#needle or air pump

[oscarrobertson0]

How Long Is a Basketball Court? Fast And Easy

How Long Is a Basketball Court? Basketball is a cherished sport with a century-long history. It is played on a rectangular court, with two teams of five players, each competing to score points by shooting the ball into their opponent’s hoop. The basketball court dimensions are an essential aspect of the game, as they can affect gameplay and strategy. This article will explore how long a…

[thelov3lybookworm]

Flicker Out

Summary: Azriel's chest becomes hollow, and the place where once love bloomed, only emptiness remained.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1950

Warnings: angst, angst, death (but she comes back) az in agony, a lil bit of me being poetic ofc 🤭 did i mention angst? oh and more angst and angst

A/n: based on this request by an anon. i adore this request and it was litterally one of my fav ones to write. i just couldnt stop writing once i started tbh 🥹

(@potatoplace this is the fic i mentioned hehehe 🤭😏)

anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

There was almost nothing that could distract Azriel when he was locked in battle. He could not afford to let his mind stray from plotting the next defence, the next manoeuvre, the next attack. It was almost similar to a dance, except he did not know the song and hated his partner, and he also had to be mindful of anyone who might attack him while he was focused on this waltz between life and death.

The soldier whose sword had come within an inch of Azriel’s throat- only the second one since the battle began, unsurprisingly- sneered at Azriel, his teeth stained red and almost half of his face slashed by a vicious stab wound.

Azriel almost pitied the male. Almost. And only because he knew a thing or two about having untreatable scars after escaping the clutches of death.

Still, Azriel heaved his whole body weight against his sword forcing the soldier to yield a step. Azriel’s eyes moved quickly, searching for places the soldier might have left open for him to attack, and gleefully, Azriel noted that his ribs were open. His armour seemed to have chipped off in a corner, and seemed a size entirely too big.

That’s stupid, but good for me.

Azriel moved his blade away from his opponents, swiftly bringing it down to the side of his ribs. The blade had almost touched the male’s unarmoured body when Azriel faltered.

Too empty.

Void.

How?

Azriel breathed in, his eyes losing their focus before a sharp sting brought his attention to the dagger that now seemed to have befriended the skin and bones of his thigh. He looked up, feeling the blood drain from the wound on his thigh- though the concern was in the back of his mind- and his heart. The place where constant love from his mate flowed, a gaping wound had appeared. That hurt more than any fatal wound to his body could.

How?

Azriel did not see nor hear anything around him, his consciousness too busy scrambling to figure out why he could no longer feel her. But it was the warrior instincts in him that his peers had drilled into him, making him instinctively raise his sword, eyes slowly moving to meet the spooked gaze of his enemy, and within the moment, those same eyes stared up at the open, vast sky, unseeing and unfeeling.

But Azriel was already bolting towards where he had felt the last pump of love coming from, and nothing and no one, even the mother, could have stopped him from cutting through the soldiers trying to get in his way as smoothly and viciously as a hot knife cut through butter.

Y/n. Please.

Azriel’s chest heaved, tiny needles stinging his sides and the muscles in his thigh protesting, but still, he ran. Ran towards his love, the one he doubted but refused to admit was…

Gone.

Azriel spread his wings, despite knowing it would just drain his energy faster. He could not walk through his shadows either. They were tired too. Running took too much out of him, and flying would take him to her faster, even if it hurt his muscles and wounded wings.

Please. Just please stay.

From the height his wings took him to, he looked around, and then leaned forward, gliding through the air and riding the breeze that took him closer to where his mate was.

The first thing he saw was a small crowd of his family members. Mainly, Rhys, Feyre and Cassian. The second thing he saw as he touched the ground was the cauldron.

And then…

Y/n.

She lay motionless on the ground, staring up at the sky.

And in that moment, Azriel didn’t care that Rhys stood over his sister’s body, crying. Azriel did not care that his family members who did not know of his relationship with Y/n stared at him wide eyed as he pushed them away from her.

