#life theft au

[voidindite]

Trapped

Whumptober 2022 Day 1: A Little Out of the Ordinary Adverse Affects | Unconventional Restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”

Life Theft AU Characters: Jimmy Solidarity, Renthedog, ZombieCleo, impulseSV, Grian, Last Life Ensemble Warnings: Temporary Character Death

...I have NO idea how this ended up as Jimmy’s PoV but. It works??? I’d planned Cleo’s, Ren’s, or even Grian’s, but needless to say… my writing likes to take a mind of its own lol this is my Life Game AU, so it's the fourth one in the series

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They were already a few weeks into the game by that point. Jimmy had sheepishly joined the Cliffside Keep after being put on yellow, though fortunately he didn’t hold a grudge on Cleo for taking his first life. She’d been boogey in week one, and they hadn’t yet been allies at the time, after all, and he was the first person she’d seen an opening to kill. That was the point of the game, after all.

Still, knowing one of his allies had one of his lives left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jimmy sighed and let his wings ruffle before pulling them against his back. He was never a big fan of having them clipped, but he’d rather that than having his server-specific coding adjusted to make them tiny or just straight-up nonexistent. He wasn’t sure how Impulse did it—didn’t it feel strange having his wings gone during the game?

He hummed to himself, flicking a wing to dismiss the thought, and turned his attention back to the string he was setting into a bow.

The Keep was so much more organized and protective of one another than his first alliance that had shattered the moment one of them was cursed. Cleo had taken charge of the group, and Jimmy had to admit it: She was a good leader! He could hear her somewhere on the level above him, building the walls of their deepslate fortress ever-higher. Then there was Ren constantly down in the mines, chopping trees, or gathering food, and Impulse and Tango had been setting defensive traps throughout their slowly-growing castle.

Impulse was somewhere under Jimmy’s feet, he could hear the wither shuffling about underground occasionally, but Tango had disappeared a few hours ago. The rest of the Keep had suspected he was one of the cursed for the week and wanted to get away from his allies to make a kill.

It mattered not, so long as he returned to the Keep in one piece—preferably cured.

Jimmy just smiled as he set the string, then put the bow aside to start on another.

Tango had vouched for him to the rest of Team Keep, and now here he was, crafting their weapons while the rest of them were busy with other things.

His eyes drifted up to the sound of the quiet plodding of paws, Ren trudging up the steps from the mine. He grinned a grin of sharp canines, tail wagging lazily behind him and ears standing straight up on his head. Even with his sunglasses on, the arch of his brows revealed that they hid bright eyes that were probably creased at the corners. Dust clung to his hair and clothes, and his pickax looked like it was about to crumble to bits.

“Got lots of diamonds and redstone, dudes!”

Jimmy couldn’t help but match the wolf hybrid’s grin and, though he couldn’t see her, he imagined Cleo’s was about the same as she leaned over the temporary balcony that let her look into the Keep’s courtyard.

The mention of redstone practically seemed to summon Impulse, whose head popped up from the hole he’d dug himself into off by one of the walls. It took a second glance for Jimmy to realize the red smeared across his cheek and hands was not, in fact, blood, but rather redstone dust.

He didn’t even have to say anything for Ren to toss some of the redstone his way, and the wither immediately disappeared back into his hole.

To Jimmy’s surprise, some of the diamonds found their way being shoved into his hands, and he couldn’t help but blink owlishly down at Ren.

“You’re makin’ our weapons, right? We can finally have enough diamond swords for all of us!” His tail was wagging faster, now.

The canary hybrid was about to sit back down at his crafting setup, but was forced to dump the diamonds into a chest when their communicators all went off.

[Smallishbeans was fireballed by Tango]

[LDShadowLady was fireballed by Tango]

Jimmy and Ren shared a look. The wolf’s ears lowered slightly and his tail had stopped wagging, while Jimmy had to consciously force his wings not to fluff up.

It was Cleo who actually spoke after jumping down from the balcony with an ankle-jarring thud.

“His fireballs are supposed to be disabled, aren’t they?”

Ren nodded, but it was Jimmy to open his chat to start typing.

<SolidarityGaming: ???>

<Smallishbeans: ow?? wtv>

<SolidarityGaming: what was that about?>

<Tango: I panicked>

<Tango: Those shouldn’t have worked right???>

<Grian: Looking into it. Might have missed deactivating them.>

<Grian: Want to count it?>

<Smallishbeans: ya sure>

<LDShadowLady: He had the upper hand anyway. We still would’ve died so no difference.>

<Grian: k>

The Keep trio still gathered cast a glance at each other, then shrugged. The games were never perfect, and Grian wasn’t exactly a player who was used to constant Admin duties, Jimmy thought. Besides, the games were meant to be short, a way to get them all out of their usual servers and maybe interacting with people they didn’t get to much. There was no way the parrot hybrid would think to look into every little thing that could go wrong.

“I mean, kinda makes sense there was something that got overlooked. Grian’s not perfect.”

The other two hummed in agreement.

And the day went on as normal. Tango eventually returned with his head ducked sheepishly, and dived into one of the countless holes littering the Keep’s main floor where he and Impulse were building traps. Ren disappeared back into the mines after repairing his pick and dropping off his spoils, and it was Cleo who stuck around to peer over Jimmy’s shoulder.

His wings shifted lower to give her a better view as he finished a crossbow and (noticeably careful not to let it go off to shoot himself with it) offered it to her. She weighed it in one hand, glanced down the shaft, and offered him an approving nod that had him grinning again.

She soon ambled off to keep building up their walls, and Jimmy pulled some of the diamonds from the chest. He didn’t have the levels for enchantments, but he could at least make the swords for now.

It was monotonous work, but it was nice to be trusted with it, and also not have to worry about watching his back.

It was repetition like that over the next few days, everything mostly quiet besides a single message about a day later about Scott falling from a high place. It had either been a boogey kill, or accidental and Tango had been the only one cursed for the week.

By the end, the Keep was built up nicely, with some good defensives in place and its members all armed with both decent swords and bows. A nice start for Team Keep, if he did say!

<Grian: Ok, that’s session end. Let’s head home>

Jimmy blinked down at the message. The week had gone by faster than he’d expected.

He stood stiffly, grimacing as his back cracked, and glanced around as the other members of the Keep emerged to find good spots to spawn back in on. Jimmy felt safe enough with his spot, so brought his wrist up to his chest, and aimed to go to the Server Hub before heading off back to Empires.

…Only nothing happened.

His head tilted, and he pressed the Log Out again. It turned red briefly, then nothing.

<SolidarityGaming: hey, I can’t log out>

<GoodTimeWithScar: uh oh>

<GoodTimeWithScar: same>

<Smallishbeans: none of us can either>

Jimmy caught Cleo glancing between each of her own alliance members with a furrow to her brow. Her hand was hovering over her communicator, but like him, it appeared that she’d given up clicking the Log Out command.

<ZombieCleo: None of the Keep can log.>

<Grian: …>

<Grian: I can’t figure out the issue>

<Grian: what’s going on??? Meet at spawn>

<Grian: now>

Each of the alliances were obviously already avoiding getting too close to each other as they gathered around spawn. The Druids were sticking close to the outskirts, ready to bolt for their forest the moment they had a chance; Joel’s little trio was glaring daggers Team Keep’s way, which Cleo and Tango returned in full force until they ducked their heads. Mumbo and Skizz smelled heavily of smoke, faces smeared with soot, and sweat from their run from their base somewhere in the Nether made their hair stick to their foreheads; they kept glancing at each other and the other alliances, with Mumbo visibly about as antsy to get out of there as the Druids.

Scar and Etho seemed to be about the only chill ones of the group, hovering almost in the middle of the sloppy circle and chattering away with each other (well, more so Scar was chattering, while Etho just hummed and nodded along).

Etho actually had a fishing pole right in his hand that Scott looked like he wanted to snap in half. Was that how Scott had died earlier in the week?

Jimmy shook his head and instead turned his attention to Grian, who had Pearl hovering close at his side. The parrot-hybrid’s wings were puffed up in a way that made Jimmy’s shudder behind him as he attempted not to copy the action, his brows were arched in distress, and his frantic tapping on his communicator was so out of character that Jimmy felt a lump in his throat.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Grian’s head finally snapped up to scan the crowd gathered around him.

“My Admin panel’s locked down. I’m still considered Admin, but…” He started clicking again, shaking his head as he did. “I think there’s a virus running through the server’s coding. It’s affecting our comms so we can’t leave, and whatever it is, is affecting the failsafes I’ve put in place. I think that’s why Tango could use his fireballs.”

There was quiet murmuring, but Jimmy couldn’t catch what anyone was saying. Instead, his attention turned to the world border he could see far in the distance. “So…what can we do?”

Grian ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. “Just… I’m workin’ on a fix. From what I can see, the limbo-state is still working fine, so we don’t have to be afraid of dying, we’ll just be stuck in this server ‘til I find a workaround.” He took another breath, and Jimmy realized it was a steadying one as the parrot’s wings flicked, smoothed, and tucked against his back. “We can keep playing, but—”

“We’re stuck here,” Cleo deadpanned. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was the fact she was undead and it was obvious in her dark eyes, or just really good at it, but her glare sent a chill down his spine. Maybe it was a little of both.

“…Yeah. We are.”

“First you make the Double Life bonds bug out so we could still feel them when the game ended, now this?”

“Cleo—”

“Nuh-uh. What in the gods-damned void is going on?”

“I don’t know! This wasn’t meant to happen! I—”

Cleo strode forward, maybe to grab him by the collar, maybe to shove him, but Jimmy reached out to grab her by the elbow before his brain could catch up with his hands. Fortunately, the touch did actually make her stop in her tracks – even if she was still obviously seething and looked like she’d take a swipe if Grian took a step too close. “Let’s just…let him figure this out, while the rest of us go back to our bases?” he suggested softly, eyes flitting around spawn to see that Cleo wasn’t the only one on edge and ready to punch something.

“I’ll…try to disable the curse for now. And maybe make a respawn loop for if a red dies. Otherwise they’ll just have to hang out in limbo.”

Someone – Ren, if the claws he felt through his shirt were any indicator – took Jimmy by the shoulder to lead him back in the direction of the Keep. The canary kept glancing back at Grian as he fretted over his communicator, everyone but Pearl dispersing back to their bases, with the Druids at an obvious sprint to get out of the open plains of spawn.

Jimmy took a breath and shook his head. He then nodded to Ren, and the wolf bounded ahead when he was sure the canary would keep up.

Trapped. No way home, no way back to his beloved Tumble Town.

He swallowed, glanced down at his own comm to be met by the yellow “2” on the indicator. He tried not to look at his reflection in the screen, to meet his too-yellow eyes. They looked wrong when he was used to their usual brown. They were just…far too pale. He could have at least stomached it if they were the same soft gold as his wings.

The server’s lone yellow life.

…Okay.

He’d try not to think of the fact that he’d probably be the first stuck in limbo for who-knows-how-long until Grian fixed…whatever was going on.

[sylvieserene]

It's finally July 14th!!

Thus I present you with one of my edits!~

✨Dancing through the Woods✨

Happy Robstar Week! ♥️🧡

Pinging @robxstar @robstaryeah just in case!

[blindaysblogforturtles]

I have half a mind to make another sideblog dedicated solely to this au I have in mind where the only way ppl would get information is by sending asks, bc the characters would respond in early 2000s style where out of nowhere they're in another room answering a silent question.

Like, so, Leo why dont you go home after all these years away from your family? And Leo, bloody and battered smiles politely and shifts in his seat and says some bullshit like well you see I saw my grave and it was so pretty I wouldn't want them to remove it so the only next option is to make an entirely new fake identity and pretend to be someone else in interactions with my family. Like yes sir that IS the only next option.

