#made this for purely self indulgent reasons

[victoryrifle]

Charon my beloved - FALLOUT 3 [6/?]

[diurnalvl]

seven years ago, they used to be friends. almost.

1 / 2 / ?

[messrmoonyy]

Anna Torv as Tess Servopoulos in The Last of Us, episode 3

[sherbovania]

The Patriots Hate Him! Find out how this man still serves despite it all with this One Simple Trick

[the-sassy-noodle-allie-bug]

Oops I dropped this whoopsie doodle

I made this like last month

[lavenoon]

When you're 5'3 and the bf is 9'6 that makes for some interesting challenges

@naffeclipse I was normal about him two days ago, what did you do to me FHDJS

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘

- sylus x reader

from strictly professional to lovers. everyone acknowledges you as his woman, but how far will he go for you when he realizes you are in danger?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—brief smut, very self-indulgent, injuries, descriptions of violence and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: hi i'm back! <3 and with another part of the assassin!reader series that started with strictly (un)professional :D

Your lover is, without a doubt, a sex god.

He was insatiable, and he could do it anywhere. Before you could blink, he had shed himself of his clothes, saying something along the lines of “the sun’s way too hot today.”

As soon as Sylus pulled you into the pristine bathroom, he immediately pinned you against the shower wall and crashed his lips into you in a senseless kiss. His lips, hot and demanding, pried yours open, leaving no room for resistance.

“Ahh—hah—” His hands worked with dizzying speed, undoing your skirt and blouse in one swift motion, leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear.

A startled gasp escaped you as he pulled at the drawstring of your panties, making them slide down with ease to gather at your feet.

“—!” You rode him, pressing your body close against his bare skin. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head back as you gasped for breath, your chest heaving. Locking eyes with him, you shot him a glare. “Incorrigible… bastard…”

“Just the way you like me, hmm?” his perfect lips curled wickedly, before going for your lush lips once again.

It wasn't long before he made you an utter mess of moans and groans—when he slid inside you, stars burst behind your eyes. The way he stretched you, filling every inch, never ceased to catapult you to the heights of pleasure.

And when you rode him, taking him deep with every bounce, that you tasted the sixth heaven.

“Do it like you mean it, sweetie.” Sylus’s velvety chuckle brushed against your ear as he pressed a firm hand against your lower back, adjusting your angle on him. His gaze never wavered, fixed on your expression as bliss overtook your every feature.

“Shut up,” you hissed, dragging your sharp nails down his back. He only smirked, unfazed by the sting, as if the pain were nothing more than a tease.

The relentless man and his fierce lady. As the sounds of sex filled the air, as the tight knot inside you burst and he held you steady when you went limp in his arms—

In that hazy, blissful moment, a thought settled in your mind— you truly were made for each other.

. . .

"Tired already?" Sylus let out a satisfied snicker, a gleam in his eyes as he lazily ran his fingers through your hair. Now fully clothed and basking in the afterglow, the two of you sprawled across his bed.

You turned to your side, sighing. "Just let me be, please. I want to sleep."

"Boohoo." A smile was still on his face even as you wouldn't face him. The way your smaller frame curled next to him each and every night made that tender part inside him even more fond of you.

You were rough, you didn't mince words, and most of all, you weren't afraid of him. You grew on him day by day, no one got him better than you.

And now, before he realized it...

The night was still long for him and he was wide awake, but looking at you so peaceful like this...

It was purely by instinct. To put his arms around your waist, to pull you closer, and to press this lingering kiss on the side of your head.

“Sleep well, kitten.”

Beyond the lovemaking and tender nights was, of course, the infamous individuals. The Onychinus leader and his notorious lady assassin.

Throughout all years you had been with Sylus, you knew you were here for a reason: doing his dirty work. That reason wouldn't change even when you had become lovers. You wouldn't want it to anyway.

“I’m telling you, I’m going,” you declared, crossing your legs and lifting your chin defiantly. “I can extract the information much easier on my own anyway.”

Sylus turned to you, his glare quiet but pointed, unamused. “You won't be fast enough.”

“I can!”

“You have to learn to pick your fights, kitten. A kitten can only get out unscathed for so many times before she stumbles.”

“Don't call me kitten!”

It felt like an insult to your ability. It was strange to you how he seemingly prevented you to join him to infiltrate this black market auction. You had gone and came out whole several times already—except for that one time. So, what's different this time?

“I’m giving you the chance to sit this one out and be pretty. So why are you refusing?” he clicked his tongue, exasperated.

“I just want to tag along, why? It'll help you out too!”

“Tch.” He shot you a distasteful look, and you frowned in response. “You’re really meddlesome.”

Now you were positively irritated. “What?!”

The two of you were locked in a glare before he resigned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Do whatever you want, sweetie. Luke and Kieran, go with her.”

The twins next to you nodded dutifully and you threw them a withering stare. You most definitely didn't need these two buffoons to protect you.

“Boss is concerned,” Luke whispered in your ear with a wide grin as soon as Sylus walked away.

Kieran chimed in, “Mm-hmm, he definitely is.”

Is he? A part of you was caught off guard by the twins’ musings, but even if he was, it didn't make you feel better in the slightest.

You could hold your own; you were deadly, and you absolutely wouldn’t let anyone mess with you.

“Tell me who’s behind you... or die.”

You pressed the blade coldly against the neck of one of the black market Protocore dealers you caught, yanking his hair back to force him onto his knees.

“So, it’s you—!” he spat, a manic grin splitting his face despite your grip. “The Onychinus leader's infamous slut…”

You yanked his hair harder, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. “Tell me before I make you.”

“Ha. Hahaha!” He cackled, completely unfazed by your threat. This person was definitely not right in the head; even when you were this close to snapping his neck, he didn’t even falter.

“She is scary…” Kieran whispered to his twin behind you.

“No, that weirdo is even scarier. If I were him, I’d kiss Missus’ boots and beg for my life…” Luke retorted, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

The man in your grasp was still undaunted though. "Do you think I'm scared of you, woman? If so, then you're damn wrong because a whore like you can—"

"You misogynistic bastard." Your patience snapped, and you utilized your speech manipulation Evol on him that instant— "Talk."

"Urk—!" He trembled under the binding pressure of your ability, his glare sharp enough to cut, but his lips betrayed him, mouthing the words you sought. "Master... of Solon... Hotel..."

Without hesitation, you drove a punch into him, sending him sprawling across the scattered cardboard boxes. "Luke, Kieran—let's go."

Your mood had been sour since you geared up for this operation. There was this gnawing irritation inside you that made you just wanted to lash out at everything, and it was taking everything out of you not to.

Sometimes, you thought it wasn't that big of a deal that you were just a mere sidepiece to the leader of Onychinus. Your prized Evol was your everything— after all, it was what drew Sylus to you in the first place.

But lately, you started to think that it was no longer enough. Compared to the Miss Hunter, you were a generic presence in Sylus' life. And his words this afternoon definitely struck you in a way— making you wonder if you weren't good enough all this time.

"Missus, are you okay?" Kieran asked cautiously from behind, perhaps sensing the sharp edge in your demeanor.

You swallowed the bitter knot tightening in your chest. "I am."

"If you don't feel well then you can go straight back to the base," Luke suggested. "We'll meet Boss and tell him it's the hotel master."

You slammed your heel against the ground with deliberate force. "No."

You marched towards the meeting spot with stern gaze. No way. You were going to face Sylus with your head held high, making sure he knew just how lucky he was to have you.

"Please, if something happens to you—"

Crash! A deafening explosion suddenly erupted, throwing you off balance. You stumbled back, barely regaining your footing—only to find the three of you surrounded.

"Ha..." You scoffed, your eyes locking onto the bruised man with split lips—the one you'd manhandled earlier.

But before you could say a word, he lunged, and the absolute worst happened—

"Die!"

Suddenly, your mind blanked as he seized your throat and slammed your head against the asphalt. The impact blurred your vision, and exponential panic surged in as his grip tightened, choking the breath from your lungs.

"—!" You thrashed desperately, clawing at his hands, gurgling as each second drained more strength from your limbs. Lightheadedness crept in, your thoughts scattering into fragments as pure survival instinct took over.

You were going to die. If this went on any longer—no, you would die.

“You have to learn to pick your fights, kitten.”

The agony was beyond excruciating, a crushing force that felt like it pierced straight into your soul, if such a thing were possible. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the edges of your vision. Anything—anyone—Gods, Buddha, please—

But the last thing you saw was Kieran being stabbed, his body crumpling, and Luke pinned to the ground, struggling beneath the weight of his captors.

And then—

Your body felt weightless all of a sudden along with the last of your breath.

It was a dumpster fire.

Sylus stood there, his right eye glowing brightly as he surveyed the wreckage around him.

