smaller borisin bowed in submission, Hoolay glanced at you from over his shoulder, his intimidating size only making you feel all the more caged in this otherwise open countryside, “The farm owner doesn’t want runaways such as yourselves. You’re coming to our den. Those who can’t serve as servants will be meals before battle.”

One of the men behind you whimpered in fear, the chain slightly rattling as they quaked. You wish you could have the energy for such an emotion. You felt yourself lagging, needing to pick up the pace if you didn’t want to end up lunch for the trip back. With a pained sigh, you skipped forward and listened as they continued questioning, “Did you search for us on purpose, or was it all a coincidence?”

It seems Hoolay was in a generous and talkative mood as he humoured, “Your previous owner informed us of the escape. Such a foolish plan, don’t you know we wolves love to hunt little foxes like you? You couldn’t have picked a worse time to…”

As Hoolay spoke you were progressively losing focus. The sunlight peeked behind a cloud and pierced your eye, a strain feeling like it was hitting your brain. Your hands weren’t low enough to see if you had any surviving berries in your pocket, food maybe being a cure. By this point it was difficult to make out the words anyone was saying.

The next moment you know is your face in the mud. It’s cool to your cheeks, comforting from the recent events. Mok Tok’s voice cuts through incredulously, “Me? Master, she is just a pitiful fox. I suggest we eat her and be done-“

“Are you questioning my decision, Mok Tok? I’ll gladly fight you over it, think you can take me in a battle,” Hoolay says, already knowing the outcome.

Mok Tok surrenders immediately, breaking off your chain and throwing you over his shoulder. Your lungs are pushed of air, and though he isn’t careful in the least, you despise how warm and inviting his fur is. It isn’t long before you’re drifting off, passing out in the hopes that this is your end and you don’t have to experience another day in this hellhole.

…

It was a long ride, your trio of prisoners thrown on the back of a wagon full of leftover foxian meat when it was established you were walking too slow. Most of it was wrapped in cloth and sat on crates with misshapen ice inside to keep relatively fresh. It only became hard to stomach when one of them got hungry.

A few borisin were striding alongside the cart, keeping in pace with the quieter man of your group. They were shoving an amputated foot in his face, laughing and urging him to try it. “You’ll never know if you don’t have a taste~”

You did your best to keep your gaze away, he may be an arsehole but you still regarded the corpse’s leg with the dignity you feel it deserves. Though your kind believes the spirit moves on, it was still hard to witness in the living realm.

It seems your ignorance of the scene didn’t grant you any relief. However, instead of the group of mutts hounding him, you were graced with the mighty presence of the Warhead himself. He held out an arm to you, fingers daintily hovering before your face, calloused skin proving their hard work in life. Hoolay eyed you with interest as he said, “What about you, small one? Have you developed a taste for your own kind?”

The stains of mud and blood still remain on you, your nose only having a brief look at once you reached the wagon of ‘goods’. If your aggressive fight had taught you anything, it was that living prey wasn’t your ideal meal. You shook your head and turned away from him, hoping he would give up this pointless endeavour.

Hoolay brought the arm to his maw, ripping the flesh and chewing loudly, as if to accentuate just what exactly he was eating. Without warning, his sharp claw drags roughly from the base of your skull and down your neck, stopping between your shoulder blades when you jumped forward in shock, the chains rattling as you eyed him with malice. Whatever he saw in you made his lips part in a smirk, then he laughed loudly, the rest of his pack watching their leader toy with you in silence. “What do they call you?”

Even if you could talk, you wouldn’t want to tell him your name.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh? Even still defiant over such a simple question?”

Mok Tok was clearly more offended than his leader, “How dare you ignore our Warhead Hoolay! Master, please allow me to show this whelp just how grateful she should be-“

Sensing the growing tension, your other prisoner comrade interrupted fearfully, “Sh-she doesn’t talk, lord warhead. She’s been silent for as long as we’ve known her.”

This seemed to interest Hoolay even more. “Oh?” With ease, he jumped onto the wagon and sat opposite of you, right next to the prisoner who had spoken on your behalf. Teasingly, he caressed his face with the back of the foxian’s hand, “Then you can tell me. What is her label?”

Shakily, he looked to you as if you could help, too scared to move away from the amputated hand. You merely shrugged, then sure what to tell him, so he said what he could best remember, “I think… I think she was part of B block so… it may have been B132.”

You’re not sure with how you got away with not being branded. Perhaps it was because you kept your head down and didn’t cause trouble, mixed with the fact that they forgot. The farm wasn’t the best run, order and structure not something they’d place in their résumé.

Hoolay looked back to you, “Is that correct?”

Again, you shrug. You were told it once and then never again. The only ones who really remembered were the branded ones.

Hoolay picks at his fangs with the nails of his meal, humming in thought before tossing the arm far away into a field, “I suppose it matters not. Servants will be renamed, as will food.” Another amused rumble comes bubbling from his chest as he stands, a large paw grasping your injured face and turning it from side to side, making you wince as he growls lowly, “Food always tastes better when there’s… personality.”

You took that as an omen for your future.

…

The rain and humidity was a horrible combination, though you found yourself enjoying it more as the grime was sort of washed from your face and your wrists were lubricated from the blood that was washed down. Quietly, you had been working on wriggling your hands out of the cuffs to give you some more space to work with when you try to escape again.

There was nothing you could do about the choker around your neck, however if you could at least get your hands free then you’d have the ability to use the environment around you easier. That, paired with the fact that your chain was no longer connected to the others thanks to Mok Tok, you think you had a fighting chance.

Or else you’re condemned to be food.

It stung, the way your flesh ripped and teared when you shimmied it back and forth in the metal. The others had seen you but didn’t speak up, thankfully, not wanting any of their attention.

You felt sick with anxiety when the new blood made it easier to pull through, almost slipping out, your bones bruised and aching before you pushed your hands back in to avoid them being freed completely.

The rain had lessened, which wasn’t ideal but you could tell it would stop soon and you wanted to go with as much covering as possible. You were in another dense forest, it would be the perfect time. So, you got work, stomping your foot on the wagon to get someone’s attention.

It was Mok Tok who turned, glaring at you with a harsh, “What?” Your tail was squeezed between your thighs, jumping up and down to indicate you needed to pee. He seemed he was about to refute it when he had a second thought, turning to Hoolay and saying, “Master, the last toilet break for the prisoners was 12 hours ago. Shall we stop once more or wait until we arrive to the den?”

Your stomach dropped, did that mean you were close to their home? It really was now or never. Hoolay looked back to you, and you tried hard to show how desperate you were to go. He motions for everyone to stop, coming to you, “Fine. You two take the other prisoners. I’ll handle this one myself.” Like a giant claw - and you suppose it technically was - he grasped you by the top of your head and lifted you from the wagon, placing you down in the mud, your toes sinking into the mushy soil.

He had to nudge you to walk as you panicked. Why was splitting you up now? Every other time it has been one borisin watching you three, you were counting on that to have their attention diverted. Now the Warhead himself wants to watch you pee?

You get a considerable distance before he stops, staring at you with a heavy gaze. When you make no move he scoffs, smiling with a row of sharp teeth and a flick of his tail, “What, you can piss in front of my grunt but not me? Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” His voice lowers to a dangerous octave, “You flatter me.”

Now’s not the time to play his games. You turn around, using your tail to lift up the long, tattered dress that was uniform for everyone at the farm. Due to the first toilet break, a borisin had ripped your knickers off and tossed them so they wouldn’t have to keep doing it whenever you needed to go, so all you had to do was squat and bunch the cloth in your hands once you were low enough to reach. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him watch you with boredom, huffing and averting his eyes lazily.

That was the best you were going to get. From this angle, it could be seen as you adjusting your clothes again, yet you were slipping your damaged wrists out of the cuffs. It was a little harder since the last time but you managed to do it, eyeing him from the side to see him focused on the raindrops off a leaf. Taking a deep breath, you bolted head on, scurrying over logs and bushes.

There was no noise behind you. As far as you’re aware, borisin aren’t silent hunters, they like to toy with their prey. So why wasn’t he chasing you? Not that you’re complaining, you hope to never encounter his kind again-

The reason for your lack of chase became apparent as you came skidding to a halt. You were at the edge of a canyon, forest on this side and a large, dusty and rocket desert on the other. Along the walls of the canyon were layers of stairs, openings, borisin. Not to mention the foxian slaves, digging and picking, holding food out to guards. Along the floor of the deep canyon is a rushing river, fast enough to be swept away should one fall in.

Hoolay casually walked up behind you, “the outside of our den. On the inside is long, winding halls and plenty of rooms. Should you get lost, there’s no telling what your fate is.” You were still in despair when he grabbed your hand, holding it up as he brought his nose down to inhale your wounds. Your fearful eyes looked to him when he licked up the torn skin, the saliva and pressure on his tongue stinging the sores which you tried to pull away from. He groaned in delight, yanking you closer to gently bite on the flesh, squeezing more blood out, “You think I can’t smell the difference between old and fresh blood? We knew of your little plan from the beginning. Even so,” his large hand slides up your back, claws tracing your spine tantalisingly and forcing you to push into his hard chest as he growls lowly in your ear, “You still tried to run from me, a bold move. I’ve decided, I’m going to keep you, personally. I will train you from a savage foxian into the obedient pet you were born to play.”

To be dismembered or to be a pet? Which is worse is hard to say. Your chattering teeth grit, the fear turning into desperate anger. Quickly, you duck under his arm to escape, only for him to grab the base of your tail and hold you in place. So you change tactics, trying to hit the base of your heel hard enough to hurt his chest and loosen his grip. However, as your foot makes contact with his torso, he doesn’t flinch and instead grabs your ankle and turn you upside down.

You’re left flailing in the air as he carries you like meat on a hook, holding your dress between your legs as you struggle so that you’re not blinded by the fabric. There really is no use. His pack watches in amusement as their leader returns with you, dropping you back into the wagon, “This one is mine. No one is allowed to touch them, understand?”

Frustrated and scared tears stream down your cheeks as they reply with a clear, “Yes, master!”

…

You’re not sure where the others went. Once you made it over the bridge and into the den, you were given to a purple borisin who commanded a bunch of servant foxians. She had supervised your wounds being treated before ordering them to take you to the bathhouse and clean you.

No one made eye contact, no one spoke to you or each other. It was frighteningly quiet, so you kept your head down as they scrubbed your ears and brushed out the knots in your tail. The tub you were in was cramped, a wooden bucket essentially. Hoses came out of the walls and a long gutter was imbedded in the ground to drain the water out somewhere. Even if it was awkward and daunting, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to get scrubbed raw by water that was almost too hot. Even at the farm, room temperature water was the highest form of luxury.

You actually felt clean for once.

Once you were done and dripping dry, the borisin from earlier reentered with a fluffy towel. She looked you over, clawed hand throwing the towel over your head, “You know how to dry yourself, yeah? I don’t know what you did but our master has taken a liking to you. Come.”

You wetly follow her through the winding halls with plaps of your feet hitting the floors, the servants behind you trailing diligently. You were too focused on trying to memorise the path that you hardly dried yourself by the time you reached your destination. A room was opened to you, chests and clothes along each wall, a mirror standing on the floor.

One glance at the mirror was enough for you to turn your head, not wanting to see yourself as the captive you are just yet; surrounded by slaves and a vicious wolf. Out of the corner of your eye though, you saw the enemy rummaging through chests until she found what she was looking for.

When she came back, she began putting golden chains on you, hanging from a gold collar around your neck, falling down your biceps, down the curves of your naked breasts, low enough to fall just past your hips. You dared another glance in the mirror, wondering if something so cold and with no fabric could still be called lingerie.