He simply dropped to his knees, his thigh protesting. But he gently grabbed Y/n’s cold hand, his own scarred ones shaking and covered in blood. He let loose a ragged breath, eyes filling up with water as he stared into the empty gaze of his beloved.

He screamed.

A loud, wordless scream ripped from his chest, the sheer pain and longing and regret echoing through the battlefield, even worlds not his own. His heart no longer beat in that familiar, unnoticeable rhythm people come to ignore most of the time, instead beating like a wardrum.

Hollow and empty, but still too loud for him to not hear.

Where once love bloomed, only sadness and pain remained, and Azriel continued screaming.

When he could no longer scream, he weeped.

He let his forehead rest on his mate’s chest, and he wept. Deep, sorrowful sobs ripping from his throats. They were as deep and powerful and soft as his love for his mate.

And when he couldn’t weep, he whimpered. Sorry, quiet whimpers resembling the silence and lack of warmth in his body and the bond that had once tied the bridge between two souls. The sounds escaping him were low, almost silent, but they were just as loud and impactful as his silent love for Y/n when they could not afford to love freely and loudly.

Azriel’s shadows had regained enough of their power to brush against his ears, his hair and shoulder like Y/n’s hands had once touched him, gentle and soothing and calming.

But there was no calming now, for the storm rising from the shattered pieces of his heart would no longer let him live in peace.

The only peace for him now was death and burial with his beloved.

"Az." The unmistakable shakiness in Rhysand’s voice made Azriel raise his head and meet the sorrowful eyes on his friend.

Azriel said nothing, only letting his eyes wander and take in the crowd that had only grown bigger since he had arrived. The high lords, all seven of them, stared down at him, some with tears in their eyes, like Rhysand, Helion and Tarquin. Some with empathy and pity, like Thesan and Kallias. And then some with quiet sadness and understanding, like Tamlin and Beron.

Under other circumstances, Azriel would have wondered why Beron looked like he knew and had been through what Azriel was experiencing, but in the moment as he tightened his grip around his mate’s hand and curled closer to her cooling body, he could not care less.

"Az," Rhys repeated. "What are you doing?"

But Rhys looked like he already knew what Azriel was doing. So Azriel said nothing, just let his forehead go back to resting on her shoulder.

Muffled words surrounded Azriel, but he heard none of them as he focused on somehow reaching his mate. There must be some way, some sort of… connection to bring her back. Maybe her lingering soul.

Something, anything.

Moments later, Azriel felt a familiar hand grip his shoulder. Despite his lack of will to look at the person, he lifted his head slightly to meet Cassian’s gaze.

"Move back, they’re trying to bring her back."

Azriel stared at Cassian, the words looping in his head for a moment before he could truly process them, then he nodded and scooted back. It was almost unrealistic, but still, Azriel was a drowning male and the hope a wood plank that he latched on without thought.

Azriel watched as Rhysand stepped forward and lifted his hand, staring at it for a moment, tears rolling down his cheeks before he turned his hand, a drop of moonlight dropping straight onto Y/n’s chest.

All the high lords took turns repeating the action one after another, and Azriel watched numbly, still on his knees on the ground, refusing to lose hope but at the same time forcing himself to not hope.

At last, Tamlin stepped away from Y/n’s body, and Azriel leaned forward, his eyes wide as he waited for that feeling to take root in his chest again, the one he had cherished for the past ten years.

But nothing happened for a long moment, and the flame of hope that had begun warming his insides began to flicker out.

"Rhys." Azriel mumbled, his voice cracking. "What happened? Why is she not…"

"Oh Az." Cassian whispered, wrapping an arm around Azriel’s shoulder from the back.

Azriel just stared at her. "Why?"

Long moments passed, and then…

There.

Life.

Just life, pure and untainted, began glowing at the end of the bond, and Azriel laughed.

He laughed, tears pouring from his eyes.

"Az?"

It took Azriel a while to form the two words he uttered, the smile on his face making it impossible to speak.

"She’s back."

