#let's see if I can get these all in order (left to right going down)

[mangostarjam]

birthday boy — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established relationship aka they're happily married, smut mentioned but not described, reader is called "wife" and "darling" and "sweetheart", fluff, birthday fic, 1.7k words

"Quit smiling so much, bowl cut," Narumi Gen snaps. "You're giving me the creeps. Who called you out here, anyway? This is First Division territory!"

Hoshina Soshiro sheathes his blades as officers begin to scatter from the area. His smirk grows. "We're right on the border, so my wife called me."

And there it is — a telltale pink rising on the Captain's cheeks, hands spasming on his bayonet as he tries to come up with something that doesn't betray his jealousy. Not that Soshiro cares — not today, anyway, not when his wife woke him up with a soft, sweet kiss before making him cum so hard he went a little boneless.

Still, it never hurts to rub it in.

"She knows I'm the best at neutralizin' these small fry kaiju," Soshiro says lightly, "and y'know my wife — she deserves the best."

Gen's jaw ticks. "Oh yeah? Well, your wife still thinks I'm the best Numbers Weapons user!"

Both men subconsciously straighten when their earpieces click and you sigh loudly over comms. "Seriously?" you ask, but Soshiro can hear the smile in your voice. "Shouldn't you guys be working?"

"Aw, sweetheart, we're done here," Soshiro says, glancing around quickly. The scene is secure, the kaiju are all neutralized, and officers from the First Division are handling the rest. There's only one thing left.

Soshiro spots a drone hovering nearby and waves a hand at it. He can feel the camera focusing on him, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Gen watching with a frown. He shoots the camera a cheeky grin. "I think it's time I get back to my wife. See ya, Captain."

You groan loudly over comms and Soshiro laughs, shoulders shaking as he waves goodbye to the First Division and heads back to his car. Gen scoffs just as loudly and begins barking out orders, because he is a good captain underneath it all, and Soshiro should really get out of their territory before he ends up with more paperwork on his desk.

You're waiting for him in his office, perched on the edge of his chair with a familiar jacket covering your body. "The troublemaker returns," you announce, sweeping your arms out as if the office contains an audience and not just the two of you.

Soshiro laughs and steps into your embrace, squeezing you to him as you giggle. You're warm — and soft — and you smell like laundry detergent and sunshine and the faintest whiff of freshly brewed coffee. "Didja borrow my shampoo again, my dear?"

"It was my shampoo first," you scrunch your nose at him playfully. He snorts. Resists the urge to kiss your cheek — and then gives in a moment later, lips brushing soft along your skin. Your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. "Need help with your combat suit?"

Soshiro's fond smile goes a little sharp. "Are ya offerin'?"

"Yes, you menace," you stretch a little to give him a kiss. Soshiro's heart thunks painfully in his ribcage as the warm metal of your ring sweeps across his cheek. "Here, let me."

Soshiro stands still as you begin unzipping his combat suit. He keeps his gloved hands on your hips, muscles relaxing out of the subtle, constant strain of the suit as it releases his body little by little. You're taking your time — fingers dancing along his shoulders and pecs, palms smoothing down his biceps and nails catching just barely along the edge of his compression shirt.

He always keeps a spare set of uniforms in his office, so he's not the least bit surprised when you drag the zipper further down, your touch featherlight along the tense muscles of his abdomen. You suck in a breath and it's gratifying, always, to catch your gaze and the heat in your blown pupils.

You keep your eyes on his and nearly go cross eyed when he tips forward, purple strands tangling with your hair. Your thumbs trace idly along his hip bones. "Who's the menace now?"

"Still you."

Soshiro laughs quietly, nerves thrumming in his fingertips as his heart threatens to overflow. "I think you're a pretty good contender."

"Hmm, I dunno," you mutter, tugging the zipper a little further. Soshiro's briefs waistband is in view now, but you just lick your lips. "You're the one who insisted on returning the favor this morning, even though it's your birthday."

"Can't help it," he sneaks a kiss to your jaw, presses his lips against your fluttering pulse. "That was a great birthday gift — my pretty lil' wife, cumming all over my cock 'cause she knows it belongs to her."

Your face warms and Soshiro grins. Kisses your cheek. Catches your hand in his and rubs his thumb along your matching ring. "Alright, Vice Captain, you should really get changed," you say, and immediately Soshiro's expression falls. "Wh-what?"

"That's illegal," Soshiro says. He can feel himself pouting, but it's fine. Nobody's around to see except you. "I'm your husband!"

"Oops," you say. Your eyebrow raises and you tug the zipper the rest of the way down. Soshiro sucks in a breath. "Want me to make it up to you, birthday boy?"

He's achingly hard, nerves shivering with the release of the suit and anticipation, but you've gotten in trouble before for shenanigans on duty and he knows better. He does.

Really.

You smile into the kiss, lips moving comfortably against his own. Soshiro sighs into your pretty little gasp, teeth nipping at your lip before he pulls back completely. "Soshiro…?"

That's really not fair. "The captain'll understand, won't she?" Soshiro mutters. You giggle and he can't help it — he kisses you again.

You tug at his gloves wordlessly, too caught up in kissing him back for any finesse. With the removal of his gloves, the sleeves of his combat suit slide off, and the rest of it follows until it pools on the floor. You slip your fingers under the edge of his briefs as he tugs you close, his own hands now free to roam appreciatively over your body beneath your borrowed jacket.

"Does my husband have plans to take his boots off?" you ask teasingly, tilting your head as he sucks another mark into the soft skin of your neck. "We don't have much time before your next meeting."

Soshiro groans into your shoulder when you touch him, eyes flashing hot as your lips part in silent awe. "Are ya still stretched out from this mornin'?"

"I might've been — ah, touching myself, just a little bit, while I was waiting for you to get — Soshiro!"

Your laughter fills the air and Soshiro engraves it into his memory, takes every gasp and moan and the wet, warm heat of you and etches it into his bones. It never gets old — just better, with age and familiarity and the silly inside jokes layered upon your shared history. With the boundless love echoing through both of you, the promises and the choice to keep choosing each other through it all.

Soshiro chokes on a surprised laugh when you mumble something about how your tits must look like mont blanc desserts from how much attention he paid them. "Aw, darlin', are ya jealous? I swear I love ya more."

You lift a shaky hand from your face and manage to shoot him a look. "You're not denying it."

He kisses you, but you're both smiling too much, so he pulls back slightly to brush your noses together. "Didn't ya say somethin' about bein' late?"

"We won't be late," you say. Soshiro raises an eyebrow and you shrug demurely. "What can I say? I know my husband."

The loud bark of his laughter makes you grin, and he finally pulls out to get the two of you cleaned up and presentable. You had the foresight to stash a change of panties for yourself among his things, but he leaves his jacket on you, opting instead to wear your lab coat even though it strains over his shoulders.

"Sexy," you snort, tugging him closer by his belt loops. He steps into the space between your legs and hums as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "You look like you ran a marathon."

"Someone was a lil too distracted to care about my poor hair," Soshiro says lightly. You roll your eyes fondly. "But it's alright," he sighs, "at least I match my wife."

"Not quite yet," you mutter, gaze flicking to the mark you had managed to leave on his skin, sitting just beneath the edge of his turtleneck. "But it's fine," you smile sweetly, "I've got time."

"Is that a promise, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you slide your arms around his waist and he steps obligingly closer, letting you press your ear to his chest. The sigh you release makes his lips twitch with a pleased, fond smile. "The captain granted us the day off tomorrow, since you had to go help the First Division today. So you can party as long as you want tonight, and we'll still have all day tomorrow for me to make sure we match."

"Party?"

"Don't play dumb, Soshiro," you say. "You know I wouldn't have let you mark me up so visibly if we were going to a real meeting."

"I dunno," Soshiro hums, hugging you a little tighter. "I thought it was just my birthday present."

You lean back slightly to look at him. Sitting on his desk puts you at a bit of a disadvantage, but he thinks you look cute like this, with your soft gaze and the pretty tilt of your lips.

And to think — he'll have more of this. Years and years together, getting to see you smile and hearing the bright sound of your laugh. All the time he spends with you more than makes up for the reality and danger of your jobs, but it also means he cherishes each second with you in a way that he never takes for granted.

"What is it?" you ask. Soshiro's grip tightens slightly. Your confusion melts into understanding and you reach up to cup his face in your hands. "We're right here, Soshiro."

"I know." He kisses you softly. You sweep your thumbs along his cheekbones, so tenderly his heart aches.

"Happy birthday, my love."

[some-stars]

not sure what this is or if it's part of an actual story but here, have 500 words of soft poolverine co-sleeping, why not.

--

The first night Logan shares a bed with Wade, he sleeps like the dead out of pure exhaustion. So does Wade, as far as he can tell, because when Logan stumbles dry-mouthed and confused into consciousness well past noon the next day, Wade's still passed out and drooling onto his pillow. It's not until the second night that things get back to normal--normal, in Logan's case, being the nightmares that rattle him awake every couple of hours, every muscle in his body clenched tight.

He hasn't given any thought whatsoever to what normal might be for Wade, but lying there soaked in sweat and trying to breathe his pulse gradually back down to something that doesn't hurt his chest means he has a front row seat to Wade twitching, muttering, jerking, and generally seeming to have a pretty shit time. After a minute or two, watching him like that starts to feel uncomfortably like none of Logan's business, so he rolls over and tries to fall back asleep. It's hard to ignore, especially when Wade lets out a low whine like a hurt dog right as Logan's on the edge of drifting off again. But he manages eventually.

It happens again the next night, and the next, so it's clear that this is just a fact Logan knows now about his new roommate, among the other facts he's accumulating. Wade watches cartoon porn in the living room in the middle of the day; Wade asks for "Thai hot" when they order takeout and actually likes it that way; Wade's liquor cabinet is stocked with two dozen flavored vodkas and three kinds of Kahlua and nothing else; and Wade sleeps bad. He never seems to wake up from whatever bad dreams he's having, though, or at least Logan never sees it happen. He wishes Wade would wake up. Logan knows how much worse it is to be trapped in the nightmare.