“Done. Let’s go,” she shoved at your back, the chains clinking slightly from the jolt as she pushed you out. The metal felt kind of nice, slinking along your skin with every step you took. The collar got hotter with your body heat, being a little uncomfortable but who were you to complain when you had no rights. It wasn’t until you were stopped beside her, a VERY long table with various foods and alcohols, mainly meats and few vegetables - don’t look at the foxian torso and thighs, don’t look at the foxian torso and thighs - that were slightly skewed from everyone picking at it that you felt a shot of self-consciousness. She bowed her head and addressed the warhead, “Master, she is clean and adorned for you.”

Since the day you were born, you were taught that nakedness and privacy didn’t matter. Farm animals didn’t get that decency, foxians don’t get that decency. You can count on one hand you’ve felt the need to cover yourself in front of someone, yet somehow right now, you feel like you need to cover every inch of skin and curl up in a hole to stop the eyes of their leader from clawing into you. Everyone stopped to stare at the new meat that had walked in, yet it was Hoolay that openly ogled you like you were more than just food.

You pretend not to notice the twitching under his belt, cloth moving over a large mound that you were hoping wasn’t for you. He grinned and leant forward, hooking his index under your collar and pulling you towards him, “Perfect, you’re dismissed.”

She and the slaves bowed before leaving you alone in the room full of beasts.

“C’mere,” Hoolay demands, already pulling you tightly against him, sitting you sideways in his lap. He’s so large, colossal, from his shoulder to his elbow alone almost the size of your body. He brings a chunk of meat to your lips, demanding you to eat. When you don’t part your mouth, he huffs and wedges a claw between your teeth, forcing you to open, “Relax, it is just bird.”

Sure enough, you’re inclined to agree, taking the meat from his hand so he’s no longer shoving it down your throat. As you slowly nibble on the meat, you’re lost to the words everyone is speaking around you, their language a mix of your common tongue and their own. You’re pretty confident, however, that they’re discussing about his new prize - you - and how you’ll taste.

Hoolay laughs after someone says something, easily moving you to sit flush against his torso with your back, spreading your legs wide over his thighs. You almost drop the bird meat when you see what he’s doing, releasing the confinements of his half-hard cock to hang over his leg. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he strokes it, moving it to stand hard and leaning against your tense torso. His knot is throbbing between your legs and the tip of him is poking the underside of your breasts, you can’t even imagine what he would feel like inside of you that doesn’t involve pain.

A slave comes beside him with a platter and a golden jug. Hoolay grabs it roughly before pouring the contents over his cock, the substance oozing out and over his dick like a sheer, golden syrup. He tosses the jug away with a clank, disregarding it in favour of smearing the liquid over your thigh, lightly squeezing, his giant maw hotly breathing against your cheek, “Go on. Have a taste. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

He’s so large that there’s no way you could swallow him more than his tip. You go in for a taste, holding the heavy weight below the glands to dutifully suck. The pungent under taste that you’re expecting is overshadowed by whatever he had coated his dick in. The pupils of your eyes blow wide and suddenly you’re suckling on the head like you’re trying to coach his cock to dispel more of the deliciously sweet substance.

Hoolay laughs at you, a low, growling groan emitting as his paw pets back the ears on your head, “Fffuck. That’s a good girl.” You whimper around him when he pushes you down, choking on what little you could swallow. His pre is enough to guzzle down your throat and bubble out of your mouth, it doesn’t ready you for when he cums, buckets of semen forced down your throat and into your stomach. He must’ve been pent up because even after he pulls away, he’s still very much hard. He opens his mouth beside your head, his jaw wide enough to encompass your skull if he really wanted to, laughing at the visage, “Such a tiny mouth for a pitiful creature. I wonder if the hole between your legs will be more accommodating, hm?”

You’re lifted and placed on your back, glistening in syrup and cum under the dim lighting by the candles around the room. Everyone stares in amusement as you dazedly bring your fingers to your mouth, sucking on the digits to get some more of the sweet syrup and hoping to overthrow his taste. It isn’t until you feel a rather large tongue lick up the slit of your pussy that you jerk, a string of saliva connecting to your fingers as you pull them away to gaze between your thighs.

Hoolay’s claws touched as they held one of your thighs up, out of the way for him to get a taste. You were already so wet and waiting, the desire to consume was rushing all throughout your body. Air was forced out of you when he let his heavy cock thud against your stomach, a little cum seeping from the corner of your mouth. Graciously and carefully, he slides a finger inside you and worms it around, stretching your cunt and causing you to moan, “So defiant you were on the ride here. Now look at you, arching into my hand like a pet looking for love from its owner. It feels good to give in to instinct, wouldn’t you agree?”

Even if you could talk, you wouldn’t need to as your tail swishes side to side underneath you, as though accepting his declaration. Your stomach is so full that even with just his fingers you feel you’re about to pop. Your legs fall open for him when he pushes his cock head down your slit and into your hole. You’re so grateful he helped you with the aphrodisiac, even if you wish you hated it, you know being absolutely torn apart would be too brutal to handle.

As a mercy, perhaps for being such a good girl, he takes it slow but doesn’t stop - not until he’s reached as far as he can inside you. Your legs are now propped up and of your stomach wasn’t distended from the mouthfuls of cum before, it certainly was from the massive dick inside you now. Your cheeks puff when he puts pressure on the lump he forms, “I’m impressed, little fox. Even with the amount of syrup used, I didn’t think you’d be able to hold out.”

It’s not until his hips start snapping against yours that you cringe, the movement jostling your insides, motion sickness hidden behind layers of pleasure. Your mouth is open, panting, the cool air the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. However, as ‘kind’ as he’s been, he seems to want to take more from you. His long, flat tongue enters your mouth, you’re gurgling around the muscle in this ruthless kiss. Your eyes roll back and hearing wavers as the oxygen in your lungs is stolen away.

Heavy balls plap against your arse, cum and syrup creating an odd, warm, wet sensation over your skin. You hadn’t realised you were clawing at Hoolay’s face until he retracted, his paws holding your biceps flat in the take with a heavy chunk to hold you down. Bruises were the least of your concerns as you could finally breathe again and consciousness came back, adding with a strong seizure of pleasure corrupting your body. Your clit pulsed and your pussy tightened from the euphoric buildup of oxygen and cock breeding your insides.

A round of cheers and clinking steins was heard in the background during your orgasm, but it was too intense to care and Hoolay had no intentions of stopping. The way your cunt suckled his dick was more than enough to keep him going.

Of course, it wasn’t the last time you would cum in his cock. The way he nipped at your skin and kissed you and licked over your body like he was getting ready to devour you; it all shot straight to your aroused core. Whenever you could form a single thought, though, you would concern yourself with the inevitable worry of his knot.

Hoolay’s knot was swelling to a considerable size and pretty soon you doubt you would be able to hold him. He seemed to realise this, however, because his thrusts were getting deeper and stuttering more often as his knot struggled to enter and escape your cunt. It wasn’t too soon that his hips closely hit against yours, balls tightening and jerking with every spurt of cum. His knot kept him stuck deep inside you, the low growls and groans making you tremble. Your legs were hiked and your stomach was folded, you felt like you were going to throw up as your stomach got fuller… and fuller… “Just look at you,” he grunts, pushing himself against you and making you groan, “Fucked out of your mind, at the mercy on our dinner table. Foxians like you are only good for one thing.”

You couldn’t keep it in, with the amount he was breeding you with, and the position he had you folded in, it was only a matter of time before it came back up. It wasn’t vomit, it was more like his cum didn’t make it all the way down. The semen you swallowed poured out, as though the cum he fucked into you had overflowed out of your mouth. Tears streamed from the corners of your eyes in shame and confusion, your chin, chest, stomach, legs, everything was dirty and smothered in Hoolay’s dna.

He laughed heartily at your pitiful display, cool still nestled deep in, one hand coming under the arch of your back to lift you up and rest against him. He sat back on his chair, idly dragging a claw down your spine, your skin alight with goosebumps. His voice seemed a lot more content now, “Bring out the slaves. It is time for everyone to enjoy themselves.”

You barely recognised what was happening, your consciousness slowly returning to you over time. Crying, means, laughing, scared whimpers were all present thought your minor rest. Eventually, you had the strength to lift your head, seeing you’re not the only unfortunate soul to be used as a plaything. This place truly is horrible.

Finally, Hoolay’s knot had reduced enough to be plucked from your hole. He grabbed one of the chains around you and half heartedly threw you to the floor. You were confused and struggled to push yourself up, only to halt when a hot stream of liquid hit the top of your head. Piss. He was pissing on you, making sure to cover your body in his stench. The face you made could almost be described as betrayal, save for the fact that you had no faith in him to begin with. Once finished, he lets go of his half hard cock and stares into your eyes, “Everyone will smell who you belong to. You will not be able to take one step in this place without me knowing where you are.”

All you can do is grit your teeth, nails digging into the ground. The piss makes the wounds on your wrists sting like crazy, your hair and fur drenched in both cum and urine. It stinks. The bruises on your arms were forming nicely and you can only wait to see how pretty they’ll bloom by morning.

To add salt to the wound, Hoolay pours water into an empty bowl and places it in there for beside you, “You can bathe again later, we must let it soak in so the pheromones stick.” He stands, cocking his head in admiration of his work on you, smiling wickedly, “It’s about time I got myself a pet. And I know you’ll be such a good girl for me.”

Your head falls forward in this defeat, eyes making contact with your exhausted reflection in the water bowl.

[gothamite-rambler]

Cutting to the chase

This is when Bruce had a fifteen year old Tim Drake as his Robin and a what if because for me I've never liked this ship. Fictional characters or not this one is gross to me and super force. At least Dick and Babs was slightly wholesome to me.

Jim: All right, so I’d start in Bowery, then work my way around there. You look ridiculous. By the way, did you ever have sex with my daughter?

Batman (delayed shock): Right... what?

Robin!Tim (flipping through the case file folder): He said we should start at Bowery and work around. Something about your suit, then he asked if you violated his daughter.

Jim: That’s why I like him; he’s good at repeating and remembering information. So, did you ever violate my daughter? Good phrase to use.

Robin!Tim: I thought it would fit. Thanks.

Batman (clearly unsure how to react): You’re asking me if I ever had sexual relations with Batgirl?

Robin!Tim (sarcastically): Good defense, use the actual lie Bill Clinton said. Makes you look less suspicious.

Batman: I didn’t… I wouldn’t… We never did any of that! I thought we were friends, you asshole! Why would I ever have sex with her? She’s practically the same age as my kids!

Robin!Tim: I mean, outside of this, you do present yourself as a bit of a playboy.

Batman (turning Tim around): Could you read the damn folder over there?

Tim shrugged and walked off, humming a jazz tune, clearly enjoying his time researching a kidnapping case. Batman groaned, covering his eyes in frustration.

Batman: I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I swear to you, I’ve never done anything with her.

Jim (crossing his arms): Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?

Batman (flatly): Those are bullshit and you know it. You can trust me.

Jim: Ever kissed her?

Batman (grossed out): No.

Jim: Had a hug that lasted too long?

Batman: I don’t even hug actual girlfriends for too long, but no, we've hugged like five times and it was quick and platonic.

Jim: Ever had sex with her on a roof?

Batman: That was with Catwoman, and she swore to keep that secret!

Jim: I… didn’t need to know that.

Batman: The point is, I haven’t had sex with Batgirl or viewed her as some kind of sexual prospect. And I saw what you were doing with how you asked the questions to force some confession out of me, but once again Batgirl is my friend. Why is it so difficult for people to accept a man and woman can be friends?

Jim and Barbara (in unison with her voice coming through the comm device): Because we know you.

Batman: I’m into many weird kinks, yes I have had relationships that some would label strange-

Robin!Tim (from far away): He's talking about Talia, Selina, Jillian Maxwell, Phantasm-

Batman (shouting, turning to his sidekick): READ THE CASE FILE!