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

a full fic based on this post

cw: prison!au, civilian!reader, pen-pals, smut,romance/romantic!simon, domestic, missonary, wife kink, size kink, nudity, tattoo kink, body worship, cuddling

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!

it started out as a flyer at the bus stop near your house. it was for a service that connected prisoners at a nearby prison with civilians as pen-pals. you had seen the flyer often over the course of work as you went to work.

you honestly felt bad, those people must be isolated. the organization prided itself on giving prisoners a bit of their humanity back by not cutting them off from those on the outside. so on a rainy friday you took a photo of the flyer and filled out the form on the organization's website.

that was how you met simon riley, or as he was called on the inside 'ghost'. what caught your attention wasn't his face scar that ran from under his nose down to the left side of his chin, but rather his brown eyes. how intense they stared into the camera. it was almost intimidating.

but you kept the photo on your desk as you typed out your first letter to send to him. you heard of places who did it through email, but screen time for those could often be limited and to send a physical letter would ensure that it would be sent to them.

the letter started out simple, you asked how he was and if it was okay to ask what he was in prison for. you asked him other questions, like if his health was doing well, what did he do most days while on the inside. you ended the letter with a little information about yourself.

you thought it would be nice to take a few photos and print them out on photo paper to be included with your letter. just so he had a better idea of who he was talking about. once you tweaked the letter with a bit of editing, you printed it out and thanks to the Royal Mail, your letter was sent to him.

you didn't actually expect for him to respond. nor did you expect for the letter to be do detailed. it was almost three pages double sided in neat hand writing. your eyes went wide when you saw the thickness of the envelope with the stamp of approval from the prison for it to be sent to you.

simon sent you a bracelet made of string that had been braided together. he said you were the first person from the outside to reach out since he got locked up. that broke your heart. it only broke further the more you read.

he was a military man who was tossed aside once the ptsd got too intense. he had been between jobs, and it felt like everything was just too much for him. he got wrapped up in large scale theft, while it paid good, you could only rob so many banks before it all caught up. he had been in for three years now, he was thankful it wasn't a life sentence. not much was stolen, and there was minimal violence. he said that his stature alone intimidated enough people that he didn't need to be violent.

you re-read his letters and it wouldn't be until almost six months of speaking that you finally wore the bracelet. when he said, "i want to see you in it, since i can't buy you a ring." you sent a photo of you wearing it and since then you hadn't taken it off.

the letters were nice, you sent them at least twice a week. even though you two had never met face to face, and the only photos you had of him were mugshots, he knew all the gossip in your work place. he knew the names of all your friends, your favourite saturday night treat and how you took your coffee.

he told you he'd be happy to make you coffee every morning before you went to work. that comment made your cheeks burn.

he often called you his 'wife' to the other prisoners. he had your photos on the wall near his bunk. he even kept the pictures where you looked terrible after you tried to cut your bangs one night. he knew the exact location of where your favourite take out was. he said that he was writing down ideas of where to take you once he got out. "i gotta make the missus feel special."

he even made you a birthday card. his cellmate 'soap' even signed it. you knew all about the explosives expert mactavish. when you looked into his case on the news, your eyes went a little wide. this guy was.. something.

simon did admit that 'soap' had a bit of a crush on you. but he said that 'johnny' was harmless and probably just liked the photo of a woman in the cell.

"he hurt ya, there will be no cell that could keep me from killin' him. no god either."

simon remembered everything.

the way he spoke about you and to you in his letters were nothing but soft. while he had to put on a tough guy exterior, his letters were filled with gentle words. like when he wrote out that he loved you in big text on a spare piece of paper so you could tape it on your mirror to look at every morning.

"i want to be what you get ready to."

"i want to be with you when you wake up."

"i want to come home to you every night. please make me an honest man."

you knew he was a trained killer. he was in special forces before his brief stint as a criminal. he was trained to kill, but in the margins of your letters, his love shined through. despite it all, he was capable of love.

and he wanted to pour all that love into you, his (future) wife.

you two would go on to write letters every week, for almost two years. when you got the letter from him asking if he could put you down as a permanent address when he got out, you cried. of course!

it was a cold spring morning, the sky was misty as you stood outside the gates of the prison. your heart raced, you even arrived early in the hopes he'd be released sooner.

and then you saw him.

those eyes. hard and stern, until he caught sight of you. his shoulder visibly dropped and his pace quickened as he made his way towards you. before you could step forward to meet him, he had you in his arms. his strong arms, littered with tattoos, wrapped around you as he held you close to his strong chest.

you held onto him as the air left your chest from the force he held you. you clutched onto his shoulders and choked out a sob. you squeaked, "holy shit."

he pulled away from you, but still kept you in his arms. you swore you saw minimal mistiness in his eyes. he reached to cup your face. he said quietly, "soft... like i imagined."

you beamed up at him, "of course, si."

"your voice is so nice." he groaned as he then pulled you close once more and buried his nose in your hair. he inhaled the scent of your shampoo and relaxed, "i'm home."

you thought transitioning from being the only person in the flat, to having this hulking, strong man in your home as well, was going to be a bit hard. but that didn't matter when simon got you through the door. his hands were on you, he promised on the universe that he'd romance you tomorrow.

but tonight was just going to be the two of you.

you managed to get his hands off you in order to get your shoes off before you led him to your bedroom. he was close behind you, he had a hand on one of your hips. he wanted to be as close to you as he could, you two had spent enough time apart.

you couldn't even close the bedroom door before he was pulling at the waistband on your pants. his calloused, strong hands felt delicate on you. it was like he was going to break you and he had to be as delicate as possible.

"si."

"i know, darling." he said quietly as he started to undress you. with your help the both of you were soon nude in the afternoon light in your bedroom. you tried to cover your chest with your arms but he pulled your arms away and looked at you.

your eyes met and you got up on your tip-toes to kiss him gently on the lips. soon he picked you up like you weighed less than a bag of potatoes.

he placed you on the bed gently when you half expected him to toss you like a shot-put. he admired your body down on your soft covers and soon got onto the bed too.

you reached for him as he pulled you into a tight kiss. his lips were chapped and you could tease the fresh skin underneath. your nails raked at his strong back, that you knew was covered in tattoos.

you wrapped your legs around him and held him. from a moment he dropped to his side and you two held each other. you tucked his head under your chin as you laid together naked.

it wasn't even meant to be sexually stimulating, you both just wanted to feel one another. to hear your lover's heartbeat meant more to you than anything in that moment.

you kissed the top of his head, you felt his blond hair against your face as you soaked in his warmth. you could almost cry from how nice it felt to be so close to him.

after everything, you had your man.

he said in his low tone, "you feel so soft. after everything, i have you. you made every day in the can worth it." he sighed, "thank you." he kissed at your bare chest.

you replied, "i loved your letters, i have them still." you chuckled, "i didn't want to throw any of them away. it made me feel closer."

"well. i'm not goin' anywhere." he looked up at you and smiled, "you're home and i'm finally here." he pulled away and got him between your legs. he rested on his knees and carefully moved you to his liking. he sat there between your legs and waited for your command.

you looked at him and nodded, "yeah, si. you can go." then tightened your legs around your lover. you held your breath as he slowly pushed his cock into you. you didn't realize how big it was until he was fully inside of you.

"are you alright, love?"

"golden."

the two of you moved together. it took a little bit to get used to the size, but the pressure and speed of his movements made heat spread through your body. like two pieces of the same puzzle, you fit together perfect soon after. it was like you two were always meant to be.

you felt so loved by him, it was so sweet. this was your first time with him and you only had a few sexual experiences with others prior to him. but the entire time you knew each other you didn't sleep with others, you wanted to wait for your man.

"that's my good wife." he groaned as he held onto your hips, "i know, you wanted this for a long time. i bet you thought about me when i was locked up."

you blushed and replied, "i did, si. i thought about you all the time, i even had your picture in my office. i wanted this, i wanted to be with you!" you whined a little as his cock dragged against a sensitive spot.

he chuckled softly, "yeah. i thought about my missus when i was locked up. i used to jerk off to your letters, your photos. messed one of 'em up by gettin' my spunk all over it." he licked his lips, "but now i can see it every day in person."

you smiled when he rested his body against you and continued to thrust up into you. you felt the curl of pleasure of your gut get together which each of his heavy thrusts.

the kisses you shared were intimate and hot. the air of your bedroom was warmed as you made love on the bed you would share together. your soft noises together filled the air.

you clenched onto him, you dug your nails into his shoulders. they were so strong and broad that they were much bigger than your hands.

he kissed you one last time as he quickened his pace. the bed moved against your movements as you both climaxed at the same time. it was like a shock to the system, the heightened euphoria before your head felt full of cotton.

you let out a soft groan as your grip on his loosened and you relaxed into the bed. you felt yourself partially get crushed by your lover but he gave a few more earnest thrusts as he made sure that his cum shot to the back of your womb.

he pulled out and dropped beside you. he tucked some hair behind your ear and wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. your breathing was heavy, but you were both so happy. to share your first time together felt so special.

you nestled yourself into his arms and held his hand. you exhaled contently then said, "my husband."

he kissed the top of your head, he felt complete, "my missus."

part two

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

virgin!sukuna x virgin!reader, modern delinquent au

request: can you write modern au!sukuna and fem reader taking each others virginity with a established relationship tags: fluff, fingering, penetration, petnames (princess, baby, babygirl), sukuna is a delinquent; @mangiswig notes: minors dni, sukuna is lowkey ooc wc: 2.0k

Despite spending a significant portion of his formative years behind bars, the weight of consequence failed to curb the rebellious spirit of Sukuna. Emerging from the confines of incarceration with a hardened demeanor and a penchant for defiance, he returned to the streets that had once ensnared him with a renewed sense of determination. To Sukuna, the rules of society were nothing more than shackles, constraining him from the freedom he craved and the life he believed he deserved.

Fuelled by a potent cocktail of resentment and bravado, Sukuna navigated the urban landscape with the swagger of someone who had stared into the abyss and refused to blink. From petty theft to brazen acts of vandalism, he left a trail of chaos in his wake, a testament to the indelible mark of his troubled past. For Sukuna, the cycle of delinquency was a familiar refrain, a symphony of defiance that echoed through the corridors of his consciousness, a reminder of the streets that had shaped him and the choices that had defined him.

Yet Sukuna found an unexpected beacon of light in the form of you, a college student whose innocence and sweetness stood in stark contrast to his own turbulent world. Your love was a fragile bloom in the midst of concrete, delicate yet resilient, defying the odds with each passing day. Drawn to your gentle spirit and unwavering kindness,Sukuna found himself navigating unfamiliar territory, his rough edges softened by the warmth of your affection.

For almost a year now, you have been the anchor in Sukuna's stormy sea, a steady presence amidst the chaos of his life. With your unwavering belief in his capacity for change and your steadfast support, you became his guiding star, illuminating the darkest corners of his soul with the light of your love. Despite the whispers of doubt that lingered in the recesses of his mind, Sukuna couldn't deny the profound impact you had on his life, your presence a balm to his weary heart.

Your love for Sukuna knew no bounds, transcending the boundaries of societal norms and expectations. Despite the whispers of caution that echoed through the halls of your mind, you refused to turn away from the tumultuous storm that raged within him. To you, Sukuna was more than just the sum of his mistakes; he was a complex tapestry of darkness and light, a flawed masterpiece in need of redemption.

While others cowered in fear at the mere mention of his name, you stood unwavering by his side, your love a shield against the slings and arrows of judgment. You understood the depths of his anger, the ferocity of his defiance, yet you chose to love him all the same. For you, love was not about changing someone into who they should be, but rather embracing them for who they were, scars and all.

The decision weighed heavily on your heart, a tender offering you longed to bestow upon Sukuna, a symbol of your unwavering commitment to your love. With trembling hands and a courage born of devotion, you found yourself standing before him, your heart laid bare in the flickering light of your shared intimacy. “I want you to take my virginity tonight, Sukuna. I’m yours, fully.”

As your words pierced the air, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over Sukuna. His heart quickened with excitement, the prospect of possessing you in such an intimate way igniting a primal fire within him. Yet, beneath the surface, a flicker of nervousness danced in the depths of his eyes, betraying the weight of responsibility he felt in this moment. There was something he never told you. Sukuna, the known and feared criminal, was a virgin himself. He didn’t have the chance to lose it since most of his teen years were spent in jail and he met you shortly after his release. Yet, Sukuna was sure that he would manage to not have to confess to his virginity. 

Yet his dominant nature surged forth, a primal instinct asserting its dominance over his senses. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Sukunas demeanor shifted, his posture becoming more assertive, more commanding. He saw this as an opportunity to claim you, to mark you as his own in the most intimate way possible. “Get on the bed, baby”, and you followed his command.

With a magnetic pull, Sukuna led you to his bed, your eyes locked in a heated exchange of desire and anticipation. The air was charged with electricity, every touch igniting a wildfire of longing between you. As you sank into the soft embrace of the mattress, a primal hunger consumed you, driving you to explore each other with an urgency born of passion.

With a possessive grip, Sukuna claimed your lips in a searing kiss, his dominance asserting itself with every fervent movement. His hands traced the curves of your body with a possessive intensity, his touch igniting a feverish need within you. You yielded to him willingly, your own desire mingling with his in a potent cocktail of longing and surrender.

“You’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.”

Your clothes became mere obstacles, discarded in a frenzy of desire as you bared yourselves to each other without reservation. With each caress, each whispered promise, you delved deeper into the depths of your desire, your bodies becoming one in a dance of carnal pleasure and primal need.

“You belong to me, baby. All of you. Only to me. I’ll be your first and your last.”

As your passion reached its zenith, you lost yourselves in each other, your moans of ecstasy filling the air as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of your desire. In that moment, on Sukuna's bed, you were consumed by the flames of your passion, your love, a blazing inferno that burned brighter with every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise of forever.

With a possessive hunger burning in his eyes, Sukuna trailed his fingers along your trembling form, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. As he settled between your parted thighs, he felt your pulse quicken beneath his touch, your breath hitching in anticipation of the ecstasy to come.

“You’re already soaked, princess. Been waiting for this, huh?”

With a predatory grace, he teased you with feather-light caresses, his fingers dancing over your skin in a tantalizing rhythm. Your soft gasps filled the room as he explored your most intimate depths, his touch sending shivers of pleasure cascading through your body.

With each stroke, he felt you surrendering to him, your barriers crumbling in the face of his relentless desire. He relished in the power he held over you, reveling in the way you arched into his touch, your cries of pleasure music to his ears, the way your wet pussy clenched and pulsated around his slender fingers. With a primal hunger driving him forward, Sukuna delved deeper into you, his fingers becoming an extension of his own desire as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy again and again.

“Don’t cum yet, babygirl. You wanted something else inside you, remember? Do you still want it?”

“Y–yes…ahh…f–fuck, yes, please, Sukuna.”