Azriel felt Rhysand’s gaze on him, but after Y/n’s eyes slid closed, his gaze was ripped away.

Then Y/n opened her eyes again, blinking twice before her eyes found Azriel’s, unprompted and instinctive.

"Hey." She whispered, and Azriel laughed again. He leaped forward and tackled her into a hug, his hands shaking worse than they had before.

"Hey." He whispered in her ear, and she giggled, patting his back before she stopped suddenly.

"Az… Rhys."

Azriel pulled away, glancing up. He did not care about what Rhys might do to him anymore, considering he had very nearly lost his mate without even having the chance to scream and proclaim his love for her from the tops of Velaris’s mountains like he had sworn to her he would one day. Rhys’s wrath was the least of his worries.

Everyone who was not a part of the inner circle had departed while Azriel had been busy breathing in the fact that Y/n was alive, that she was here. Rhysand stood with his arms folded against his chest, in that protective stance every brother had when it came to their sisters.

But there was that slight tilt to the corner of his lips, a happiness in his stern eyes.

Azriel could not tell if it was because of Y/n being alive or something else.

"Uh…" Y/n mumbled, sitting up. "Hey, Rhys."

He sighed, rubbing his brows as Azriel helped Y/n stand. He quietly stepped forward and gathered his little sister in his arms, holding her close to his heart as Azriel watched, his chest feeling full again.

Though a certain hollowness lingered, and Azriel almost knew it would follow him around like the ghost of his past.

Rhysand pulled away, holding the back of Y/n’s head.

"I don’t know what you two have been up to, and frankly, I don’t think I even want to know, but I will not interfere. When you’re ready, I want to know everything." He glanced at Azriel, the single glance telling Azriel he would have been ten feet under ground by now if his sister was not watching.

Azriel dipped his head, gaze moving back to Y/n. She smiled at him, reaching out to take his hands.

Rhys turned to Feyre, taking her hand too. "Freshen up, rest. Then we’ll talk."

Cassian was already gone, left to find Nesta by the time Rhys winnowed Feyre away. Azriel turned fully to Y/n then.

"Don’t you dare do that again."

She giggled, grabbing his collar and pulling him down. She pecked his cheek, then turned her head to rest it against his chest as he lifted his arms in a practised motion to hold her close.

"Will try."

He pinched her waist, making her squeal. He savoured the simplicity of the moment before pecking the crown of her head.

"I love you, Y/n."

The bond flickered.

And stayed.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

@serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

@mellowmusings

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

@stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh

@st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium

@fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139 @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

@okaytrashpanda

[lov3darlings]

darlings thoughts, figureskater!reader (18+)

cw: jealous!lando, creampie, multiple orgasms, age gap (6 years), exhibitionism (ig), this is just a more of an expanded version of figureskater!reader. also do watch kamila valieva's bolero because i've referenced her signature spin (at the end of the program) and the start of the program.

lando norris is one hell of a jealous and possessive man. he hates seeing others looking at his beloved like they want to have a piece of her. as if they can, in his humble opinion some should be grateful to be even breathing the same air as his beloved.

he watched you talking to the reporter who was asking mundane questions. the report wasn't the problem, it was one of the mclaren reserve driver who was filling the seat while oscar was injured. he watched with such a gaze that only be described as lustful. the pleasant weather of Netherlands seemed off suddenly.

"hey lovie," lando warapped his arms around your waist, walking into the frame. "oh and we have lando norris here," the reporter laughed before wandering off to bother someone else.

"who?" you questioned. "i know you're jealous, you're gripping me too tight," you said. lando mumbled a quick apology and loosened his grip, moving both of you away from the pit lane. "i can't help it," he said, pressing you against the wall in his garage

"you're too pretty. why are you so pretty huh?" he said while prepping butterfly kisses all over your face as you giggled. "ahh you make me feel like such a bad boyfriend for being jealous. but how can i not be when everyone want my darling?" he squished your cheeks.