The destroyed grand hall would serve as a warning to the hotel master. It didn't take him long to figure out that he was behind the raid of his Protocore warehouse and sold them out to the black market dealers.

He had decided this was enough when he stalked out of the hotel, when he was greeted with another atrocious sight.

It was then he saw someone choking on another person on the ground, and the terror gripped him so fast that black and red mist shot toward that man, ensnaring him in a chokehold and pried him away from—

You. In your red dress. You laid there motionless.

He sprinted toward you, flipping your body to face him. The corners of your lips were bloodied, your neck marked with bruises, but most alarming of all—

You weren't breathing.

"Wake up." Sylus commanded, taking you in his arms, gently patting your cheek, feeling how cold it had become. "Wake up, sweetie. Hey—"

You remained still. And right in this moment, the thumping in his chest felt almost painful, because you couldn't possibly do this to him.

The one person who made his days better. He felt like a human the most while being with you, and yet now, you...

"Let me go!" the man behind him snarled, his voice a scream of fury. And as if a switch had flipped, he stopped trying to wake you, turning to him with eerie silence.

Just like that, he gathered you close, standing tall with you in his arms, even as your head lolled lifelessly against his chest. The right eye of his glowed sinisterly as he spat out the words:

"You have touched my woman."

His voice dripped with vengeance, the swirls of his red eyes glinted under the moonlight, hissing, "And you won't be getting out here alive."

The black-red mist that ensnared the man tightened its grip, and he let out a howl as it choked him relentlessly, desperation flooding his voice.

"No! Graagh—!"

Sylus quietly watched as his bones twist and crack, blood overflowing the hard ground, the life draining from him as he fell like a mangled ragdoll, making him an example for everyone present.

Luke and Kieran were frozen in horror at the grotesque sight, not even a squeak escaping their lips, before turning to their master, with the woman he ever cared about in his arms.

You were beautiful.

Even as you lay still, a cast around your neck and bruises marring your skin, you were still every bit as stunning as you had been before all of this.

Sylus took a seat next to you, his hand cradling your soft cheek silently. His mind ran through with all thoughts of how you were still going to be in pain even when you woke up.

But at least, he knew you were going to, and that was enough for now.

Twice. It was the second time in which your life was at stake and he found himself on the receiving end of devastating news. The first time, you had truly died, and by sheer luck and compatibility, your body hadn’t rejected the Aether Core. This time, you were caught in a freak accident.

The mere possibility made him numb. Everything about you was etched into the fondest depths of his soul, a part he never knew existed—

—and to see you like this, strangely, was a shot right through the heart.

. . .

The moment you awakened, agony filled in your senses.

Memories came back like a whiplash and adrenaline kicked in, you were about to scream when you realized—

No sound emerged from your throat. You were on the brink of a full-blown panic when a hand gently rested on your arm, and your lover came into view.

"Easy, sweetie," his baritone voice said. "You're fine."

But contrary to the calming words, your body suddenly began to shake uncontrollably. You couldn't distinguish where you were or how you had gotten here; all you could focus on was the haunting image of the man who had nearly choked you to death, and it didn't help that your throat felt like burning.

"Y/N." Sylus brought you to a sitting position, worry crossed his eyes. "What's wrong?"

You gasped for air, teetering on the brink of tears. Your chest heaved with every breath you could manage, yet despite your desperation, you couldn’t form a single word.

"Don't talk," he shushed, realizing your panic, holding your gaze firmly. "Rest for more days and you will be able to. Don't push yourself."

His voice grounded you, and you clutched at his arm for support. You were still trying to get yourself out of this illusion of danger that kicked all your senses alive.

Seeing your distress, Sylus pulled you into his embrace, gently patting your back. "There, there... I’m here. Nothing to worry about, hmm?"

He is here. You reassured yourself, working to steady your breath. He is here...

His voice lulled you, strong and steady, while his chest felt like a lifeline, anchoring you to the reality you had always had.

"So long as I'm here, I won't let anything of this kind ever happen to you again."

As long as he is here... You clung to him almost desperately. This was probably the most vulnerable side of yourself you had ever shown him, and yet in that moment, you were a whirlwind of emotions and couldn’t care less.

You aren't good enough. Your Evol is the only thing you have that is more precious than anything, and your fear whispers to you that you might just not hold any special position in his heart...

Strange how any of them no longer mattered anymore. When Sylus had you in his arms like this, you were sure. He simply made you feel safe more than anyone ever could.

You just had no idea just how much you meant to him as he whispered his promise into your ear.

"You have nothing to fear with me by your side."

[sttoru]

‘i told you once, that only two things will have me; you and death.’

☀︎｜tags. gojo satoru x female reader. fluff, angst, comfort. themes of insecurity: trust issues kinda (by reader). reader gets called ‘baby, princess, angel’. self indulgent. proof read? whats that

“aww, there’s my hardworking girl,” satoru coos whilst his arms move to hold your body captive against his chest in a much needed hug, “and she’s still lookin’ as pretty as ever! my god — c’mere.”

your over-excited lover cups your face in his hands and holds it like that for a second to admire. his thumb slides from your cheekbone to your lips, gently parting them before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. of course, he doesn’t leave it by that. satoru never does.

“pretty,” a kiss on your right cheek — “beautiful,” a kiss on your left one — “gorgeous,” a kiss on the tip of your nose — “amazing”, a kiss on your forehead — “sweetest,” a kiss on your chin — “lovely”, a kiss on the top of your head;

maybe it was the stress of the previous days that made you tear up. satoru has made it a daily routine: you come home, he welcomes you with open arms, showers you with his unending love and attention until you physically have to pull him away from your body. you sometimes ask yourself what you did to deserve someone so loving.

if satoru had heard you say the latter out loud, he would have kissed your mouth again to shut the thought down instantly. ‘you deserve everything and more’, you silently recall him saying once.

“stop that.” you mutter. the ‘that’ referring to the butterfly kisses and tight hugs he’s giving you. you tried not to seem in the mood for receiving his affection today. the muffled giggles leaving through your gritted teeth tell another story however.

“nu-uh,” satoru lets out a low chuckle, going right back to giving you what you deserve, “it’s like you’re askin’ me to stop breathing, baby. i can’t just not do this.”

satoru lifts you up into his strong arms and brings you over to the kitchen counter, settling you there - somewhere away from all that he had been cooking since the morning. he’s grinning from ear to ear, glancing from the covered plates near the stove and back to you.

you tilt your head curiously as you watch satoru grab one plate and uncover it, revealing the content like it was a big surprise—

“open up f’me, my princess.” your lover hums as he’s already guiding a piece of cake to your lips. your favorite cake which he had oh-so-obviously cooked himself judging by the messy look of it. your gaze lingers on the piece for a second to appreciate the gesture.

when you look back up at satoru, his eyes are already on yours — patiently waiting for you to let him feed you. his blue eyes are sparkling with a sense of pure excitement; one he only has around you. his love for you was almost overwhelming at times like these.

“why?”

the simple, one word question made the white sorcerer stop in his tracks. his head cocks to the side, eyelashes fluttering lightly in confusion, though the handsome smile on his face remains. ‘why’ could mean a lot of things in this context; why do you want to feed me? why do you want me to eat this? why should or even would i?

out of all the possible interpretations, satoru knew the exact one you had meant the moment he saw the tears that welled up at the corners of your eyes; ‘why do you care so much?’

“do i need a reason to?” his voice was smooth and soft. almost way too soft now that he’s realised just how vulnerable you were in front of him. satoru’s smile only widens, however — the sight of his girlfriend being overwhelmed by his affection was one he couldn’t resist.

it’s part of your charm. the charm you don’t know about; the charm that made the gojo satoru fall head over heels for you. your lover shakes his head with a light-hearted laugh, putting the slice of cake back down on the plate so he could hold your hands in his.

“i love you, yeah?” he kisses the back of your hands with utmost care before planting another one on your forehead again. satoru cradles your head against his chest afterwards, making you rest your weary body against his for as long as you needed it; his warmth and comfort, “it’s because i love you. that’s the only reason why, angel.”

you just nod in response — needing a moment of silence to recover, which satoru grants you without it having to be asked verbally. it’s like he knows just what goes on in your little head and is always updated about your changing feelings.

that’s what surprises you most. satoru’s super attentive to every single detail about you. from your unnoticeable habits to the big facts. that is what love truly is. that is how it feels like to have a man love you unconditionally—without any underlying or ulterior motives. without expecting anything back.

“i love you too, ‘toru. forever.” you reply eventually in a hushed whisper. the sorcerer only tightens his grip around your body, hugging you closer to his chest like his personal plushie. he nuzzles his nose into your hair — your scent both relaxing yet addicting.