As Sukuna's touch grew bolder, you surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through your body. With each deliberate stroke of his fingers, you melted further into submission, your moans filling the air as you abandoned yourself to the overwhelming pleasure he bestowed upon you.

Your body quivered with every skilled movement, each sensation amplified by the electric tension that crackled between you. Your  breath hitched with every caress, your heart racing as you surrendered to the blissful torment of his dominance.

With a possessive hunger burning in his eyes, Sukuna reveled in the sight of you laid bare before him, your submissive surrender stoking the flames of his desire to new heights. Your moans of pure lust were like a siren's song, drawing him deeper into the abyss of his own primal urges.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, Sukuna's touch grew more demanding, more possessive, his own arousal building with each intoxicating sound that escaped your lips. With each whimper of pleasure, he felt the intoxicating rush of power surging through his veins, his dominance asserting itself with an almost feral intensity.

“I think you’re ready, baby.”

Sukuna positioned himself above you, your submissive form trembling with anticipation beneath him. With a possessive grip, he guided himself to your entrance, the throbbing heat of his arousal pressing against your quivering flesh. As he poised himself at the threshold of your innocence, a fierce determination coursed through him, driving him forward with an urgency born of primal desire. With a forceful thrust, he pushed himself inside your pussy, the sensation of your tight warmth enveloping him like a velvet vice.

“Oh– Fuck…fuck, it’s tight. You feel so fucking good, baby.”

You gasped at the intrusion, your body tensing with a mixture of pleasure and pain. With each powerful thrust, Sukuna claimed you as his own, his dominant nature asserting itself with every primal movement. As you moved together in a primal dance of passion and possession, Sukuna felt a surge of ecstasy and lust coursing through him. You felt so good stretching around him, he could feel your heartbeat through your wet, tight cunt.

As your bodies intertwined in the fervor of your passion, Sukuna's arousal reached a crescendo, the intensity of the moment threatening to overwhelm him entirely. With each hard, deep thrust, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his primal instincts driving him ever closer to the brink. He pounded into you like a wild animal, feeling the undying urge to not only claim your soul as his but also your body.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck no.”

But then, in a sudden and unexpected rush, Sukuna's control slipped away, his body betraying him in the most primal of ways. With a gasp of disbelief, he felt his release wash over him, his climax crashing over him with a force that left him trembling in its wake.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Sukuna grappled with the intensity of his own pleasure, his body pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. And as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had cum far sooner than he had anticipated.

“…’kuna?”, your eyes shot wide, feeling him release his hot cum inside you. Usually it takes you far longer to get him to finish with your mouth. 

In the hazy aftermath of their passion, Sukuna's heart raced with a mixture of embarrassment and shame, his mind reeling with the realization that he had revealed his virginity in the most humiliating of ways. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the confusion and concern reflected in your gaze, knowing that he would have to find a way to explain himself, even as his own insecurities threatened to consume him. Slowly he pulled out and grabbed the box of tissues next to his bed to clean you up.

With a heavy heart, he knew that he couldn't keep his secret any longer, not from you, not from the woman he loved more than life itself.

Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Sukuna steeled himself for the confession that weighed heavily upon his soul. With slightly trembling hands and a voice thick with emotion, he reached out to you, his eyes searching yours for understanding and acceptance.

"Baby," he began, his words coming out in a rush as he struggled to find the right ones. "I need to tell you something...something I should have told you before."

As he spoke, Sukuna felt the weight of his secret lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of vulnerability unlike anything he had ever known. With each word, he bared his soul to you, revealing the truth of his inexperience, his virginity laid bare for you to see.

To his surprise, your reaction was not one of judgment or scorn, but of compassion and understanding. With a gentle touch, you reached out to him, your eyes filled with love and acceptance.

"Sukuna," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "It doesn't matter to me. What matters is us, and the love we share. I’m yours and you’re mine."

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car au?

I am writing this purely on mobile, so format might get weird, sorry in advance.

Danny didn't mean to get stuck, honest. But a dare is a dare, and damnit if he wasn't going to get that fifty dollars from Jason, "I stole the wheels at the age of 12" Peters. Danny would bet that same fifty that Jason was just waiting for him to come back and tell Jason he got zapped so he could laugh at him. Jerk.

But... accidentally possessing the Batmobile after the zap was completely unintentional. Wait, would this mean he gets double the money? He did get the sticker put on before he possessed the car.... He did also technically successfully hijack the car, which would totally constitute a bonus.... Would this be grand theft auto if he is the car... can a car steal itself? He was dumped out of his slightly hysterical panic by a weird feeling in his... engine? and felt himself? move in a way that he did not control. Where was he going? Why was he going? HOW FAST CAN THIS THING GO?

Needless to say, Danny's night was going poorly. Failed dare, grand theft kidnapping, unwilling participant of picking up an injured Batman, and now knowing the exact route to get to the super secret Bat Cave, that is, in fact an actual CAVE. If Jason doesn't pay him triple the amount AND cook him food for a week, he will riot.

Now.... how to....

HOOOOOONNNNNKKKK

...... oops

_____________

Next?

The prompt by @kizzer55555 is linked Here

@trappednyourheart

@candeartist422

@sebas-nights

@fandom-life-corrupted-me

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff drabble no3. gojo as a cat dad

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ drabble summary. gojo tried to give you a little kitten as an apology, but you weren’t able to take it in, so he ends up becoming a cat dad. (note: for new readers, this is in continuation of my long fic gojo x reader series “kickoff”!! masterlist is linked below)

ᰔ main storyline summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. drabble #3

ᰔ words. 2.3k

a/n. hellooo!! this is such a silly little drabble lol, basically just gojo falling in love w a kitty. kickoff reader does make an appearance tho haha. this will be the last drabble before we move on to ch11 :) hope u enjoy!! <3

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

“Wait what? He’s gotta get his balls chopped off someday?”

Gojo holds the tuxedo kitten, which as of two seconds ago is now officially his and shall be named mr. grand theft auto (mr gta for short) up into the air as he examines him like he’s some novel beast.

“Yes,” Nanami affirms on the other line before releasing a deep exhale, “at around ten weeks old, you’ll have to get him neutered.”

“How do I know how old he is?” Gojo asks, twiddling his thumb back and forth to give mr gta something to chase with his paws in an attempt to distract.

“You’ll have to take the kitten to the vet,” Nanami tells him. “They’ll need to check for fleas, parasites, and give any relevant vaccinations.”

Gojo scratches the back of his head and sets mr gta down on his desk, which the Soot Sprite runs to the edge of and almost knocks over Gojo’s half-finished can of Red Bull. Gojo picks him up again, and he hears a tiny little mew squeak out.

“Did you check with Suguru or Hide or Sota if they would be fine with keeping a cat in the house?” Nanami asks.

“No.”

“That’s the first thing you should do.”

“Ehhh I’m sure they’d be fine with it,” Gojo replies before settling mr. gta into the nook of his elbow and then grabbing his keys. He pets his pocket for his wallet, and then heads out of his room, down the stairs, and outside to the driveway to get inside his car. He plops Fluff Ball onto his dashboard, and then realizes he’s still got Nanami on the line.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he brings his phone back up to his ear, “did you say something.”

A long pause. “I’ve been giving you instructions this entire time.”

Nanami apparently had three cats growing up, it was one of the first things Gojo learned about him during some Icebreakers for Rush. But his knowledge is wasted on Gojo, who’s more keen on winging most things in life.

“Where did you find this kitten?” Nanami asks.

“In the bushes,” Gojo says as he pulls out of the driveway, “over on Main street. Took the scenic route on my run this morning.”

“And why decide to keep it?”

Gojo pulls his phone from his ear to check the directions on his phone for a brief second, a little too lazy to connect BlueTooth to his car for a seven minute drive. “Uh. Well, I tried to give it to y/n, but she didn’t want it. Er, she couldn’t have it, so, I figured I’d keep it.” He glances between his rearview mirror and mr. gta as he turns onto the street. “The little thing’s homeless and cute, so why not. Also kinda ugly, though. His fur looks like he’s been struck by lightning.”

Nanami sighs, then catches his breath briefly. “You found a dirty flea-covered kitten in the bushes and then tried to abandon it with y/n when she can’t even have it, and then abruptly decided you’ll take care of it? I would encourage some self reflection.”

Gojo gets to the closest veterinarian office he could find, mr gta in hand when he walks through the door with the jingle of a bell at the top, which his kitten becomes instantly intrigued with as it tilts its head up to the noise.

“Hi,” Gojo says as he approaches the receptionist desk, where he sees a girl probably around his age wearing bright blue scrubs sitting there at a catastrophically messy desk cluttered with pens and clipboards and certainly not enough space for the gigantic keyboard underneath the computer.

She looks up from her computer at Gojo, and blinks a few times in surprise before addressing him. Gojo wonders if she’s new to the job. “Hello! Name for the appointment?”

“Oh, I don’t have an appointment,” Gojo says, setting mr gta up on the high raised counter, and he feels the fur of his tiny tail brush against his hand before a tiny rough tongue starts to lick at his knuckle. “I found this kitten in the bushes, so I just wanted someone to take a look at him. Or her? I’m, like, 90% sure it’s a boy, but you guys are the experts.”

Crescents form under her eyes in amusement before she flutters her eyes back to the computer screen. “Sorry, we don’t take walk-ins,” she says as she busies herself with clicking sporadically across pixels that he can’t see.

“Can’t make an exception?” Gojo asks, setting his elbow up on the counter and mr gta instantly starts scratching at his skin. He watches her expression change from business to something else before pushing away from the desk, chair springing when she gets up from it.

“I can check with the doctor for you!” she chirps and disappears into the hallway. Gojo looks down at mr gta, who’s staring off in the direction she went before he starts licking his paw.

The vet makes an exception, but not without a twenty minute wait. Gojo briefly wonders what being a veterinarian would be like, getting to hold tiny cute kittens like mr gta—who, by the way, is indeed a mister—all day. But, he figures there’s probably downsides to it too, since not all their patients are probably as sweet as mr gta is when he gets his shots. Cute thing just winces a little from the needle then chirps a drawled meow before shaking his head and wobbling right back into Gojo’s hands at the edge of the metal table. God, Gojo was attached. It hasn’t even been three hours, and he’d already jump in front of an active shooter just to protect the little Black Ball with Mittens.

Well, some of the love diminishes when he realizes just how damn expensive the vet visit cost as the receptionist from earlier adds up services on her dated calculator with punches of her index finger on worn out buttons. Gojo pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands her his credit card, and even though it’s just the plastic equivalent of cash, he still feels like it’s much lighter somehow when she hands it back to him. She prints out the receipt, licking her thumb to separate the customer copy from the office’s copy and hands the latter to him to sign. The puff ball tied at the end of the pen intrigues mr gta who swats his paw at it while Gojo makes quick work of his signature and hands it over the counter. He’s about to turn on his heel to head out the door in no need of the customer copy, when the receptionist squeaks out a wait and scribbles something onto it before handing it to him. He glances down at the ballpoint blue ink. The total that he paid in written out words, a large circle drawn around a free future check-up coupon, and beneath it, a phone number with a heart next to it. He finally clocks in on the flirting.

His now healthy kitten is captivated by the noise of the bell above the door again when Gojo makes his way through it, and then captivated by the sound of plastic paper crumpling in his hand when he tosses the receipt into a trash can outside of receptionist desk view. It’s not like he needed it, he can’t return vaccines.

“So you’re cool with it?’ Gojo asks, Suguru on the other line since he wasn’t home and he was the last one of his housemates he had to check with if keeping mr gta was alright or not. Not that Gojo would drop the little guy off at a shelter if one of the guys did say they didn’t want a cat in the house. He’d sooner drop one of his housemates off at the shelter than get rid of mr gta.

Suguru sighs through the receiver. “I guess it’s fine as long as you take care of it…but it’s weird, you’ve never cared much for cats?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker across the ceiling of his room as he lays on his bed, swinging his knee back and forth before adjusting his hand under his neck to get more comfortable. His gaze then flits down to mr gta, who is roaming the expanse of his chest and plucking at the fabric of Gojo’s shirt with every step he takes across it. Purring like a maniac where the sound is probably loud enough to interrupt Nanami’s wim hof breathing meditation exercises three houses down from here.

Gojo pulls the phone away from his ear and tucks his chin to look mr gta straight in the eye. “Dude. Could you keep it down? I’m on the phone.”

Electrocuted Puff Ball just stares at him and mews in defiance before using its hind leg to scratch behind its ear, then settles its head down on the center of Gojo’s chest, the rumble of purrs felt on his sternum.

Gojo brings the phone back to his ear. He considers how to answer Suguru, thinking can’t let the gang know I fw cute cats all of a sudden so instead he says— “I don’t know. It’s probably the cat parasite.”

“The what?” Suguru asks.

Gojo scratches the top of mr gta’s head as he puts Suguru on speaker then peruses a WikiHow article on his phone on how to care for babies. Apparently, skin to skin contact is very important, so he shoves mr gta underneath the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, something about a parasite from cats that can infect humans and basically make us fall in love with them as some sort of survival strategy. I read about it on the mews—er, news. Mews? What the fuck. I just said mews instead of news. See?? It’s the fuckin’ cat parasite.”