Jim tilted his head, chuckling at his friends reaction and beginning to be reassured he hadn't slept with his daughter.

Batman (turning back to Jim): I’m genuinely pissed off that you’d think I’d do something so… reprehensible. She’s not just my friend, she’s like a daughter to me.

Barbara (over the comms): Aww, that’s so sweet.

Batman (pressing his comm to yell at her): What did you tell him? Why would you tell him that? I thought we were friends! Why is everyone being mean to me?!

Barbara: Relax, I’ve actually been denying all of that. He said he was going to ask, though. Just be glad I talked him out of bringing a gun.

Batman (to Jim, hurt): You were actually going to shoot me?

Jim (nonchalant): Oh yeah, just in the upper thigh, between your legs. You would’ve lived. I can be overprotective at times, but a man who's only a few years younger than me… having sex with my daughter would have set me off. Not gonna lie.

Batman: Okay… oddly enough, I respect that. Thank you for asking instead of shooting me. Do you believe me now?

Jim: I do. Plus, your reaction was hilarious. For a stoic guy, when you snap like that, it’s funny. That’s why I’m glad we’re friends.

Barbara: Aww!

Batman (closing his eyes and holding his head down): I have weird friendships, but thanks, Jim.

[live-laugh-neteyam]

97 & 98 w/ whoever from the 101 prompt thing.

maybe reader got shot in the spine and is recovering, but is stubborn and doesn't ask for help. they catch reader breaking down bc she can't stand long enough to wash herself.

maybe Jake bc he can relate w/ him being in a wheelchair previously or one of the boys (Ao'nung, Roxto, Lo'ak, Neteyam) bc they feel somewhat responsible.

can b platonic or romantic, idc.

Thanks!

Take Care Of You ||| sully family x omatikaya!reader

masterlist

pairings: sully family x omatikaya!fem!reader

summary: sully’s stick together

words: 1k

warnings/notes: injury, gunshot wounds, recovery, angst with sweet moments, use of y/n

It was never supposed to happen. The bullet wasn’t meant for you. But how could you just stand there and watch when your brother was in danger? Taking fate into your own hands you pushed Neteyam out of the line of fire.

You don’t remember much after that.

In and out of consciousness you remember Neteyam pleading with you to stay awake, your father looking over your wound, and your mother’s screams. The blood curdling screams of your mother was something that you could never forget.

A miracle.

That’s what Ronal said after examining you. The bullet lodged into your spine should’ve killed you, but Eywa had shown you mercy.

Lucky.

That’s what Norm said after extracting the bullet. Jake insisted on calling Norm and Max out to look at you. Not that he didn’t trust Na’vi medicine, but he was once human. Old habits die hard.

The first few months were hell. You weren’t dead but you felt like you were. You wished you were. It would be a long road to recovery and you weren’t sure you had the patience for it.

Especially when everyone looked at you the way they did. Eyes full of guilt and regret. The pity that flood their eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach.

Your brothers weren’t very good at hiding their guilt. There was a part of you that felt bad for them. You knew they felt at fault and they were letting it eat at them.

“I thought you were a goner.” Lo’ak joked around. His laugh never reach his eyes though. You could see the fear they still held.

Neteyam was with you on the day you finally could sit up by yourself. He was proud of you, he truly felt happiness for your accomplishment. But the guilt was crawling it’s way back up.

You were no longer the mighty warrior he grew up with. You’d never be her again. That split second decision changed the course of your life for forever. Relearning even basic things, everything would now be a challenge for you.

Neteyam hated himself for it. It wasn’t supposed to be you.

Jake was able to keep his feelings to himself. Only letting it effect him in private. He was forced to watch you struggle every single day with nothing he could do to fix it.

He related all too well with what you were going through. Jake didn’t think he’d ever have to deal with something like this again after his consciousness transfer.

But there you were, his babygirl stubbornly trying to recover on her own. He cursed your hardheadedness but a part of him understood. Jake was the exact same way when he was a human. He couldn’t stand the looks of pity he’d received; it made him work harder to prove himself.

Jake blamed himself for what happened. A father protects and he couldn’t even do that. The whole point of uprooting his family was to protect them. Every time he looked at you he was reminded of his failure.

For the past few weeks you had been working on your mobility. Everyone told you to take it slow, not to overdo it. You couldn't help but rush into things, itching for the taste of freedom you missed terribly.

Reaching out for the walking stick your father had brought you, you attempted to stand up. Wincing you leaned onto the cane even more. With one hand you dipped a rag into the bowl of water by your bedside.

You felt gross. It had been months since you had a proper bath. This wasn't what you wanted but it would have to do. Trying to run the cloth over your arm was proving harder than you originally anticipated.

Your body was starting to ache. Your legs felt like they were set on fire. Panting like you had just run a marathon you were exhausted. Not being able to stand any longer you collapsed back onto your bed.

Tears stung your eyes. You were frustrated with yourself. You weren't even able to do simple things for yourself. Grieving the life you lived before you let your sadness overtake you. Hiccuping as sobs escaped you.

Neteyam's ears twitched as he heard crying coming from your room. Protective instincts kicking in he rushed towards your room.

"Y/N?" He tentatively asked before bolting in.

The sound of your brothers voice made you prickle up. Quickly wiping off your face in hopes he wouldn't notice your tears.

His heart sank at the sight of you. Putting up a strong façade throughout your healing process, you never acted like anything bothered you. The broken girl he saw before him was new.

“You were crying, weren't you?" He asked.

“What does it matter?” You huffed.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed taking a seat next to you.

“What isn’t wrong?” You mumbled as more tears fell. “I can’t do anything anymore. I’m useless.”

“You are a lot of things sister. Stubborn and hardheaded? Yes. Useless? You could never be useless.” Neteyam gently wrapped his arm around you for a hug.

“You saved my life Y/N. How could you think so little of yourself?” He frowned.

“You would’ve done the same for me Neteyam.”

“That’s not the point. You didn’t have to. I owe you my life.” He stressed. “Now what can I do to help you?”

“It’s fine Neteyam, I don’t need anything.” You tried you best to brush him off.

“You’re hurt. Let me take care of you.” He pleaded.

“Fine.” You nodded. “Could you help me freshen up?” You asked sheepishly.

“Of course.” He jumped into action taking the discarded bowl and cloth.

“You know we’re all here for you right?” Neteyam asked after a few moments. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

All you could do was nod. You felt stupid. Knowing you needed help and that your family was more than happy to provide it; you pushed them out trying to do everything on your own.

“What’s dad always say?” His tone teasing.

“Sully’s stick together.” You muttered rolling your eyes.

“That’s right.” Neteyam nodded as he dabbed your skin with the cloth. “You’re gonna get through this Y/N. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll try to be better at asking.”

Your brother nodded seemingly satisfied with your answer. You were the strongest person he knew, he had no doubt that’d you be able to pull through.

After all Sully’s stick together

Taglist:

@ilovejakesullysdick @fanboyluvr @athenalikethegoddess @loverofallthingsfandom @forasgaard @plzfeedmebread @instabull @avatarappreciationblog @romimiux @ferrtan @tammitammytime @eternallyvenus @dreamyescapesfromreality @dvxsja @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @mightyneteyam @doggyteam2028 @bananafruityawne @mooniequeen @shayligames-blog

[driflew]

w a bit more attention on bastard and the beast au bc of. someone. making a comment on stream, i wanted to post another batb scene

this one is like... loosely canon? big dog au is written so it can be read as romantic or platonic (since i like shipping and cherri does not lmao), which is why the curse is changed from true love to reciprocal trust/affection. that said, i was having thoughts about how Ren might feel about loving Martyn when he knows his curse works based on someone reciprocating his trust/affection, and how difficult it must be to love/trust a monster

“You don’t have to work all day, you know,” Ren says, lying on the ground toward the edge of the room. Martyn stops, glancing at the collection of dust and fur gathered by the end of his broom, then looks up at Ren.

“If I don’t sweep, the carpet is going to grow a second layer,” Martyn says.

“I don’t shed that much,” Ren mutters. Martyn says nothing, raising his eyebrows. “What? I don’t!”

It seems Martyn finds that unworthy of an argument, because he simply turns and resumes sweeping. Ren watches him—his sleeves are still rolled up from moving rubble earlier, and though sweeping doesn’t require much muscle, Ren finds himself watching the slight flex of his arm when he moves.

Everything about Martyn is attractive to Ren. Maybe he’s just been alone too long, but he finds himself admiring Martyn at every chance he gets. The callousness of his hands, the swish of his skirts when he walks, the crease below his eyes when he smiles… Ren can’t help but take it all in.

When Ren closes his eyes, when he lets himself dream, he can almost imagine how Martyn’s touch would feel against his own skin. Martyn’s hand in his own, far more weathered than the hands of a nobleman, or cupping his face with rough fingers. Martyn could have lifted his old body off the ground entirely, he thinks. Martyn could have swept him off his feet effortlessly.

Ren thinks about being delicate, something he never once cared about before, but knows he can never be again. He wants to be something fragile and small, something treasured and cherished. He wants Martyn to hold him like he’s precious, to touch him with intention, to treat him with love. He wants soft, smooth hands, clear of fur and claws, small enough to fit in Martyn’s own. He wants hands which don’t spend all their time against the muddy, dusty floor, hands important enough to be held and squeezed and kissed.

Could Ren be worthy of that one day? Would he have been worthy of that if he'd had a human face? He doesn’t want to be scary and clumsy and monstrous anymore.

Something smacks Ren in the nose. Not hard, but it tickles, and it immediately makes Ren sneeze.

“Did you just sneeze on me? That’s so gross,” Martyn says. He’s standing directly in front of Ren’s face, grimacing heavily. His broom is still in his hands, and Ren has to stop himself from laughing.

“You hit me in the nose! With a dusty broom! Of course I was going to sneeze!” Ren says.

“Gross,” Martyn says again, “I feel like I should take a bath.”

“You actually want to clean off?” Ren asks. Martyn narrows his eyes.

“I’m not entirely disgusting,” Martyn says, “I spent all of this morning pushing rubble around. I should take a bath anyway.”

“If you’d like to finish work early, I’ll help you draw one,” Ren offers, and Martyn nods. Ren pries himself off the ground, and when he stands, he’s taller than Martyn. He almost laughs to himself—small and delicate indeed.

Filling Martyn’s bath is a team effort. Martyn has an easier time operating the well, what with his hands making the whole process of tying knots and turning cranks much smoother. When the bucket is full of water and out of the well, he hands it to Ren, who carries it back to the bathroom with ease.

“You’re dusty,” Martyn notes, dumping one bucket into the tub, “How do you clean off? Could I just brush it all out?”

“That could work,” Ren says, “Maybe wet rags?”

“I don’t want you to smell like wet dog forever,” Martyn groans, “But if I brush out that much dust and fur, I’m just going to have to sweep again.”

“Such is life, living with a monster,” Ren says, amused. Martyn groans.

“Everyone warns you with magic beasts how you might get eaten or something,” Martyn says, “No one warns you about all the godamn sweeping.”

A few more buckets see the bath full. Martyn doesn’t even bother to dismiss Ren before he starts untying the clasp at the back of his dress.

“Martyn! Hold on, let me leave. I should give you some privacy,” Ren says, a bit embarrassed, but Martyn seems surprised he cares.

“Why? It’s not like it matters,” Martyn dismisses, “Plus, I know you’ll get lonely if I kick you out.”

“It’s hardly appropriate,” Ren argues. Martyn shrugs.

“It’s just us in this whole castle, Ren. Plus, you’re not even human, so why do you care?” Martyn says, “I’ve changed in front of you before, anyway.”