“yeah,” satoru sighs in content and closes his eyes—allowing them to rest. all his senses are focused on making you feel better. he won’t let go of you until he’s sure you understand that you’re deserving of it all; his loving hugs, kisses, words of affirmation, gifts, comfort, cuddles and support.

“forever and beyond that.”

satoru doesn’t mind reminding you how much he cherishes you. even if he has to remind you every day until the day he succumbs. you’re his number one priority; he’ll even make sure to tell you he loves you with his dying breath when the time comes.

he’ll make sure of it.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae since u said u would be willing to do an ED reader here's a lil idea for James or tasm Peter but them with a gf who had a really bad ED before they met (he doesn't know) and she starts to relapse and he thinks she's just too stressed to eat or something (idk u can pick how the topic comes up) and just her telling him and him comforting her (this is a bit self indulgent bc idk how to tell anyone I'm dating that I'm struggling)

Hi lovely, thank you for your request!

cw: discussion and depiction of eating disorder, anxiety

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 916 words

You don’t seem much up for talking at dinnertime. Which is fine. James can talk for the both of you. 

He prattles on about Sirius’ one-way rivalry with the temp at his work while you cast him half-hearted, flickering smiles and push your food around your plate. He’s made sesame tofu, a first for James but he thought it turned out all right. His plate is clean, whereas yours is all mixed up but he’s fairly sure you’ve only eaten a couple of green beans. 

You don’t appear to notice when he finishes his story. Your fork seems almost limp in your hand. 

“If you don’t like it,” James says lightly, “I don’t mind making you something else, lovely.” 

You look surprised, then guilty. “No, sorry, it’s good.” 

It’s not like you would know, but James isn’t cruel enough to point that out. Aside from his own ego, he has other reasons to suspect his cooking has little to do with this. 

You’ve been strung up tight, lately. There’s a lot going on at work, some conflict with your boss you don’t really want to talk about, and drama in your family you want to talk about even less. James has tried to make home as comfortable and easy for you as he can, but understandably you’ve grown withdrawn, seemingly exhausted all day long. He wishes he knew how to do more for you. Wishes he could cast a bubble of pure goodness to put you inside so the only things that could get to you were the lovely things you deserve. 

“I know you’re stressed,” he says, gently as he can, “but you’ve got to eat, you know? It’s probably cold by now, you could have something else if it’s easier.” 

Something painful twinges in your expression. James reaches for your hand on instinct. 

“I get that you’ve got a lot going on, angel. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but we could.” 

You sigh. “No, it’s…I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking, Jamie.” 

James frowns, but forces himself to stay quiet. He has the familiar sense that all he’s doing is putting his foot in his mouth. 

After a minute, you say quietly, eyes lingering to the side of your plate, “I haven’t always been able to eat properly. It’s been…I’m a lot better about it than I used to be, but it’s still difficult sometimes. Like now.” 

Your hand feels tensed inside of James’. His heart has begun to ache lowly. James thinks he knows the term for what you’re trying to tell him, but he’s not about to lob it at you now, not if it could only make you feel worse. He tries comforting you the surest way he can think of, smoothing his thumb along the side of your hand. 

It at least seems to relax you enough to say more. “You’re not too far off, I guess, because it is sometimes worse when I’m anxious.” You glance up at him tentatively, an attempt at a smile on your lips. “Food’s just a bit more difficult for me right now.” 

“I’m sorry I brought it up like that,” says James, earnestness aching in the back of his throat.

You lift a shoulder. “How could you have known? Sorry I haven’t been eating your cooking.” 

“That’s not your fault, sweetheart.” Your gaze flees his again. Guilt and shame quiet James’ voice. “I’m sorry, I thought you were only stressed.” 

You give a little laugh. “I guess I am stressed.” 

“Yeah, and for good reason, but…can I hug you?” 

You nod, and James gets out of his chair, bending awkwardly to get his arms around you. Your fingertips press into the muscles of his shoulders. 

“It’s not quite so simple as stress, though, is it?” he murmurs into your shirt. 

He feels your chest contract with a sigh. “No,” you admit. 

“What can I do to help?” 

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, Jamie.”

“Not accuse you of not liking my cooking, though, surely.” 

Another little laugh, this one seemingly more genuine. “Yeah, that would help a bit, actually.” 

James worries about smothering you, backs up enough to see your face. His hands want to go there, too, one for each cheek. 

“Please tell me if you think of anything,” he says. You don’t agree but don’t look away from him either, which James figures is about as good as he’s going to get. “Would it be any easier if we ate in front of the telly?” 

You chew your lip. “It might, yeah. I’m not sure.” 

“You don’t have to make any promises,” he assures you, taking up your plate and bringing it into the kitchen. “Do you want me to reheat this for you? Or we could have something else?” 

You linger at the edge of the kitchen, fingers bundled up in your sleeves. “I’d like to try to finish that, if that’s okay.” 

“Of course it’s okay, m’love. More than okay.” James presses some buttons on the microwave, then turns to you, requisitioning you for another hug. He kisses your hair. “Thank you for telling me.” 

Your voice is soft. “Thank you for listening.”

He scoffs, squeezing you around the middle so that you squeal. “You make it sound like a chore. Don’t be so ridiculous.” James presses another kiss to your hair before releasing you. “Go find something good for us to watch, sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”

[mewguca]

Shame

this is a rather personal piece; it's primarily based on my own struggles

It probably could've been executed better (like having more of the interaction she's agonizing over), but I really wanted to focus on that visceral reaction of shame, guilt, and self-criticism

here's a long ramble I wrote while starting this ...

I realize, perhaps much of the reason certain depictions of moon trigger me so much is due to my own overwhelming shame and guilt. It's a defense mechanism crafted because I yet lack the strength to accept myself. I suppose that's why characters like Five Pebbles are so appealing to me — he is someone I've given the room to express his faults, his flaws, his hatred, his despair, his pain, and all his imperfections... For him to be mean or angry is natural and expected, so it's not as scary to express my negative feelings with him as the instrument. He's not a "good person", after all, so it's fine if he is "bad." His standards aren't as high.

Conversely, because I idealize LTTM so much and connect her to myself, I deny her the same things I deny myself. I do it without even thinking, really...

I've often thought, "but this sort of emotion doesn't really suit her... isn't this sort of projection too self-indulgent? If I made this, it'd be too obvious that my own emotions are bleeding through onto the canvas..."

So, I wonder if she's experienced that same sort of emotional repression. It'd be cathartic, in an unfortunate way. To see someone else struggle to grapple with such things, because they want to be pure and virtuous and not upset others...

It's harder when you spend so much time shaping that perfect, faultless, virtuous sort of image, especially when you do it reflexively. Unconsciously. You're making the pressure for yourself worse, but you can't stop... I'm actually not a very friendly person. I'm actually quite afraid and irritable, and I push people away when they get too close. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want anyone to hate me... I don't want to cause suffering or strife. Sometimes, I wish I could just be a completely passive observer.

But I suppose I'm a human being instead, so I have to accept that. Thanks for reading, I guess. I'm not really looking for emotional support here... I just want to be understood.

[kiwisandpearls]

I think the reason why I get really annoyed at the “this fictional content isn’t ok because it glorifies/romanticizes (x)” is because like…not all fictional content is made for educational purposes. Some fictional content is made purely for self-indulgent purposes or for escapism.

not only that but to a point it kinda gives off the vibes that the person making that argument relies solely on fictional content to guide their morals and tell them what’s right and what’s wrong, which I don’t think is the case for people arguing this point but still, that’s just the vibe I get.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Sukuna "asshole to the world, sweetheart to his girl" Ryomen

🎀minors and ageless blogs will be blocked 🎀

Pairing: Yakuza!Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

Genre: Smut, dark hero.

Word Count: 1450

Warnings: first off, fucking sukuna himself is a warning on his own so let's just start there. Possessive Sukuna, dark sukuna, yakuza sukuna, shitty boss, mean fucking asshole boss, violence, against boss, dacryphillia, p in v sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, read at your own discretion.

Summary: Sukunas heard you cry because of your boss one too many times. He takes matters into his own hands

A/N: This absolutely SPECTACULAR ART is by @innaillus and you can find the original here.

I want to thank her, not only for allowing me to use this as a banner but also for making such amazing art and sharing it with us. ♥️

This is a purely self indulgent fic. If you don't like it, please don't read it. I had a shitty week and needed a place to cool off.

Sukuna Ryomen glared down at your boss. He’d come in to pick you up and heard the creature screaming at you for something he already knew wasn’t your fault. You’d told him about the trouble you were having with your co-workers who slacked off and your shitty fucker of a boss who for some reason didn’t tell them off, but instead unloaded his anger on you. This would be the last time this pathetic vermin made you cry, he vowed.