He hears Suguru sigh. “Aight. Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

Gojo’s phone pings with a text notification, and when he sees your name flash across his screen, his eyes widen. “Uh, gotta go. See ya at home. Don’t forget the cat food.” And then he hangs up. Because he can’t talk to you and concentrate on anything else at the same time.

He sits up, catching mr gta when he falls towards his lap in the motion, and then he perches himself up on an elbow to read your texts.

|| 10:24am You: hi, sorry for kicking you out earlier today

|| 10:24am You: i was just a little sad about the kitty :(

He sees you typing, before the bubble disappears. He holds his breath. And then he sees you typing again.

|| 10:26am You: i’m on my period, so im’ a little emotional

Gojo blinks at his screen. Then his thumbs move to type.

|| 10:28am Gojo Satoru: Oh

He scans his brain for the right thing to say.

|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: Are you doing okay? Do you need Ibuprofen

He feels mr gta’s warm little body press against his torso.

|| 10:30 Gojo Satoru: Or a heating pad?

Nailed it.

|| 10:32am You: aw no i’m ok!! thanks though :))

|| 10:32am You: did you keep the kitty?

His eyes flicker down to mr gta, who has fully fallen asleep in his lap. Dumb little thing. Doesn’t even know pythagoras’s theorum, or anything about the Roman Empire. Only knows warmth and whiskers. But if anything bad ever happened to mr gta, Gojo would probably end up in jail for the revenge he wreaks havoc on the perpetrators.

|| 10:24am Gojo Satoru: I did, yeah. Victim of the cat parasite

|| 10:26am You: cat parasite??

|| 10:26am You: what’s that

|| 10:28am Gojo Satoru: Some parasite that makes people like cats

|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: [sent an article]

|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: Saw it on the news

|| 10:31am You: don’t you mean

|| 10:31am You: the mews

|| 10:31am You: haha get it

|| 10:31am You: because of mew

He blinks at his phone screen, and then his lips purse. The cuteness aggression he has felt today is enough to kill a grown man, and he has to set his phone down to deal with the wide grin that spreads across his face from your messages. He rubs a hand across his mouth and over his jaw, to ease the sore to the cheeks of his muscles from the way he can’t help the stupid way he’s cheesing over you, and it’s almost embarrassing if it didn’t make his heart beat fast in his chest in the same flush way he feels at the end of a good run or an exciting soccer match.

And while he tries to contain his face despite the lack of any witnesses, except for the kitten curled up in his lap, he realizes it’s been minutes since he responded to you.

He falls back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow while he sets his hand holding his phone down on his chest to read your message. Mr gta crawls up from his lap to sit in front of his phone screen, and Gojo has to tilt his head to look past the obstructing view of his wispy floofy tail.

|| 10:35am you: sorry. was that lame :(

Mr gta meows incessantly at the phone as if in response to you. “Yeahhh I know. She’s really cute, isn’t she.” And then Gojo scratches behind his pointy little ear with his index finger. Mr gta entirely leans into the sensation, purring loudly almost on command before he’s meowing again in a tiny voice.

Mr gta reaches his paw out, pressing it against the bright screen of Gojo’s phone, typing nonsensical letters because he doesn’t know the English lexicon, or any lexicon for that matter other than purr and meow and hiss.

Gojo thinks nothing of it, until his paw accidentally presses the blue send button.

|| 10:37am Gojo Satoru: sjhdfhh

|| 10:38am You: huh?

|| 10:39am Gojo Satoru: Sorry

|| 10:39am Gojo Satoru: That was the cat

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyeeddd lol gojo as a cat dad was not in my plans for kickoff at all but this was fun to write alskdjdh i want a lil kitty so baaaaad </3 anywho, like i mentioned, this will be the last drabble from ch10 haha we shall move on to ch11 now 😼 but there will def be more mr gta appearances in kickoff bc that’s gojo’s lil baby now :”) thanks sm for reading!! love u guys

taglist: @megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@erencvlt @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle

@luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress @tsukikourito

@getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @btszn

@izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann @bbyxxm @fvsm4x

@sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @banenemilk

@nanasukii28 @spindyl @ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri

@v4mpieres @teramisuyhin @ritsatoru @megumisthirdog @sakui1

@angelicscribe @bloopsstuff @tetsuski @oh-dude @pickuptruck01

note: please send me an ask if your taglist preferences change at any time!!

[mqonlighting]

hear me out: civilian deadpool au except he just keeps getting arrested for the STRANGEST THINGS (illegal ownership of a chicken? someone just dumped an egg on his street? it hatches when he’s trying to cook it for breakfast? he RAISED IT?) and matt murdock is his exhausted lawyer who has to keep telling him to shut up in the interrogation room.

does he ever actually go to jail? no, maybe probation, maybe a fine. but arrested? half sure every cop in the city is just sick of hearing about his life. every juror thinks he’s just morbidly unlucky and a tiny bit moronic.

and he is.

detective: (sigh) so you have a chicken?

wade: oh, yeah, yolko ono! she’s my pride and joy, i had a mug and a mousepad printed- *pulling out wallet pictures*

matt: wade. no.

wade: i could bring her over if you want-

matt: WADE.

one time matt has to spring wade for grand theft auto of the nice old lady he lives next doors to. the automobile he supposedly stole? a select elevated motorized wheelchair.

wade: she LENT me the chair.

detective: and how’d she do that?

wade: i broke into her backyard because i heard a thump and i thought she fell over.

matt: jesus—

wade: so she didn’t fall over. apparently it was a twig that fell on an ice chest. but she was there, and she was yelling ‘jazzy! jazzy!’ and i was wondering why she was telling me to grab her jazzy, but i wasn’t about to turn down a free jazzy. so i walk over to it, i turn it on, i hop on, i say thank you to the kind old lady, and i wheel it out of there.

matt: goddamn it, wade—

detective: you stole a permobil.

wade: pardon?

detective: the wheelchair was a permobil.

wade: she said it was a jazzy!

detective: …

detective: jazzy is her HUSBAND.

wade: …

detective: …

matt: i give up.

and the nail in everyone’s coffin? when the precinct brings in wade’s fucking kidnap victim.

peter: kidnap? me?

detective: were you or were you not kidnapped by wade wilson and driven to the middle of nowhere?

peter: listen, man, farthest wade ever drove me was to a gamestop in manhattan from queens. i don’t drive. and then i ask if we can hit a seven eleven, since i really wanted a bag of chips. but then i fall asleep in the passenger seat on the way there. and when i wake up, i’m home - he didn’t buy me the bag of chips, though.

detective: … and when state troopers spotted his car in philadelphia? with someone passed out inside?

peter: we were in philly? and he didn’t wake me up?

detective: do you seriously mean to tell me you were completely passed out for a two hour and ten minute drive?

peter: i’m a college student with rent due in a month and a new paper due every time i breathe. and wade is an idiot who doesn’t know left from right, boots up waze, says his goodbyes to the universe, and starts driving. i think there’s your case.

detective: …

detective: damn it.

[nonomives]

Some Vampire Wally AU lore I did today

(Dont judge a book by its cover btw, this isnt how Howdy and Eddie usually act in this au)

So a lil bit of infordump below:

In this AU mythical creatures interact with regular peeps on a daily basis. Theyre just people you'd see in your day to day life, but they are under extreme scrutiny due to how dangerous some mythics can get.

For this very reason, the Hunters Association was made. It's an international company that collects data about various kinds of mythics, and comissions mercenaries to either capture or kill dangerous mythics (a.k.a. monsters). While H.A. assists more on intel, and weaponry, they also, sometimes, provide manpower with their own trained soldiers, Eddie is one of them. These soldiers often work as support for mercenaries who need the extra hand in taking out monsters.

The Pillars (Howdy lmao) is one of the Association's longest standing collaborators, aiding in capturing and killing many, well known as heroes to many. Its a generational thing for family members to become monster hunters or work inside H.A. itself.

Oh! And another thing, a mythic is only labeled a monster if they commit any sort of crime, could be a single major crime (i.e. genocide) or multiple small crimes (petty theft and shuff). So yeah, mythical creatures can walk around in broad daylight and not get shot at so long as they dont have a criminal record in H.A's eyes lol--

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> jung wooyoung x reader warning(s) -> smut, losing virginity, panty theft, mentions of pillow humping, hybrid anatomy ( knotting ), dry humping, etc words -> 1.7K

abstract -> Wooyoung is struggling with his preheat symptoms... while San can't help but expose just how much of a pervert the desperate fox is.

y/n's perspective

“I don’t understand why they keep going missing,” I said as San laughed. “It's not funny! Are you hiding them?” I asked and he smiled. “Nope… but I do know what’s happening to them,” he said and I sighed. 

“How long have you known?! What's even happening to them?!” I asked and he laughed. “Let's go, kitty, '' he said as he held my hand. He took me to Wooyoung’s room. They decided on separate rooms and each room even was too big for one person despite that they had privacy.

So what could Wooyoung be doing with my underwear? 

“Here we are,” he said with a smirk. “What could he even be doing with it?” I was confused and he chuckled. He was clearly having fun at my confusion. 

He opened the door and looked around before he pulled out… a lacy pair. “Why is it wet?” I asked and he smiled. “Well… he’s going into heat, and he clearly likes you” he implied, making my face go red. 

“When are you going to tell him you know?” he asked and I didn’t know how to approach it. 

“Why are you guys…” I heard Wooyoung at the door and now had his eyes on the underwear he stole. 

“Should I stay? Or give you two privacy?” San teased and I scoffed. He chuckled and left as Wooyoung stood in front of me waiting for me to speak. 

“So… you’re the panty thief” I said and his cheeks turned red. “I’m sorry! I know it's weird and disgusting but…” he was panicking and didn't know what to say. 

“You like me” I said “Yeah and it's so– Wait!” he said not realizing his confession, making me chuckle. “I knew for a while. Kun and San both told me on separate occasions” I said and he grumbled in embarrassment. 

“I was just waiting for you to tell me,” I said with a smile and he looked at me worried and teary-eyed. 

“Are you gonna reject me?” he asked and I smiled and shook my head. “I think… I liked the thought of having a boyfriend like you when I was younger you know” I was confused and he looked at me shocked. 

“You showed me so much worth when no one else did. Not to mention you took care of me through my worst” I said and he smiled softly. He hugged me tightly and kissed me on the forehead. 

“If you’d let me, I'd like to complete your younger’s self-image,” he said with begging eyes and I nodded. 

It was then he kissed me, shocking me but I didn’t pull away. He was desperate, curious, insatiable…

“San tells me you have fantasies?” I asked when I pulled and I noticed how he swallowed his own saliva while looking away, getting redder by the second. 

“Is that why you became a panty thief?” I asked and he growled. “I was desperate… my heat is coming soon” he whined and I chuckled. 

“What else have you stolen?” I asked and he whined as he pushed me softly onto his bed and got on top of me. He was red and whiny trying so hard not to look me in the eyes because of his embarrassment. 

“I wanted to feel close to you” he confessed and he started kissing my neck rather desperately. I couldn't contain the moans and whines from his playful nipping on my neck. 

“You want me to be honest?” he asked and I nodded. “I stole a lot of your panties and even buried myself in your dirty clothes. I’ve also fucked your pillow…” he muttered and I was shocked. 

“Your scent is just so intoxicating. I want more of it… jealous that Sannie gets to have you” he confessed and I didn’t know what to say. 

“Can I have you like he does?” he asked and all I could do was nod. 

 no one's perspective

Wooyoung desperately kissed your neck while his hands explored under your shirt. Moans only make him more desperate, his fantasies finally coming to life. 

The number of times he came against a pair of panties or even your sheets was embarrassing. He knew San knew of his perverted actions but he never thought he’d snitch. Then again he should be thanking him since now he had the opportunity to finally have y/n-nie. 

“Take it off, please” he muttered as he gripped your shirt tightly. Maybe even leaving holes in it with his nails. Taking off your shirt, Wooyoung followed and stripped off his clothes. 

At the sight of you in only your bra and panties almost made cum in his pants. He’s stolen the exact pair several times… he's even sure he’s covered each pair of panties and bras in cum at least once. 

“Wooyoung?” you said snapping him out of his perverted thoughts. Overwhelmed and not knowing where to start you grabbed his hands to put them on your chest. He let out a closed-mouth whine as he gently grabbed your chest through your bra. He pulled down to reveal your boobs to him for the first time… he started kissing, licking, nipping, making you moan out. 

As he focused his mouth on one he groped the other and he hated how badly he wanted to cum at just sucking your boobs. How much he imagined it… San even teases him that he has an oral fixation, maybe he’s right. 

He stopped momentarily while opening his eyes to see your red face. Even biting your lip to try to stop moaning. Wooyoung is now pressing his weight against you to kiss you messily. Saliva even dripped out of your mouth as he humped your pussy through his boxers and your panties. 

Everything too much that he did ends up cumming and the wet spot on his boxers now spreading on your panties… “Did you cum?” you asked out of breath and he tried to ride out his orgasm by humping you some more and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Wooyoung” you moaned out now feeling close to just him rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. You even started chasing your own orgasm as you humped against his bulge, slowly getting him hard again. “Fuck… please can I make you my mate? I wanna be yours… please” he begged and you almost came to just his words. Nodding, let him sit up and take off his boxers as he didn't even have the patience to take off your panties instead he pulled them to the side to reveal just how wet you were. 

He experimented with softly touching your clit making you moan out at just how close you are to cumming but needed more. 