It gets harder and harder to ignore. A couple weeks in, after jerking awake from his own dream to find his left claws halfway out and buried in his pillow--if they'd come out all the way they'd be stuck in his own fucking face, so at least he's not dealing with that--Logan finally snaps. Wade's mumbling something incoherent that sounds from the tone like a plea, and his face is streaked with tears, and Logan's too tired to think about what he's doing when he scoots over next to Wade and wraps his arm around him, pulling him in close. 

Wade does wake up then, lifting his face from Logan's chest and meeting Logan's eyes with his own, wide and worried. "What--" It comes out as a hoarse whisper. "What are you...are we cuddling?"

He sounds genuinely confused, not even awake enough to make a joke. "Go back to sleep," Logan tells him, and closes his eyes.

After a couple seconds, Wade relaxes against him. "Okay," he says, agreeable and content like Logan's never heard him when he's awake. Maybe ten seconds later he's out again, breathing deep and even, soft in Logan's arms. The easy rhythm of it is hypnotic. Logan falls asleep and stays that way until morning.

--

tumblr hid the first version of this post because apparently i used a Naughty Word in the tags, but they refused to tell me WHICH word and just suggested i "change the tags around a bit" and see if that helped. which i can't even do, because of course a post from seventeen hours ago isn't going to show up in the Recent Posts view in the tag whether or not it's tagged with the Forbidden Term. so here are the original tags and if anyone is still giving any money at all to tumblr, i am BEGGING you to quit.

#the original plan was porn but i realized i'd need more groundwork for that#if this does turn into a story it's going to lead to logan offering to get wade off to help him get back to sleep#and wade who is still fuzzy and dumb from nightmare-brain agreeing to it#so logan spoons him and jerks him off and when wade comes he kisses the back of his neck and they both fall asleep very quickly and easily#then the next morning wade wakes up with his dick out and logan (still asleep) rutting lazily against his ass#and then. idk tbh. haven't gotten that far

[chronicsyd]

Caitlyn and Ambessa's Game of Cat and Mouse pt 4- The Herald/Bring in Vi

Now, one of the other scenes that I'm bringing up during pt 3 where i believe that Caitlyn's already picked up on Ambessa wanting a weapon is right after the two are done training. In which after Singed says he's "tracked him to Zaun", Ambessa says, "let's hunt a beast" but the thing is is that the camera switches focus from her to Caitlyn when she says this, they Want you to focus on Caitlyn's reaction to this.

Caitlyn's picked up on the inconsistent language that Ambessa's using when she's speaking to Caitlyn, she knows that Ambessa has no interest in hunting the beast, but she doesn't say anything about it.

When Caitlyn's with Ambessa at the Herald's she looks all intense and whatnot, keeping a face for Ambessa that she's still completely by her side.

however when Ambessa sends Rictus over to Huck, Caitlyn's face glosses over with concern before eyeing Ambessa in suspicion AGAIN, concern that a Completely Unarmed man is going to be killed and suspicion that Ambessa has No issue with doing this. Caitlyn completely understands Just how dangerous Ambessa is, and who she's willing to kill to get her way.

And when Ambessa sends Singed to speak to Viktor, they show Caitlyn's face again, eyes following him but her face is still etched with suspicion, she doesn't trust this whatsoever.

Now, bring Vi back into the picture:

(side note: can we bring up the fact that Caitlyn used the Exact move Ambessa used on her earlier in the episode, GENIUSES these writers, Geniuses i tell you!)

I'm presuming that Caitlyn was probably not only left as lookout for Ambessa, but Caitlyn Herself was hiding in the shadows and was going to follow Singed herself. But with Vi following him, she still has to take them out.

When she recognizes that it's Vi, her face is filled with shock and disbelief, "how/why/what is Vi even doing here?". Vi saying "on the job I see," reminds her of Where they are, so she looks back towards the Noxus base before telling Vi, "you can't be here." like i said, Caitlyn's Fully understanding of how dangerous Ambessa is and would have No issue with killing Vi.

Because despite the two leaving things off the way that they did, she'd really rather not have Ambessa kill her.

Vi calling Caitlyn "cupcake" doesn't snap her like "oh Vi called me my pet name, let's just betray Ambessa now!" it's more of a look of "Vi doesn't hate me?", because the way the two left things off back in Ep 3... well... yea I'm sure that's what Caitlyn's probably been thinking this whole time, and I don't blame her, what Caitlyn did Was really bad and would give reason for Vi to hate her.

Caitlyn remains in the shadows watching Rictus give orders, because again, she's been eyeing Ambessa and figuring out her moves on how she's going to get what she wants this whole time.

This is the other scene that makes me believe that Caitlyn picked up on Ambessa's tone in pt 3, her specific wording of "chem weapon." Caitlyn explains to Vi, "We've tracked some sort of new chem weapon down here. A bloodthirsty murderous beast." by using the word "chem weapon" she's fully aware that Ambessa's after it, not to hunt it, to use it. And that's the kind of thing Caitlyn doesn't want Ambessa to have her hands on, because it makes her all the more dangerous.

When Vi says, "Trying to save my dad." it causes her to realize that the "bloodthirsty murderous beast" is who Vi's talking about. That, With the growing suspicions of Ambessa is what causes her to help Vi come up with a plan. Because her trust in Vi, and wanting to Help Vi overshadows her "loyalty" to Ambessa, not that Ambessa had it to begin with.

-cont. in part 5-

[kurishiri]

15.5 . . . “ the memory engraved in my body ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🍷 his side story, chapter 15. this is the one you need to reach alfons bond level 22+ with in order to purchase.

— cw: alcohol consumption.

Alfons: And to see you deceived just like that——I see you don’t really hold that thing called ‘love’ for me.

Kate: ...!!

I chose words that would purposely hurt.

Just like that, her eyes wavered, teary.

Kate: I... I really, truly—!

Alfons: Loved me? ...Or what, did you mean to say love?

I asked, a mocking tone in my voice, and her palms, which had pushed against my chest, gripped tightly at my shirt, causing it to wrinkle.

It would be nice were she to throw away these feelings she had toward me on her own volition, but——

(Reality just isn’t so nice, after all.)

Kate: Just why... would you do such a thing...?

K: Why do you have to reject me so much... just over me saying ‘I love you’?

Tears fell from her cheeks as she spoke from above.

They were very much like stars falling from the night — so pure, and so beautiful.

(——So much so, it’s like the moment I touched her, I would end up getting burned.)

Kate: Not once did I say we had to be official.

K: All I wanted was to like you, and be by your side… and yet…

Alfons: …Because I find it a nuisance.

A: The fact you had fallen for me, and the fact you like me even now... all of it.

I used those sharp words to deeply pierce through her heart.

Such words seemed like such a sin toward her straightforward feelings,

and, compared to her words, which so resembled pure stars, mine were akin to shattered glass sinking down the gutters of a back alley.

Alfons: All this was meant to be was an entertainment that lasts but a month, and then letting it end the same way.

Kate left the room, and when I descended the crumbling staircase,

The friend with a wound on his eye was standing at the entrance to the hidden, dilapidated room.

Man with a wound over his eye: To think you suddenly came in with a memo saying ‘Stay at the pub until I call you. If you come then, your drink’s on me’——

Man with a wound over his eye: I was wondering what in the world was going on.

Alfons: Hehe... thank you for your cooperation on that matter.

Man with a wound over his eye: If getting perfumed and greeting a lady when she woke up was all it took for some free booze, anyone would do it.

Man with a wound over his eye: So it was to get that ‘little robin’ to give up on you?

Man with a wound over his eye: You always up and run away, fading right out, so if she could make you go to this length, well what a lady she must be.

Alfons: Indeed, you can tell me that again.

I could dodge her at every turn, push her away, but she would still put her energy into her love without so much as getting discouraged,

so left with no other choice I threw away what little of a good heart I had left to break her to pieces.

(Unable to deceive herself into thinking this wasn’t love, but instead all a misunderstanding...)

(What a poor, darling little miss robin.)

Man with a wound over his eye: If you wanted me to make love to her for real, though, I would be fine with that too.

Alfons: Now that won’t do. I’ll have you know despite all appearances, I happen to be a gentleman who despises hurting women.

Man with a wound over his eye: ...I doubt that.

Alfons: Do you now?

Man with a wound over his eye: How would I know. Well, I’ll leave the payment to you.

My friend didn’t bother to seek the truth, instead leaving the conversation like that and disappeared into the night city while laughing.

——This pub was open 24 hours, so it was lively regardless of time.

Exchanging greetings with several acquaintances and taking a seat, the bar master lifted his brow, as though exasperated.

Bar master: And here I thought you wouldn’t come back til the morning. You’re back early, aren’t you?

Alfons: I so dearly missed seeing your face, you see.

Bar master: I’m anything but happy being missed by an arsehole. Pay up for that friend of yours.

Alfons: Goodness, so cold.

While making small talk, from the back of my mind, I remembered her, who had been sitting next to me just a few hours before.

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Alfons...

K: ...I won’t put the blame on you or anything else anymore...

K: So please, make love to me.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Just how bloody cruel can you get...!!

K: I don’t understand, why would you lie to me like this!? Help me understand...

—— End flashback ——

She did not say, ‘Why did you do such a cruel thing’——but rather, ‘Why did you say such a lie?’

From the start, she had seen through my lie that another man had made love to her.

(...Just where did I slip up?)

(I stayed silent... could it be body temperature? Or the shape of my body? The movements? Or smell?)

At the very least——even if she couldn’t see with her eyes, she was able to confirm that it was indeed me.

All that to say, there was no doubt that the memory of me had been engraved in her body.

Bar master: That’s a pretty long face.

Alfons: That it is, could I ask for your consolations?

Bar master: Of course, this is a shop to share such things. For a price, that is. What’ll it be?

Alfons: Quite stingy now, aren’t we... well then, I’ll have a sherry perhaps. Any type is fine.

Bar master: A sherry? Not every day you get that.

Alfons: ...Is that so?

Indeed, I felt that I normally didn’t drink sherry.