"lando norris and a bad boyfriend don't belong in the same sentence," you scrunched your nose. he smriked, feeling proud. if he knew the way to your cunt and your heart then you knew how to stroke his already huge ego and dick. "my smart and pretty girl. you're my favorite."

was the pda too much? in his opinion, it was enough for the cameras and fans to call him a sweet boyfriend. and enough of a signal for the reserve driver to back the fuck off.

he won the race with almost half a minute lead. his teammate was down in 19th, lando lapped him fucking twice.

if there's something that lando doesn't credit you enough for was your flexibility. despite being a professional figure skater, you were more flexible than an average skater. some demonstrations of your flexibility was your ability to do the heart pull move, move your arms to the back and conjoine them and bring it forward over your head. even your signature needle spin was tough to replicate. all in you current program, bolero.

lando groaned into your mouth. one hand on your face and the other roaming all over your body as he pressed you against his driver's room door. he leaned in again, kissing you harder. you could practically taste the washed away residue of champagne in his mouth. he stripped you down, moving your clothes aside.

he shoved his middle and ring finger into your needy cunt. you threw your head back with a moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. his fingers curling all in the right places. your hands reached to pull your darling boyfriend even closer, if possible. you were practically a puddle in the palm of his hands, spasming as he increased his speed.

was there a bed in his driver's room? obviously but where's the fun in fucking you that way. plus that bastard would hear it clearly anywhere lando fucked you because of how loud you were being.

"are you gonna come?" he hummed when your moans got louder making you nod pathetically. lando clearly instructed his team to not let anyone come near the driver's room. not that they had any stuff to do there as they were busy in wrapping up things.

he wanted his temporary team mate to hear it all. he wanted the other guy to know that only lando can make sounds out of you like that. sure, it makes him sound like a jealous bastard but how could he not be when some random guy has the audacity to look at his pretty girl so lustfully.

"oh my god," you gasped, cursing under your breathe as you came on his fingers. "you good princess?" lando asks placing gentle kisses on your face. "yeah," you whispered. "think you got a few more?" he leans down, placing tender kisses over your shoulder. lando starts fingering you again as soon he gets a positive sign from you.

he takes out two more orgasms out of you. "just a few more," he mutters as he goes down on his knees. lando laps up at your juices. he lets you be as loud as you wanted to.

"yeah baby be loud. let that fucker hear," he whispered against your clit. his tongue tracing his name on your cunt. your moans grew louder, louder, and louder. "oh gosh i'm gonna──" your words were cut short as you came all over his face. lando wipes you clean, letting you ride out your high.

he gets up, holding you by his own muscles and strengths. "you think you got a last one?" lando asks. you whine into his hold, too tired from the four orgasms. "please baby" he guides your hand to his clothed, hard cock. "feel this? It's just for you." you'd be cruel to deny your precious boyfriend this. plus you were still hungry for his cock. sure his fingers and tongue was great but nothing compared to his cock. "yeah," you nodded making him smile. "thankyou darling," he kissed your forehead.

you squealed when he lifted your leg and threw it over his shoulder, similar to your signature spin you do on ice. the hand on your waist moving to your inner thigh to hold you up. lando got his cock out of his sweatpants and sank it into your cunt making you both moan simultaneously. "that's it, fuck, that's a good girl," he mumbled into your neck, slowly rocking in you. "I'm going to show you how much I love you."

"don't close your eyes, baby. look at me," he orders when your eyes are about to close. "good girl," he praised when you look into his watercoloured eyes. "please mark me, i want everyone to know i'm yours." your words make him smirk. the older man wasted no time in do as you asked him to do.

lando faced you after he was done leaving hickeys on you collarbones. his fingers tipping your chin up, caressing your jaw and his thumb slowly parts your lips, dipping it into your mouth. "that pretty little mouth of yours," he humms. after it was wet enough, he trails his thumb, drowning in your saliva to your clit and starts toying with it making you moan louder. you felt the ache in your legs, not only because of the how good he was fucking you but also from the position he held you in.