He crouched down to have a taste of the source he’s fantasized about. The panty stealing wasn’t anything close to eating you out. He didn't have to do much before you started moaning out louder with curses and his name leaving your mouth. That alone made him so close to cumming again…

He didn't want to overwhelm you but he couldn't stop. Your cum only gives him more to enthusiastically lick up while looking out at your face contorting with pleasure. The grip on his heart only makes him want to be in between your thighs forever. 

“Wooyoung, please” you started begging, making him stop. He chuckled… “Maybe I got carried away,” he said as he sat up. He allied himself against your pussy. He pressed himself against your clit to get some friction only making him moan out alongside you. 

He was more vocal than San was… but San liked to talk you through it. Wooyoung was desperate for anything he could get, satisfied with anything.

A pervert who had a crush on you for years now, finally getting his wish come true. 

“Can I?” he asked as he wanted to be inside you so badly and you nod just as desperate for him to fuck you. Both of you are chasing your second orgasm.

When he entered you gasped and moaned, but Wooyoung was louder. He didn't expect you to be so tight… he didn't expect this to feel so good. He didn’t even have to think before he started thrusting into your pussy sloppily. Nothing about this was organized, everything was desperate. 

He started groping your boobs again as he kissed your lips making a mess. Everything he imagined, dreamed of, and fantasized about would never compare to the real thing. 

Both of you were so loud as you were so close. “You’ll be my mate, right? Mine… and- and I'll be yours right?’ he asked and you nodded. “Please!” you begged as you could feel so close. 

It was when you felt a stretch and he slumped over that you came for a second time. You moaned now at the stretch giving you a slight pain but only added to your orgasm. 

“I’m sorry…” he muttered and you were confused. He panted as he put his forehead against yours “I should've warned you that I would knot you” he said and you clenched around him at the new information making him moan. 

“Its okay– fuck is that your cum?!” you moaned out as he chuckled. He moaned softly as he looked at your face. You had messy hair, drool coming out of your mouth, and a dazed look in your eyes. 

“We’ll be stuck like this for a while,” he said in almost a whisper as he pressed his weight against you, clearly tired. 

“That means we were mated then,” you said and he smiled while opening his eyes you could even feel his cock move while his tail wagged. “You’re a dream come true” he muttered before he dozed off. 

He was out of it, really tired after losing his virginity and fucking you giving the both of you two powerful orgasms. 

“Can we do this again, when I wake up” he muttered half-asleep already. 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[voidindite]

the flightless bird can't outrun hungry predators three

Whumptober 2022 Day 18: Let's Break the Ice "Just get it over with." | Treading Water | "Take my coat."

Life Theft AU Characters: Jimmy Solidarity, Martyn Littlewood, BdoubleO100, Scott Smajor Warnings: None

-

Breath caught in his throat, wings pulled tight to his back, all he could do was run. They’d found him while he was caving. Getting back out had been hard enough with them on his tail and mobs to all sides, and now he was in their domain: The trees. The dark oak forest they called their home was a maze for the canary hybrid whose flight was disabled; more than once he turned a corner and was forced to double back when he heard their approaching steps.

Jimmy didn’t know that forest. Not like they did. His home was the Cliffside Keep. This? Oh, this was Team Druids’ domain…

Typing on his comm was hard to do while running. His fingers fumbled the buttons, and he knew he couldn’t risk looking down for too long—not when he knew Scott wielded a trident he’d already killed people with, and he’d seen the flash of a crossbow in Martyn’s hands when he rotated his items for a sword.

<SolidarityGaming: druids ch asing me! ned help!>

<Tango: where?!>

<ZombieCleo: ^ omw>

Jimmy tried to tell them, but not even he knew where he was. He swallowed, stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and risked a glance around.

<SolidarityGaming: ..um. their forest. idk where I’m sorry>

He could practically imagine Cleo banging her fist down on the nearest table as she cursed under her breath with a weapon already drawn. He could imagine lashing tails and bared fangs from Ren, Tango, and Impulse. All of them eager to get out and help their fellow member of the Keep, but unable to do so.

He’d gotten lucky with his team up this game. He never survived the games, but he was always so incredibly lucky with who he could call his allies, wasn’t he?

But now they couldn’t help him. The Druids had done what they always did when one of them was cursed, and that was wait and watch for anyone they could corral away from their allies to pick them off before retreating to their base, wherever it was.

Jimmy swallowed and strained his ears against the noises of the forest.

With Martyn among his hunters, he didn’t stand a chance if he couldn’t get out of the suffocating trees. They’d been friends a long time, Martyn knew how he’d think, would know where to look if he tried to hide; and if he could hear them, Martyn could definitely hear him. He could probably hear Jimmy’s labored breaths and thundering heart, right now; the thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

His wings fluttered, and he had to forcefully tuck them close when both hit trees on either side of him. He took a shuddering breath, yellow eyes that revealed his status of two lives squeezing shut only as long as he dared. He felt trapped. A flightless bird, stuck in a maze that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. He had no idea which way was out, where the world border to one side of the forest stretched, where the mountain the Keep sat proudly atop of was. He couldn’t even see the sky through the thick canopy that loomed over his head.

He only knew he was being hunted. That’s the only way he could describe it.

Running one way brought footsteps to crunch through the leaves loudly and dare he say carelessly, forcing him to turn around. Then there would be a whistle, shrill and irritating, to send him bolting down another overgrown path. An arrow would nearly meet his head, or land in the ground by his foot, to make him scramble in the last available direction.

They were herding him. Chasing him, exactly where they wanted him to go.

Did they do this to everyone who found themselves lost in their forest?

Chest heaving and eyes wide, Jimmy found himself cornered against a cliffside. He turned to bolt back the way he’d come, but Martyn blocked his path with a crossbow leveled. Scott was already waiting, leaning on his trident without a word and watching him—though, unlike Martyn’s predatory stare that pegged him as one of the cursed, Scott was simply watching with what could almost be curiosity.

He wasn’t cursed, was he? He was simply helping his teammates get the kills they needed. Jimmy swallowed. Maybe if it had been a little earlier in the game, he would have begged Scott to help him out, to convince his team to go after…maybe Joel’s team. Now he knew, though Scott obviously wouldn’t be throwing his trident for the kill, that if Jimmy was to actually take off the man would be at his heels in an instant to take him down.

That left…

Jimmy noticed his red eyes before anything else. His moss cloak seemed to manifest from the trees themselves, and Bdubs’ stare could only be described as hungry.

A red life. He’d…he’d forgotten Bdubs was on red. No one knew for sure who’d set the trap that took his yellow life, though a number of the Keep had suspected Joel when the message popped up on their comms.

It didn’t matter. A red life was a red life.

And Bdubs had an ax drawn.

Jimmy swallowed and backed himself against the cliff. His wings pinned painfully behind him where they fluffed up, fingers digging against the dirt and stone as his eyes shifted between Martyn and Bdubs.

“Well?” His voice jumped up with the anger and fear that swelled in his chest. But there was little he could do about it. “Just…get it over with. Steal my life and put me on red.”

Because all four of them knew that was the only way this would go down, didn’t they? Jimmy could hope for some sort of a miracle, he could hope the Keep would come swooping in to save the day or that a creeper would come up behind one of the Druids to startle (or kill, he’d be happy with that option, too!) one of them long enough for him to make a break for it.

He could draw his sword and take a swing at the approaching Hermit, or his bow and hope he’d have a chance to even draw the string back before the Druids were on top of him.

But he knew it wasn’t realistically going to happen.

Not as Bdubs raised his weapon and strode forward to show the canary who his killer was about to be.

He and Bdubs were about to trade places. Bdubs, who was about to strike Jimmy down to steal his life and put him on red, so he could finally go back to yellow.

The taller man raised his chin and met Bdubs’ red eyes.

He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of making him afraid.

[taptrial2]

lalalaaaaa au time. dont tag as ship or i will end you. ik it isnt super original but something something two cakes

the gist: instead of dying later in life, both danny and vlad were stillborns and turned half ghost after being resuscitated. their parents were told they had died and they were shipped off to the pentagon as little babies to be studied. theyre the same ages as in canon, they just grew up differently

they moved to amity park after they escaped because of the high level of ghost activity, wanting to learn more about other ghosts. they don't know about danny's birth parents living there YET. they only got out in like june and the actual story i imagine starts in the september of the same year after vlad and danny learn that its illegal to not have danny in school. they're super unfamiliar with the outside world and are super weird. they're rich but only because they do crimes for money (mostly theft), and because of that and not legally existing, they only use cash

their ghost forms are in medical gear because thats the only environment they've ever known and they can't really conceptualize themselves in anything else. they wear their hair long and down to cover up the spots of hair that the scientists lasered off to have easier access to their brains.

danny learned the ghostly wail early and uses it often enough (along with a few other voice based projectiles) that he's classified as a banshee subtype of ghost. he has very strong projectiles but his punches hit like wet paper bags. vlad is well rounded in his skills and very strong, but he and danny are VERY unused to fighting and are therefore pretty bad at it.

they're eventually nicknamed by the public "the doctor ghost and his patient", eventually shortened to "doctor" and "patient".

they're very close and consider each other family, but they don't put a specific label on it like father and son. every time they hug, it's as if they had been reunited after a war. they're used to being jostled around by scientists and so are very comfortable touching each others' hair, cuddling, etc and dont quite understand other people's physical boundaries for a while. they're protective of each other to the point of violence.

i have more but i already hate when i see posts this long in main tags so i will stop. if you actually read any of this shit thanks man have some choccy milk

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: spirit-raiser (mini-series)

Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and you are the witch he has chosen to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, begging, orgasm denial, fingering, p in v, no aftercare, sex magic, blood magic, potion for arousal, curses and hexes, witchcraft, possession, mediums, if you squint theres some plot, smoking, mention of death/violence/torture, mention of police brutality, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8k

A/N: hey. don't ask. this idea came to me a few days ago and i wrote it all out in like two sessions at 2am. i want to write more for this, i have so many ideas for some more one-shot style interactions. this just got so long so quickly so i had to cut some stuff. sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You did not remember leaving your door unlocked. 

The fog that settled over the smokey, portside district of Sootstone was suffocating. Despite it being only midday, the entire neighbourhood was cast into a muggy gloom. The sun could not break through the thick smog that comfortably nestled itself along the windy streets of The Warrens. The stench of smoke and fish hung heavy in the air, with sweaty dockworkers and dirty children darting between alleys. In your short journey to and from the small Sunday market, you had nearly been bowled over thrice by oblivious residents. 

The Warrens, or Sootstone Port, as it was formally known, was not a pleasant place. Home to the working class and the rotted underbelly of the city of Blackstone. The high society chatters liked to forget such a place existed, as it was simply not a charming place to think about. Most worked the ports, ferrying in the sea trade. Others worked in the Smokestack district, manufacturing metal in factories that pumped ash and soot into the air. There were also the select few who turned to other trades, such as pubs, hotels, brothels, or even those who were forced into a life of joblessness on the streets. 

The Warrens weren’t so imaginatively named. It was a clever joke among high-society gossipers that the poor fucked like rabbits and lived in their elaborate winding burrows, from which they rarely emerged for air. The people of Sootstone had accepted the insult, finding the whole metaphor rather hilarious. That was because the Warreners could take a joke, unlike the condescending crowd of high society. It could also be argued that the residents of The Warrens could not come up with a better metaphor, as most were not educated in any sense. 

Perhaps the mixture of smog and that lack of an education had finally made it to your head. You were left standing, perplexed, as your front door swung open without so much of a nudge. The lock was normally a sticky one, leaving you to jiggle the knob and slam your shoulder against the frame until it came unstuck. Never in your two years of living in the tiny flat had you ever witnessed such a sight. 

You would’ve thought it a miracle if it weren’t for the implications. 

It was true that The Warrens were notorious for crimes. Theft, assault, and murder. Even if coppers paraded the streets, they weren’t truly there to stop criminals. No, they were more interested in beating any poor innocents that got in their way. It was better to find protection from vigilante gangs who roamed Sootstone’s streets, scrapping like stray dogs over territories. As much as those uninvolved in such business were afraid of them, they also respected them. Their deeds weren’t always motivated by blood and destruction; the gangs stood to protect their communities as no one else would. 

Even if you and your surrounding neighbours were under the protection of Barnes’ Smog Boys, it was definitely still alarming to see a group of them gathered in your small kitchen. 

“Lookie who's home.” One of the men cooed at the sight of you. He stood closest to the door, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket while the other fiddled with a toothpick that hung from his lips. His blond hair was slicked back, tucked under a flatcap. Steve Rogers. The Smog Boys right hand man. Next to him was Sam Wilson, his stocky form leaning against your rickety cupboards. His gaze was fixed on a silver pocket watch he had tightly secured in his left palm, a short chain draping across his vest. He glanced up at Steve’s words, a wicked smirk crossing his lips at the sight of you. 

“Sunday market?” Sam queried, and you drew your woven basket closer. There was an unsettling sneer in his voice. 

The Smog Boys were one of seven gangs that roamed the underbelly of Blackstone. Their territories lay in the fog of Sootstone Port and the smokey streets of the Smokestack district and The Warrens. You could commonly see them stalking the streets, dressed in all black with their flatcaps and slicked back hair. They moved through the smog like ghosts, navigating the twisting streets with an unnatural ease. Some called them ghouls; others called them saviours from the fog. 