That said, I sought out the intoxication from the liquor, so I wasn’t so caught up on the type it was.

Yet the name had slipped so easily out of my mouth, I tilted my head as I took the glass filled with a dark mahogany color liquor.

The moment I took in that mellow, sweet scent though, I remembered.

(Ahh... this was the liquor that she had drunk this afternoon, isn’t it.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: I... don’t like it... when others touch you...

K: ...Whatever, I know I’m... just like a kid t’you...

—— End flashback ——

(...Considering she was downing this sweet sherry, I would say her taste is like that of a kid’s.)

When my lips met with her, who was still blindfolded, her tongue did indeed have the sweet taste of the sherry.

But, for a reason beyond me, I felt that the kiss I shared with her was far sweeter than the liquor I was drinking now.

Alfons: ...Master, could you see if the carriage at the back of the shop is still there?

Bar master: What? Don’t go ordering the bar master around like that.

Alfons: I’ll get your mooost expensive liquor. In a bottle.

Bar master: ...How many?

Alfons: How does ten sound?

The bar master clicked his tongue and flipped a middle finger at me before leaving the back to the alleyway and coming back the next moment and shaking his head.

Bar master: It’s not here anymore.

Alfons: Is that so, then that’s a relief.

Bar master: Is it the lady who drank with you that went on the carriage?

Alfons: You’re quite in the know, aren’t you?

Bar master: Sending her back alone in the wee hours of evening, some sexyman you are.

Alfons: That’s just how it is.

Bar master: ...If you care about her enough to prepare a carriage, the least you could do is send her off.

Alfons: ‘Care,’ huh... I suppose.

A: I didn’t want to put her in any physical danger,

A: but I did need to instill so much shock in her that she would want to forget it all... so it was all a necessary measure.

Bar master: Not so sure what you’re getting at there, but what I do get is that you’re one hell of a shitty bastard.

Alfons: Ahha! I would expect nothing less from you, master, knowing me to the tee.

It took time for memories to fade.

That went for the memory of me engraved in her body... and the memory of her in mine.

But time seemed to have a knack for passing like it was melting away, unexpectedly so.

If she was going to go back to her uneventful, warm everyday life from long ago, then even more so.

Alfons: ...It would be great if you could find a man who can heal the wounds of a lost love and become happy.

Before I knew it, the glass in my hand was empty.

The sweet flavor of the sherry lingered on my tongue, staying there without fading away for eternity.

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[thedensworld]

Talk the Stalker | C.Sc

Pairing: celebritySeungcheol! x celebrityReader!

Genre: fluff

Summary: Seungcheol is obsessed with you, he loves you and he would do anything to protect you.

Note: i'm obsessed, addicted, and drowned in his pretty smile! Happiness suit him sfm!

Seungcheol's hand was warm as it held yours tightly while the two of you entered the restaurant. He had already noticed two or three cameras tailing him outside, snapping pictures of the two of you together. He paid them no mind—your relationship was public anyway, and he was too used to the attention to care. Right now, all that mattered to him was making sure you were okay.

This restaurant was your favorite, a haven you always turned to when your appetite disappeared—which had happened again today. He had picked you up from the shooting set after a long day. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be working from afternoon until late evening. Coincidentally, his own schedule had wrapped up at the same time, so he decided to spend the night with you.

"Can we grab something first? I think I’m gonna pass out," you muttered the moment you slid into his car.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, already anticipating this. You hadn’t eaten, had you? His mind pieced together the puzzle: you probably woke up barely two hours before your schedule, rushed to get ready, spent an hour commuting, and then worked the entire day without a single meal. The thought of it frustrated him—he had been through similar habits in the past, too busy to eat. But seeing you, the love of his life, neglecting yourself like this made his chest ache. Without a word, he drove the two of you straight to your go-to spot.

While you disappeared to the restroom, Seungcheol took the liberty of ordering your usual meal. When you returned, he waved you over, pulling the chair beside him. As you sat down, his hand instinctively reached for your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension he imagined must be building there.

"How’s your back? Still hurt?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.

You had injured yourself three months ago during a stunt for an action film—a brutal fall onto your back that had left you with a dislocated shoulder and lingering pain. While everything had seemed fine recently, yesterday’s severe backache brought the worries flooding back for both of you.

"Stop making me worry, could you?" Seungcheol sighed when you gave him a soft chuckle, clearly trying to downplay the issue. "Sometimes I wonder how your fragile body even handles all those stunts," he added, shaking his head.

“Fragile?” you scoffed, lightly smacking his arm. “I work out, thank you very much.”

He lifted your arm with a smirk, inspecting it playfully. “This slender little arm trying to punch a stuntman? I’m not worried about them; I’m worried about you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a grin, making Seungcheol laugh.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His tone softened as he said, “That’s why you need to stop getting hurt, okay? I know how much you love your job, but if you want to do it for a long time, you have to take care of yourself.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. It was something you always told him whenever he pushed himself too hard. “Stealing my lines now?” you teased, and he chuckled warmly.

After dinner, you suggested taking a walk. Seungcheol hesitated, asking if you were too tired, but you insisted. He figured you must’ve missed him more than you were letting on, and the thought filled him with a fluttery warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

As the two of you strolled down the quiet street, the chill of the night air began to creep in. Seungcheol noticed you shivering and immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased with a playful smile, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Seungcheol said shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your lips curling into a smile as you clung to his arm. “Anything?” you challenged with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Not to that scale. Know your place!” he shot back, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Are you happy with me?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the comfortable silence as he reached for your hand, holding it firmly before swinging it lightly, a playful gesture to get your attention. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from him.

You nodded eagerly, the sincerity in your expression clear. "I think you’re one of the very few people who can make me this happy," you admitted, your words filled with genuine affection.

His brows furrowed almost immediately, and he stopped walking, a playful pout forming on his lips. "I’m not the only one?" he asked, feigning offense.

You chuckled, amused by his theatrics. "Know your place," you teased, leaning closer as a mischievous grin spread across your face.

His pout melted into a radiant smile, his dimple making a brief appearance. "I was kidding earlier, babe," he said softly, though his playful tone lingered as he began walking backward to face you, still holding your hand securely in his.

Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. After a moment, he raised a brow and asked, “Can I stay the night?” The flirty tilt of his tone made you raise yours in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t this the first time you’re actually asking?” you questioned, suppressing a laugh as you tilted your head.

He nodded, chuckling at your amused expression. “I know, I know. I must be the worst boyfriend, huh? I never ask for consent, I won’t kill anyone for my girlfriend, and to top it all off, I make fun of her slender arms.”

You gasped in mock outrage and raised your hand to playfully slap his arm, but he anticipated it and bolted ahead, laughter echoing through the quiet park near the restaurant. The chase was on, and you found yourself running after him, your laughter mingling with his in the cool night air.

That night, before heading home, the park became your private playground, filled with stolen moments of joy and carefree laughter. You hoped, for both your sakes, that no paparazzi managed to capture the scene.

*

You entered your apartment, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Though it wasn’t as luxurious or spacious as Seungcheol’s place, it carried a charm he adored—you. Every corner of your home was filled with your scent, your presence, and your personality. To him, it wasn’t just a place—it was a sanctuary, his sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes. Seungcheol smiled, watching as you settled in, your energy shifting into the comfort of your space.

As usual, Jibby, your orange tabby cat, sauntered over to greet you, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The cat had been your loyal companion ever since you rescued him on a shooting set two years ago. Predictably, Jibby ignored Seungcheol entirely, keeping his amber eyes locked on you with unwavering devotion.

“Still no love for me, huh?” Seungcheol joked, crouching to scratch Jibby behind the ears, only to receive a flick of the tail in return. “This cat’s got some serious attitude.”

You chuckled, picking up Jibby and holding him close. “He’s selective. He knows who pays the rent around here.”

As you placed Jibby back on the floor, you noticed strands of his fur scattered everywhere. “Oh, Jibby! Your fur’s everywhere!” you exclaimed, brushing some off your pants.

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, crouching to inspect the floor. “It’s not even summer, and he’s already shedding like crazy. You think he’s stressed?”

Your face filled with concern as you knelt beside Jibby, running your hands gently over his fur. “Oh no, Jibby. What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Before you could continue, Jibby let out a loud, startling meow, making both you and Seungcheol jump. The sound was completely out of character—Jibby was always a calm and quiet cat.

“That’s...new,” Seungcheol said, frowning. “I’ve never heard him meow like that before.”

Your concern deepened, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, you found your building’s security guard standing there. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We got a report from your neighbor. They said your cat’s been meowing loudly for hours. Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Jibby, the worry evident in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted, stroking his fur as he let out another sharp meow. “I think something’s wrong.”

That night, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You stayed up with Jibby, trying to comfort him as his restless meows continued. Seungcheol, sensing how stressed you were, insisted on staying over. When he saw how exhausted you looked around 3 a.m., he gently took over, cradling Jibby in his arms while you rested on the couch.

By dawn, it was clear Jibby needed professional care. “I’ll take him to the vet,” Seungcheol offered, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve got an early schedule, and I can handle this.”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve already—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “Jibby’s family. And family takes care of each other.”

As you watched him gently place Jibby into the carrier, whispering soothing words to the stressed cat, you felt a swell of gratitude and love for the man who had seamlessly woven himself into your life—and Jibby’s too.

The next day, Seungcheol received a call from the vet. The feline, Jibby, was missing home and showing signs of increased stress. Hearing this, Seungcheol couldn’t help but worry. You were out of town for a shooting schedule and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so Seungcheol decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked his manager to help him pick up Jibby from the vet, determined to make the cat feel better.

Driving to your apartment with Jibby in the passenger seat was no small task. The cat meowed incessantly, his cries echoing through the car. Seungcheol tried speaking to him in the same soft, soothing tone he had heard you use countless times. “Hey, buddy, we’re going home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, glancing over at Jibby. But his attempts were futile; the cat’s distress didn’t subside, and Seungcheol found himself understanding your concern on a much deeper level.