The first and last points are true enough—no one in the castle is going to scold them for indecency, and Martyn has changed from nightdress to working clothes in Ren’s bedroom a few times before.

Ren had thought that a sign of trust. Knowing Martyn simply doesn’t think of him as human enough to care not to change in front of him, it…

“…I guess,” Ren agrees, though he still averts his eyes as Martyn drops the rest of his day clothes and climbs into the bath. He settles his arms along the edge of the tub with a long sigh, then tilts his head back at Ren.

“I’ll only take a few minutes,” Martyn says, “You can just hang out, I guess.”

Ren hums to prove he’s heard, then finds a place to lie down somewhere at the edge of the room. His heart stings, though he knows it shouldn’t surprise him.

After all, if Martyn really did think of Ren the way Ren does Martyn, then Ren wouldn’t be lying on cold tile across the room.

Ren turns his head away from Martyn entirely, watching the floor. He hears water slosh as Martyn moves, but he doesn’t think about it. He’ll never be himself again, he knows—the one shot he has to try, and the man doesn’t even think of him as human. If soft hands make him worthy of love, he’ll never measure up.

So he thinks about now. He thinks about his body as it is, as it always will be. In his mind, Martyn doesn’t hold him softly or kiss his paws. He’s too big, too clumsy, too monstrous for gentle care. Instead, Martyn lies on Ren’s bed, torso pinned under one large paw. Claws rest against Martyn’s skin, but they do not break, and Martyn does not fear them. Martyn is perfectly at peace as Ren presses closer, as Ren presses his tongue against Martyn’s face, against his neck, down his arms, across his chest. He tastes of salt after a day spent hard at work, and Ren can feel Martyn’s muscle twitch when he moves, same as how he used to watch. All the while, Martyn scratches at his face, dragging blunt nails down his nose or under his chin, seeking out the sound of Ren’s tail thumping on the bed. Ren’s teeth, large and beastly and out in the open, brush too near to Martyn’s face, and Martyn kisses his exposed fang.

Could Martyn love a monster? Could Ren be worthy like this, too? If the curse can ever break, he’ll have to be.

But Ren always knew his curse was unbreakable, didn’t he?

“—n? Ren? Are you listening to me?” Martyn asks. Ren cracks an eye open—Martyn’s still in the tub, leaning over the edge closest to Ren.

“Hm?” Ren asks, “No, I dozed off.”

“I don’t understand how you fall asleep on the floor so often,” Martyn says, “I’m going to dry off and get dressed, then I’ll help you clean the dust out of your fur. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Ren says, and he doesn’t look away as Martyn stands, reaching for his towel.

If Martyn thinks anything of Ren staring, he doesn’t say.

[hell-drabbles]

Leviathan and Ra-on 2

Summary: You’ve never been more glad to have your guest bedroom be reinforced to stand even the most intense of devil king tantrums. Ra-on needs rest after too much intense fucking and Leviathan is being a demanding bastard.

(Being stuffed full to the point of inflated swelling cannot feel good on Ra-on’s inexperienced guts.)

“Mm,” Ra-on, on the floor and in a plush pillow fort you built just to have a nice little nook to read and relax in, gingerly shifted his bruised and sore self around, “Even… breathing hurts. Ow.”

Of course his everything would hurt. After wading through a disgustingly thick river of cum that almost leaked into your bedroom–thank fuck for weather strips–and stumbling into your bed with a stomach fit for rupturing from an hours long fucking session, the fact he’s lucid at all the next day was a miracle.

What is it with devils, with Leviathan pushing Ra-on way past his limit? He’s not rubber, not one of Ra-on’s many pocket sleeves but they treat him like that anyway!

Bastards. All of them.

“At least that’s all the pain you have. If you had ruptured intestines or a prolapse, you’d be screwed.” You have little clue how to go about fixing those and you wouldn’t trust any hospital in Hell with Ra-on. Knowing how devils worked, they’d fix him right back up and then fuck him as ‘payment for their work.’ And then Ra-on would be right back where you both started, with swelled up guts and internal injuries.

Fuck this place. Fuck Hell.

“Oh. Oh!” At first, Ra-on was absent-minded, then clarity cleared his voice, “That can happen?”

You blinked, “Yes. Especially since I know you don’t own any inflation toys. Or do prep-work.”

He flushed and his face pinched up horribly. Really, like his toy collection was a secret to you. Who does he think cleans up Minhyeok’s closet? Of course you would know what he has.

“…right…” And Ra-on sank back into the pile, practically disappearing. Probably wanted to vanish actually. “I think… I’ll sleep again.” Guess that line of conversation’s done. That’s fine, you wanted to get back to reading.

“You do that. I’ll just be reading, ‘kay?”

There was only a mumble. You gave a hum back.

You can only hope that, by the time you finish this chapter or when Ra-on wakes up, the hallways will be clean and the smell will finally fade. You’d use an air freshener but you’d end up suffocating yourself with the combined smell, so all you can do is turn on the air conditioner and hope the circulation would get rid of it.

You think only an hour passed before there was a knock on your door. A knock. On your layers thick, reinforced door. The sound traveled through the very framework of this bedroom. Luckily, Ra-on was so deep asleep that the most he did was shift.

You walked to the door and turn on the intercom. You’re not surprised at the sight of Leviathan on the screen, head held at that irritating angle as though no one deserved to be at eye level with him.

The sea of cum was still flowing from the hallway behind him and the devil responsible was naked right before the camera’s sight. Ugh. You know exactly what he’s here for.

“You,” Leviathan seethed, like addressing you alone was enough to disgust him, “You have Solomon’s Son with you–”

You turned off the intercom and pressed another button. There was light clinking, the turning of gears and well built mechanisms, then it all stopped.

The only sound that remained was a very, very light clinking. Nice to know that that devil wasn’t joking about his skills and the quality of his materials. ‘Not even a devil king would be able to tear through this!’

You should take him out for drinks at some point.

“Hmm?” Ra-on raised his sleepy head up, eyes not even open, “Someone knockin’?”

“Nope,” you kicked back in your chair, “Just another one of those gross Hell mosquitoes.”

[parrythisucasual]

HmmMmmMM I’ve had this idea for a bit basically Jax would have his like go to pranks be ones involving bugs so obviously he tries to screw around with the reader not knowing they actually really like bugs and ending up finding it cute or whatever. I’d just imagine him being utterly confused or concerned lmao

HERE WE GO TWO POSTS ONE WEEK???? ITS ALMOST AS IF IVE BECOME SLIGHTLY MORE BEARABLE!!!!!

JAX X Bug Enthusiast! Reader

Jax waited around the corner, snickering. Just a few moments ago, he’d slipped a few pincher beetles under your door. He eagerly awaited the scream of terror with perked ears and bated breath.

But… It never came. Jaax waited for almost twenty minutes, though it never came. He groaned, deciding you were probably too stupid to notice the bugs infesting your room, so he trudged back up the hallway to make sure you did.

He knocked, and your cheerful voice called back. That was odd, usually, you were depressed and apathetic all the time. “Come on in!” you had chirped at him. Jax shrugged, turning the kob and entering- only to be faced with you laying belly down on your bed, kicking your legs up. With the beetles. In your bed. Just… crawling around.

You smile up at Jax, “These are my new pets. This is Dave the Magical Cheese Wizard, and that’s Suction Cup,” your grin bears the satisfaction akin to that of a Gen Z teenager that made a popular shitpost. He stared blankly at you, almost in a state of shock. 

You reached out to Dave, rubbing his shell a bit. He flexed his pincers but did not attempt to pinch you. You seemed thoroughly happy, although it was a relaxed sort of excitement. Happily content, perhaps? You glance back at Jax, “Thank you for them,” you speak slyly, “I knew you were the one to do it.” 

“How did you know it was me?” he raised a brow, surely you couldn’t have known. “Partly the knowledge you’ve done similar to Ragatha. But mostly your footsteps,” you respond, as if it had been clear the whole time, “Everyone walks differently. And in a few different ways,” you continue. He frowns, only more questions appearing in his mind.

“Really? You recognize everyone?” You shrug, “Well, Gangle is too light, I can't hear at all, and Kinger is hard to hear because he slides. But I can tell from the rest.” Jax nodded, then steered off of that conversation, now more interested in you keeping the bugs.

“I put these in here to freak you out,” he reminded, “And you like them?” You nod, picking up Sucion Cup, “I was in college for etymology,” you explain, rubbing the side of the bug’s pincer to demonstrate how much you trusted it, “bugs are a passion of mine.” Jax gives a small grin, “Really?”

You chuckle a bit, “Yeah, a lot of people think it’s gross and lame.” He shakes his head, “Nah, its totally cool. Bugs are freaky. Its cute how much you like it,” hes waving his hand. You nod, “You think so?” You smile at his nod and begin rambling about the beetles.

A few minutes later, your brain finally loaded what he’d said, “Wait, you think it’s cute?” you question, disbelieving. Jax’s face grew a bit darker, and your brain skipped forward again. Oh. OH. You’d first though he meant you were cute like a puppy, now you’re realizing you were very wrong.

“I don’t know, maybe? I guess so?” he tried to play it off, acting so casual about it. You merely blink, “Me? You like me?” He doesn’t respond, now avoiding eye contact. “Holy s*1t! You like me!” You couldn’t believe it. Your embarrassment finally joined the party, causing you to scoot backward, in a flustered mess. The situation was incredibly tense.

“Well yeah, yeah a little,” you being so flustered seemed to help him regain confidence, “I mean yes, I do. And it’d be pretty cool if you wanted to talk more or something?” he was struggling, but you were entirely ensnared by his awkward attitude. When he wasn’t being so fake, or at least when you could see through it, he was really sweet. You snort, smiling as you relax a bit.

“A date? Yeah, I’d like that.” He’s stunned as he looks into your face, his dumb grin having been wiped clean off, “Yeah? Yeah, okay, cool!” He perked up more, leaning in eagerly, “I’ll think of something really good, wait here,” he jumped up and hurried to the door, “Ill be back!” and disappeared.

You giggle, “Looking forward to it.”

[iwaasfairy]

bones and all +hq! (anyone) just something super fucked up with lots of blood 💋🫀

this was so sexyyyy idk I’m very into gross icky blood stuff rn

tw murder, gore, yandere

Red coats the walls. It splatters out into grasping hands with each brutal blow, baseball bat full of nails shattering the bone below it until the whining dies down. Along with the frantic screaming, and you sink to your knees at the sight. Within seconds, your housemate has been reduced to a heap of meat and bone and sinew, leaving her coppery tang in the air. Your legs have buckled, and now you’re on the cold floor, there’s nothing you can do but watch and shake.

The blood pools under her legs, because those are intact -upper body too. But gunk and brain matter is spilled on your floor, and the puddle of red gains surface the longer you stare, trying not to hurl your guts out. If you could look away you would. If you could run, you would. A low puff of air sounds, before the invader turns on his heel and stares you down. “There she is.” It’s faint, almost apologetic in its delivery. He pulls the mask down his mouth as he wipes the back of his hand over his face.

Your hands shake uncontrollably in your lap, and the stinging in your face surges through your bones. Atsumu.

“Ya missed my entrance,” he’s got a grin on his face - but his eyes are so blown out it’s hard to believe it really is him. For a few moments, he looks entirely, sickly unfamiliar. Not long enough to give you time to collect yourself before he approaches though, dragging the bloody bat along with him. “Sorry ‘bout yer little friend. Came at me with scissors… The bitch’s almost as wild as you are when yer upset.”

He has a frown on his face when he looks back, but the slightest curl to his lips doesn’t slip. His hands come up to hold onto your shoulder as he sighs. “So,” he lets out a soft hum, and then thumbs along your cheek with his hands still stained, bloodied as he touches you, “r’ya ready ta go?” You can’t help but feel bad. Even moving your eyes up to look at him feels like it’s taking all the energy you have.