The final man, the worst of them all, was Bucky Barnes. He sat across from you, half obscured by your small dining table. He had laid a box of cigarettes and matches on the marked wood. One was smoking between his lips, his head angled down and cocked to one side, as he assessed you with a look of boredom. There was a terrifying edge of calculation in his gaze as he evaluated you. He was just as large as the other two men, with muscles poorly hidden beneath his black, tailored suit. His hair, similarly to Steve's, was slicked back, and the sides buzzed. A 5’oclock shadow ghosted his jawline, but overall, his appearance was unsettlingly neat. 

Not a speck of ash or soot. As if he had just appeared within your flat, blinking into existence rather than having walked The Warrens like any other mere mortal. 

You had never seen the man in person. No. If the Smog Boys were ghosts, Bucky certainly lived up to the name. He was an enigma, a haunting story whispered between children. He had clawed his way up to a position of power from the gutters of The Warrens, bloodshed and all. He was a notorious skirt-chaser, his handsome appearance and strong build drawing in women from all classes. Looking at him now, despite the terror congealing in your blood, you could understand the appeal. 

“Why’re you here?” You ask hesitantly. Unlike the gangsters before you, you were not pristine by any means. Falling ash had coated your shoulders, staining the tartan fabric of the mantle draped over your shoulders. Your hair was swept up under a head scarf, which was also covered in a layer of soot and dust from the smokestacks. Even your worn leather boots were not safe; mud and filth caked onto the heels and sides. The streets of The Warren had never known any type of cleanliness. 

“Come to introduce ourselves. Don’t think we’ve ever met before, ‘least I think I would’ave remembered a pretty face like yours.” Steve speaks up, a gleam in his eye. His tone is playful yet somehow cruel. The chuckle he and Sam share rattles you. The two of them were also said to try their luck with the women who crowded around, searching for the thrill of a gangster lover.

“You might’ave mistaken me for someone else… I’ve lived here two years now.” You speak with a continued caution. With precise movements, as to not brush either of the hulking men crowding the kitchen entrance, you place your basket on a nearby surface. Even the cloth that you have thrown over the items is coated in a layer of ash. 

“We know.” Sam says, twisting his body. He lifts up the cloth, inspecting the food beneath. You know it is nothing exciting—some bread, fish, and vegetables. As well as a handful of sweets you gave to the children of your neighbour. You keep your mouth shut as Sam dips into the white and red striped paper bag and pops one of the sweets into his mouth with a satisfied hum. 

Steve pushes himself off the wall, his jacket brushing against you. He was far taller than you, tall enough that he had to crane his neck down in order to whisper in your ear. “A lil’ birdy told us you’re a spirit-raiser.” 

“I—No.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting between the three men. Bucky is still silent, still like a cat hunting a mouse. The gaze he assessed you with was one of a predator, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. He doesn’t crack a smile as the two men beside you laugh between themselves. 

To fend off some anxious energy, you make quick work of unknotting your headscarf. Ash and dust flutter to the ground as you shake out the fabric, a frown etched across your features. You could not help but let your mind wonder to the stories you had heard growing up. You were a lifelong resident of The Warrens, only moving to live on your own after sickness claimed your mother. You father had passed long before that, lost to drink. 

“What do you call yourself then? Hm?” Steve asks, breath hot against your cheek. You flinch as he pulls a fleck of ash from your hair. In the stories, they would speak of men with their tongues cut out. Bodies that were filled with bricks, then stitched back up and sunk to the bottom of the Sootstone Port. Men were found hanged from street lights, severely beaten, with sections of skin along their thighs and chest peeled off with a blade. And those were only the bodies coppers found. 

“I prefer witch.” You correct, brows furrowing. Your head turns to look at the gangster, wary of how close his fingers lingered. Teeth bared in a grin, he blows a soft breath across your hair, the last of the ash unsettled as it floats away. You can smell tobacco on his breath—a familiar scent to you.

“I need a favour.” Bucky finally speaks up, his voice low. Your gaze snaps to meet his. 

You blink. “A favour?”

You jump as Bucky finally moves, his foot jerking as he kicks the seat opposite him. The chair scrapes across the hardwood floors, stopping centimetres before your boots. 

“Sit.” He commands. 

Sam’s hand finds the back of your neck, a soft push guiding you in the direction of the free space. You obey, your knee bouncing as you take a seat. You sit near the edge of the chair, leaving some distance between yourself and the table. As if sensing your desire to bolt, Steve sweeps up behind you, pushing the chair in until you are fully tucked in. Then, with mocking laughter, Sam and Steve take a seat on either side of you. 

“No one told me there was any issue about magic—” You begin. Steve snickers beside you, returning to fiddling with the toothpick still poking from his mouth. 

“A favour.” Bucky repeats, exhaling smoke from his nose. Sam leans back in his seat, legs spread so widely that his knee touches yours. You shrink back as far as possible. “I’m no copper. I don’t care what you practitioners get up to.”

You find yourself blinking in surprise once more. Magic was a subject that divided many, mostly due to it’s misunderstood nature. High society treated magic as another lavish hobby or skill, with some even going to private schools to turn their gifts into professions with the right licences. Of course, the people of the lower-class were banned from performing such tricks unless they were in possession of the right permits. Due to the nature of the slums being, well, impoverished, unlicensed magic ran rampant through the streets. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that an entire blackmarket of forbidden arts ran in the backalleys and warehouses of The Warren. Places where those needing particular services could find them for a much more convenient price than in the higherclass areas of Blackstone. 

You had kept your services rather secretive, never using your real identity with clients. It was a precaution to not have coppers knocking down your door in the middle of the night. It seemed, despite your best efforts, that nothing flew past Bucky Barnes. But then again, nothing seemed to fly past the gangster. He knew of every black market and every whisper of illegal activity in the slums. It would be foolish to believe he was unaware of you; however, why did he specifically sort you out? Now that was a mystery. 

“I don’t understand—” You choke out, head whipping back and forth as you look between the men. 

Bucky sighs loudly in annoyance, loud enough that you flinch back. He puts out the remains of his cigarette on your dining table, the smouldering dip leaving a black, circular mark on the wood. He digs into one of the pockets of his vest, revealing a large pendant necklace. The chain is silver, with an oval shaped jewel hanging from the centre. The silver that encrusts it in place is swirled, ensuring there are no gaps for it to escape. Sam and Steve fall quiet, any feeling of twisted amusement dropping from the room. Bucky slides the necklace across the table.

You recoil. This time not out of fear, but rather from the aura the necklace exudes. 

Goosebumps rise across your skin, and bile rises in your throat. There was a wickedness in the air, as if all the light and sweetness in the world were sucked into an empty, yawning void. The world feels still, as if even the ash outside has failed to fall. The room is cast into a sickening silence, a silence so strong that even the surrounding world refuses to push through. You can no longer hear the people walking through the winding streets of The Warren, not the clang of metal from the smokestacks or the cry of the dockworkers. 

Rot. 

It is the only word that comes to your mind. It is as if the jewel itself is rotten, potent, and putrid. An invisible smell so strong you nearly gag. Your skin crawls the longer you stare, as if you rot along with it—bugs squirming beneath your flesh, the taste of dirt in your mouth.  

“What’s this?” You asked, your voice strained. You know the blood has drained from your face. Bucky looks at you with curiosity. 

“You tell me.”

You look down at the necklace. Dread rises once more, and the chill of soil settles across your shoulders. You twist your head and your neck, feeling uncomfortable and strained the longer you gaze upon the necklace. 

There was something terribly, terribly wrong about it. 

“There’s a… a sickness… a rot—a curse.” You stumble over your words, your entire body squirming against your will. The feeling of dread swims through you; the sensation that you need to get as far away as possible reverberates down your spine. 

“Becca was right.” Steve sings somewhere besides you, but you barely register his words. 

“Where’d you find this?” You ask. The room is tighter than usual, with the rickety, peeling cabinets closing in around you. The oven screeches on its iron legs, the yellowed wallpaper crushing closer and closer. Your head falls into your hands, elbows propped onto the table. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to rid yourself of the sickly feeling. You rub your fingers up your face, pinching the bridge of your nose, then massaging your forehead

“It was given to me. As a gift.” As he speaks, you reluctantly open your eyes once more. The room has returned to as you remember, your vision less dizzying as you take in a deep gulp of air, your heart thundering in your ears. You must make a face, because it prompts him to speak once more. 

“My sister has a sensitivity. She is convinced—”

“There’s a spirit attached to that jewel.” You interrupt before thinking. Your knees bounce beneath the table, your feet shaking. Your entire being screams that you need to get away from the object. You do not care for politeness or fear of these men, as the horror in your heart you felt gazing upon the necklace greatly outweighed any potential anxieties of the future.

“Yes.” His voice matches his composure—cool and collected. Wholly unaffected by the horrific aura cast by the necklace. Bucky and his men were not magically inclined. They were completely oblivious to the calamity that sat before them. 

“The spirits're attached to you, too.” You pause, the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. “You need to get it lifted.”

“That’s where the favour comes in, doll.”

“I don’t…?” You nearly doubled over. “Please get rid of it. I can’t—”

Barnes leans forward, slowly dragging the necklace over the wood. He slowly deposits it into his breast pocket, watching with curiosity as you sag in relief. You would need to burn this table after they left. You could still sense the rot engrained in the pores of the wood. 

“I need to speak with the spirit attached.”

Your forearms lay flat on the table, and you rest your head against them as you try to remember how to breathe. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you. Was this how they tortured their victims? Wore them down into pathetic, panting messes? Were you about to become another body at the bottom of the Sootstone port? You mumble into the fabric. “I can’t raise a spirit without a name.”

“I know her name.”

You pause, lifting your head slowly. “You want to ask her how to break it? You may know her, but spirits’re tricksters they won’t always give ya the correct information—”

“I know how to deal with her.”

You arch a brow, unsure.

“She’s a scorned lover.” Sam whispers beside you. You jump, having forgotten the two other men sitting besides you. Bucky scowls at his words—the most emotion he has shown in the entire time. 

“Everyone knows you don’t ‘ave a witch for a moll unless you’re gonna marry her.” Steve butts in, and the two men share a chuckle. 

“Shut your mugs. The both of ya.” Bucky snarls, and they both fall silent, although you can’t help but notice their bemused smiles. After a brief, tense silence, the gangster settles back into his seat, tipping his chin upward in a nod. “Morwenna Blackthorn.”

You hesitate, glancing between the three men. They watch you expectantly, relaxing back into their respective seats. Given their status and reputation, you had to presume they were familiar with the workings of underground magic. Licenced practitioners would have clients sign lengthy documents for protection in the event of a spell or session backfiring. The Warrens did not have such luxuries—if you made a mistake, no one could protect you or them from the consequences. 

You inhale sharply, placing your hands palms down on the table. The wood hums beneath your touch, the invisible vapours of the curse tickling your flesh. With a roll of your shoulders, you exhale slowly, allowing your body to relax. 

Ink drips across your vision, swirling darkness millimetres before your eyes. You stare hard into the invisible void, searching blindly through the tendrils of smoke. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your mind hums. Through the dark fog, you can make out figures—flickers of candle flames casting large, distorted shadows. Morwenna Blackthorn. Bones crunch beneath your feet, yet at the same time, you float. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your hands burn into the table, the rotting sensation tangling through your digits, pulling you deeper. 

Morwenna Blackthorn

You can see a thin line of thread hanging through the void. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

It is red; a series of knots tugged tightly intermittently. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

Your fingers grasp the fibres gently, your nail hooking around one of the tiny knots. 

You tug.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

A violent, ragged gasp leaves you. It claws up your throat, ripping at the flesh. Your entire body tenses, your spine straightening as your head snaps back. For a moment, you are suspended. You can feel her with you, her ghostly fingers stroking tenderly across your skin. She smooths over the back of your hands, slowly and gradually winding her way up your arms. She clutches your shoulders, her bones digging into your flesh.

Then, with violence strong enough that you fear she has folded your spine in half, she pushes down. 

Your body instantly relaxes, head lulling downward. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and despite the appearance being a milky white, you can see perfectly clearly. Morwenna has settled herself deep within your bones, controlling your movements like a puppeteer. You are conscious enough to understand what is happening, but you are not in control of your actions or speech.

Your mouth spread into a wide, sly smile. “Bucky, my love.”

“Mor.” The gangster greets, although he does not seem entirely pleased. You pout, leaning your elbows onto the table. 

“Not happy to see me?” You coo. Somewhere beside you, Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. It is the most off put you’ve ever seen the man so far. He winces as your head swings around, a wicked grin gracing your lips. “Oh, Stevie and Sam. Didn’t see you two here.”

“Mor.” The two men grumble in unison, scowling. 

“Awh. Why so glum, boys?” You whine, your chair scraping against the floor as you stand. Your movements are fluid and graceful, entirely not your own. Your hands stroke across the back of the chair, then swooshes up to meet your chest. 

You lean forward, tutting as you inspect your reflection in the glass of a nearby cupboard. “Trust you to find a pretty one in The Warrens.” 

Your hands move to unpin your mantle, a cloud of ash lingering in the air as you drop it to the floor. You sigh in relief, your fingers unbuttoning the top of your shirt, revealing the curve of your breasts. Your hands smooth down your waist to your hips; your full figure is now displayed. 