despite being a sweet dom, lando surely was a tease. ghosting his lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase him desperately. when your lips finally met it felt like pure bliss. lando chuckled, fucking you so good that that you were struggling to kiss him back.

your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with his every thrust. "i don’t— i don’t think i can last any longer, fuck, please—" you whimpered. "gonna cum? go ahead, cum all over me baby," he ordered. and you did just that, your cum splattering all over his dick. lando gave in a few thrusts, chasing his high before finishing inside of you.

he lets your leg down. "you did so good for me darling," he says as curled up into you. he rubbed your back, placing soft and tender kisses to your collarbones and face. he lifted your chin to make you look at him. "let's get you all cleaned up?" he hummed before placing small pecks on your lips.

lando quickly washed you up, helping you get dressed into the same clothes he stripped you out of. finally, getting out of his driver's room you still clung to his side. you were too busy talking about what you wanted to eat to notice lando swiftly unlocking his temporary team mates driver's room from the outside. letting the trapped man out. "sounds good honey," he replied when you said you wanted a cheesecake.

[thedaylighteffect]

Prince x M! Servant

Content Warnings: Non-con, master kink, jealousy, victim blaming, degrading.

A/N: It's been a while since I've written something. Everything is under the cut. I'll write more soon.

Not proofread.

"What's so good about him, huh? That he can satisfy you better than me, your master?" the prince growled in your ear, one hand painted bruises on your waist while the other wrapped around your cock. The uniform pants you diligently kept tidy were bunched at your ankles, long discarded and forgotten. He pushed you up against the wall, his knee between your spread legs. Climax after climax, your legs have long since gone numb and your vision was mudded with tears as you struggled out a reply. All you could feel was the tight spasming in your core and the feeling of pins and needles on your skin.

"It was a misunderstanding," you wanted to say, but your tongue refused to move, paralyzed by the pleasure; all you could do was shake your head. You tried to tell him how it wasn't your fault that the prince from the faraway land seduced you and ended up with you under him on his bed. You tried to tell him about the eyes of the visiting prince that defiled you as it roamed along your body.

But you couldn't.

The prince's sharp eyes stared into you and left no attempt to mask his contempt. His grip tightened around your cock, eliciting a tired whine from your lips.

"I asked you a question, so answer it," the prince ordered once more, speeding up the pumps of his hand and digging his fingernails into your waist.

That was it.

Your legs trembled as you felt your abdomen clench when you neared the climax, "Master, I...I'm sorry! It was my fault!" you choked out, your words selected to appease the prince. Your brain was too jumbled to distinguish your true desires. Your lungs burned for air as you recovered from your high. Your hands were propped against the gold-leafed walls of the prince's bedroom. Your fingernails were digging into the material.

You felt your climax drip along your leg as your breathing returned.

The prince gritted his teeth, "Is that so?" he asked.

You nodded.

His grip on you disappeared and you slumped to the ground, no longer supported by his arms.

"Get going now," he says. You can hear his footsteps fade towards the door.

"You've got work to do."

[xoluvx]

can we get something where reader really struggles to orgasm and gets insecure bc it takes her a while to cum but Billie is determined and won’t let up until it happens?? btw looooove ur writing like absolutely obsesed!

omg thank you baby 💖 yes please enjoy ily !!

"i can't do it," you breathed looking down at her with furrowed brows. you were trying. you were trying so hard that you were fisting the sheets. your eyes desperate. bottom lip plump from biting down on it for so long. almost an hour to be exact.

billie's tongue worked your pussy in marvelous ways. it rotated on your clit purposefully. you felt so sensitive every time she flicked her tongue. the tingles spreading throughout your body. the tight feeling coiling in your insides.