This is all your fault. Atsumu came for you. You’d signed the papers and found a friend to live with, and you had hoped that would’ve been enough - but you didn’t think… you- Nao tried to protect you, and now she’s gone. There was a time you would’ve trusted Tsumu with your life. “Y-you,” your throat locks up when you say it, and the wobbly vision gets too much, spilling over, “wh-what did you do? Why?”

The blond barely pulls up his nose, before giving you a look. “Didn’t ya hear me? I came in through the window an’ she came at me. Couldn’t be helped.” The way his hand is still around the makeshift weapon somehow doesn’t convince you of his perceived innocence. Almost as soon as you think that, he follows your gaze, and slowly starts chuckling as he realizes the same thing. “Baby doll…”

You scramble. Atsumu drops the bat to crash himself into you and grab at your arms, but one well aimed kick onto his knee has him wincing, and it gives you just enough time to get up and dash towards the door. That also means running through the pool of liquid slowly drying on the floor, but your vision’s so blurry that you don’t even register it. You slip as you slam the door behind you and Tsumu curses— your heart’s pumping so hard you don’t hear it.

Not until someone gets a fistful of your hair and yanks you back so hard you think your scalp might come clean off. Until you land in the cold gravel and a foot pushes into your soft throat. Tsumu’s able to make it out narrowly before your vision starts blurring at the edges, and you claw at the limb for air. “Samu, ya’ll hurt ‘er.” As soon as you get a tiny bit of leeway you’re grabbing at the skin and hacking up spit, painfully tight airways burning.

Osamu only glares back at the blond. “‘I got it covered, Samu. Don’t be a bore, Samu,’” he mocks, before crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Yer sloppy, ‘n lucky I was ‘ere ta stop ‘er.”

“Yea, yea,” the other man sighs, before he crouches by you and lovingly brushes your hair away from your face. “Yer cute when ya try so hard, y’know. Gets us going.” He snickers, then raises a brow. “Samu won’t admit it but it gets him goin’ too. But next time ya get caught… we’ll take one of yer fingers. That’s only fair.”

[dreamlessimp]

— mint gum

bachira meguru x reader | 0.9k

he hates bitter things, but you thought to test it

bachira meguru is an outspoken hater of all things bitter. he claimed they simply don’t go with his personality, as if the two had any actual ties. you couldn’t deny though, that it certainly fit him well.

he was the first person you thought of when ‘sweet’ came to mind, and the label fit him terribly well in your humble opinion. according to him, he trusted that you knew him well enough to form your objectively correct opinions. you were happy to agree.

alas, it was a commonplace game of yours to try to feed him bitter things, never entirely sure whether he’ll notice or not. it usually ended up in him getting mad at you, but his annoyance rarely lasted long. 

how could he stay mad at you when he thought you looked so pretty laughing, even if at his expense. bachira wouldn’t admit it, but he may play up his negative reactions, just a bit. if it made you smile that much more, he was confident it was fully worth it.

the way your face lit up made him feel like the gross tasting leaf you’d just made him swallow was made of butterflies, and so who was his own pride to deny him of the sight?

this didn’t mean he enjoyed it though, especially considering that he had much better ways of making you laugh. it was a bit unfortunate that his displeasure brought you more joy than his occasionally well-timed jokes, but who was he to go against it? you liked his jokes well enough anyways.

gum was quite clearly banned from your school. you supposed it was fair enough, considering the concerning number of students who stuck theirs underneath the desks. did this rule stop most people though? of course not.

bachira walked up to you, balancing his lunch tray in one hand, waving at you excitedly with the other. “hey!” he exclaimed before meeting you at your usual table, where a late isagi had yet to join you.

“hi!” you responded, a bit too excitedly in your opinion. beneath the table, you crossed your fingers that he failed to notice.

just as expected, to your relief, he did not. it was lucky isagi was late, as he certainly would have asked you about it in passing. not that it would matter much either way.

bachira took a seat across from you and leaned forward to try to steal the small dessert from your tray. rejecting this, you swatted his hand away. “hey! mine.” you spoke jokingly, as though you were offended.

“that’s supposed to be my line.” bachira responded, massaging the back of his hand, the grin in his voice disagreeing with the attempted serious look on his face. “i can’t believe you hit me.” he reached again in order to bop your head.

you recoiled as if in shock. “and to think,” you began, revealing your hand to bachira. “i was planning to give you this gum.” you curled open your hand to show him the pink-wrapped piece of gum. 

on your tray, behind the dessert he tried to take, was another piece of gum. This one the real one, as opposed to the mint gum in your hand bachira was staring at intently.

seconds later, bachira hand flew out to grab the gum from your partially open hand. “i’ll accept this as your apology, i guess.” he announced happily.

you held up a hand as if you foolishly expected him to politely place it back. with a glance at you, he dropped the now unwrapped gum into his mouth, apparently not taking notice of its obvious green color.

instantly, bachira felt the bitterness erupt in his throat and his eyes began to water. he briefly believed you had just poised him, before recognizing the sensation as that of mint. the mint gum that he blamed you for forcing him to eat, by the way.

“ow, ow, ow!” bachira chanted as if it would help. so clearly working against him, though, was the unfortunate fact that he had yet to actually spit out the gum.

eventually, he thought to spit it out amongst your laughs and slightly concerned stare.

“why did you keep it?” you asked through laughter.

he momentarily faltered before beginning to answer. “i was too busy thinking that i had been poisoned.” he fanned at his mouth dramatically before turning to you.

“if only you could help my burning mouth?” he suggested, his voice just as happy as his face, the pain likely being long-forgotten. or, at least, he was focused on more pressing matters.

apparently, bachira was not one to pass up opportunity. for the sake of his pride, your friendship, and this moment not haunting him forever, he hoped you were as well.

you shrugged and he took the chance to messily smash his lips against yours. 

seconds later, your poor friend turned third wheel, isagi, decided to finally show up.

as he apologetically tripped over his words in an effort to explain that he could eat somewhere else, bachira shrugged and happily invited him to sit down, where he placed his lunch tray on the same side as bachira, leaving just enough distance between the three of you that it was obvious you and bachira were sat closer.

you weren’t exactly surprised when a minute later, the corner of a napkin fell onto the tray in front of you, and carefully (messily) scribbled onto its side, was a message stating that his mouth hurt really badly after school, and that he should walk you home in the name of fairness.

[sleepy-yn]

Veil of Secrets

Chapter 4

Warnings: Passing out (?), slight bullying

Word Count: 4079- not proofread

Y/N POV

This has got to be the longest week of my life (it’s only Wednesday). There’s a sort of pain in my chest that has me breathing out of my mouth, my nasal passage not reaching deep enough to grasp the oxygen. I always feel like this in the mornings, and I’ve conjured it up to the spirits sitting on my chest to keep me in bed for a couple more winks of sleep. But I think they might actually be trying to get me to stay in bed for reasons more dangerous than I can think of at 7:30 AM. 

The goosebumps on my legs make me itchy as I scratch them while sitting on the edge of my bed. I stare straight into the mirror atop my dresser drawers. God, if Sungchan makes me sleep in the same bed with him when we’re married, he’d definitely get a good laugh out of me. The thought of my wretched marriage is enough to make me grimace, tears somehow finding their way to hold in my eyes. Just my life, I guess. 

Getting ready is always fast- not because I have a short routine but because I try to get out of the house as fast as possible. My house may be beautiful, but is nothing short of miserable. I wish my mother’s portraits were still up. When she first disappeared, I would kiss each of them before I left the house for school. I hoped she’d feel my love and find her way home. When I shared this with my father, he just laughed at me and told me to give up that hope. The portraits were gone when I returned home. The only picture he never took from me is the one I keep on me. But I don’t even trust you to tell you where it is. 

With half a tangerine in my mouth and the other in my hand above the bag hanging around my wrist, I push on my shoes and out the door. But before I could start my walk, I ran into a wall. A wall that looks, unfortunately, familiar. 

“What the hell, Sungchan?” I quickly look between the uneaten half of my tangerine at my feet and his stupid, bored expression. 

“Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?”

“I wasn’t aware that there was suddenly going to be a wall where there usually isn’t. What are you doing here, anyway?” I regain my composure and cock a brow at him, “Stalking me, honey?” 

“In your dreams. Or do you dream of that scholarship, kid?” he bends down to my eyes, challenging me. Who does he think he is?

“If you want to kiss me, ask for permission.” My hand, sticky from where my fruit was, pushes his face away from me, and I walk on. 

“What the hell, Y/N!” he taps and tries to wipe his hands on his forehead, “Why’re you so gross?” 

“If you think fruits are gross, I have unfortunate news for your future,”. You’d think I licked his face the way this drama queen reacted. Wait a minute- “What are you doing here?” I whip around to see him still touching his forehead. 

“I came to pick you up. We do go to the same school if you couldn’t remember.” I pull a pack of wet wipes from my bag, handing it to him. “I figure, y’know, with the truce, we might as well try to be ‘cordial’ or whatever.” 

“You literally said we needed to stay away from each other, though.” 

“Look, I’m not going to explain myself to you. Just get in the damn car,” he shoves the package back into my hands and walks ahead of me. Who pissed in his coffee? 

His choice of car isn’t as flashy as I’d thought it would be—a simple black Cadillac with an agitating face peering out of its lowered window. 

“My, you are a sight for sore eyes, Princess,” laughed Wonbin. His smug smile was the most prominent thing on his face, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. 

I stop in my tracks, Sungchan running into my back. “What. The. Fuck. Is he doing here?” I’m so angry I don’t even feel when Sungchan’s hands grabbed my waist nor when he removed them until I see them in the corner of my eyes. 

“I always give him a ride,” he shrugs his shoulders, moving past me to open the door, “are you getting in or not? Cause I did not drive all this way for nothing.” “Technically, your driver drove all this way, so-”

“No, I meant what I said. I drove.”

I can feel the way my fingers start to tingle, like there are electrical currents surging through them. The intensity getting so high my fingers feel cold. If I don’t sit now, I’m sure to pass out. 

“Can- um, can Wonbin sit in the front?” I gasp out. 

“I’m not your chauffeur for you to bark orders to from the backseat. Just get-”

“Sungchan,” I look at him as best I can without lifting my head. I’m unsure if he gets the message or doesn’t want to fight, but he just sighs and gestures Wonbin to get out.

Wonbin steps out with a roll of his eyes, holding the corner of the door open. 

“You sure get just what you want, don’t you?”

I don’t answer as I get in, holding my breath and shutting my eyes. 

---

“Don’t tell me you get carsick,” Wonbin interrupts the blissful silence in the car. I was so close to falling asleep right then and there. The wave of nausea crashes back onto the sandy shores which is my internal system. 

“Don’t you dare throw up in my car, Y/N.” Even with my eyes closed, I can feel Sungchan’s staring at me through the rearview mirror 

“‘M not carsick.” The car lets off the brakes and on the gas rapidly, speeding past the other cars. “Sung- slow down.” I plead but I’m not sure he hears the whisper through the engine's revving. 

My fingers are still tingling but now it’s reached toward my arms. If I attempted to use my phone, I doubted I’d even be able to type in my password. If he doesn’t slow down, I swear to God. 

“See, my driving got you here before you could th-” 

I don’t hear the rest of his speech before I scramble out of the car. I need to breathe fresh air, real air. My knees wobble with each step; thankfully, there’s no one in the parking lot. I can’t keep walking before I stumble and grasp onto the cement pillar a couple of feet away from Sungchan’s car. 

“Shit, Wonbin, grab her bags.” Two hands are taking the bag of tangerines off my wrist and my school bag off my shoulder. Something wrapped around my waist before I was carried off bridal style. 