He pushed open the door to your small office and stalked in. You stood in the corner trying to make yourself as small as possible, silent tears streaming down your face as your boss kept berating you – not even noticing his presence. One of the other workers tried to step in his way but he shoved them aside like they were nothing more than window curtains. He placed himself in between you and the balding middle aged man who dared to call himself your boss. “Hey nimrod, she doesn’t work for you anymore. Don’t fucking yell at her.”

The man cowered. Sukuna was taller than him and his crossed arms made his thick muscles ripple under his skin.

“Ryo…” you whispered

“Wh-who let th-this man in here? Sir, th-this is an office space. You n-need to leave.” your boss sneered at your saviour.

Sukuna merely smirked at you and pulled you into his side placing his lips on the top of your head in a chaste kiss. “Yeah, don't worry, I’ll be going pretty soon. Breathing the same air as you is making me feel nauseated. Can't believe the patience my baby girl had with your shit-ass, fucker” his first met the man's stomach with a sickening squelching crunch, and your now ex-boss, crumpled onto the floor in a heap.

“I'm gon-gonna call the cops on you asshole’ he croaked out.

Sukuna just laughed. “Have at it, ya great ballsack.”

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

When Sukuna came to pick you up from work that day he had planned the night down to a T. He’d wanted to take you to a new movie that you'd been itching to see but hadn't had the time. He would follow that with a fancy sushi dinner at the city's best restaurant and then take you to the outskirts where there was a nice little viewpoint he had discovered where he planned on showing you the stars – in more than one way…

But when you didn't come out at your specified time, nor answer the cute message he’d sent you – Where you at, kitty-kat? – Sukuna decided to investigate and came across your asshole of a boss yelling at you. He’d had enough. You’d been coming home and complaining about him and even once returned in tears. It took everything he had to not rip the bastard’s throat out. But he was done with you being abused. You deserved better. Which is exactly what he told you now as you lay with him on the hood of his car.

The plans had been altered slightly, you would be watching the movie with him the next day. He’d skipped the fancy sushi and instead opted for your favourite comfort food – Chinese cuisine. Slurping down saucy noodles, and munching on crispy gyoza always made you feel better he knew and he found himself smiling at your joy. He’d then driven you to his secret viewpoint. You sat there on the hood of his car with him beside you. In the distance, the pretty lights of Tokyo lit up the horizon and reflected off your lover's red eyes. Above you, the stars twinkled in their own magic…

Something about you had him wrapped around your finger. One of the most feared yakuza, putty in your hands. Of course, no one knew the connection. It was all kept hushed for your convenience.

“Kitty-kat?” Sukuna called to you and you looked up at your man. “You know— you know I’m rich enough to support both of us easily right?”

You hummed. “Yes, but I don’t wanna be some dainty housewife, sitting and waiting for my husband to come home and serve him dinner Ryo! I have a whole ass degree that a lot of money was spent on, I’d like to use it babe!”

“Husband?”

“What?”

“You said, husband. Not boyfriend. Or SO. Or partner. You said husband.”

“Yeah… I said husband…”

“You wanna marry me?”

“I mean, yeah, eventually right?”

Sukuna crashed his lips into yours in a heated kiss; all teeth and tongue. He pulled your body close, pressing against you. “I want you so bad right now, future wife. I want you so fucking badly.” He half growled in your ear.

“You have me Ryo. I’m right here.” you replied. You tugged at Sukunas pants and he unbuckled his belt. Sukuna grinded against your thigh while kissing you. His hands tugged at the buttons on your blouse, undoing them as he went. You could feel the bulge growing in his jeans. He kissed down from your lips, to your jaw, to your neck down to the valley of your breasts.

“I wanna fuck you.” He looked at you with a lidded gaze “May I? I won’t be able to stop if we go further than this kitty-kat.”

You lifted your leg to rub against his clothed cock. “I’d leave you right now if you didn’t, Sukuna Ryomen. So fuck me already.” Sukuna flashed you a fanged smile and dipped his head pulling down your bra and freeing your breasts. He bit and licked and sucked, actions that were sure to leave marks on you. Further south his fingers pushed aside your panties and found entrance. He slowly worked his way into you, rubbing gentle circles in your skin. You allowed yourself to let go and dirty moans slipped out from your lips. Your fingers tangled in his pink hair – so soft, so smooth.

Once he had you dripping, he lay back down and ordered, “Sit on my face, and suck my cock while you’re at it.”

You followed, undoing his zipper and pulling his boxers and jeans off his semi-hard cock. You tentatively licked his head as you positioned your pussy right about his face. Sukuna pushed your skirt up and ripped your panties with a practised ease, pulling your hips down to his face. He loved having you like that. Every time he flicked his tongue against your clit your pussy would visibly tighten. You’d drool down the length of his cock hypnotised. Tongue flat against it as you struggled to maintain composure. It wouldn’t take long for him to make you cum all over his face for the first time. Legs quivering and hips shaking he brought you down again, laying you on the hood for him.

He lined up his cock – now rock hard from your mouth – with your entrance and sank into you. Slowly pushing his bulbous head, followed by his girthy length. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Sukuna thrust up into you. Your lips were hot and burning. You felt a wave of emotion come through and tears welled up in your eyes.

“Fuck Ryo— feels s’good!”

Sukuna snarled and increased his pace. His eyes glinted dangerously. “Feels good, huh kitty-kat! Gonna make you mine. No man’s gonna dare fuck with you again.” His movements were rough and jagged but drew out the pleasure in your core. The tightly wound knot in your abdomen built up with each movement, each drawn out pull, each hard thrust. You arched your back desperate to have him more, more, more!

Your second climax hit just as Sukuna grabbed a fistful of your hair. Your cunt spasmed, clasping around him and you cried out his name in a debauched prayer.

Sukuna looked more composed than he felt. His cock throbbed inside you, attuned to the flutters of your pussy. Just because you’d come didn’t mean he would stop. He chased his own release inside of you pulling your hair back, devouring your lips. His cock bullied you to the point of overstimulation. Tears ran down your cheeks again but this time they were those of pleasure.

He came, towering over you, eyes squeezed shut, head buried in the crook of your neck. His giant frame collapsed onto you and he carefully rolled off to the side so he wouldn't crush you.

“So, about that husband thing…”

You turned to look at him, blushing. “Ryo…”

He held up a ring; the ring his father left him. Gold work, carved into a dragon that held a shiny black pearl in its claws.

“I’ll get you a prettier one later, I promise but for now…” he took a deep breath. “Marry me, kitty-kat?”

A/N: please note this was a very hurried creation and edit, if you do find any errors or typos feel free to point them out KINDLY. Thank you for reading.

As always likes and reblogs are much appreciated and comments will earn you kissies!

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : porn with little plot, pure filth actually (quite self-indulgent), slight food play?, food sharing, slight public teasing if you squint, essentially just xavier being a little shit (again), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, cum eating, praise, use of pet name "angel", references to "childhood snacks" secret times, lmk if i missed any tags!! ((unedited))

wc : 4.5k

an : has NO ONE ELSE noticed how often strawberry is mentioned in xavier's cards?!!! and also, thank you for 500+ follows where did you all come from omg,,,

You were far better than any candy.

It wasn't often that the two of you got to spend a day outside together.

With how your occupations treated the both of you, most of your days off were much-preferred to be spent indoors—cuddling, watching a movie, or whatnot... and Xavier, of course, was always very fond on catching up on his sleep. Not that you ever minded; in fact, you found those extra days of simple rest very welcome. In your little afternoon naps, Xavier's presence by your side was always comfortable under the warmth of the sunlight.

But...

Sometimes, days like this were just as welcome.

Despite the Linkon heat, you wore a big smile on your face as Xavier helped you off the viking ride, gently guiding you as you stepped out of the ceramic boat. You dusted off your dress, looking back at the boat with a wistful gaze.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" He echoed your thoughts, slowly lacing his fingers together with yours in the exact way that made your heart flutter.

You looked back at him with another smile, falling into step with him. In your mind you recalled the brush of the wind in your faces as the ride swung higher and higher, the thump in your heart recalling the thrill of it and turning your smile into a full-blown grin. "Yeah!" you nodded enthusiastically. "I'm glad we went with your suggestion. Starting off with the more relaxing rides and working our way to the fun ones... You get to feel the thrill all the more!"

You caught the way his gaze softened, and he gently squeezed your wrist. "The face you make when you're excited is really pretty."

His comment came casually, and he nodded lightly to himself, almost as if confirming his statement as a pink blush slowly made its way to the tips of your ears.

"When you're embarrassed, too," he added with a smile.

You would never tire of it—how he would always make you fluster with his words, so nonchalant, so unexpected. He had that sort of habit, especially with you—the gall he had to present himself so unassuming and casual, you could never understand it, but it did the job quite well and sent your heart for a ride of its own.