“come on, baby” billie whispered inserting her fingers. her bright blue eyes watched your face contort in pleasure. you were very much embarrassed that it was this difficult for you to cum which was so silly because she was so mouthwatering and the way she touched you was so holy. you groaned and tossed your head back shutting your eyes. you were so in your head-

“please,” billie’s voice was in your ear. her lips on your skin. the smell of your arousal on her tongue which was now running along your neck. she pumped her fingers slowly at first. her lips found yours in tender embrace. tongue running along your bottom lip begging for permission. you granted it allowing her to consume you. letting yourself melt into her touch as the pace of her fingers increased. she curled her fingers coaxing the orgasm out. it was on her fingertips. she could feel the way you clenched and throbbed around her fingers.

so hot. pins and needles at the bottom of your feet. stars behind your lids as your lips parted and your sweet moans filled the room. you were convulsing on her fingers. clenching until a wave of relief washed over you. you choked for air as billie mumbled sweet nothings against your lips. so proud. so good for her. all words that got you wound up all over again.

[ceroseis]

⋆⁺₊ ༄ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 . . . megumi fushiguro

nsfw ◞ minors dni ┊ ‧₊˚ word count : 800 cw ┊ ‧₊˚ gn!reader, college au, oral sex (m!receiving), praise, petnames (baby)

thinkin' hard abt being tsumiki's college roommate. feelin' oh-so guilty abt having a big fat crush on her little brother. as an upperclassman, you should be guiding him through his first semester of sophomore year, not blowing him in your shared bathroom while she sits on the couch, one deadbolt lock away.

megumi looks so pretty from your special place between his legs— pants shoved haphazardly down his thighs, ruddy cheeks and midnight black hair stuck to a sweaty forehead, lips bitten a beautiful cherry red in his attempt to quiet himself.

"shit-! baby, jus' like that," he hisses between his teeth, knuckles white from their iron grip on the countertop behind him.

your knees are beginning to ache, but you ignore the pins and needles in favor of doubling your efforts. as much as you'd love to take him to the hilt and watch his soul leave his body, you can't risk the noise. another time, you think. instead, your head bobs faster over his crotch, doe eyes blinking up at him as your tongue swirls around the tip.

your right hand clutches the outside of megumi's clothed calf, nails digging into black denim as the involuntary twitch of his hips threatens to cut off your air supply. he always gets like this right before he comes: his heels flex and his fingers find their way to your scalp and he'll try not to shout, but he never really succeeds and—

"ohhh my god, fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck—!"

you make sure to keep your eyes open for this part. his mouth drops open and his cheeks explode in an almost embarrassingly bright shade of red as he unloads in your mouth. that wild look in his eye is something you'll never tire of. he seems to be floating somewhere halfway between this reality and another. it never fails to make you smile.

your movements slow, but you don't pull off his cock, content to let his long, gentle fingers sweep the hair out of your face. his hand slides down to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing over the swell of your cheek. sweet, is what he is. how're you supposed to resist those flushed cheeks and whispered praises of good, so fucking good, baby, so good f'r me as he comes down from his high?

eventually, megumi's calloused palms come down to the sides of your neck, cradling your head as he guides your perfect mouth off of his softening cock.

his spend drips obscenely from your tongue, fat globs depositing themselves back onto his twitching length. a quiet giggle bubbles up from your throat at the stupefied look on his face. your hand slides all the way up his leg to wrap around the base of his dick. the other finds its way to his shaft, giving a few slow, sensual pumps, spreading his own mess over his length as it squeezes and squelches between your fingers.

you can't help but hold him over your face as you press not-so-innocent kisses to his spent balls, sucking on them one by one as your hand teases at his tip.

megumi's arm shoots out to the side to steady himself from the overstimulated buzz electrocuting the base of his skull, smacking his palm flat against the wall. he groans again, low and drawn out, and you've both fucking forgotten just where exactly you are and—

"'s everything alright, megumi?" tsumiki calls out, voice only a little muffled from the seemingly insignificant panel of wood separating you two from what would be an undoubtedly horrified look on her face.

megumi's eyes shoot open as he chokes on his own breath, mumbled curses spilling from his lips as you watch his system reboot, getting his brain back online. "y-yeah!" he replies, trying his best not to sound like he just ran a marathon. or got his dick sucked.