—

I don’t know what woke me up, but my dry mouth made me aware that I had been asleep. Blinking a few times, I realized the white light surrounding me was, in fact, not heaven but the curtains surrounding the bed in the nurse's office. Shit, what happened?

“Oh, Y/n, you’re awake!” A welcoming, boyish voice has me turning my head to see Sohee with a box in his hands. 

“Sohee? What are you doing here?” I sat up, but as fast as I could rise, I went back down- the pressure in my head killing me. 

“Don’t get up yet; wait for the nurse to come back.” His soft hands gently press my head back into the pillow, adjusting my blanket. “I volunteer here a couple of times a week, it’s good for my transcripts.” I hum in response. 

“What happened?”

“Um, well, I wasn’t here when you arrived, but the nurse said two guys came to drop you off. They said you pretty much collapsed in the parking lot an hour ago. Did something happen?”

Then I remember the car ride with Sungchan and Wonbin and how weak I felt before blacking out in the lot. I can still feel the damp air. 

“Sungchan gave me a ride to school; I just couldn’t take it, I guess.” 

“Oh, do you get car sick?”

“Not exactly.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing Sungchan carried you in when he did,” the nurse comes in, fixing her coat in place, “you had extremely low blood pressure. You’re a bit dehydrated as well. Did you happen to have a scare or something before you got here? Your charts don’t say you have any prior health concerns.”

“N-no, I don’t. I think I just got a really bad case of anxiety or something.”

Sohee listens quietly, his hand wrapped around my arm and his thumb drawing lines against it. He’s a good kid. Sungchan probably had a laugh at my fall. Wonbin especially. 

“Well, I just sent a message to your teacher. You should be good to go to class however, we’re just waiting for your escort.”

“My escort?” Now, I can finally sit up and look at her fully. “Who?”

“Me, obviously.” Oh great. 

Wonbin stands in the doorway, fixing his hair like the priss he is. 

“Why are you her escort? You hardly even-” 

“Ahem, Sohee. Would you mind helping me get some more boxes from the supply closet?”

Sohee retreats back into himself sheepishly, giving my arm one tight squeeze before brushing past Wonbin at the door. I really wish she would’ve let him stay. If I’m left alone with Wonbin, I think my blood pressure might rise.

“Don’t look so happy to see me,” he rolls his eyes, strolling into the room.

“Why are you here? What happened to me? Where’s Sungcha-”

“God, you ask so many questions,” his eyes are going to stay stuck in the back of his head at this rate. He sits in the chair Sohee was occupying, picking at his nails. “Sungchan went off to a meeting or something. He probably would have come to get you. Probably.” 

He’s not even looking at me, as if I’m some damn nuisance. He really drives me up the walls with how much of a queen he is. 

“Before you ask, again,” another roll of his eyes, this time accompanied by a sigh, “as soon as you got out of the car, you quite literally just slid to the ground, and you passed out. It was kinda creepy the way your eyes just rolled back, and your face got so pale, well, paler than usual.” Gee, I never noticed. “Anyway, Sungchan carried you from the parking lot up here. Poor guy, having to lug you up so-” 

“Alright, I get the message, you dick,” I lay my head back on the pillow, my hand finding its way to my eyes. I really should invest in some transition lenses. 

“Look, we got to get to class; you already missed a good chunk. If you’re good the whole way, I might consider lending you my notes,” that stupid smug smile. 

I don’t fight him, though; it's not like there’s much fight left in me anyway. I just want to go home and sleep the rest of the day off. I thought that after so much time had passed, this kind of thing would just go away, but I guess it hasn’t. When I get up, I realize there’s a blazer wrapped around my waist. I lift one of the sleeves toward Wonbin. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Before Sungchan picked you up, he put his jacket around you. Probably to shield everyone else’s eyes from whatever you got going on…” he makes a circle movement with his hand, “there.” Ouch. “Gave everyone a good view of his body, though, so I’m sure the female body appreciates you right about now.”

Why would he do that? I mean, it was already enough trouble carrying me all the way here, surprised he even had a second thought about taking care of that issue. 

Stepping out of the nurse’s office, the bustling sounds of the hallway hit me like a tidal wave. Students chattered, lockers slammed, and the occasional laugh echoed through the space. My head was still spinning slightly, but I managed to keep myself upright—barely. Wonbin, naturally, walked a step ahead of me, as if he’d been put on this earth to lead me around like some lost puppy.

He kept his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His posture screamed indifference, but I couldn’t ignore the way his eyes flicked over his shoulder every couple of steps, checking on me. Awe, maybe he does have a heart. Or he’s hoping he’ll lose me in the crowd of people. 

“Are you seriously going to keep that thing tied around your waist all day?” he said suddenly, nodding toward the blazer. “You’re gonna look like a middle schooler whose first boyfriend just gave her his sweater.”

“Why do you care?” I shot back, tightening the knot just to spite him.

“Because I’m the one stuck having to look at you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, I’m starting to think you volunteered for this just so you could annoy me.”

“Right. Because my lifelong ambition is to hang out with you, Y/N,” he deadpanned, though the slight curl of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Rounding a corner, I can’t control the way my stomach growls. 

Wonbin must’ve noticed because he slowed his pace and glanced at me. “Hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tangerine. One of MY tangerines.

“Eat. You’re useless enough as it is; I don’t need you passing out again.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special. This is mine anyway, what happened to the bag full of them?” I muttered, beginning to peel the skin.

“Hey, I’m just here to make sure you don’t keel over on school grounds. Anything beyond that is out of my job description. And anyway, me and Sungchan ate them,”

“You what?!” I could feel my blood and its pressure rise expeditiously. 

“It was the least you could do after we saved your ass,” he scoffed. 

I don’t say that I’d rather have been left in that parking lot with my bag of tangerines.

Despite his infuriating personality, he wasn’t wrong—I needed something to eat if I wanted to make it through the day.

As we made our way to class, the weight of Sungchan’s blazer around my waist felt heavier than it should have. My fingers brushed over the fabric absently, trying to make sense of it. Sungchan didn’t do things like that. He didn’t care. Not about me, at least.

“Stop overthinking,” Wonbin said, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking about. Just stop. You’re making that face.”

“I don’t have a face.”

He smirked. “Oh, you do. It’s that scrunched-up, ‘the world is ending because I’m the main character’ face. You’ve got it down to an art.”

I glared at him but didn’t bother responding. He wasn’t worth the energy that I didn’t have at the moment.

We reached the classroom, and Wonbin opened the door with a dramatic flourish, as if announcing my grand return to the world of the living.

“Look who survived,” he said loudly, earning a few chuckles from the students already seated. Sungchan, sitting by the window, glanced up at the commotion. His eyes briefly met mine before darting back down to his notebook, as if nothing had happened.

I slipped into my seat as quietly as I could, ignoring the whispers and side glances. Wonbin, of course, took the opportunity to saunter over to Sungchan and drop into the seat next to him. They exchanged a few words, their voices too low for me to hear, but whatever Sungchan said made Wonbin grin like he’d just won the lottery.

Great. Whatever they were plotting, I was sure it didn’t bode well for me.

I could feel the way some girl's eyes were glaring at me. Shit the jacket. I stand, unwrapping it from myself and making my way over to Sungchan. He doesn’t even glance up as I approach him. I drop it onto his desk with a small “thanks” and return to my seat. As I turned to head back to my seat, I could still feel the weight of their stares. Some whispered behind cupped hands, others outright glared, their gazes bouncing between me and Sungchan. The jacket had been a curse, apparently—one I should’ve gotten rid of sooner.

“Y/N,” Sungchan’s voice stopped me mid-step. It wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to freeze me in place.

I turned back, half-expecting him to scold me for making a scene or accuse me of wrinkling his precious blazer. Instead, he tapped the corner of the desk where I’d dropped it. “Next time, fold it.”

The audacity.

I narrowed my eyes at him, biting back a retort. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips made it clear he was doing this on purpose.

I spun on my heel and walked back to my desk, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. Wonbin let out a low chuckle from his seat beside Sungchan, and I could hear him say something, probably teasing, though the words didn’t reach me.

As I sat down, I stared straight ahead, willing my face not to betray any embarrassment. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught one of the girls in the row next to me leaning toward her friend, her voice low but pointed.

“Can you believe her? Acting so casual with him like that,” she muttered.

Her friend giggled, glancing my way. “Yeah, who does she think she is?”

I clenched my jaw and forced myself to focus on the board, pretending not to hear. But my mind was already racing, and my cheeks burned with the effort it took not to react.

Sungchan’s stupid jacket. His stupid smirk. His stupid everything. Can you believe I have to marry that jerk?”

I kept my eyes glued to the board, scribbling notes even though my brain wasn’t processing a single word. The whispers around me were fading now, but the tension in my chest didn’t. It never did, really—not in places like this.

Just as I let out a shaky breath, the sound of a chair scraping across the floor caught my attention. I glanced over to see Sungchan standing, his hands tucked into his pockets as he strolled toward me.

My stomach twisted. He wasn’t… he wasn’t coming over here, was he?

He stopped at the edge of my desk, and the hum of quiet conversations in the room seemed to drop a few decibels.

“You forgot this,” he said simply, holding out his blazer.

I stared at it for a moment, confused. “I gave it back.”

“You dropped it on my desk, Y/N,” he said, his tone flat but somehow teasing at the same time. “It’s not the same thing.”

I could feel all the eyes in the room on us, some curious, some clearly annoyed. My palms grew sweaty.

“I don’t need it,” I muttered, not meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need it either,” he said, leaning down slightly so his face was level with mine. “But I didn’t give it to you because I needed to. Take it.”

Before I could argue, he set it neatly on the corner of my desk and straightened up, giving me a pointed look.

Then, with that infuriating smirk of his, he turned and walked back to his seat, completely unfazed by the spectacle he’d just created.

I stared at the jacket for a long moment, debating whether I should just crumple it up and throw it back at Sungchan. My cheeks burned as I felt the stares of half the class boring into me.

Wonbin’s laugh broke through the silence. “You’ve got her all flustered, man,” he said, loud enough for me to hear.

I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to launch Sungchan’s stupid blazer across the room at both of them. Instead, I shoved it into my bag and ducked my head, willing the day to just be over already.

But as the teacher resumed the lesson, I couldn’t help but glance over at Sungchan. He wasn’t smirking anymore. He was just sitting there, tapping his pen against his notebook like nothing had happened.

As if a prayer had been answered, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. The scraping of chairs and the chatter of students filled the room as everyone began to pack up and leave. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I had barely moved to pack my things when Sohee’s familiar figure appeared in the doorway, holding a small paper bag in his hands. He looked a little out of place, glancing around the classroom before his eyes landed on me. “Y/N!” he called softly, stepping inside with his usual bright, boyish smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as he approached, surprised to see him.

“I wanted to check on you,” he said, placing the bag on my desk. “You didn’t look so great earlier, and I thought maybe this would help. It’s just some herbal candies and a sports drink. They’re good for when you’re feeling lightheaded or dehydrated.”

The thoughtfulness of the gesture made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t used to. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for this,” I murmured, glancing into the bag.

“It’s no big deal,” he said with a shrug, his eyes warm. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.” Sohee always knew the right thing to say. The events that had transpired before the day even began were pushed to the back of my mind, I was only focused on Sohee’s kind gesture.  

But, of course, peace was too much to ask for.

A low chuckle came from behind me. “Wow, look at this. Y/N’s nurse is back,” Wonbin’s voice drawled, cutting through the moment like a blade.

“Knock it off, Wonbin,” Sohee said, his voice calm but firm. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

Wonbin raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Easy, Sohee. Just making an observation. Didn’t realize Y/N had a whole fan club.”

Sohee didn’t even flinch. “It’s called being a decent person. You should try it sometime.