With a little huff, you looked away. "You, too, then!" you could tease back normally, but this time, your response held a little less bite to it, and Xavier laughed.

"If that's how you feel, then I won't complain."

The two of you paused in front of a souvenir shop, and immediately, you felt your eyes brighten. Your grip on his hand tightened. "Xavier—"

"You want to go, right?" He had that same, knowing, gentle smile on his face, and he inclined his head towards the entrance. "Sure, then."

"But... you have to come with me!" Again, you tugged at his arm.

But there was a glint in his eyes, almost as if he knew what you were planning.

Xavier shook his head. "How about this? You can surprise me with something from this shop... And then it'll be my turn to surprise you at the next one we come across." He made a quick glance at the map in his other hand. "I think it sounds fair. Don't you?"

You could pout at his words, but there was truth in what he spoke—even as you looked at him inquisitively, you could find nothing that showed he wouldn't keep this promise, and there was no reason to refuse.

Except...

Curiously, you peered at him.

"You should know exactly what's in store for you," you narrowed your eyes playfully. "Why are you indulging me today?"

Xavier shrugged, then, and even the smile on his lips couldn't prepare you for his next statement, so raw, and honest, and genuine that it made your heart turn—"I like seeing you happy."

There wasn't an ounce of mirth in his eyes when he spoke this, and perhaps, though he was normally straightforward with you and affectionate like this at the most random of times, it would never prevent the butterflies from racing in your stomach.

Blushing, you turned away, letting go of his hand and walking to the store.

"...Wait for me here, then!"

And perhaps, it could have been part of his plan to ease you out of bullying him the way you often did, for it surely worked:

You returned out of the store not with matching bunny headbands like you'd originally intended, but cat ones, instead.

Close enough, you thought.

With a small smile, you shielded your eyes from the sun and glanced around for Xavier, only to spot him lounging near an empty bench by the fountain. It was closer to the bushes and a lot cooler with the breeze, seeing as it was a spot much further away from the crowds of people. His legs were crossed as he flipped through the pages of one of his little pocket books, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, no doubt a sign that he, too, was feeling a little hot with the noontime sun at its peak.

As you approached with the headbands in your hand, your footsteps slowed when you noticed him reach upwards to brush the hair out of his face, his mouth opening slightly to guide the lollipop he had from one side of his cheek to the other.

Despite yourself, you gulped—

And curse how attractive of a boyfriend you truly had.

When he looked up at you, you'd barely registered for yourself that you had settled down to sit beside him, and his eyes drifted to the headbands in your hand.

"...Cat headbands?" He momentarily took the lollipop out of his mouth and raised his eyebrows at you, clearly amused. "I was expecting something else."

But you didn't reply.

Your eyes met, then, and a small, tiny tiny little smirk played on his face. It told you everything you needed to know.

Instead, you noted the slight stick of candy on the corner of his mouth, and when he put the treat back in, you barely noticed the way he took the headband from you and promptly put it over his head. Your eyes instead were focused on the way he languidly swirled his tongue over the candy.

He let out a hum of consideration as he looked at himself through the locked screen of his phone, but when the lollipop shifted around in his mouth again, his eyes turned back to you—

You had been caught.

Instinctively, you pulled your hand away from him, but he was quick as he held it in place, slowly sliding the lollipop back out of his mouth and twirling the stick between his thumb and his forefinger thoughtfully.

"This? Oh... Someone came by with all sorts of candies to sell. The children were crowding him, but I managed to get one." His gaze switched from the lollipop and then back to your face, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sorry, angel... Did you want one, too?"

"You, um.... You didn't tell me you were gonna get one..." Your voice was thick when you spoke, and you fumbled slightly with your words.

He smiled.

Something in you told you it would be dangerous if you dared to answer, but you found that you couldn't look away from him. "...Mhm," you nodded your head, honestly speaking, even as your breath caught in your throat when he reached over to stroke the side of your face.

"We can look for a candy store next," he murmured.

You watched his eyes drop to your mouth, and he slid the thumb of his hand slowly down to your lip, his smile almost widening at the way your jaw dropped opening ever so slightly.

"Guess you don't want to wait."

Without waiting, his other hand, holding the lollipop, still wet and half-dissolved from how it had stayed in his mouth prior to your arrival, and slid it into yours. Your gazes locked as you instinctively curled your tongue around the candy, wandering over every inch of it, taking in its flavor before swallowing.

And he smiled.

"It's strawberry bubblegum," he nodded at you, again speaking somewhat matter-of-factly, but that same sly, sly smile was still plastered on his face.

Then he pushed.

A slow, filling push, as he slid the pop further into your mouth.

You gasped at the feeling, unable to help the way you sucked on the candy, unable to stop yourself from maintaining eye contact and seeing every little way pure delight would make its way to his features.

Your tongue swirled over the lollipop, lips parting when he withdrew it, feeling the way your mouth would stick with sweetness before he was guiding it back into you, twirling the stick between his fingers and allowing you to taste it again, and again. And he remained silent as he did it; slowly, precisely guiding the treat in and out of your mouth, having you breathe carefully through your nose as you looked up at him with your eyes half-lidded.

The edges of your mouth were coated with saliva and melted sugar, sticky as you swallowed all of the flavor that you could, dissolving the candy with your tongue as much as you possibly could.

When the candy remaining on the stick was considerably small, he pulled the treat out of your mouth and back into his, biting it off with an almost cheeky grin.

"It's good, isn't it?" he hummed, making a show of licking his fingers clean in front of you, watching as your eyes shifted to once again follow the movements of his tongue, and smirking slightly as your breathing became short and quick.

"Something wrong, angel?" he tilted your head back up to meet his eyes, voice so soft that you could melt. He noted the way your skin was wet and sticky, shining with the residue of the candy, and he didn't wait for your answer.

Instead, he leaned over to lap at your chin, quick, small kitten licks up your jawline until he was kissing you, making you taste the thick, sweet flavor of the strawberry lollipop still llingering in your mouths.

When he pulled away, you were dazed, your heartbeat erratic, barely processing the way he handed you a wipe to actually properly clean your face, your lips turning down into a pout.

"...You're unfair, Xavier," you whined.

You pouted even as he placed your headband onto your head, clearly smiling with satisfaction at the way the both of you matched.

"Why's that, angel?" he hummed, feigning innocence like he often did.

And it pissed you off, it really did—he was infuriating when he wanted to be, even after all he'd done just now, the taste of the candy still lingering on the tip of your tongue.

"Oh, come on! How can you do all of that and act like nothing happened?" you huffed. "I want you..."

His eyes crinkled up in joy as he laughed, reaching over to pat your head. "But we're here for the rides, aren't we? You said you'd go on all of them."

When you crossed your arms and looked away, pressing your thighs together in a way that he definitely noticed, he only chuckled once more and gave you a small kiss on the top of your head.

"Later," he murmured, "I promise. But for now... We shouldn't waste our admission tickets."

You couldn't argue after that.

He had a point, after all—and luckily for you, in the end, it wasn't too hard for you to let your arousal slip off your mind for the rest of the day.

Instead, you simply enjoyed being in his company.

Each ride you took, from the drop tower to the rollercoaster to even a little game of bumper cars, was as exhilarating as the last. Even winning a target game against him by barely a single point had you jumping up and down with glee, your arm carrying a big, fluffy white bunny that you confidently stated looked a lot like him. And almost like an unspoken promise, he didn't tease you any more than he already had—the cotton candy remained cotton candy, the marshmallows remained marshmallows, and the animal crackers were eaten just as they should be.

By the time you both had walked back to your apartment, the little bag in his hand containing whatever "surprise" he'd gotten for you rustled against his wrist, and you peered curiously into it once you settled with him on the couch.

"Candy?" you questioned doubtfully as you pulled out a little packet of licorcice, but your eyes shone when you eagerly popped it into your mouth and chewed.

Xavier shrugged, leaning back into the couch. "That... last time we tried snacks together was fun, so I figured you'd appreciate another one."

You almost laughed. "But those were my childhood snacks! These are just your typical candy! We could've tried these any day, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow, taking a chewable candy into his mouth. "We could've worn animal ears any other day, too."

This time you grinned, and settled into his arms. "Yeah, you're right. I have a sweet tooth, anyway, so I'll gladly eat candy with you. You didn't need to set this up..."

You fished into the bag and pulled out a smaller bag of chocolate bits, its brand unfamiliar to you as you held it up.

"Oh, I thought you'd like that one," Xavier spoke first this time. "You like milk chocolate, don't you?"

Something in your heart sparked at the mention, and you couldn't help but smile. "You remembered!"

Your hands were eager as you opened up the packet, unwrapping one piece and putting it into your mouth.