Once they arrived, Seungcheol texted you: “Jibby’s home safe now. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

He set down Jibby’s carrier, opened it, and placed some food in the bowl. He watched as the cat cautiously stepped out, sniffing around before beginning to eat. Gradually, Jibby seemed to relax.

Seungcheol didn’t turn on the lights, thinking it might overwhelm Jibby. Instead, he opened the curtains slightly, letting the moonlight bathe the room in a soft glow. Leaning back on the couch, he kept an eye on the cat, who finally settled beside him.

“You finally opened up to me, huh, Jibby?” Seungcheol murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. It felt like a small victory to earn even a fraction of the cat’s trust.

Suddenly, the sound of the passcode being entered broke the serene moment. Seungcheol sat up, his body tensing. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Who could it be?

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure in a hoodie stepped inside. Jibby’s demeanor shifted instantly; he bolted toward the figure, his fur standing on end as he hissed and meowed angrily.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded as he rose from the couch, flipping on the lights. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice filled with authority. The intruder froze for a second before bolting for the door.

Not wasting a moment, Seungcheol dashed after him. The man was just reaching the emergency exit when Seungcheol grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him against the wall with a force that came from pure adrenaline.

“Who are you?!” Seungcheol growled, his voice dangerously low as he pressed the man harder against the wall, preventing any chance of escape. “Why are you here? Why do you know my girlfriend’s passcode?”

The intruder struggled, but Seungcheol’s grip was unyielding. The hours he’d spent learning jiu-jitsu were finally paying off. His sharp eyes scanned the area until he spotted a CCTV camera. Without hesitation, he dragged the man into its view, ensuring the footage would capture everything.

Jibby followed, his meows loud and furious as if scolding the man himself. The cat even swiped at the intruder’s legs, his claws adding to the chaos.

Moments later, two security guards arrived, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he explained, his voice steady but laced with anger. “This guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. He knew her passcode. I caught him before he could get away.”

The guards immediately restrained the man, apologizing profusely to Seungcheol. “We’ll handle this. Thank you for acting quickly, sir,” one of them said as they led the intruder away.

Seungcheol stood tall in front of the man sitting tied to the chair in the dimly lit security room. The sight of him was sickening. Moments earlier, Seungcheol had watched the CCTV footage of this guy sneaking into your apartment multiple times in recent days. A wave of anger surged through him as he pieced things together. Was this the reason Jibby had been so stressed lately?

Seungcheol’s hand instinctively went to rub Jibby, who sat calmly in his arms, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside him. The cat, ever so loyal, seemed to sense his unease.

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible. “I’m just a fan…”

Seungcheol’s blood boiled at those words. He stepped closer, his voice sharp and unwavering. “No fan should do this. You’re not a fan—you’re a criminal!” He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out barely held in check.

The security guards standing nearby intervened, stepping between Seungcheol and the intruder. “Sir, please, the cops are on their way. We need your cooperation,” one of them said firmly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let it go. He glared at the man, his voice dripping with contempt. “What did you do? Did you plant a camera or something? Huh?” He leaned in, his intense gaze locking on the man, pressing him for answers.

The intruder hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before he gave a reluctant nod. That was all it took. Rage exploded in Seungcheol as he handed Jibby to a nearby guard before grabbing the man by his collar.

“You sick—” Seungcheol growled, but before he could finish or act on his anger, the security team pulled him back, their firm grip reminding him to maintain control.

“Mr. Choi, we’ve got this. Let us handle it,” one of the guards reassured him.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved as he let go, glaring daggers at the man who cowered in the chair.

Seungcheol stormed out of the security room, his frustration bubbling over as he marched toward the head of security standing nearby.

“How did this even happen?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Your job is to protect her and everyone in this building. Do you even realize how badly you’ve failed?”

The head of security looked uneasy but tried to maintain composure. “Sir, we’re investigating the breach—”

“Investigating?” Seungcheol scoffed, his voice rising. “This isn’t some minor mistake! That man entered her home multiple times, and you didn’t notice? What if she had been home alone? Can you guarantee what that bastard could’ve done to her?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the thought of you in danger overwhelming him.

“Mr. Choi, I assure you—”

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, stepping closer. “You can’t assure me of anything. You couldn’t even keep a stranger out of her home! She trusted this place to be safe, and you let her down.”

The head of security hesitated, clearly struggling to respond, as Seungcheol continued. “Do you know how terrified she’ll be when she finds out? Do you know how hard she works, how much she sacrifices, only to come home to this?”

Taking a deep breath, he added, “I don’t care what it takes—double the patrols, update your system, install better cameras, do something. Because if this happens again, I swear, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The head of security nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Choi. We’ll prioritize this immediately. I’ll personally oversee the updates and report back.”

Turning on his heel, Seungcheol made his way back to your apartment with Jibby settled on his arms. As he entered, he set Jibby down gently and sighed, his heart still racing. His protective instincts were on overdrive, and all he wanted was to make sure you were safe.

He sent you another text:

“Call me when you can.”

Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his gaze shifting to Jibby, who was curled up on the carpet, seemingly calm after the ordeal. The sight of the cat, finally at ease, should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The thought of leaving you and Jibby alone in this apartment, even for a second, made his stomach twist. He sat forward, rubbing his temples as his mind raced. “I can’t just leave you here,” he muttered, as if Jibby could understand.

Decision made, Seungcheol stood and began gathering a few of Jibby’s essentials. He packed the cat’s food, a couple of toys, and the small bed you’d bought for him. Jibby tilted his head curiously, his tail flicking as he watched Seungcheol move around.

“You’re coming with me, buddy,” Seungcheol said softly, crouching down to scratch behind Jibby’s ears. “At least until we know this place is safe again. No arguments, okay?”

Jibby responded with a low purr, and Seungcheol took it as agreement.

*

"Why is he in your place?" you asked, your laughter spilling through the phone as you watched Jibby sprawled comfortably beside Seungcheol on his couch. His home looked warm and inviting in the dim lighting, and even through the screen, you could see how relaxed Jibby seemed.

Seungcheol smiled at your reaction, his voice softening. "Jibby feels at home here. I think he loves my place. Isn’t that right, Jibby? You want to live here with me?"

As if on cue, Jibby let out a soft meow and snuggled closer into Seungcheol’s arm, his orange fur brushing against Seungcheol’s sweater. You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I left him with you for one day, and now you two are best friends? This is betrayal," you teased, though your heart warmed at the sight of them together.

Seungcheol laughed, patting Jibby gently on his back. "Oh, it’s not betrayal. He actually loves me—he just doesn’t want to make you jealous."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’s moving in with you."

Seungcheol tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking you both could. I mean, look at him. He’s practically claimed my couch already."

Your laugh turned into a soft sigh. "Babe, you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but his expression growing serious. "Think about it. Jibby clearly loves it here. My place is bigger and you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him when you’re out for work. Plus..."—his voice softened—"I’d get to see you every day."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his words. "Baby, are you actually suggesting I move in with you?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed how much he meant it. "It makes sense. Jibby’s happy here, and I’d feel better knowing you’re both safe. You can have your own space, do things your way. No pressure, but... I’d really like it if you were here."

Your gaze shifted to Jibby, who was now fully sprawled out on Seungcheol’s lap, purring softly. The sight was oddly comforting, and you couldn’t deny how much you missed Seungcheol already, even though you’d only been apart for a day.

"I don’t know," you said hesitantly, though your voice wavered with the idea already taking root in your mind. "It’s a big step."

Seungcheol leaned closer to the camera, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Big steps aren’t so scary when you’re not taking them alone, you know. Just think about it, okay?"

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. "I’ll think about it."

Seungcheol grinned, the kind of grin that made your chest feel warm. "Good. Jibby and I will be waiting."

The sight of him and Jibby, so at ease together, made you wonder if moving in wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

End.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

rivers of red

surprise update for mermaid bunny!! my inspiration do be sporadic lol

anyway, here's to more toxicity between these fucked up skeletons >:3

(cw: violence, toxic relationship, mentions of abuse and suicidal ideation)

it has been weeks and killer still hasn't stepped foot outside of the castle even once.

the others frequently do for their missions. but when it comes to killer, he's always left behind. no one has given him a clear reason yet, and cross, easily the worst liar of them all, has told him to bring it up to dust since he's the nominally their second-in-command. as if killer would ever trust that creep, really.

but having nothing to do except roaming the castle and occasionally going down to the dungeons to ramble at their unfortunate prisoners (more like food source for nightmare) have lost their charm. killer is dying of boredom, being trapped in an empty castle for days on end. it feels weird not being utilized according to his function - he feels as if he's done something wrong. isn't what nightmare has brought him here for? to be an instrument of calamity?

yeah, but shouldn't you feel good about not having to kill anyone anymore? one of the voices in his head inquires.

who cares? it's in your name, killer, another voice crows. maybe kill them all and then nightmare will see your potential.

"i'm not killing anyone here. nightmare won't like that," killer says out loud, as there isn't anyone here to tell him he's crazy for doing so. unlike someone in the gang.

is staying here so bad?

it is! it's so booooring! you need something new, don't you?

but the world out there is such a horrible place! you will have to kill so many people if you step outside.

oh please! you are the most terrifying creature out there. no one will dare cross your path if they know what you're capable of. there's a reason they chose you after all.

killer tunes out the voices as they bicker back and forth. maybe they are right. maybe this is a test and he needs to prove himself in order to be let out of here. he doesn't want to stay here all docile and restless. he doesn't want to be treated like one of nightmare's little meals downstairs, trapped here and waiting for a rescue that will never come.

so when the gang finally comes back, against all his preservation instincts, he goes straight to dust in the great hall, who stills upon seeing him approach.

"we need to talk," he says to dust.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees cross and horror lingering around, but they don't interfere, just like usual.

what? dust signs to him, strangely reserved.

"i want to go out on mission," killer replies.

i'm not in charge of assigning roles.

"you're nightmare's right-hand, aren't you? can't you just put in a good word for me?"

dust looks at him, his eyelights flickering. after a tense moment, he signs, no.