Wonbin smirked, glancing between me and Sohee. “You’ve got a real soft spot, don’t you? Guess that’s what happens when you’re trying to keep those scholarships. Gotta look perfect all the time, huh?”

The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Sohee’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Sungchan’s voice cut through.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his sharp gaze flicking between the three of us.

“Nothing,” Sohee replied, there was a tightness in his voice, and I couldn’t ignore how he looked at Sungchan. He gave me a small smile and gestured to the bag. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you later.” I nodded, feeling a little guilty as he left the room without another word. But as he walked away, I couldn’t help noticing how his shoulders tensed.

 “Wow,” Wonbin said as soon as Sohee was gone. “That guy’s got a hero complex or something. Always so righteous.”

“Wonbin, shut up,” Sungchan said flatly, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“What?” Wonbin laughed, clearly unbothered. “It’s true. You can’t tell me that guy doesn’t have some kind of agenda.”

Sungchan’s jaw tensed, but instead of arguing, he turned to me. “Let’s go. You look like you’re about to pass out again.”

I frowned, tempted to argue, but the exhaustion from the day left me with little fight. Sungchan didn’t wait for an answer, already walking toward the door.

“Guess I’ll see you later, Princess,” Wonbin teased as I followed after Sungchan.

As I stepped into the hallway, I glanced at the bag Sohee had given me and couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in my chest. For all the chaos in my life, at least someone genuinely cared.

And yet, the tension between Sohee, Wonbin, and Sungchan lingered in my mind, like there was something they all shared but couldn’t admit.

a/n: do you guys prefer these long chapters or would you guys prefer shorter chapters broken up scene-to-scene?

Taglist:

@r0ckzst4r5

@bcfwwe

@jarrmate

@queenmirae7

@day30nz

@swytcheriish

@theplayerformallyknownasmousecop

[wrathofrats]

idk if you reblogging means your open for me to prompt you but if i can would you mind doing "im not going to hurt you" with swissdew? if not you can just ignore this!! <3

Hiii omg it absolutely did thank you

This is technically a sequel to this , but can be read alone. It’ll still hurt

(Very very small emetophobia warning. Around like 2 lines just mentioning it at the end but nothing graphic)

Hope you enjoy!!

Swiss quickly ushered phantom out of the room.

Dew couldn’t catch his breath. Hot heavy tears flooded down his face as he struggled to regain his composure.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he didn’t have aether, it wasn’t fair that Swiss now cared about phantom more, it wasn’t fair that Swiss made phantom leave as if he was some dangerous animal who was out of control.

The look in Swiss’s eye only made him breathe heavier, cry harder.

He stared at him like he was afraid, like he had never seen dew break like this. He looked like he didn’t even trust dew enough to be alone with him, let alone have him near the newer ghoul.

Dews not a monster. Emotional, volatile at times, maybe harsh with his words. But violent? Did Swiss truly think he was capable of that?

Dew unclenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

“I’m not going to hurt you” his voice cracks, high and unsteady.

Swiss’s face softens at the words. It’s a crashing realization of what’s just transpired. A realization that not only had he attempted to magic away dews feelings, that he’s treated him like he doesn’t even know him, like they haven’t been in each others pack for longer than either can even remember.

A realization that over all the bad things he’s done, he’s just been a bad friend.

“I’d never hurt you” dew chokes out after a long moment of silence.

“I- I know im-“ the words don’t come. He doesn’t have an excuse.

“I’d never hurt phantom”

“I know dew im sorry-“

“Did you really think I would?” His sobs are barely coherent. A plead with Swiss to give him a reason. To tell him he didn’t actually think he would do anything.

“No. No I know you’d never hurt anyone of us” a tear falls down Swiss cheek.

He still racks his brain for an excuse. Not even just for protecting phantom, but trying to use spells to get rid of dews feelings. It’s a gross idea. One that he never really thought more into until this very second. The idea of not even asking why dew would break down at the sight of him helping phantom, just immediately trying to fix it, get rid of it. The issue falls deep. He knows that. He misses aether too. But he could never miss aether in the way he knows dew does, and it’s then he comes to his one hundredth realization of the day that he’s been practically neglecting dew also.

His chest hurts. He doesn’t have words. He can’t apologize for his actions, not anymore.

Aether is gone and instead of being a shoulder for dew to cry on, he’s abandoned him in favor of someone new.

Swiss gets a bad taste in his mouth. He feels sick, has the sudden urge to vomit. He’s been staring at dew far too long with nothing to say.

“Swiss please say something”

“I’m sorry” Swiss’s mouth waters with the words. Like the feeling you get before you throw up. Like the words were poisoned and made him sick to even say.

“Please leave”

Dew expected something more. A better excuse. He doesn’t know why he did though.

Swiss leaves at his request. They both feel sick.

[vrisrezis]

hey y’all more geto song fic

Song is mr perfectly fine by Taylor swift

Slight gojo x reader (again) because yea I like pain everywhere

Also nsfw (reader is dom/top) reader doesn’t have a specified gender but definitely has a dick so amab LMFAO

Kinda cheating on gojo but not really cuz they’re just fwb that go on some dates (but not officially dating) so eeee lol

Mr. “Perfect face”

Mr. “Here to stay”

Mr. “Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away”

He was perfect.

Maybe you were being dramatic, surely you must be. Nobody’s perfect after all. Maybe you were so blinded by love, it was what you truly believed. Even if he teased you, he never went too far, never said anything he knew you were sensitive about. And if he ever did, he apologized. He was kind, he listened to you vent, he made you smile, he made you laugh.

He promised you the world. He promised you he’d never leave you, and naturally you believed him. You don’t think you were stupid to believe him. You think that at the time, he had meant it. There had been so many times you had pushed him away in fear of loving him, in fear you’d end up hurt again.

And he backed up his words everytime, even when you were so cruel he was so kind. He still was there for you even when you hurt him. And eventually, because of his dedication and his loyalty, you let him in.

Everything was right.

Mr. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life”

Mr. “Every single day until the end, I will be by your side”

It felt right to let him in. For the first time in your life you didn’t feel guilt for doing so. You never once doubted his love, his loyalty. You trusted him whole heartedly. And you don’t think you were wrong to do so, even now.

Because at the time, he had not planned on betraying that trust.

At the time, it felt as though you had finally found the one. You typically don’t believe in that stuff, but he made it feel like it was real. Like soulmates were real. He was meant to be yours and you were meant to be his.

You were young, but you knew you were in love.

You stupidly thought you’d be together for the rest of your days.

But that was when I got to know Mr. “change of heart”

Mr. “Leaves me all alone” I fall apart

And then, everything changed. Getou Suguru, the man you loved, betrayed the jujutsu sorcerers, including yourself. Killing an entire village that included his own parents.

The man that claimed the strong should always protect the weak, the man that claimed he loved humanity, the man that claimed all that death and destruction is meaningless, it felt gross thinking about it now. What had changed?

You didn’t know, you almost didn’t care.

He leaves, without much of a goodbye. The last time you see him, gojos yelling at him as he walks away.

You fail to miss the hurt in his eyes as he sees you glare at the sight of him, before turning away from the both of them, as if not wanting to watch the two of them any longer.

He fails to miss how much he destroyed you that day.

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it’s wonderful to see that you’re okay

Getou eventually starts his own cult. Continuing with his new life, without you in it. He seems to have moved on from you. It hasn’t been too long, but you haven’t been able to be yourself. You know Gojo isn’t much better, but at least he can function as a human being.

You can barely get out of bed anymore.

You sleep the whole day away despite the fact you went to bed as early as 8. You’ve come to understand that this is just one of the signs of depression. You hate what getou has turned you into.

Gojo visits a lot, trying to be there for you. You wish you could be there for him, but he tells you not to worry about it.

Hello, Mr. “Perfectly fine”

How’s your heart after breaking mine?

You bitterly wonder how he’s doing. If he ever thinks of you the way you think of him.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to trust anyone again. You want to. But you just don’t think you can, especially not so soon.

Maybe a part of you just misses being able to confide in someone.

Mr. “Always at the right place at the right time”

Baby

Hello Mr. “casually cruel”

Mr “everything revolves around you”

You finally find it in you to take on missions for jujutsu sorcery again. You’re strong, but even Yaga knows given your mental state you should not be taking on big time curses.

Just when you think, maybe you’ll be okay, even if only a little, he shows up.

You don’t even know why he’s here but it cannot possibly be good.

You don’t even know if you should talk to him, but you decide against it, as you notice the blood on his cheeks. Human blood.

How self centered do you have to be, to seriously think it’s okay to kill innocent people?

You feel sick.

I’ve been Ms. “misery” since your goodbye

And you’re Mr. “perfectly fine”

You’ve been holed up in your room, miserable. While your ex boyfriend has been happily ruining and ending lives.

What was it even all for?

Mr. “Never told you why”

Mr. “Never had to see me cry”

He never saw you in absolute disarray, the pain and grief you had to deal with. Losing your boyfriend in such a heartbreaking way. He never saw you struggle. He didn’t even see you the day you saw him. Perhaps you wanted to pretend you never saw him, because it would be at a cost of his safety. Or maybe you were scared of him. Even you weren’t sure what it was.

He didn’t even tell you why he left. You had to have gojo tell you. You didn’t get to confront him. Maybe you were just too scared to. Who knows.

But eventually, he finds you. He’s the one to confront you. And for a moment you feel terrified.

So it was really fear that allowed you to let him go, after all.

Mr. “Insincere apology so he doesn’t look like the bad guy”

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

He apologizes. But you both know he doesn’t mean it.

“I’m sorry.” he says blankly, you get the feeling he thinks he owes you an apology, despite the words not meaning anything.

There’s truth held to it, but you know what he’s apologizing for isn’t what he’s sorry about. He does not feel bad about killing those people, you’re not sure what he’s really sorry about.

But then he leaves.

You see him on occasion, in public, you see him with people you’ve never seen before. You assume, members of his cult.

He notices you, but never acknowledges you. Like you’re a complete stranger to him.

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest,

Guess you’re all the same

You thought he was special. Trust worthy. You’re one true love. But you suppose you were wrong.

More than that, you were stupid and young. You start to wonder what you even liked about him to begin with. Maybe you’re angry, bitter, upset, all of it at once. But you don’t know what you ever liked about him to begin with.

Your thoughts of him eventually become pure anger towards him, and nothing else.

‘Cause I hear he’s got his arm ‘round a brand new girl

I’ve been picking my heart, he’s been picking up her

You see him again, from a distance. You wonder why you haven’t killed him yet. He’s strong, but you’re strong too. You could always kill him. You are the second strongest, along with him, after all.

You’ve been trying so hard to mend your heart back together, but it feels impossible with how much you think about him.

You consider your options, think about how you should end his life, before you see them.

Two little girls.

And that’s when you realize, he has kids. Where the hell did he get them?

All this time you’ve been miserable, because of his absence, his betrayal, his lack of care towards you. And he’s already moving on with his new life while you’re still thinking about your old one?

It’s not fair.

And I never got past what you put me through

But it’s wonderful to see that it never fazed you

You could never quite get over it. Couldn’t quite get over him. You want to, especially when he seems so unbothered. But it’s hard.

So many times you’ve thought about giving up. So many times you’ve thought about trying to just live a life of normalcy, away from the jujutsu world.

But thoughts always come back to getou, the idea he’d kill you because you were now a normie.

Or the idea that maybe you could change his mind, selfish and stupid, but you still hoped to have him back into your life, normally.

But in the end, he doesn’t care. Not really. He’s set on his beliefs, he’d leave whoever he had to in order to succeed with his goals.

Hello Mr. “perfectly fine”

How’s your heart after breaking mine?