The first bite had your eyes sparkling wide, noting how it melted into your mouth as you chewed.

Xavier looked at you, amused. "Is it good?"

You were excited as you took out another piece of chocolate, and you nodded—this time, you closed your eyes to savor the taste, letting yourself relax into the richness of its flavor. "Mmm... t'so good..." You'd barely noticed the way your satisfaction had the tone of your words twisting into something mildly inappropriate, your eyes still closed as you chewed. And you couldn't have registered that particular smile edge at Xavier's lips once more.

But Xavier wouldn't let you off the hook that easily.

"Hmm. Could I try some?" His voice was close to your ear when he murmured out his words, but you were happy to oblige him, clearly not catching onto his intentions.

You held up the bag of chocolates for him, taking yet another into your mouth—

Instead, he smirked down at you and gently set the chocolates back into the bag with the rest of the candy, pushing it off the couch as his lips found yours.

Your eyes widened, his tongue mixing with yours and tasting for himself the milkiness of the chocolate you'd eaten, his own eyes half-lidded as he lowered you onto the couch. When your head hit the armrest, all sense of arousal from earlier at the theme park came rushing back to you in waves, and you gave in.

Xavier pulled away only to kiss you once more with increasing fervor, and you moaned into the kiss, feeling any rational thought seep from your head within seconds. Your arms were around his neck and his hand was in your hair, your clothed bodies flush against each other as the kiss, the moment, became steadily more passionate, steadily more heated.

The bag of candy slumped on the ground beside the couch, easily long-forgotten with the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue soft and wet in your mouth as the heat slowly began to crawl over to your cheeks. When he pulled back, you were flushed, breathless. His body hovered over yours, his hair hanging over your face, his eyes displaying a lingering sense of desire that mirrored your own.

You swallowed thickly.

"Yeah," Xavier breathed, his voice hushed. He licked his lips. "The chocolate tastes good."

You could barely believe he was still talking about that.

"I-I don—"

"But... I have an idea of what would taste better."

He cut off the beginnings of your protest with a little smirk, and you could see the way his eyes raked over your body to where the skirt of your dress had ridden up just enough to expose the side of your panties.

Your heart thrummed loudly in your chest.

"Wh- what would that be?" You tried testing him, tried to look into his eyes to gauge what his next move was.

"You don't know, angel?" He murmured as he drew closer to you once more, lips barely touching yours, his hot breath fanning over your face.

Feebly, you whimpered, but you didn't dare make a move.

Xavier dipped down to bury his face into your neck, and breathed in deeply. "You smell like strawberries."

Your breath hitched.

"Did you plan this? Your lotion... It's new."

You felt his hands snake underneath your dress, pushing the fabric upwards to grip firmly on your waist. The contact on your bare skin made your eyelids flutter closed.

"F-for you," you replied, your breath shaky.

"For me?"

"Y-you... You like strawberry, so I thought I, um... would make you happy with it..."

Xavier pulled back away from you with a warm smile, his hand leaving your waist momentarily to brush the hair out of his face.

"You always make me happy no matter what you do, angel," he spoke sincerely, genuinely, despite the heated moment that the both of you had just shared. But his eyes narrowed almost playfully, and he tilted his head to the side with a short laugh. "But you don't know how much I've been waiting to eat you up because of that scent."

His words made you whine, a mixture of both pride and embarrassment coarsing through your body at the fact that you had been the one to get him all needy like this for you.

"So, angel..." Xavier trailed his fingertips over your thighs, pushing them apart as he shifted downwards, closer to your core. Another smile teased at his lips when your breath hitched, but his eyes never left yours. "May I?"

You threaded your hands into his hair, and your eyes fell closed.

"Okay."

His lips were on your thighs then, warm and soft as he trailed his kisses upwards. And the sensation of it all made you shiver, but you could almost feel the way it affected him, too. He'd let out soft sighs against your skin, drinking in your scent and your warmth, and then his kisses would almost get needier, craving you just as much as he made you crave him.

You gasped the minute he pressed himself closer to your clothed cunt, breathing in your scent yet again and then poking his tongue out at the wetness that had gathered in your center. Then from there, his movements became quick—his hands shifted beneath your hips, lifting them upwards towards him, your legs draped over his shoulders as he pushed your panties to the side. You couldn't help the way your mouth fell open with a drawn-out moan of his name once he ran his tongue through your folds, licking a wet stripe from your slit upwards.

Your fingers gripped desperately into his hair.

Such a simple motion already had you reeling.

"You even taste like fucking strawberries," he mumbled, before he repeated the motions, long, slow, languid licks that geadually turned to gentle lapping at your wetness. His tongue moved upwards to flick occasionally at your clit, and you could revel in the way he looked—so lost in your taste, his quiet groans reverberating through your body.

And then your thighs trembled around his head, and your eyes widened at the smooth, silky prodding of his tongue as it finally slid inside of you.

"O- oh, god," you leaned your head back against the armrest of his couch, your eyes falling shut once more.

You could have sworn you felt him smile.

With another moan, your hand fell from his head back onto the couch, searching for purchase only for him to reach out, taking advantage of the way you arched your back, and catch your hand with his.

He laced your fingers through together even as he continued to swirl his tongue in your heat, drinking up your arousal, pressing his face closer and closer into you—despite the obscenity of his ministrations and the noises that fell from your lips, the simple action of holding your hand almost made you swoon.

And he didn't dare let go of it.

"I— haah— Xavi—!"

Feeling a familiar knot form in your stomach, you began to languidly roll your hips against his face, matching the way his tongue would dance over and in your folds. In response, Xavier moved with fervor in his actions, focusing on sucking at your clit, flicking his tongue in ways he knew you loved best.

You barely noticed the way his other hand had also left its spot by your hips before a finger entered where his tongue had earlier been—he hooked it inwards, curling just right to hit your sensitive spot, and you let out another loud moan.

"Fuck—! X-Xavier!" You threw your head back, gripping his hand tightly, your other digging desperately into his couch. Your body writhed, a sharp rush of pleasure making you shudder and cry out more of his name as he continued to swirl around your clit, and another finger carefully prodded at your hole.

You couldn't see the way he smiled at you, but you felt it—felt it in the way he sucked on your bud, felt it in the way he stretched you out and moved his fingers in and out of you, until you snapped.

Your hips bucked upwards and into him, holding in place, as your body succumbed to the pleasure.

"X—Xavi—er!" You cried, and his hand holding yours made sweet, gentle caresses over your skin, his tongue still lapping up all that you had to give him. He let out a hum as he moved from your cunt, to your thighs, to your belly, and up to the exposed skin on your neck, leaving a loving trail of kisses, and then he rest his forehead against yours.

"Did that feel nice?" he whispered, lips meeting yours in quick, fond pecks, blue eyes nearly shimmering with how much affection he held for you.

It was more than nice, you thought, but you answered him with a kiss. And as he continued to kiss you back, Xavier edged his hand downwards, slowly, slowly, before the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance—

The contact made you gasp and arch upwards. "Xavi—?!"

"Nnh... Please, angel?" He sighed, nuzzling your nose, massaging your hand. "'M not done with you yet. You can give me more, right?"

You whimpered.

You could feel the sensitivity from your earlier orgasm, unsure if you could truly push yourself for another one. But his cockhead would dip in so... nicely. Xavier was teasing, testing you as he waited for your reply—

And you couldn't resist.

When you gave him a feeble nod, he smiled.

"That's my girl."

The praise made you shiver with delight as he pushed into you slowly, setting an unhurried place, his lips back onto your skin as he nibbled just over your collarbone.

"Ngh... Xavier..." you whined as he slid all the way into you and his teeth grazed your skin, the sting of his bite somewhat foreign, but not unwelcome. "T-tomorrow, we have a..."

"Wear a scarf," he mumbled, barely looking up at you before he shifted to suck on the area next to the mark he'd just made, his intentions with you very clear. In seconds, every roll of his hips against yours, coupled with the way he would bruise at your skin and leave visible evidence of your activities, had you throwing your head back with a moan.

"Mmf—fuck, Xavi," you gripped his body tightly against yours, feeling the way his cock would stretch your walls so perfectly.

"Mh? 'S it good?"

He angled his thrust right against the spongey spot in your walls, and you gasped, feeling the way he would smile against your neck.

It was clear affirmation for him, if your moans of his name didn't already give him enough of it—and despite the fact that you had already cum once, he was adamant on getting you to that high once more.

"Feels good for me, too," he groaned as his pace began to pick up, the faint sounds of skin slapping reaching your ears. Each stroke of his length moved with purpose, hitting that same spot over and over and over, your mouth falling open in whimpers and moans of his name.