"what do you mean, no?" killer asks, but dust brushes past him. not letting him get away, killer grabs dust's arm. "hey, i'm talking to you!"

the air buzzing around them is the only warning killer has before he instinctively summons his knife as a barrage of bones shoots up from the ground, angling at his midriff. the attacks don't hit him directly as he softens the impact with his knife in the way. he grins at dust. so now they're speaking his language.

before he can jump at dust, someone grabs the back of his jacket.

"no fighting," horror's voice rumbles behind him. cross also appears in front of dust, saying something that he can't hear. the hooded skeleton seems to be shrinking into himself.

"he started it," killer sneers at no one particular. "if it's a fight he wants, then it's a fight he gets."

"don't be stupid," horror shakes him. "you break him, nightmare will break you."

"what?" killer smiles back at the one-eyed skeleton, all teeth. "little dusty there is his pet or what?"

everything momentarily freezes after what he said. horror's grip on his jacket tightens, and cross looks back at him. and dust - killer won't describe it, but the expression on his face is something else. it only prompts him to open his mouth to spit out more venom.

"you can't fight your own battles, dusty? always needing someone for you to hide behind, like the coward that you are?"

"killer, stop it," cross tells him, softly yet sternly at the same time. one of his arms hold out over dust, as if covering dust from the onslaught that killer is ready to unleash on him.

"even now, you have to have cross here to protect you," killer breaks away from horror's grip as he steps closer to his target. "don't you have shame? can you even call yourself our superior like this?"

dust doesn't reply. he doesn't even move from his spot, as cross resolutely stands between both of them.

"nothing to say, right-hand?" killer sneers.

"killer, that's enough," cross scowls.

"scram, guard dog," killer tilts his head at cross. "this is between me and him."

before cross can say anything, a familiar high whine echoes behind him. a purple light illuminates the hall for a second before the gaster blaster goes off. horror, cross, and killer have all teleported away to a safe distance just in time to see the blaster decimate half of the great hall. as the smoke dissipates, dust stands there, a crazed smile on his face. his bi-colored eyelights dart around and catch killer perching on a railing. killer feels something race through his body, the sensation of adrenaline coursing through his leylines that he has sorely missed. he reciprocates dust's smile with his own as he spins his knife in his hand and jumps.

the ensuing fight between the two of them is messy. killer can't exactly tell the intent between each blow dust delivers to him, but dust does fight like someone who wants to see him dead. dust's movements are jittery and unpredictable - he doesn't move like a regular monster for sure, but neither does killer. dust hesitates a lot mid-fight, his eyes flickering in its colors, but a smack to his face always gets him back into the mood quickly. his crazed grin wobbles at its corners more often the more the fight goes on. and killer notices.

when he sees dust takes a misstep and stumble back, killer swipes his knife at dust. the hooded skeleton's eye flares up, and killer anticipates a counter-attack of some sort - maybe a blue magic grab, maybe another intricate attack pattern that dust loves to do. but no, dust's flare only lasts for a second before it gives out, his eyelights fading back to white. his body relaxes as it falls into killer's knife, and on his face blooms a bloody half-smile. killer stares at it, startled.

he changes the angle of his knife at the last millisecond, the spine of the knife instead of the tip hitting dust's zygomatic bone. a small crack appears on dust's face, another injury on his banged up body. killer grabs dust's collar and pulls him up, the hooded skeleton unmoving like a puppet with its strings cut.

"... what was that?" killer whispers at dust, who remains unresponsive. it's like all his fight just escapes his body. the crack under his eye drips red onto killer's hand. his eyelights bore into killer's empty sockets.

let's just kill him, a voice pops into killer's head. the others will have no choice but make you their superior, right?

and then nightmare will kill us for sure. or worse, make us one of his fixture in the dungeons.

come on, do you really think so? what if the cracked head lied to us? you think nightmare keeps around this unstable coward for his abilities?

you really want to risk that?

dust continues to stare at him, not saying anything. not even a scared expression on his face. just eerily serene and smiling as he watches killer raise a knife right at one of his sockets.

after a while, killer throws away the knife and pushes dust away from him. dust crumbles among the mess they've made, and doesn't get up, his eyes still fixed on killer.

"... if you want to die, do it yourself," killer mutters under his breath before teleporting back to his own room.

he doesn't hear from the others for the rest of the day. he doesn't leave his room, opting to read his meager collection of books for the nth time. with no way to tell the time, he stays vigilant against the door of his room, waiting for the mute maniac to come back for revenge. or worse, nightmare. but dust never comes, the hallway outside of his room blessedly and strangely quiet.

it is a while when he hears a couple of knocks on his door, a muffled voice calling him.

"killer, it's horror. get up."

when killer opens the door, horror is standing in front of him with his arms crossed.

"what's the deal, big guy?" killer smiles, to which horror frowns slightly.

"you're gonna have your first mission with me today."

it takes killer a moment to absorb the words. "wait, really?" he says, stunned.

"unfortunately," horror turns to walk away, making killer follow him. "just a small espionage. don't mess it up."

killer beams, his steps having a little spring in it. as the duo passes by the living area, killer spots cross and dust sitting on one of the benches. cross is mumbling something to dust, his head angling down. dust's head abruptly turns and he locks eyes with killer for a second before killer walks past the living area completely.

as horror prepares the portal to their destination, killer can't help but think about what he's seen, his deformed soul feeling as much discomfited as he is able to. much as he tries, he can't remember dust being injured in his right eye at all yesterday.

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die And if a ten tonne truck kills the both of us To die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

~ there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

[ruckis-vandalizes]

"Everyday, it’s as if I feel the pain that they’re going through. Everyday, we start to see the world from their point of view. In his mind, all he thinks about is lust for my blood and yours. He will find a way to get to us, and then take his course.

We’ll take down the source."

DISCLAIMER: Kit is not a D&D character. She is a nonfandom but crossover friendly OC from my hubworld/passion project by the name of Order of the Stars! She's taken on the role of an otherworlder, or a "planeswalker" if you will.

end of an era nears ever closer. One of struggle, one of chaos left unchecked. Tragedy after tragedy, all but not limited to

Being stuck in a position of powerlessness for well over a year and a half. Taken advantage of in their moment of weakness by forces (at the time) bigger than them. Met with misfortune and failure at almost every turn. Mourning almost every waking moment and unable to process grief before the next tragedy struck. Forced to watch relive the worst moments of their past and watch helplessly as history repeats itself, despite trying so desperately to stop it. Left with the looming sense of dread as they try and remember billions of years worth of memories, thousands more worth of trauma, under a short deadline and all at once. Forced to watch as their friends are taken advantage of - watch as they die countless times, often as a result of lack of self preservation. Aggression and sorrow as a result of worry and grief perceived as self loathing, blamed for having an appropriate reaction to everything that was going on. Despite trying so desperately to restore their relationship, despite being mostly selfless, they were still the victim of double standards. A thankless job for the ungrateful. Blinded by love, unable to see greed. Until finally they took a step back.

and let go.

in a final gambit to prove their worth, reclaim control, and as a form of closure to themselves, they venture into the lion's den. To confront the very being that had been oppressing them. A cruel Elder God of Entertainment that was twisting fate to make their lives a horror show. Completely disregarding their rights as individuals. Not only did he take advantage of a primordial god borne to kill their kin while they were weakened, but he inadvertently tore apart their friendship with their former party.

just one last try. Just one last adventure.

If not to win, then at least get a few pot shots in and go home. Where they can finally rest. Where they can finally heal. Where they can fully let go.

Destroying the ground they stand on and raking their world for all its worth isn't even worth it anymore. It's not worth the effort. Besides, because of the exposure, for every person that hates them a thousand more will adore them. Let a select few demonize. It doesn't matter. Their audience has been found. THAT is enough reason to keep that world alive.

...and besides. They will outlive it anyway.

And they will smile when they do.

[coywolfcollections]

Mustelids! (Prints available here)

[mc-critical]

1.10 / 1.09

[kiki-strike]

PTSD is so stupid saw a jar of biscoff cookie butter at the store and went ha that’s the brand they had in res. (Completely unaffected). Then went home and had a panic attack about it (????)

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[bi-writes]

Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??

mail-order bride (18+)

"simon...simon riley?" you ask.

the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.

"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."

"john?"

you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.

"captain john price?"

the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.

"yes, ma'am. wait here."

he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.

"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."

"...negative, sir..."

"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."

the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.

"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."

you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.

when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.

"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.

"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"

"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.

she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.

why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?

"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.

mmm. that's why.

you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.

"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.

"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."

you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.

"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.

"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."

he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.

your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.

when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.

"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"

simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.

"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."

you relax a little, giggling.

"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."

"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."

you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.

"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."

simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"

"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."

"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."

you tilt your head back for him.

"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."

"mmm. i bet, luv."

"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."

simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."

you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.

"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.

"when? 'ow about right now?"

"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"

you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.

"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."

"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"

"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.

"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.

"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."

"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."

"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"

you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.

"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.

"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."

"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.

"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."

you nod.

"i can take it--i can take it--!"

your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.

"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.

"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"

simon grins, all teeth.

"woteva ya want."

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (pt.2)

As the weeks went on, Gaz and Soap would constantly try to pull you into the walk-in. But Simon's stare made you stop dead in your tracks every time. You've resorted to going over to their place, it's always a surprise who's gonna end up on top of who. During breaks between rounds, you'll catch up on a show you were all watching or playing video games and eating snacks. It's light, fun, young, energetic.

"The boys keeping you satisfied?"

Price asks during one of your smoke breaks, he's leaning against the railing again. Your eyes dart to the floor, embarrassed.

"I could take proper care of you."

The words drip from his mouth and run up your legs, making you squirm. He chuckles, a deep rumble from his broad chest.

"I'll pick you up 7 tonight."

Flicks the butt of his cigar onto the wet cement before walking back into the kitchen. Your hand shakes as you finish your cigarette.

The outing was nice, he took you out on a real date. You wore a tasteful dress that he was obsessed with the moment he saw you in it.

Made you order something expensive from the menu.

"Gotta keep you well fed, hm?"