Did he ever care? You think he did. He just changed. That’s what people do. They change. Of course they do. You wonder if it was just a matter of time before this would happen. Everyone you’ve ever known had betrayed you one way or another. Used you, lied you you, mistrusted you. It always comes back to this.

You end up alone, hurt and betrayed, wondering why you keep continuing this cycle of trusting and loving people. Your heart is broken, once again. You must mend yourself back together, once again. You must build back up your walls, once again.

Mr. “Always at the right place at the right time”

Baby

Hello, Mr. “casually cruel”

Mr. “Everything revolves around you”

You would encounter him again, and for once it was when you could not back down from a fight. There was a young boy you needed to protect, a boy your ex was set on killing. Or perhaps, using. Getou liked playing the waiting game with this boy, it seemed. An arm wrapped around his shoulder, you walked behind the two. You cleared your throat.

He turns his head and sees you. He gives you a smirk, but there’s a sudden softness in his eyes upon realizing it’s you that you for once, notice. You hate how it makes your heart race. Your gaze does not soften like his does, though.

He gives a close eyed smile.

“Y/n! Long time no see!”

you grit you teeth at how casual he’s suddenly being with you.

Does he seriously think he’s going to get his way? You give gojo too much credit. Your king lost love certainly has an ego.

I’ve been Ms “misery” since your goodbye

And you’re Mr. “perfectly fine”

You’re still miserable. But you ultimately decide you need to move forward, if he has, why can’t you?

You feel guilty upon doing so. Not because you’re betraying getou, rather, you feel as though you’re betraying gojo. Leading him on. You haven’t moved on, your treating him like a rebound. He is a rebound. You don’t love him. But you tell yourself you do.

It’s like you try to completely replace getou with him. You take satoru to the same places you used to take suguru, you start to flirt and tease him the same way you used to flirt and tease suguru. The difference? You always fuck satoru on his stomach. You don’t hold his hands, you don’t want to look at him. You never touch his hair, because you’re hyper aware of the fact it’s significantly shorter. When he sucks you, you never look at him, you close your eyes, imagining someone else. You don’t kiss him while you fuck him. You tell him you love him, but you’re not thinking of satoru. You’re thinking of suguru.

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Another rescue mission, and who else do you run into other than the man getou suguru himself. The man that ruined your life and every aspect of it.

The mission was simple, rescue the girl at the party, leave.

But it seemed as though he had other plans for you.

That suit on him, it’s almost as if he wanted you to look at him. As if he knew you’d be here.

Maybe he did. And maybe your were a moron for falling into his trap.

Sashay your way to your seat

It’s the best seat, in the best room

How did you even get here? Your ex boyfriend, the man that’s ruined your life, the man you’ve hated and bitterly loved for so long, the man you never thought you’d ever truly be intimately involved with again. Bouncing on your cock.

All you could do was stare, he looks so beautiful. Even now.

You groan, even after all this time he’s still a total slut.

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou” he whines, incoherent.

Oh, he’s so smug , Mr. “always wins”

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

You don’t fail to see the smug look on sugurus face after it’s over, and it’s only then you realize you might’ve made a mistake.

And then he leaves without a trace. You fail to get the girl in time. You thank god satoru was there.

“Where were you?” he asked, “are you alright?” he asks, getting close to your face, noticing your exhaustion.

You breathe out a “yeah totally” and your friend, that you claim to be in love with but refuse to date, believes you.

You nearly failed.

You leave with satoru, suguru still in the back of your head.

You promise yourself you’ll never do that again.

And it’s really such a shame

It’s such a shame

But maybe that fuck was what you and him both needed.

It makes you sad to think about how everything went down. But maybe that was the closure you needed.

Because even if he had done it as a distraction, or so you thought, you realize it was genuine. His I love you’s were genuine, he stared at you with such love, such softness in his eyes.

You realized, maybe he did still love you. Maybe he always did, always has.

And that’s a shame. Because you know now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Because you think you’re ready to move on.

‘Cause I was Ms. “here to stay”

Now I’m Ms. “gonna be alright someday”

You decide that you’ll be okay. Maybe at first, satoru was some sort of rebound. But it’s not like you didn’t have feelings for him at all. It’s why you even suggested being with him to begin with.

You thought you’d stay with suguru forever, but you wonder if maybe satoru was the one you were meant to be with all along. You acknowledge that you can trust again, you can truly be in love with satoru. You just need more time. And you need to be honest with him about what happened.

And so you do. And satoru understands. Because deep down he knew for a long time, you loved suguru.

He’s hurt, but he knows you do want to be with him still.

And so, you two slowly figure out your relationship. You give eachother time. You learn to let satoru in. You learn to trust him. And he learns to let you in, to truly trust you, and to do it without any doubt of your love for him.

And someday, maybe you’ll miss me

But by then youll be, Mr. “too late”

Your ex boyfriend, getou suguru. Seeks you out again. For another fuck, like last time. He’s up close in your face. Talking about some type of deal. An exchange for a young boy named yuta. You just need to give into him, let him use your pretty dick again. Even better, use him to your hearts content while he screams out in pleasure.

But this time, you do not give into his ministrations. You tell him you’re not interested, and you see the cocky smirk go away. His eyes widen in surprise, because you’re genuine. You’re not scared, you’re not worried of betrayal, you’re not holding back.

You are not hiding anything from him.

You are simply not interested in him anymore.

He realizes now, he’s lost you, for good this time.

Goodbye, Mr. “perfectly fine”

How’s your heart after breaking mine?

Now you finally know how he feels.

He cares, he always has.

You now know why he’s sorry. He’s not sorry for killing those people, he’s not sorry for doing what he believes he has to. He’s sorry for leaving. He’s sorry for hurting you. He’s sorry for not being what you wanted. He’s sorry he wasn’t strong enough for you.

He’s sorry he wasn’t gojo.

You got everything you want out of him, you are not angry anymore. You will always be sad by your loss, but you now know you are capable of a life without him.

You are moving on without him in your life.

Mr. “Always at the right place at the right time”

Baby

Goodbye, Mr. “casually cruel”

Mr. “Everything revolves around you”

He sees you pretty often now. But he doesn’t directly interact. He sees you interact with gojo. He sees you kiss him. He realizes you’ve moved on. He wonders if you ever cared, were you ever hurt? When you fucked him, were you just using him? You did manage to save the girl, or more like, gojo did.

Did you always know? Was he just a fool?

You notice him, but don’t utter a word, you just look back at gojo.

As if he was some stranger.

I’ve been Ms. “misery” for the last time

And you’re Mr. “perfectly fine”

You’re perfectly fine

He eventually realizes the pain he has inflicted upon you. You left him, and he watched you. He watched you fall for another, be happy with another. All he could do was watch idly by.

Like you, he will eventually realize you did always love him and you did care. Just not so much anymore. You move on despite the fact you thought all this time he had, but he had never once stopped thinking of you.

Mr. “Look me in the eye and told me you would never go away”

You said you’d never go away

He replays your memories everyday. He remembers everytime he promised to stick by you. He doesn’t blame you for no longer loving him.

So on December 24th, he tells satoru to keep taking good care of you.

In the end, he wasn’t really lying.

He’ll always be with you. Dead or not. He was always with you, even if you weren’t together. Everything he did, was for you. To build you a better life that you could live in. He dedicated his life to you, so much so he detached himself from you life in hopes of protecting you from so much pain. He failed in doing so anyways.

But even if you move on, deep down, you know it too.

Suguru is always with you. Which seems like a sweet sentiment. But it’s not. It’s more like,

Suguru Getou will always be there to haunt you.

[2000sangel]

hi! saw your match ups were open and wanted to send a request if that's ok! im a woman and my pronouns are he/him. i don't have a gender preference or a type. i'd like romantic if that's alright. as far as aesthetic goes, i'm not really sure what to call it. i work as a receptionist so i'm generally just always dressed smart. i'm not really one for dresses, trousers and shirts are my go to. i wear a lot of jewellery though, at least one ring and one bracelet on each hand. i always wear glasses bc i cannot see at all and i've got long reddish hair. as for personality im quite a quiet person. i always help people where i can. i've got a dry sense of humour and have a tendency towards cynicism but at least i'm fun with it. i'm a very organised person. confrontation is not my strong point. i'm not afraid to stand up for myself and others, i've done it before but i will shake the entire time and i wish that was an exaggeration. i know its bad but i love a good gossip, its fun. i've got a few hobbies and interests, i love reading, mainly crime fiction. that ties into my other interest of true crime, i actually have 2 degrees in forensic psychology. i'm a very music oriented person. not only do i listen to it a lot, but i also play piano and sing. i engage in a lot of genres but i've been balls deep in an inescapable musical theatre phase for about a decade. i used to be in a society for it, definitely better at singing and dancing than acting, and i also did a lot of backstage stuff. i was even stage manager in one production (never again). my job and my degrees required me to be quite tech savvy in the sense thay i needed to know how to use a couple data handling softwares which i somehow managed. things i like - books, animals, sunny weather, warm white lights. things i dislike - people that don't have manners, loud overlapping noises, being rained on, insects. i don't have any characters that are a hard no. i hope i've done everything alright, you're such a talented writer and thank you :)

Hello! Yes, you’ve done everything perfectly and provided me a lot of information which I appreciate ;3 also, thank you for calling me a talented writer, I appreciate it a lot :((

Now, prepare to be sssurprised, as I match you with...

Sir Pentious!

Yes, him! Allow me to explain: you said you’re a cynic, a person distrustful of human sincerity. Sir Pentious is the exact demon who would prove you that some people, in this case him, are sincere. He’s a genuine individual, somewhat ingenuous if you will, who likes the simplest of things such as drinking good tea and having friends.  

Described as a wussy fighter by Vivziepop herself, he really needs somebody who will stand up for him and you seem to be the right person for this job, as you’re not afraid of doing so. He actually quite admires your courage, as even he can notice that you’re nervous when you stand up for other people, and yet he wonders how you manage to do it either way. He thanks you profusely each time this happens, and promises to look out for you in return.

Your job and degrees requiring you to be a quite tech savvy person makes me think that you’d somehow end up getting asked for help in some of his inventions; he trusts that you’re somewhat of a quick learner and smart, plus he simply loves to include you in his hobbies just as you include him in yours (more on this later!), so having you around him and the Egg Boiz is quite the pleasure every time.

Despite being a little silly, Pentious can very well be a gentleman, too. You dislike people with no manners? He’s more than willing to hiss at them if you ever come across any. You hate loud noises? He’ll make sure to invent something, anything that could help you with that. Don’t like being rained on? He will remove his jacket to hold it over your head if he has to. And rest assured he will remind Niffty about the gross bugs circulating in the Hotel if she doesn’t clean well enough.

Sir Pentious is not the most courageous demon around, we’re all aware of this. But! For you he will make an exception, and watch all those true crime videos and read the crime fiction you seem to be so passionate about. After all, you join him in his hobbies, so him participating in your is the least he can do. He’s also not afraid of gory situations themselves, so that’s something. He unexpectedly finds himself enjoying the time spent with you, especially reading, and he definitely interrupts you at least once each time to prepare a cup of tea for both him and you, if you enjoy it.

I can also see him being mesmerized by your skills each time you sing or play piano, and he would definitely try to learn how to sing/play along! He comes up with all these silly little tunes, it’s quite endearing on your side actually, and he surely wants to hear the most modern music you can play for him.

Pentious doesn’t really care what his lover is wearing at all, he will compliment you no matter if you’re dressed classy, cute, edgy or if you’re just getting ready to go to work. To him, you’re the most gorgeous person around, and while he’d be a little more on the shy side at first with compliments, he’d definitely go all out once you’ve been in a relationship for a while. He quite enjoys your liking for jewellery, and will remind you how pretty it looks on you whenever you’re putting it on.

 All in all, I feel like you two would be the cutest representation of ‘opposites attract’!