"Ah— X- Xavier!" You bucked your hips to match his pace, his grip on you getting tighter, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

Your eyes met, and you keened at the way his hair fell over his face, his eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "...You're so beautiful, angel," he breathed, nearly panting, his thrusts becoming quicker and more erratic.

And you could have thrown the words back at him, were you not so lost in your pleasure as you clenched around his cock, gripping his hand tightly in yours.

"C-close— Xavi—!"

You began panting, your vision hazy, as he rut his hips into yours.

"Mhm— almost there— angel— fuck—"

One final thrust had him collapsing onto your body, pulling your own release out of you as he spilled inside, his cock twitching within your walls as he came.

"Xavier..." you whined, reaching to wrap your arms around him, almost cradling him as he groaned into your skin. "Xavier, I..."

He hushed you with a sloppy kiss, and you could feel the way a significant amount of energy had seeped from his body as he gave you a tiny little smile.

"I love you too, angel," he mumbled, before he was sliding down your body once more, your eyes widening when he settled between your thighs yet again.

"H-huh? What are you—ah—!"

You shuddered and gasped at the contact of his tongue back on your folds, still sensitive as you pushed his cum out of you. But yet his eyes remained on yours, and he stuck out his tongue out to continue lapping at the mess he'd made in your cunt.

"Xavier!" you cried. "P-please, no more...!"

He shook his head slightly. "Shh, angel. Don't worry, relax. Just let me clean you up," he mumbled, taking a dollop of your fluids into his mouth, and then swallowing as you watched, your face flushing red.

There was a small, almost cheeky smile lifting the corners of his mouth when he raised his head slightly.

"It's better than candy."

⁺₊ / an: took a break from requests to get this up before we all get "unique aftertaste", bc this was mildly inspired by the trailer! <3 xavi with food play has been on my mind a lot, if it wasn't obvious yet...

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[curtsycream]

Heyyyy it's me again

Okay so

Poly141 (all dating each other) where they're all like. Lounging in the living room, watching a movie or something. Reader is upstairs in the bathroom (she made an excuse to get away), looking at herself too much in the mirror. She tries to hide she's insecure, but Johnny comes upstairs to find her, and he sees her staring and grabbing her stomach. He watches for a second but when he sees her tearing up, he walks in, picks her up, and takes her to the guys downstairs. He makes her explain to them what he saw, and it turns into fluffy smut? Like the guys are over here like "?????? stfu before i put my baby in you 🙄" and it's gets a little rough, but still fluffy?

Idk it's hella self-indulgent, but no pressure if you don't wanna write it :)

Beautiful Woman

Poly!TF141 x F!Reader

Heyyyyy, how ya doing? I would never turn down a request like this. I hope you like it lovely <33

warnings: not proofread to the highest tier, Soap’s accent is thick (I apologize couldn’t help it), body insecurities, a bit of dysmorphia if you read into it, penetration (p in v), oral (f receiving), idk

Movie nights were always her favorite as she leaned her head on Soap’s shoulder. Her fingers entwined with Ghost’s as they watched Grownups. The movie selection was Gaz’s as he seemed to find the movie pure comedy gold. He felt the same about Mall Cop, something Price could partially agree with.

Laughter from Soap and Gaz filled the room along with Ghost’s random commentary. She was enjoying herself but that gut wrenching feeling was there. Where it felt as if all eyes were on her. She knew it wasn’t that way but her mind made it hard to think clearly. At first she simply wrapped her free arm around her stomach. But it wasn’t enough she knew they weren’t but in her mind they were laughing at her. It was nauseating, standing up abruptly she let a half-baked excuse leave her lips. “Need to use the bathroom,” she told them when they looked to her.

They didn’t notice anything off until she went upstairs. There was a perfectly fine bathroom downstairs but she didn’t go to it. Sharing a look they took a moment to write it off. They didn’t want to cause any alarm when she probably forgot.

The bathroom door slammed close, her eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror. Many times have they assured her that they loved the way she looked. But insecurities like that never went away at the drop of a hat. Raising her shirt she turns to the side looking at her side profile. The way her stomach looked bothered her, her finger tracing over a stretch mark.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at herself head on. Sucking in her stomach she runs a hand over her stomach. Even as she did it she felt inferior in a way. Compared to women from their pasts she wasn’t like them. She wasn’t thin or shaped like a coke bottle, she didn’t feel like their type.

It was a silly concept to focus on the women they dated and determine the kind of women they like. She knew it was but for some reason as her eyes stare at stomach she assumed this was a joke. That she didn’t deserve them because she didn’t fit the standard of the women they didn’t stay with.

Squishing her stomach she sniffled just as the bathroom door opened. He went unnoticed until he stepped forward when seeing how her bottom lip trembled. His eyes on her hands as they squish her stomach. It was clear what was going on as he pulls her against him. His finger rests under her chin as he lifts her head to look at him.

“Whit urr ye daein'?”

His voice was a blanket of warmth over her as he spoke to her. “I—“ she began before stopping.

“Ye?”

It was evident that he wasn’t going to let this go, that was reasonable. Shaking her head she uses her hands to dry her eyes. “I don’t deserve you guys, I’m just..look at me.”

“Shut th' hell up, afore ah pat a baby in ye tae prove it..”

“I’m serious Johnny, no matter what I do I always feel so goddamn inferior to the women you’ve dated. Do you even love me or am I just a spur of the moment decision.”

Her words cut him deep leaving him with a hurt look on his face. He didn’t say anything he just looked at her, it was worrying. But before she could ask him about it he picked her up. Wide eyed she let him carry her as if she weighed nothing to him. Not a single grunt or groan left him to indicate that he was struggling.

When he put her down she landed on the couch in a seated position. All eyes were on her a feeling she hated especially now.

“Tell thaim,” he said pointing to the other three men. Their attention no longer on the movie that was now paused.

Fiddling with her fingers she shrugged looking down, “I don’t deserve you guys…you could have anybody and you pick me. I know I sound a bit childish but that’s how I feel, I don’t compare to the women you’ve dated. I don’t even feel comfortable in my skin, I feel too big.”

“Dated? past tense, there are reasons we aren’t dating those women anymore. Just like there’s a reason we’re with you,” Gaz said his tone just as serious as his expression. She wasn’t used to such a look on his face where a smile usually lived.

Opening her mouth to speak she was cut off by Price. The older man had a similar expression on his face, “you deserve more than you’ll admit. You’re perfect for us trust me if we didn’t love everything about you we wouldn’t be with you, darlin’”

“Stop selling yourself short, if I had the option of anyone I would still pick you. There’s no question about it, lovie.”

The tears that were brimming her eyes soon fell. She couldn’t hold it in anymore as she cried from their words. She was pulled into a chest realizing it was Ghost from the smell of kohl and steel. Even when they were away from work he always managed to smell that way. “How would you know, you can’t prove that?” She asked her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Ye'r perfect fur us, we kin aye prove that,” Soap let out.

A surge of desire coursed through Soap’s body as he watched Gaz’s skilled and intimate ministrations. The way Gaz’s tongue danced across her delicate folds, eliciting moans of pleasure from their girl, sent a jolt of arousal straight to Soap’s core.

He couldn't tear his eyes away as Gaz’s tongue worked its magic, exploring every inch of her pussy. The vulnerability displayed by her, the trust placed in their hands, it all fascinated him.

Swallowing hard, she gripped Price’s hand as his lips were attached to one of her breasts. His kisses were enough to melt her to the core. She kept her eyes open as she looked over at Ghost who was stroking his cock as he watched. He was anticipating his turn to show her just how important she was to them. Licking her lips she moans when Price’s fingers rub her clit. She wasn’t prepared for the assisted pleasure her mind reeling at the feeling of Price’s fingers and Gaz’s tongue.

“Ye keek sae bonny lik' this, lass,” Soap’s words cut through the thick layer of lust and need. Her eyes on him as he moves closer his lips slamming onto hers. The kiss was quick pace as if he was putting all of his love into it.

Her thighs squeezed around Gaz’s head as she panted into Soap’s mouth. Her body trembling as she felt close, a sign they all were familiar with. “Look at that wanna cum so bad, wanna make a mess on Kyle’s tongue huh, darlin’?”

All that left her was a moan into Soap’s mouth at Price’s words. His fingers were pulling at her nipples as she came. Her fingers gripping Gaz’s hair as she moaned loudly into Soap’s mouth. He didn’t relent as he seemed to swallow all of her moans.

When Gaz pulled away so did Soap allowing her to see the man lick his lips clean. A smile on his face as he sat up caressing her inner thigh, “still tasting good I see.”

His words left her a mess almost as much as Ghost was about to leave her. She knew the moment Gaz stepped away what was going to happen. Her eyes found Ghost as he made his way between her legs. His large hands gripping her thighs parting her legs a bit more. The sound of kissing faint as Soap tasted her off of Gaz’s lips.