You couldn't argue with him, he held an air of authority even outside of the kitchen. Conversation was pleasant, he kept it appropriate. Actually, that whole time he was an absolute gentleman. Walked you up to your flat. You gave him an anxious kiss that made him laugh softly and you quickly slipped into your studio. You pressed your back to the door, heart pounding. You squinted through the peephole and watched as he turned around, walking away. As soon as you swung your door open, he was stepping inside your place and scooping you up. He gripped your ass while holding you up, his hands positioned in a way that allowed him to rub your folds through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Already wet? Knew you'd be a good girl for me."

You melted in his arms at those words. Gently laid you right on the bed, pulling back to slip off your heels and left kisses from your ankle to inner thigh. He moaned when you giggled from his beard brushing against your soft thighs.

"Fuckin dogs, markin you up like your theirs."

His lips grazed over the hickeys Gaz and Soap left on your hips and thighs. He pulled the dress up and over your shoulders.

"Those sexy fuckin eyes of yours, Christ."

He kneeled over you, taking you in. Your moans, touch, smell, all that was left was your taste. He sunk back down between your legs and had you coming faster and harder than Soap or Gaz. He was down there for hours, only coming up to briefly cram his thick dick into your tight hole just long enough to leave you being for more when he pulled out. So much restraint he had. Only reason he finally finished was because he had to get up early tomorrow. Painted your sore walls with thick ropes of his spend,

"G'na take it all like a good girl, yeah?"

He held your face to muffle your moans with his mouth while he finished pumping into you. Wouldn't even clean you up, just gently pushed whatever leaked out of you back inside. Then he held you close and fell asleep, effectively trapping you in his arms. He ends up driving you to work the next day, taking you in early so he can prep with Ghost. Simon seems more grumpy than usual (it's because he's the one who's supposed to drive you to work, creature of habit he is).

"I'll let you pick her up next time. Don't get mad at me for being a gentleman."

Price sighs while portioning out meat. You swear you see Simon huff.

The drive home was silent as usual, but there was a tension that wasn't present before. Sure, there's been an uneasy or awkward air in the car before, but this was different. You needed it to stop being quiet.

"...sorry for not telling you about John taking me today."

You sat on your hands, staring at the veiny hand gripping the gear lever.

"S'alright, he told me."

His tone was unreadable as ever. He parked in front of your building, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes. You shifted uncomfortably, about to open your mouth to say something.

"G'night."

He interrupted, you nod and step out of his car to your door. You fumble with your keys and turn around to invite him in, he's already locking his car door and headed towards you. Oh fuck.

He doesn't even let you take your shoes off, just flops you onto the edge of the bed and haphazardly pulls down your jeans and underwear, folding you in half.

"Open."

He grunts, shoving two fingers into your mouth, getting them slick with your spit. He roughly fingers your sweet spot until you are overwhelmed with pleasure, then he undoes his pants. You gasp. Literally gasp at the sight of his length.

"That's not going in me."

You blink at him. He looks at you, stroking himself.

"Alright."

He shrugs before slapping his shaft on your wet folds, then rubbing himself against you. He goes at this for what seems like forever, occasionally his tip catches in your entrance before he slides out and continues to grind against you. It's maddening. Finally, you break and beg for him to slide himself in. He does so with no hesitation or concern for your poor walls. Bullies his way inside you until you physically can't take anymore and pounds into you ruthlessly. He covers your mouth with a rough hand while the other toys with your nub. You squeal, yelp, moan. It's all muffled; only to be heard by his ears.

"Atta girl, takin it like a champ."

You were barely keeping it together, each hit to your cervix made you see stars. It hurt. It was heaven. Your eyes rolled back.

"Don't look away from me."

He grabbed your face, making you stare right into his brown eyes. That's what pushed you over the edge, he rode out your orgasm before reaching his. Your heavy breaths filled the room. That's when he finally decides to pull off your shoes and pants. He was surprisingly good at aftercare, made you both some tea (why did he know where everything was?), wiped you down, and put on some cooking competition show. He was into it. Very into it.

"How do you fuck up beurre monté?"

He says to himself, shaking his head while the contestant on TV cried about messing up a sauce. It goes on like this for a while, shitting on chefs choices and mistakes. Your stomach rumbles, he looks at you. Offers to make something. You remember how the food at the restaurant gets sent back. A lot. Decline politely. He walks to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. You'd say something, but you know you can't stop him. Twenty minutes later he hands you a plate,

"Shakshuka."

It looks...edible. He sits at the end of your bed, eating and watching his show. You take a spoonful into your mouth. Fucking delicious.

"Best I could do with what you had."

He made himself home, slept like he paid the bills, splayed out and snored louder than a Harley. Pinned you right under his arm, mouth right next to your ear. You barely get any sleep.

The next day you drag your feet back and forth from the kitchen.

"Fuckin hell Simon, you kept her up all night?"

John shook his head, burning another steak. Simon grunted, plating the meat and placing it on the window. You served the food to the customer and walked back to the kitchen.

"That's my hoodie."

Soap pointed at Ghost. It was obviously Soap's, they were both well built but Simon's arms and chest stretched the fabric.

"So?"

Simon shrugged, sweeping the floor.

"So? I gave it to her."

"S'fine, she has enough of your shit."

Soap looked at you, betrayed. You shrug, you were too tired to even notice what Simon was wearing.

"Didnae ye notice yer favorite hoodie was gone?"

He looked at you, eyes sad and blindingly blue.

"Give it a rest Johnny."

"'But it's 'er favorite. Right bonnie?"

You nod (you don't have a favorite, but obviously he needs this) and he sighs in relief, smile plastered on his face. Pesters Simon to give him back the hoodie.

"Keep it somewhere safe, aye?"

He hands it to you, holding it like it was a damn faberg�� egg.

While Simon and you were walking to his car, Kyle and Johnny run after you, insisting on seeing your place,

"What, only they get to see your flat? It's not fair."

So puerile, Ghost rolled his eyes.

They oohed and aahed at your flat, fawning over your decor. You're thankful for splurging on a king sized mattress. Gaz slept like an angel, but Johnny? Even in his sleep he was restless, kicking and talking. You make a note not to have Ghost and him over at the same time.

Two days later, Johnny almost drops to his knees when he sees Simon in your 'favorite hoodie' again.

[lymtw]

Thinking of an argument with Toji that leaves you mute by choice towards him. He still talks to you and asks you questions, and while you don't turn away from him, you don't respond to him either. He ends up having to figure out whatever he needs on his own because after a minute or so you huff and walk away from the conversation.

"Mama," he calls from the bedroom, rummaging through his clothing drawers. "Have you seen my gym shorts?"

If he was able to get a word out of you, he would know that you washed them for him. Though you were still sizzling with anger towards him, you pulled them out of the dryer and walked them over to the room. He could hear your little footsteps as you approached the room, and when he turned to look at you, he noticed you were holding his shorts in your hand.

Your eyes were vacant towards him. You didn't want them to be because it sucks when you can't look at him with the endless amount of love you have in store for him. It's still there, but it's being masked by a poker face.

You toss the shorts onto the bed and leave. Toji sighs, irked by the fact that it's actually starting to sting now. Your disregard for him because you're ruled by your emotions and he lets things go too easily because he can't hold a grudge towards you, even if he feels you're in the wrong.

Toji never knew how much he depended on your voice until you wouldn't let him hear it. He depends on you to tell him where things are because without you they would be scattered all over the place. He doesn't know your method of organization, but somehow when he needs something and looks to you in order to find it, you pull it out from right under his nose. He depends on you to tell him he's doing a good job, and to tell him you love him, and just reassure him in general. It makes him feel good to know that someone thinks he's good enough, but recently the one person who feeds him affection like it's as important as food and water, has left him to starve. You haven't said a word to him in almost two days, and he feels like he's starting to go crazy. The sound of his own voice is driving him insane. It's gotten so bad that he had to make a mental note of how he's going to get you back that same night.

Toji leaves for the gym and texts you during his time there. He includes some images because it's now an unspoken rule that he always has to send you gym pics.

[ Attachment: 3 Images]

... 😳🤐

Yeah, I know you like those. I'll be home soon.

You take the time to doll yourself up while he's still out. It's for him, but you won't tell him that until you come back from your "night out". Really, you're just gonna go get dinner for both of you from his favorite little restaurant. You just want to see how far he's willing to let this go, because you're caving. You're ready to apologize even when you know he's not upset at all. You're ready to spoil him in order to make up for those severe feelings you held towards him. You're ready to hear about how stubborn and unbelievable you are for this little act you pulled.

You spray on some perfume and walk out of the bathroom, just in time to catch Toji walking through the door.

"Woof, where're you going, ma?" He asks, setting down his gym bag before absorbing everything you were gracing him with. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the very bare skin of the legs that come out from under your skirt. He can smell your perfume from where he stands, its elegant scent masking even the smell of his own potent sweat.

You didn't answer his question, and left him to wonder why you're all dressed up at seven o'clock at night. Was it a girl's night or were you openly showing him that you have options? Did he miss a message or a call from you?

You grabbed your wallet and scooted past him. You walked halfway down the corridor of your apartment building before realizing that maybe this was a bit much. You would make him worry over you going on a five minute walk to grab some food? All so you can show him you're mad? You cracked.

🥟🥡🍜.

Toji was staring at his screen, waiting for anything from you. The screen flashes like some sort of miracle and your message is seen by him. He chuckles, feeling a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of your little emoticons.

You came back home as fast as possible, bags of food in hand as you patiently waited for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. You took your time walking through the corridor, this time, not knowing how you would react once you saw Toji or if you would immediately say something to him. You're ready to talk to him, you want to talk to him. You miss him, you love him, and you hate the passiveness you threw yourself into around him as an act of retaliation.

There you were, standing in front of the door, nervous beyond belief for what was behind it. You collected yourself and twisted the doorknob, ready to face anything that came to you.

Toji stood from the couch and walked over to you to take the bags from your hands. The smell of his body wash wafted into your nose. There was an imaginary white flag hanging out of your pocket, and it was about to fall out to signal your surrender to Toji.