"you sure? i told you to stop eating random stuff in my fridge— those tuna wraps were old!"

you'd laugh out loud if it wouldn't give you away, so you settle for a teasing quirk of your brow. "bad, bad brother," you mouth, shaking your head in faux disapproval.

he curls his lip at you, peeved that you're part of this conversation at all. "'m fine! just knocked something ov-er!" he squeaks, voice cracking as you pop his tip back in your mouth.

the look he gives you is murderous, but you pay no mind to it as you suckle on his head, eyes fluttering shut, tonguing at the slit.

megumi's head falls back at the sight, his dick giving one last utterly pathetic twitch in the confines of your hot, wet mouth before the door swings open.

"you better not have broken anyth–"

horrified, indeed.

looks like you have something else to feel guilty about.

sorry, tsumiki.

@seiwas + dilly . . . thank u both for being so encouraging & so patient with me during all my writing slumps and breakdowns. i hope you enjoy. 🤍

[phyx-m]

MDNI.

You are a servant at the King of Curses shrine. You decide to run away one night. Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t tolerate such disobedience.

*****

As you run tirelessly, your bare feet slap against the damp, packed earth. The forest blurs around you, the details scrambling in your frantic pace. There was no time to put on footwear. You just needed to run—run for your goddamn miserable life.

Less than an hour ago, in the dead of night, you managed to escape from the King of Curses' shrine. For over a year, you have been a servant there, though it felt more like captivity, forced to stay and serve him. You've witnessed enough nightmarish scenarios to scar you for eternity. Now, you long for a new kind of freedom.

“Oooh braaaat,” a deep, disembodied voice calls out behind you, sending a chill through your heated skin.

The monster is coming.

You lift the hem of your cream-colored robe and scramble over a fallen tree. The soles of your feet are sore from maneuvering through brambles and twigs, and you're certain they feel cut, stinging painfully with each step. Slick hair clings to your face, and you constantly wipe your forehead as sweat drips into your eyes from the exertion.

You aren’t sure where you're running to. All you know is that—

“Brat! I’ll give you to the count of ten to get back here, or I’ll bite your tiny little fingers off,” his voice grows colder. He's furious that someone as insignificant as you dared to escape him.

Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t tolerate such disobedience.

“I won’t go back!” you call out to him, your voice ragged. He doesn’t respond, but you can sense his footsteps quickening in the brush behind you.

Ahead, there’s a rocky ravine. You scramble then slide down its rugged face, feeling scratches score your backside as you land roughly at the bottom with a soft oof. Without pausing to look back, you keep going.

A loud thud shakes the earth, signalling that he has dropped into the ravine behind you. Glancing back over your shoulder, you finally see him.

Illuminated by the moonlight, he appears utterly terrifying and devastating all at once. He saunters now, fixating his eyes on you. He's in no rush; after all, he enjoys playing with his victims.

"Hello, my little runaway," he says patronizingly, his eyes widening as he relishes the fear that flashes across your face.

As he sees you still running from him, a feral grin breaks across his features, contorting the tattoos on his face. The maw on his stomach mirrors his smile. Its tongue unfurls and laps at the night air like it’s trying to taste you.

You tear your gaze from the monster and pick up your pace, pumping your arms as you aim for the end of the ravine. It's the only escape route, as the steep walls prevent climbing back up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sukuna chuckles cryptically. But you ignore him.

Just as you reach the edge, something snags your attention. Initially, the massive, cursed spirit doesn't register, but as it ambles down the ravine���s walls and into your path, you skid to a halt and look up—up—up—at it.

Your heart plummets to your feet.

Its mouth opens, exposing needle-like teeth, and you're certain you see human flesh impaled on a few. The cursed spirit advances with a grotesque claw, causing you to step back.

Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Sukuna standing casually, his four arms crossed over his chest. His expression is pure delight as he observes the unfolding scene.

You're trapped—caught between two monsters.