“You missed me that much, my love? That you had to find a pretty vessel for me so you could get your cock wet, hm?” You hum, sashying towards the table once more. 

“That’s not why you’re here.” Bucky replies. He seems frozen in place. The horror of familiarity. Recognising the mannerisms of someone he once knew in a complete stranger. 

You ignore his words, unpinning your hair. Thick locks unroll, cascading down your shoulders and back. You let out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh, rolling your neck. The strands frame your face, and the rich colour brings colour to your cheeks. 

“Morwenna.” Bucky snaps. Your brows furrow as you look over to him, pouting once more. “You put a curse. On the necklace.”

Your mind momentarily blanks, as if Morwenna were trying to recall what he said. Spirits often grew confused trying to recall memories, especially ones that brought them anguish. A cog seems to turn as you flash the gangster another beaming smile. 

“The necklace… oh. Did you like it? My parting gift to you? Before you fucked me over you piece of—” Your voice, once sweet and soft, deepens to a guttural growl. Your body shakes, and words cut off as you cough and hack. Your hand raises to your mouth, warm fluid leaking from your lips. You let in a shuddering breath, rubbing your fingers and palms down your chin. Blood smears across your skin. 

“You shot me, my love.” You gasp, your brows furrowing as your head tilts. “You shot me.”

“You betrayed us, remember? You were a rat—” Steve jumps in, but is quickly cut off. 

“Steve.” Bucky warns.

Your hands find your stomach, doubling over as you sob. There is no wound, no blood. Still, your hands dig at the fabric while ragged, pathetic cries leave your blood stained lips. 

“How do I break the curse?”

You shuddering sobs stop, a dreadful silence falling over the tiny kitchen. A guttural laugh erupts from you, saliva mixed with blood dripping from your lips to the floor. “The curse. The curse? I should have known… I should have known…”

Your body jerks upward, movements stiff, and jerks like a marionette doll. Sam’s face contorts into one of fear, while Steve looks horrified. You jerk forward, nearly tripping over the chair as you plunge towards the table. Your stomach smacks hard against the wood, a winded wheeze escaping your lungs as you drag yourself forward by your nails. 

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me?” You cry, your head beginning to twist, the angle so unnatural that it strains your neck. 

“How do I break it?” Bucky repeats, voice firm. He hasn’t so much as flinched, a wall of steel as you crawl towards him. 

“It was born in chaos, so it must be undone in chaos. I will find you. I will tear you limb from limb. I will make you rot from the inside out; maggots will grow within you; and mould will bloom in your soul. Everything will crumble to dust beneath your touch. I will ruin you until you b–b—be—”

Your body slides back, and for the first time in the entire session, you grab the reins. You search blindly for the knotted thread, tugging hard. Your body steps back from the table, muscles spasming and tense as your body locks in place. 

You tug harder, and darkness swims across your vision. Candles flicker and dance in the distance, the sun rising and falling as your body twists up and down. The smell of rot slowly subsides, threads slipping from your fingers. The scent of copper and ash is on your tongue, and your head is pounding. 

A dramatic sigh leaves you as your body slumps. You find yourself standing before the table, three sets of eyes burning into you as your own eyes roll back into place. Sam and Steve look equally disturbed as they are horrified, the blond’s mouth agape in shock. 

“The fuck was that?” Sam barks.

“I ain’t never seen a spirit session like that before, Buck—” Steve begins.

“Shut it.” Bucky barks, rising to his feet. 

There is a sickly feeling in your chest, a radiating pain across your ribcage. You barely register the gangster walking up to you, gripping your chin between his index and thumb. 

“You pulled yourself out early.” Bucky sneers. “Why?”

“Buck—” Steve calls again. With a growl, Bucky releases you, twisting around to snarl at Steve. 

“I thought you told me she was the best in the Warrens?”

“She is. Did’ya not see that shit?”

“She didn’t get me an answer—”

“Chaos magic.” You finally speak up, your voice raspy. The gangsters pause, slowly turning to face you. “She told you. It’s chaos magic. What’s born in chaos must be undone in chaos.”

Your hand raises to your face, your fingertips touching your upperlip as warm blood flows from your nose. You raise your hand into the light, inspecting the crimson liquid. Your eyes cut over to Bucky's, and he frowns. 

“Chaos magic?” He questions. 

“Sex magic.” You state, fighting the heat growing across your cheeks. Without much of a care or a flinch, you navigate your way past the group. Your shirt brushes against Bucky’s jacket, the rotting feeling momentarily settling in your stomach as the fabric brushes his breastpocket. You pause in front of your sink, knuckles white as you grip the lip. Blood continues to stream steadily from your nose, dripping into the basin. 

“You focus your thoughts on one thing; you get pulled into a trance. Take the energy, the chaos, and you focus it. At the peak, picture what you’re manifestin’. The chaos that you’ve built through the act is released at the moment of orgasm.” You explain, your gaze solidly locked onto the blood that swirls down your drain. 

“Sex magic.” Bucky hums in thought.

Steve spoke up from beside him with a snicker. “How poetic.”

—

You hated how your hands shook. If Bucky had noticed, he hadn’t brought it up. He was coolly inspecting your tiny bedroom, hands tucked into his pockets. The room had an eclectic taste, with walls covered in shelving. You collected books, objects, trinkets, or other things that helped your work. Drying herbs hung from your curtain railings, your desk cluttered with papers you had hastily scribbled notes upon. 

You ground your palm harder into the pestle, gritting your teeth as you worked the herbs inside into a fine paste. Your bed, stripped bare, had been pushed to the side of the room. It usually sat near the centre, atop a fraying rug. The rug had also been removed, rolled up, and placed somewhere in your stairway. The old wood beneath had been painted by your hand, with intricate runes, symbols, and swirls making up the general shape of a circle. You had already lined it with black salt, candles burning at each cardinal direction. At the centre of the circle, you had laid your bedding and pillows for comfort. 

Bucky had sent Steve and Sam away, the two men snickering like a pair of school boys. You all knew what was about to unfold; it was just a question of why you had allowed yourself to become tangled up in such a situation. You had done similar rituals for clients before, yes, but none of those clients had been the boss of the Smog Boys. None of them had been Bucky Barnes. 

You eyed him as he paused in front of the carved circle, mindlessly playing with the jewelled necklace that hung from his grip. The awful, dreadful, rotting sensation was dulled; you’d nearly begged the gangster to let you cleanse the object. It was a temporary relief that would wear down in a few hours, but at least you could complete your work without gagging at the feeling of it. You hurriedly poured the thick paste from the herbs into a pot, which boiled in your fireplace. It only took a couple of stirs for the potion to settle. You could feel Bucky’s eyes assessing your every movement as you poured the steaming liquid into two cups, briefly swirling each to ensure the consistency was correct. 

“Remind me what this is.” The gangster asked, closing the distance between you. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the scent. 

“A potion to help with the ritual. Some find it…hard to perform.” You say, wincing as you realise what you implied. Bucky raises a brow as you fumble over your words. “It heightens arousal and pleasure.”

“I won’t find it hard to perform.” He replies curtly. 

“I know. I wasn’t saying that—I just… from experience…” You stumble again. If only you could punch yourself in the face for this idiocy. 

“Relax, doll.” He hums, his hand finding your shoulder. You exhale sharply, lips pressed together, as your shoulders drop in response. “I can find someone else if you don’t want this.”

As much as you hated yourself for admitting it, you did want this. Maybe it was a sick curiosity, wondering if this dangerous yet handsome man could perform as well as you imagined, as well as it was rumoured. You swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “No. I want this.”

“Good.” His hand brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, and his head dips to look at you better. “Honestly, I could fuck you with or without the potion, doll.”

There is a knowing smirk spreading across his face as your mind blanks. Fucking rake. You consider if the fumes from the potion have already leaked their effects onto you both. You can feel a warmth growing between your legs. 

“It’s my job.” You mutter, stepping away. Although you’re unsure if the reassurance is for yourself or for him. His chuckle follows you as you sweep across the room, returning to your small desk. “Do you want me to explain the ritual in detail or just give you the gist of it?”

“Spare the details; just run me through what I need to do.” He responds. He has closed the distance between the both of you again, peering over your shoulder as you fumble through your things. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple.” You sigh, turning around. Your chests are nearly pressed together as you spin. You back up as far as possible, your hands moving behind your back as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself. "We’ll have to draw some blood with a blade and put it on the necklace to link it to our energies. It’s sigil magic, nothing you’ll have to worry about. We take the potions…”

You fade off with a shrug. Bucky smirks once more, his chin lifting in amusement, but his gaze remains solidly locked onto you. His hands go to his pockets, and his wide chest blocks your movements. You clear your throat. “The ending is more what you’ll need to focus on. When you reach… climax… you must focus all your energy on the necklace and nothing else. I will be there to guide and remind you, but you can’t let your thoughts stray.”

“What about you? What will you have to think of?” He questions, his voice low. His adams apple bobs as he swallows slowly, his tongue running across his bottom lip in thought. Intriguing question. No one had asked you that before. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who needs to orgasm.”

“Why?”

“The curse is linked to you. Only you can break it, with my assistance, of course. I am just here to help guide you and lend you my energy. I am just a conduit for the magic, to focus it.” You explain. Thinking it was best to get it over and done with, you finally pluck up the courage to push past him. 

Your athame was already in place; the candles were lit, salt laid, and sigil memorised. There was only one thing left to do—the act. You crouch down by the fireplace, retrieving the two cups. Bucky gives you an incredulous look. 

“It tastes better than it smells.” You reassure him, handing him the saucer. He inspects the liquid once more, wincing, then shrugging in surprise as he finally downs the lot. You watch with a scrutinising gaze as he places the cup down, rolling his shoulders. 

The potion would take all of five seconds to take affect. It didn’t alter the brain or take away authority; rather, it heightened already present feelings of arousal or pleasure. The user would experience a rather euphoric sensation. Dodgy brothels often microdosed their clients with such herbs to heighten the experience. Also to hook in a new, loyal customer. Used sparingly, the herbs were fine, but they were highly addictive. 

And illegal. Most of your work fell into that category.

Within moments, you could see Bucky’s pupils dilate, his jaw and shoulders relaxing, and his nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly. His voice was strained as he spoke up, his tone gravelly and low as he cleared his throat in surprise. “Fuck. That does feel good, doesn’t it?”

You smile shyly into your own cup and swallow down the liquid. You were familiar with the taste and it’s effects. It was surprisingly sweet, with a vanilla, nutty aftertaste. As soon as it hit your stomach, you could already feel the warmth growing in your core—a delightful tingling sensation spreading up your spine and skull. 

You were quick to place your cup down and cross the room to retrieve the athame. You had to pin point your actions very directly so as not to get distracted by the hulking man looming in your room. The potion was definitely potent, because any fear or anxiety had left you. Your body begged for him to come closer, to touch you, to kiss you. Not yet. Soon. 

“Come here.” You murmur, drawing the blade from it’s sheath. Bucky obeys, wordlessly stalking towards you and presenting you with his palm. You look up at him through your lashes, gently taking his hand into yours. Your skin sings at the content, a rush of goosebumps raising across your skin. “We don’t need much blood.”

The gangster is still as you drag the blade in a short cut along the heel of his palm. You push into the mound, coaxing out droplets of blood to blister to the surface. “The necklace.”

He lets out a low, agreeable grunt as he hands it to you. The potion has helped you ignore any bad energy attached to the object. Your skin simmers as you brush your finger tips along the cut, gathering Bucky’s blood. You take the jewel, smearing the blood across the slippery surface into one half of a symbol. Bucky watches expectantly as you hastily repeat the process with your own hand, smearing your blood to complete the symbol. 

“You need to wear it.” You hum and guide the chain over his head. You know you should find a bandage or some kind of healing salve for your hands, but your attention is pulled away as Bucky grasps your hand. An involuntary whimper leaves your throat as he raises your palm to his lips, his tongue peaking out as he runs it across the open wound. The potion had definitely taken effect. Holy fuck, your back arches as pleasure shoots down your arm, blooming at the base of your skull. 

His lips kiss along the cut, sucking and licking. Your mind swims from the sensation—ideas of where else he could be putting his mouth to use. You pull your palm away, dragging it across his cheek as you cup his face. A crimson streak is smeared along his skin, and his lips are glossy from saliva and stained with your blood. The two of you clash in desperation, a rumbling groan being pulled from the gangster as his lips engulf yours. 

You can taste copper on his tongue, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his body. The two of you move in a frantic rhythm, scarcely making room to breathe. You guide him clumsily to the painted circle, the two of you falling to your knees in unison. Blindly, you find his clothing, helping him tug off the jacket and then unbutton his vest. 

His hands slip under your blouse, caressing the skin beneath. His fingers roam to your brassiere, your nipples hardening as he brushes them through the sleek fabric. You mewl into his mouth, squirming under his touch as the pulse between your legs quickens. His large palm comes to rest below your breasts, his thumb sitting on your sternum as he yanks you backwards onto his lap. 

Your lips break, and you gasp for air as the gangster continues his assault down your neck to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His stubble tickles across your neck, and he gathers your skirts, fingers gliding past your stockings to your exposed inner thigh. 

Your head tips backwards to rest on his shoulder, and loud, satisfied sighs leave you. The sensation is near blinding, your body alight with pleasure. Had you accidentally made a stronger dose in your nervousness? You had never yearned in such a way before—

“What’re you doing?” You query with a gasp as his fingers slip beneath your loose tap pants. 