He pecks your cheek and watches in real time as color floods into your face. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen—you standing there so rigidly afterwards. He gives you a soft smile and resists the urge to coo at you for being so cute. Instead, he heads to the table to put the bags of food down.

You shut the door, and within a split second, Toji was in front of you again. "Ma," he says, sounding a little more desperate than he thought he would. "Say something." You stand there like a statue—unmoving, but unlike a statue, you are easily moveable. Especially, by Toji. "Anything, mama, please." He crouches down at your feet, his warm hands resting on the backs of your knees and his cheek resting on one of your thighs. This position made it look like you were being worshipped by him, and anyone who ever saw him do this would know that it was true, because he worshipped everything about you. From the top of your head, to the ground your feet stood on.

"Don't you miss having my hands on you?" They glide up and down the backs of your thighs. He looks up at your stunned expression. You won't look down at him, so he gets to see the way you swallow the words dying to leave your mouth, and the slight widening of your eyes as he lets his hands roam your lower body. "I know I do. I've been in hell these past couple days." He presses a soft kiss to your knee, then one more on your thigh. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you're selfish, baby. Maybe i'm just a greedy asshole," he says, rekindling the subject of what led to your silence towards him. His hand maneuvers around your leg so that his palm is on your thigh, making its way up towards the inner part of it. "But, I know something," his lips trail further up your thigh, softly kissing your skin. "I'm greedy about you. That can't and won't be changed, even when we argue like idiots."

You put your hand on his head as he starts kissing up your inner thighs, making his way even further up beneath your skirt.

"Come on, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his lips meeting the front of your underwear. "Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you hate that my filthy paws are on you, right now."

Your legs tremble at the lightness of his touch, and you internally cringe at how sensitive you've always been for him.

"Toji..." you gasp. You feel his warm tongue flatten between your legs, a slow upwards drag of the muscle makes your thighs quiver before him. You whimper at the damp warmth his saliva leaves on your panties. "Fuck..." you moan, breathily. "Don't stop. Stay there, please."

The first word you reintroduced yourself with being a moaned out rendition of his name was heaven reaching down to pat him on the back for knowing exactly what to do to get you to talk again.

"Open wider for me, baby. Let me see," Toji says, your skirt still veiled over his head. You take a step back so that your back is against the door and widen your stance a little more. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you shudder when his tongue returns to slide through your clothed folds. He doesn't even need to produce that much saliva to drench the fabric of your underwear because you've done that for him already with your leaking arousal.

You shut your eyes and rest your head against the door as Toji continues his act of filth between your thighs. You can hear him panting below you, your taste pleasantly coating his tongue every time he sucks on the garment that clings to you.

You cry out his name with sharp breaths following, your fingers tangling into his locks, gripping and tugging as his lips catch onto your cunt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you grit out, whimpering at the contrast between his mouth and his hands. His hands offer a gentle massage to your thighs, softly kneading the plush between his fingers. His mouth moves purposefully because he knows exactly what it takes to make you fall apart with it. He coats his tongue with your essence every time he laps at the wet patch on your underwear, sticky webs of arousal connecting him to you.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your cunt throbbing with every brush of his tongue. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck, i'm gonna cum..." you whine.

Toji pushes your underwear to the side, and glides his tongue through your generously slicked folds once and you're instantly arching your back off the door, squirming in his hold and moaning carelessly as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. He desperately chases the sound of your pleasure-ridden voice, wanting to hear the way it raises in pitch when he strokes you just right. He doesn't want it to stop, it's been too long. Two days way too long. You tug at his hair with one hand, dragging the nails of your other hand down the door. You breathe heavily as Toji manipulates your pleasure until your thighs are trembling.

Toji pulls away and lifts your skirt off his head. He lowers your leg back down and stands up from his crouched position. He faces you with glossy lips that shine with all the juices he collected from you, some of it drooling down his chin to give him an even more messy appearance. He presses his lips to yours, making slow movements to allow you to realize what is happening while your eyes are closed. You can taste yourself on his lips as you catch the rhythm.

There's a loud smack in the last kiss before he releases you, a feral look in his green eyes as he dotes on your blissed out appearance. You look too pure for someone who's just experienced something so sinful. "Hey, look at me," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Look at me," he repeats, staring at you as you try to catch your breath with closed eyes.

You hum, rolling your eyes open to lazily stare back at him. Your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at him, but you liked how vigilant he was being. It made you crack a grin, a small gesture that had Toji's heart thudding a little quicker, now.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, mama." His eyes trail yours as they look away from his gaze. "If this is your reaction to my mouth, I don't even know what to expect for when I'm inside you."

You look down to see what's been poking your thigh for the past minute or so, and it's the monster in his pants, outlined for your eyes to quickly spot and everything.

"Come on," you say, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to lead him to the bedroom.

Toji shuts the door and locks it to give the situation a deeper level of intimacy. There's no one there but the two of you and yet you feel even more secluded by the gesture.

He wasn't aggressive in the way he bared you for his eyes. He pulled you close to him by the waist, your body against his as he peeled your layers of clothes off.

"Stay," he says, when you take a step back. He takes that step towards you again, placing his hands on your hips, and snaking them around to your back to locate the zipper for your skirt. He exhales through his nose, lidded eyes watching the longing expression on your face closely as he pulls down the zipper and allows the article to fall on the floor. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he fully slides his hands beneath it, and raises it up your torso higher and higher. You put your arms up and allow him to slip it off your head.

He makes haste of getting his own clothes off, a sly smirk decorating his face when he sees you admiring him from where you sit on the end of the bed as you take off your bra and underwear. You're forced further up the bed by Toji as he inches closer and closer to you. You reach a dead end and welcome the suffocating warmth of his body as he cages you onto the bed.

"Don't do that to me again, mama," he murmurs, before leaning down to peck your lips. "Don't let me talk to myself for that long when you have such a pretty voice to respond with."

You laugh, pulling a small grin from him. "I didn't think you'd care, to be honest. I thought you'd tell me i'm being childish or ridiculous."

"Nah, princess. I thought I was gonna die."

You giggle, pulling him close again. "You're exaggerating."

"You wouldn't let me touch you. Not even when we went to bed, so it was like we were friends instead of lovers sleeping together. Especially with how far on your side you slept."

"Oh, baby," you coo, pressing multiple quick apologetic kisses to his lips. He chuckles at the affection, and his eyes close instinctively as your kisses become more widespread on his face. He missed this more than anything. "What can I do for your forgiveness, my love?"

"Just let me fuck you, ma. That's all. Give me my privilege to all of this, again." His hand slowly trails from your chest to your stomach, a touch you longed for dearly during those two days that you verbally ignored him.

"It's yours," you whisper to him. You peer up at him with your constellation eyes, silently begging him to realize how much you need him. "I'm yours, so show me the use you have for the privilege over my body, baby."

He leans down to kiss you, softly. He's desperate for you, but his lips don't falter their delicate synchrony because of it. He guides the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing up and down the slickness a couple times before slowly sinking into you. Your ability to tangle with Toji's lips slowly deteriorates, and your focus strays to the stretching happening lower down your body, so Toji picks up the slack and feeds you his kisses.

"Come on," he groans out. Not even he is immune to the rebirth of sex with you. You're warm and inviting, and you embrace the pain and comfort he offers every time he craves you or you crave him. This time is no exception. "Kiss me back, sweetheart. Give them all to me," he mutters, before attempting to connect his lips to yours again. You dig your heels into the mattress and your toes curl as you feel his girth continue to submerge inside you.

Toji cups your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together into a makeshift pout for him to kiss. He can hear your hummed little whimpers in response to him sheathing himself further into you. He was being gentle, because hurting you is a crime in his world.

"Fuck, I missed this, mama," he says, goosebumps rising on his torso as he drags himself out of you halfway and pushes himself back in again. "So warm..." he says over the sound of your pleasured moan. He sighs, a grunt following as he starts a careful rocking rhythm into you. "I could stay inside you forever."

"I could keep you here forever," you rephrase, gazing up at him with those eyes he unequivocally loves. They've reverted back to the default loving expression you hold for him, the vacancy of your previous gaze now filled with love, excitement, lust, and overall enchantment. It's a beautiful thing to see your hurricanes subside.

He leans down to kiss you again, distributing the kisses on your face and leading them towards your neck. You could feel his abs dragging up and down your stomach with every roll of his hips against yours.

"Mmm... Toji," you moan, bringing your hands to his back. One of them moves up to the nape of his neck, threading through the dampened locks of his hair, the other traces his spine to distract you from how badly you want to dig your nails into him.

"I know," he coos, kissing the spot beneath your ear. "I know, doll. It's always this good with you."

You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding the more sensitive area within you. "Right there, right there... Oh..." you moan out, inevitably digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Toji directs his kisses back up your neck and towards your face again so he can see the honest expression on it. You're lost in pleasure, vibrating as another orgasm rushes through you.

"Fuck, mama.. let me-" he groans, outwardly losing it at the overflow of your juices. "Let me see those pretty eyes," he pants, gripping your waist a little more harshly as he feels his cock on the brink of expelling into you. "Need you to watch me," he says, taking in the way your lips part to release your sounds of utter satisfaction. Your eyes flutter open to center on his greedy eyes. You mirror his lustful, lidded gaze, the look enough to make him spill inside you, making your cunt even sloppier. "You're gorgeous, ma," he says, mindlessly, as he fucks into you with a little more fervor. "Fucking stunning," he mutters through pants, to which you respond with a sly smirk. The gesture lured a groan out of him and made his cock twitch as he finished releasing into you.

You giggle when he stills his hips. Your combined attempts to regulate your breathing fills the silence that follows. "What're you laughing at?" He asks, massaging your hip with his thumb.

"You tell me that all the time like you're obsessed with me or something."

"And if I am?" he says with a voice so deep you have to blink to see that it's still your gentle giant of a man. "Is it too much for you? Can you handle it? Am I suffocating you, baby?" he purrs, cupping your cheeks while leaning in close to emphasize his points. All it does is allow you to closely admire how handsome he is and really think about what's happening in this moment. This green-eyed, raven-haired man, with the prettiest pointed nose and the most attractive scarred lips, is bedding you, and doing it so well.