“You’re so pretty, lovie,” Ghost’s words distracted her from him entering her. A moan leaving her lips as she felt him slowly sink into her. “Always so fuckin’ tight too,” he praised.

His words and actions left her feeling fuzzy inside. Just as she thought that would be enough she felt kisses trailing down her stomach. “Love everything about you, darlin’. Look at how pretty you are taking Simon’s cock. Making him feel so good,” his words rang loud in her ears. “Tell me how pretty you are, we wanna hear you darlin’.”

She was used to their reassurance and love but it always felt different when they were intimate. It seemed to cement just how much they truly meant what they said. How they showed her body love in the most intimate of ways. “I’m very pretty,” she choked out when Price left a hickey on her thigh.

As Ghost’s speed picked up he caged her between his arms. His face dropping to the crook of her neck, his breath fanning her skin. “Gonna put a baby in you, let you carry around proof that we love you.”

Shuddering she whimpered at his words while he thrusted ruthlessly into her. It wasn’t long until she was clamping around his cock. Her eyes fluttering shut when she came around him. In return he gasps sharply as her pussy milks him for all that he has.

It served as a reminder even after they cleaned up. She stood in front of the mirror again after the shared shower between them. Behind her stood Price whose hands were on her bare hips. “Look at you, the prettiest woman there is.” He would whisper in her ear as he left kisses along her shoulder. “Regardless of how you feel about yourself I promise you that we aren’t thinking those same bad things you are. You look sexy and it’s okay to not be what you think you should be. We love how you look, darlin’.”

Nodding her head she tears up watching him leave kisses on her skin in the mirror. It was reassuring in ways she had never experienced before. With them she knew she would be loved, they would always make that clear to her.

Soap peeked his head into the bathroom with squinted eyes, “Ye let Si pump a baby intae ye afore ah cuid? ah wis th' yin wha said it first” he tells her.

A laugh left her lips as she listens to him, “I’m sorry,” said said to him. Shaking his head he holds his hand out, “Na sorry, wur aboot tae dae that now.”

Translations again I want to thank my friend who was able to tell me how to write Soap’s words properly. He’s a real one <33 For words like baby, first, maybe a few more I changed them because my keyboard hates the word bairn for some reason.

Whit urr ye daein'? - What are you doing?

Ye? - You?

Shut th' hell up, afore ah pat a baby in ye tae prove it. - Shut the hell up, before I put a baby in you to prove it

Tell thaim - Tell them

Ye'r perfect fur us, we kin aye prove that - You’re perfect for us, we can always prove that

Ye keek sae bonny lik' this, lass - You look so beautiful like this, girl

Ye let Si pump a baby intae ye afore ah cuid? ah wis th' yin wha said it first - You let Si pump a baby into you before I could? I was the one who said it first.

Na sorry, wur aboot tae dae that now. - No sorry, we’re about to do that now

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[melobin]

sungchan + overstimulation ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

day ten. sungchan can’t get enough of being inside of you

warnings. overstimulation, no power play

wc. 1.3k

masterlist

day 9 / day 11

sungchan was not weak, in fact he was the opposite. his will and self-restraint were admirable, the way he handled himself and how he kept his guard up always left him in the best position he could possibly be in, especially within his career. you, however, were sungchan’s biggest weakness, his downfall, his beginning and his end. he could never deny you, no matter what it was that you asked of him, the answer would always be a yes. he could never stop himself from indulging in you in everyway that he possibly could.

“oh my god” sungchan groaned into your neck, voice breaking at the end. his hands pinned yours to the pillow either side of your head. his thrusts were consistent, rough and deeper, pace quickening every so often just so he can get more of you sooner. 

each sharp thrust had you digging your nails into the back of his hands, your eyes shut as he fucked you, making sure his cock reached deep inside of you. he loved being with you like this, both of you desperately chasing your highs, both in a daze from how drunk you are from each other. the sheer amount of lust in the air could have made anyone dizzy. it did make you dizzy, you couldn’t think straight with how turned on you felt because of sungchan. 

sungchan was irresistible, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him even when you tried to. he was beautiful, always catching your eyes no matter what he was doing. he also made you incredibly fucking horny. his confidence, the way he carried himself, how well he wore those stupidly thin white shirts with no arms on them. everything he done turned you on endlessly and you loved finding yourself pressed between his body and your mattress whilst he fucked himself into you. 

“channie” you whimpered out, sungchan thought the sound that left you was nothing but sinful. he loved it. he loved being the reason for your moans, being the reason for you tearing up and crying out about how good it feels. mixing that with the intense pleasure he felt from being inside of you made him want to stay there forever with you, fucking you into your mattress as the bed squeaked painfully under the two of you. the headboard touching the wall as he rolled his hips against yours. sungchan was past the point of caring about anyone wearing you too, let them, he thought to himself. if you were both enjoying it, why should you let the fear of others hearing you ruin that. 

sungchan personally loved the sounds that came from you two when you had sex, the lust filled moans and the pure sex that filled the air, your skin slapping together and your cunt squelching around his cock each time it stretched apart your walls. he’d record it and set it as his ring tone if he could.

“you feel so fucking good it’s gonna make me cum” he moaned again, this time lifting his head from your neck to look down at you as he spoke, his words going straight to your cunt as he continued to fuck you. his grip on your hands tightened, his eyes dark as they bore into yours. sungchan was always vocal with you, always letting you know just how good you were making him feel. he wasn’t ashamed to moan out your name whilst being buried deep inside of you, he thought it was thrilling, arousing to let you know how good you felt wrapped around him.

“please sungchan” he leaned down to catch your lips in his, pressing himself closer to you when he felt your legs wrap around his waist. he let go of your hands so he could grip the sheets with them, your hands instantly rushing to pull at his hair as your body arched up into his. being pressed against him wasn’t enough at that point, you needed to be one with him. 

“gonna cum?” you nodded at his words, whining as the kiss broke for a few seconds before his lips were on yours again, tongue pushing into your mouth as you pulled at each others skin and held each other close. 

sungchan managed to wedge a hand between your bodies as his fingers landed on your clit, he rubbed it in quick, messy, inconsistent circles, the feeling mixed with his deep thrusts had your eyes squeezing shut and your jaw falling slack, the kiss breaking due to your inability to kiss him back. the pleasure was immense, your body shaking as you felt your walls tighten around his cock. your reaction had sungchan in awe, his cock throbbing as you squeezed him tightly, his own orgasm not far away. 

“cum for me” he muttered, breathing shakily as the words left him. you could only cry out in response, your orgasm triggering his due to the way you reacted to him. your body stilling before your began to squirm, your hands falling against his back, nails digging into the skin as you felt his muscles contract under your touch. 

you breathed heavily, whimpers leaving you nonstop as he continued to fuck you post orgasm, fingers still on your clit as you felt his cum spill inside of you. still, he didn’t stop. the feeling far too good for him to even want to. you didn’t mind though, the sensitivity from your orgasm only made him feel even better. 

you ended up wrapping your arms around him, his head burying in self back into your neck as he pushed you both into deep sensitivity. your bodies sticking together from how hot the room was becoming, the desperation seeming to hit an all time high as the headboard hit off the wall. sungchan made no attempt at being quiet either, his moans into your neck only creating a more thrilling environment. somehow sungchan was even hotter when he was desperately bucking his hips against yours after alreadying filling you with his cum. 

his fingers stayed on your clit, both the circles from his fingers and his thrusts grew to an inconsistent pace, both still quick and intense but messy. it didn’t change how pleasurable it all felt though, you both knew what you wanted from each other so you took it and it felt incredible. 

“need to cum again” he whined into your neck, his voice now raising in octaves with each messy thrust “need to feel you” one of your hands snuck up to push into his hair as the other stayed against his back, nails pressed into the skin. 

“please” you felt pathetic that all you could let out were quiet and broken pleads for him not to stop, you felt as if your body was officially going into overdrive. the feeling of your second orgasm had you seeing stars. your mouth falling open once more as you cried out for him, feeling tears brimming your water line from the intensity of it all “wanna feel you cum” you told him, whined to him. it was all sungchan needed to hear before he was spilling into you again, your walls hugging him tightly as he set off your orgasm. he was loud, whining against your skin as his thrusts slowed down. neither of you could do much other than hold on to each other and breathe heavily as you both basked in the intensity of your orgasm, both now overly sensitive. 

sungchan hisses as he slowly withdrew himself out of your cunt, his position not changing as he snuggled into you, head going deeper into your neck. your brought your hands to his hair, fingers gently playing with the strands as his breathing slowly evened out. even if you were sungchan’s biggest weakness. it was a weakness that made him feel so fucking good.

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