Your question is answered as he strokes a fingertip through your wet folds. 

“You’re so wet.” He hums against your skin, voice strained. You can already feel his erection pressing into you. His grip on you remains firm, your back flush against his chest as he dips two of his fingers into you. Ecstasy fizzles across your skin, nails digging into his skin where you grip his arm. 

“What’re you— I’m supposed to make you—ah!” You whine, your breath coming fast as you lean harder into him. Your hips rock greedily, pushing your pelvis in time with his pumping fingers so the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. 

“Shh, doll. Relax.” He whispers, his tongue licking up the shell of your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body is locked in place by his grip. His pace increases, and the panting in your ear grows as his two digits glide in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Do you like that?” He groans in your ear. Your grinding hips are now giving friction to his cock, which twitches against your backside through his pants. You whimper in response, a short sob bubbling from your mouth as you clench around him. 

Your head lifts, eyes widening as you look down. You can’t see much due to your skirts, but you can feel the knot tightening within your belly. Your hips move more desperately, needy, pathetic moans escaping you as his pace remains steady. 

“Please—” You beg, squirming as the gangster chuckles. 

“You do like this, huh? Even if you acted like a little innocent virgin earlier.” He growls. The vibration is enough to set you over the edge, a loud cry leaving you as you clench hard around his fingers, body spasming. Bucky continues to steadily pump you through your orgasm. “Good girl.”

A continued arousal stirs in your belly at his praise. Your body slumps against him, panting and exhausted. 

“Such a good girl.” He hums again, his digits slipping out of you. You can feel the sloppy mess between your thighs, and as Bucky pulls his hand into the light, you can see the wet drenching his fingers. “I think I like this version of you. The one who makes pretty little noises while I fuck her brains out, hm?”

You’re left speechless as the gangster lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk. 

“Well, time to get this ritual over with then, don’t you think?” He says. You’re too exhausted and drunk on desire to bother replying. You allow him to guide you down, so your head is placed side-ways on one of the pillows. He guides your hips up, your legs slightly spread, and pushes your skirts to your hips. 

“You’ll have to tell me when you’re close, so I can guide you.” You finally muster up the strength to say. The gangster pulls your tap pants down, exposing your cunt fully. 

“Sure thing, doll.” He says in response. You hear the sound of fabric rustling as he pulls out his cock. 

Without much warning, he pushes into you, your arousal making it easy for his member to slide in and out of you. A growl burns in the back of his throat while you wordlessly make a fist around the sheets and blankets beneath you. 

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Bucky groans, his voice strained. “And to think you’ve been hidin’ out in The Warrens all this time.”

He sinks deeper into you, pulling small whimpers and moans from you as he finds a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His hand slides up your clothed back, pushing you harder into the pillow with a grunt. His other hand finds your hips, his grip bruising as he guides you. 

You bite down into the pillow, your pleasured sobs muffled by the feathers. 

“You squeezed so tightly around my fingers; I can’t wait to see how you’ll feel when you come around my cock.” Bucky grunted as he ploughed into you. His hand fists around your loose hair, fingers tangling through the locks as he tugs. Tears are beginning to prickle in your eyes, and your legs are wobbling from the sensation. 

“Please—” you gasp out. 

“Please, what?” The gangster asks, tugging harder. The hand on your hip is squeezing tighter as he holds you in place. 

“Please—I need to—”

“No.” He growls, tugging you upward. You fall backwards into his lap once more, his cock still inside you but somehow deeper from the angle he holds you. “You need to finish the ritual, remember? I can’t have you guide me if you’re too fucked out to talk.”

Another sob leaves you, but you wordlessly nod. You hold onto the burning sensation in your gut, the waves of satisfaction so immense that your limbs tremble. Bucky continues to fuck up into you, his cock steadily driving into you as his free hand comes to lazily swirl your swollen clit. 

You try to remember words, instructions, anything. You feel too high to even breathe. All you can do is focus on the sensation of the necklace rubbing against your back and the friction burning against your skin. 

“Focus on the necklace. How it feels around your neck.” You squeak out, your eyes squeezed shut, as you try to ground yourself. “Focus on the feeling of the chain, the weight of the jewel. Think of your blood, how a piece of you is painted onto it.”

There is a moment of silence between the two of you, only the slapping of skin and the rasping of breath. 

“Are you focused on it?” You ask.

“Yes.” The gangster cuts back. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy. 

“Focus.” You whisper, though a breathy moan leaves you. “Feel your energy flow; feel your blood seep into the stone. Picture how it will shatter beneath your power.”

His hips jerk beneath you, his finger on your clit swirling faster. Your breath comes in sharp stutters, your back arching as you find no way to escape the rising sensation. His back is rock solid behind you, his hands keeping you in place as you begin to spiral. Your pussy tightens around him as you begin to scream—

“Please, Bucky. Please!”

Something snaps between the both of you, his hips jerking wildly as he spills into you. He moans into your ear at a deafening level, his fingers digging into your thighs. You double over in pleasure, your vision briefly going black as you cry out. Sparks dance across your skin, your body momentarily alight as the power of magic flows through you. You can feel the rush as your energy meets Bucky’s entangling with one another in a fierce battle. For a second, you feel intoxicated, colours bursting across your sight as the rush of magic rests in your chest, and then, just as quickly as it arrived, it cascades out of you.

Behind you, the sound of shattering can be heard above the moans.  

Panting, Bucky releases you. You slump to the floor, off his lap. His cum drips from your pussy, thighs wet as sticky as you close your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. You roll onto your back, pressing your thighs together. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you look down at Bucky. He sits kneeling, dishevelled. His hair is ruffled, blood is still smeared along his cheek, and his shirt is untucked and creased. 

At some point, he has tucked his cock away, suspenders hanging loosely by his hips. His gaze is not on you; rather, it is solely focused on the necklace in his palm. You go to lift your head, but you find yourself too weak and exhausted to bother. A mixture of being too fucked out to care and the lack of energy from acting as a conduit for the ritual. 

“Did it work?” You ask the gangster, and his eyes finally pull up to look at you. His gaze wanders over your face, examining your swollen lips, the blush across your cheeks, and the areas where exposed skin remains. He cracks a grin, lifting his hand. The necklace dangles from his fingers, the large, blue jewel now gifted with a large crack down the centre. 

You let out a sigh of relief, letting your head fall back as you stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes flicker closed, a sleepy warmth prickling across your scalp. 

“Doll?”

Your eyes snap open with a jolt. 

“It’s all done? The curse is gone?” The gangster questions. You weakly nod in reply.

“Her spirit and whatever curse she held have been released.” You affirm, voice sleepy, relaxing back into the pillows and blankets. “Apologies. This type of spell drains me.”

Bucky chuckles. You were just glad you had enough sense near the end to actually guide him. The gangster appeared to be attempting to prove something with the orgasms he extracted from you. In the state you were in, you had little reason to complain. 

When you opened your eyes again, he was across the room, vest on and jacket slung over his arm.

“I’ll leave your payment downstairs.” He says, only pausing to look down at you, still curled up on the floor. You blink up at him sleepily. “Thanks for your help, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t find the energy to correct him.

PONY CLUB (PART 2)

[goldenocie]

Yo I forgot about this draft but essentially: fablesmp fairy tale AU but I try to connect everyone somehow. All of the player characters are here so it’s sort of a long post

Fable- evil king. The snow queen. Witch. Motive unclear but he’s trying to amass more magic for…something??

Icarus- Snow White. They lived a comfortable life in the palace until they showed power of their own and the king ordered them to be killed. Now lives with a bunch of birds in the woods

Rae- Cinderella. Despite being the late queens son, he is treated more like a palace maid. As kids, he and Icarus had a bad relationship but it got better as they grew up. He finds comfort by going down to the sea and speaking to the nice mermaid who shares stories of their life and by also sneaking chats with his fathers huntsman

Momboo- Sleeping beauty. The oldest of two sisters who were born of pure magic and somehow nothing else. She was able to escape the king when she was younger and he attempted to capture her, though he still managed to place a curse on her. Her life force is directly connected to a tree he planted and once it grows to full size she is destined to prick her finger on one of the branches and fall into a death like slumber. She lives in hiding now, the fairies that saved her are still around her occasionally

Ocie- Rapunzel. The younger of the magic sisters, she was not as lucky as her older sister and was locked in a tower by the king at a young age. It overlooks the sea and that’s all she’s ever known. She truly believes the king cares for her like family and that she is locked in there for her own protection.

Wolf- the Huntsman and the wolf. The former huntsman of the king, the king sent him to kill Icarus but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He lied to Fable, however this was found out and he punished him by turning him into a wolf.

Oscar- somehow all of the three little pigs in one. He made all three houses and got chased out of all of them :(, a wolf chased him to a tower which he climbed up and found a lady inside!

Centross- Robin Hood. Is definitely in love with one of the kings huntsmen. Centross witnessed him get turned into a wolf and tried to kill the king over it. However, the king framed him for Wolfs disappearance and guards chased him out of the city. He got chased out into the woods where he came across a weird guy with a lot of birds who definitely looks a little familiar. They fought for a bit until he got chased again to a tower that looks like it might hold something valuable

Jerry- Guard archetype. This criminal he’s chasing has been blamed for the disappearance of his best friend and while Jerry doesn’t believe that wolf is dead, he does believe that centross is to blame.

Athena- Little Red. A Prince from a now destroyed land being raised by their mother in the woods. She warned them not to stray from the path but damnit there were shiny things out there… They were chased by a large wolf before running into a strange person with many birds. He’s staying with them for the time being until the coast is clear…

Jamie- Goldilocks/beast. Jamie woke up one day as a small bear cub with no memory. Unbeknownst to them, they used to be a prince but was cursed by the king to become a bear. They broke into the house of some humans but was quickly shooed out after trying their food, chairs, and beds. They found a small cottage shortly after with a nice lady inside

Easton- jack and the beanstalk. Following the death of their parents, Easton had to sell their favorite cow (rip Martin) at market. They were offered three magic beans in return and…for some reason…agreed. Easton planted them but for a while nothing happened. A week past and suddenly- big beanstalk sprouted. Easton found a city in the clouds and attempted some theft, much to the dismay of the giants. Along with numerous other injuries, they lost their sight escaping but was taken in by a kind woman who brought them to her home.

Ven- Kai (The snow queen) Broken shards of the kings shattered magic mirror embedded into Vens heart and eyes. He now serves the king faithfully. The shards have turned him cruel and he can no longer see the beauty in anything besides the kings magic. Only those who have been at the castle for a while know about the kind natured person he used to be. Icarus was able to slightly melt the shards in his heart but was unable to completely do so before their father found out.

Caspian- Prince Charming 1. The brother in a set of two siblings sent by Queen Soraza as a peace envoy. He is adopted by the queen though still has rightful claim to the throne. While at the castle he has been seeing some odd things…perhaps more will be uncovered at the solstice ball that he’s attending. He is here for diplomatic reasons and to keep the allusion of peace. He’d much rather be doing anything else as this trip has already been taxing on him. He also was thrown from the ship while coming into port and considers it nothing less of a miracle that he didn’t drown…now if only he knew how.

Arisanna- Prince Charming 2. The only biological child of queen Soraza, nonetheless she does not wish for the throne. Ari does not trust anything here and the tree in the courtyard has particularly caught her eye… the flowers are gorgeous and it’s so vibrant. It’s almost…magical. She is here to investigate the claims that the king is putting curses on people.

Aax- the little mermaid. Interested by the humans, aax has been sneaking up to talk to a boy named Rae who’s he’s pretty interested in. However things take a turn when he watches a man get thrown overboard off a large ship during a storm. The man he saved was dressed very fancy and Aax left him on the beach despite wanting to stay and talk. Aax was told later by rae that this was actually the visiting prince! He wants desperately to follow Rae, to actually meet the man he saved, to not be stuck in the sea. When going to meet Rae on the beach later he finds a different man who offers him a deal in return for legs.

Ulysses- Triton/ the sisters(the little mermaid). Aax’s adopted parent, Ulysses is not very fond of Aaxs decision yet he is still trying to look out for them. After finding out about the deal, Ulysses looks more into it and finds a way for Aax to get out of it in time without losing his life. He’s not super ethical about it but he’ll be damned if he loses another family member to these humans.

Addie- Miss muffet. She owns a spider themed cafe! It’s called “the web” as she’ll always have information for you…just bring something to share as well! Addie lives on the outskirts of the kingdom as she does not wish to be anywhere near the king.

Haley- the mad hatter. A frequent customer at The Web, nobodies actually seen her out of it… most of her rambling means nothing you’re sure…hopefully. The king cursed her with madness long ago but that curse seems to actually have given her a large amount of knowledge of things she shouldn’t know.

Isla- fairy god mother. Nobody knows how she achieved this power nor how she escaped the king. The common people believe her to be dead. She has created a flaw in the kings otherwise unbreakable curses, causing true loves kiss to be the remedy to all of them. Perhaps she has experience of her own to speak from?

I didn’t wanna add too many gods cause honestly that would just make this so much harder but I did try to include all the players! This is already a very long post. Go ahead and try to add the existing gods in if you’d like! I just ask if you’re adding onto my stuff not to move anyone out of a slot