"Never. Come closer and bite," you murmur.

He takes your lips in his again, a little more aggressive than before. You asked him to bite, and that's exactly what he's doing. The make out has him rocking both of you a little faster, working you towards yet another orgasm. You nip at his bottom lip and run your tongue over it when hisses. You hum out a little giggle, and moan into his mouth when he jolts into you.

"God, i'll bust again if you keep doing that. I'm serious, mama" he groans, swiping his tongue over his stinging bottom lip. You think he's being dramatic so when he leans down to kiss you again, you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. You gasp, releasing his lip and stare at him with wide eyes as his excessive warmth spurts into your cunt, filling it to the brim and beyond, to the point of leakage.

"F-Fuck... you're terrible," he groans, shuddering with tense abdominal muscles as he lures the entirety of his orgasm out. "Cum," he says, panting as he picks up the pace of his rutting to get you to follow his orgasm. "I can feel you clenching around me like hell. I know you want to," he says, reaching a hand between you and him to stimulate your clit.

Your already labored breathing picks up and your heart is pounding in your ears aggressively as you roll your hips back against his. You whimper as you feel your peak get closer and closer, a cried out and breathy "fuck!" leaving you when it arrives, followed by high pitched moans that make Toji's heart race. You arched your back off the mattress as you reached the zenith of your orgasm with the help of Toji's finger rapidly rubbing your clit while he maintained his satisfying pace inside you.

You whimper, slapping a hand onto Toji's wrist to stop his movements on you. He smirks at the sight of your trembling thighs, your heaving chest, and the sound of your dazed hums. You always were such a delicate thing. So fragile that even with just enough of his attention, he could break you.

"Tired yet?" He asks, admiring your relaxed facial features. You nod with your eyes closed, your lips parted to release little puffs of air. "Thought you'd be. I'll go grab some towels for us to shower." He pulls out of you, taking a moment to admire your collaborative masterpiece.

"Baby..." you whine, sitting up when you feel his weight lift off the bed. "I can't get up." You dramatically let yourself fall back on the bed and stick your tongue out to portray your exhaustion.

"Get up, you faker. That's all you have to do and i'll take care of the rest."

"Too tired to wash myself right now..." you say, waking up for a second before closing your eyes again. Toji can see the sly grin on your face and the little shake of your stomach as you stifle your giggles.

"Guess you're too tired to eat, too, huh? You know i've got a huge appetite, and I could eat all that food you brought by myself."

"You wouldn't," you say, abruptly sitting up on the bed and squinting at him. "There's enough to feed three people in those bags."

"I've got the stomach of three people in one, so you better catch up before you're left with my seconds."

You sigh, too tired to move, but you get up anyway and trail behind Toji. "Baby, can you pleeease clean me up? I'm beat."

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he now walks behind you. "Sure, but don't complain when I take longer on certain areas."

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[not-rigel]

Can't do it better

posted on AO3 but im also going to post it here. first sevika fic aaa.

warnings: top sevika, teasing, strapping, riding, multiple orgasms, mean sevika, aftercare, soft sevika, porn what plot, F!reader

Sevika's fingers trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through your body. She was still in that teasing stage of sex, where half her strap was inside you. She was just waiting for the right moment to push the rest of herself inside. You tremble because you know that she knows you love the teasing.

She thrusts with half the length, deciding to drag out the teasing even more. You groan against the pillow your face is pressed into. She echoes your groan, but there is a mocking tone to it. She grabs your hips, pulling your ass higher which pulls you a little further on her strap.

The extra inch of her dick brushing inside you makes you lose control for just a moment but that's all that it takes. You push your hips back to take more of her. Her hands stop your hips after you get another inch inside of you.

She lets out a disappointed sigh, "Oh no, baby.. Do you think you can fuck yourself better than I can?"

You gasp, having been caught and in deep shit.

"I'm sorry. Sevika-"

You're cut off when she hooks her left arm under your torso and pulls you up so you're on your knees with her still inside of you. She repositions herself, remaining kneeled but her thighs are on either side of yours. She pulls your hips down then her arms move back to support her weight from behind.

"Go on, baby," She coos.

"What?"

"Fuck youself on my dick."

You push your hips back, a moan coming from you almost immediately. You just cannot dig yourself out of the hole you created.

"You gotta keep going, baby." Sevika is being evil, speaking that tone. The one that is equally demeaning and sweet.

You grind your hips, trying to find momentum but each time you shift yourself down on her dick you shudder and pause. She always feels so good inside of you. But you know there is something missing.

"Sevika," you whine, "Please. I can't fuck myself like you fuck me."

She flat out ignores the plea and the confession. "Faster."

Pathetic little noises leave you as you obey her order and begin to thrust your hips properly back onto her strap. You moan again and try to push yourself all the way down her length but you end up short.

"If you wanted me that deep, you should’ve let me fuck you," she growls. If her tone is any indication, she is losing her own control.

"Please please, Sevika. It's not enough. I need you."

But again, she ignores your begging. She must not understand. Having her inside you was getting you so close but all you really needed was to be hers. You needed to be taken.

"I can't cum without you claiming me," you admit. You think your confession is pathetic. Sevika thinks it's the hottest, sweetest thing in the world. You swear you can feel her shudder through the strap.

Without warning, she pulls out. She turns you over, pushing you into the mattress on your back. She takes her usual place between your thighs. She grabs her strap and slides it through your folds, teasing but not entering. She is watching the display while you are watching her. She is in complete awe. She pauses her teasing, biting her cheek to hold in a groan then leans over to grab something from the bedside drawer. The one with several toys and accessories you keep closeby.

You hear shuffling and one item is set on the dresser. She returns to her position before you can question it. She ducks down for a kiss, giving you a little bit of sweet affection before claiming you. The both of you moan into each other's mouths, enjoying the passion preceding your pleasure.

Sevika is the one to pull away. She has to see your face when she enters you. You're so wet it only takes some repositioning of her hips for her to slide inside. Half the length slips right in before Sevika can resist the suction of your pussy.

"Oh," both of you moan. Sevika is set on completing her earlier mission, making you wait to take her full length. And there is no way you'll ruin it now. You clenched around her as she forced you to be patient. Sevika pushed herself to the hilt in after a short wait, not able to resist all the ways she wants to make you lose your mind. 

"Sevika!" your shout echoes off the walls and your arm reaches up to grab onto her. Your fingers end up digging into her shoulder. You wait for her to begin moving but she doesn't so you whine at her. Pouting is not the most effective tactic on Sevika but you're so horny you can't think to do anything else.

"I just have to take a moment," her voice is as teasing as it gets. You look up at her to pout more but what you see is her using one hand to tighten the straps on her harness, pulling it tighter on her hips. Before you can even react, she begins thrusting.

She fucks with a power that is so special to her. She isn't going full force, starting at a comfortable pace but there is desire and carnality behind her thrusts. Each push and pull of her hips is so deliberate and precise. Thrusts meant to make you contort for her. Her pace doesn't slow or quicken, but she does reposition your legs whenever you get close to cramping.

The steady stimulation works you up, the notes of an orgasm beginning in your abdomen. "Sev.." you don't finish moaning her name when her lips find yours. There's only one word for it, possessive. Her teeth nip your lips between harsh kisses.

"That's right," she huffs between kisses. The snapping of her hips increases in speed. She reattaches your lips. The new stimulation adds harmony to the impending orgasm. With a couple more thrusts, you're cumming for her. Your orgasm drowns over any other noise, playing its own tune through your body. Sevika hears you reacting beneath her but she doesn't relent.

"Sev! I'm cumming!" You groaned into her mouth.

"Your legs aren't shaking. So I don't care."  Her hips continue their pace through your orgasm and don't stop after you're done. She pauses for a moment and you think you've been spared then she pushes up and hooks your ankles over her shoulder.

She resumes her thrusting but now it's messy, uncoordinated, quick thrusts. She needs this. And evidently so do you because less than a minute later you're cumming again, tears leaking from your eyes, legs shaking.

It's a sight for Sevika, really. Your pussy convulses and cream coats her strap. Your skin is hot, your eyes are rolled back, eyelids fluttering. Your breasts bouncing as she fucks you. She is sure if she looked behind her, your toes would be curled. Pressing a kiss to your calf, she orgasms with you, her's lasting noticeably shorter.

"There you go. Now you're really cumming." She says as she watches you come down from your high. With a warning she pulls out then presses another kiss to your calf before exiting the position. She moves to stand on the side of the bed, loosening her harness and slipping it off. Next, she is bending down to grab your face in both hands and kiss you. There are three words you would use to describe this kiss; caring, passionate, possessive. She is the one to pull away. She has a task she needs to complete.

"Want a massage, baby?" She purrs.

"Hmm?"

She picks up the item she retrieved from the dresser earlier, which you completely forgot about. It was a massage oil, purchased a couple months back. The massage oil was really only ever used for aftercare. Not only that, but it was only ever used if Sevika really needed the aftercare. So of course, you accept the offer.

Sevika had explained it to you before. That she needs to take care of you after sex because she has to reassure herself that you know she cares. It's a bit hard for her to believe you trust she cares about you more than anything especially when you get into intense scenes. 

"I knew I was going to be rough, hence me getting out the bottle beforehand, but…,” she pauses and shakes her head, “I said 'I don't care' to you during that. It's getting to my head a bit," she admits.

She moves to your left thigh and drops some of the oil onto your skin, then rubs it in with her flesh hand. Her way of avoiding eye contact. She hates having to be vulnerable and having someone look her in the eye at the same time. So you compromise. 

"Sev, you know me so well. You know exactly what to do to make me cum as hard as possible. And you know exactly what to say. You did everything you knew to do to give me that best orgasm. And you did. I'd say that's really caring." Your words do reassure her, as they always do.

"Thanks. You're... perfect." She sighs. She feels much better but still wants to take care of her girl, "Whatever you want, baby, let me know. I really want to take care of you tonight."

"You already are, Sev."