You jerk your head back to the massive cursed spirit as it slowly closes in on you. The stench of its breath makes you gag.

"I did warn you," Sukuna scoffs from behind. You refuse to glance back at him, keeping your eyes trained on the curse while walking backwards in slow, measured steps.

The curse accelerates, its four legs scrabbling for traction as it maneuvers its immense body through the ravine toward you. Tiny rocks and pebbles scatter, forcing you to retreat another step.

Terror grips you as you face a crucial decision.

You glance at the curse, then back at Sukuna, eyes darting between the two.

Sukuna. Cursed spirit. Sukuna. Cursed spirit.

What's the right choice? Death or something else?

A heartbeat later.

You pivot, whirling around to face Sukuna. He's already aware of your decision. He slowly unfurls his four arms, spreading them wide with a wicked smile.

"Come here, idiot," he sneers from the other end of the ravine.

Behind you, the cursed spirit’s claws pound into the earth, urging you to flee. You run—straight toward the very monster you had been running from.

Sukuna stays rooted in place, waiting for you. His smile widens impossibly larger, his four red orbs practically glowing. Every muscle in his body ripples and tenses. His fingertips twitch anxiously, eager to grasp your soft, small frame to his.

"Hurry up, it’s gaining on you," he laughs callously, offering no help as you stumble towards him, navigating rocks and debris.

Finally, within reach, you hurl yourself at him. His four arms snap out and catch you midair, pulling you tightly toward him as he slams your body against his bare chest. Caught. His body doesn’t budge from the impact. He presses his face into your hair, inhaling your fear and sweat from the chase.

"Got you," he murmurs, his mouth pressed to the top of your head, his breath burning against your skull.

You strain your neck to look up at him. He’s massive, towering over you, and his immense presence makes you feel small. Swallowing hard, you meet his intense gaze. His four eyes burn, and you feel like you're drowning under those red pools.

Without averting his gaze from yours, Sukuna releases a hand from your trembling form and extends it toward the approaching cursed spirit. His index and middle fingers extend, and with a swipe through the air, the curse crashes to the ground and dies.

He grins wickedly. "Now, someone needs to be taught a lesson for thinking they can just up and leave their King." Quickly, he lifts you and throws you over his shoulder. The ground feels far away as you dangle in his grip. He adjusts your position so that your upper body hangs over his back, and your lower body presses against his chest, your backside against the side of his head.

Turning, Sukuna begins to walk back to the shrine, his prey caught firmly in his grasp. Tonight, he has plans for you—plans to remind you of who you belong to.

Tension fills the trek back to the shrine. Neither you nor Sukuna speaks. You hang there helplessly, watching the muscles in his back twist and coil with each step, his tattoos moving fluidly. You have to force yourself to look away and focus on the forest, which has gone eerily silent. There are no sounds of animals or insects, as if his presence has driven them all away. Naturally, they’re frightened of him. Who wouldn’t be? You pout and stare at the ground, your arms swaying with each of his movements.

After a while, Sukuna finally speaks. "Someone's sulking because they got caught," he huffs, placing a firm hand on your backside, causing you to turn your head toward him. "It was stupid to think you could get away." You give him your best death stare, directed at the side of his head.

"You aren’t subtle. I can see that," Sukuna says, shifting his lower eye to snap its gaze onto you. You quickly look away, feeling your face heat up. “Tch… idiot.”

Suddenly, a pair of hands snake up and around your ankles. Clutching them, he forces your legs open. Your eyes widen. You want to sit up but can’t because of the way he is holding you. One more hand slowly creeps up your leg, then thigh, then below your undergarment.

"Let's start with your first lesson for trying to run away from me." He keeps his head forward, not even glancing back at you as he walks. You can sense that this is just the beginning, a preamble to whatever punishment he has in store for you.

Pushing the fabric of your undergarment aside, he exposes your cunt to the evening chill.

“S-sukuna,” you stammer and begin wriggling on his shoulder. The hand that was on your backside draws up and then comes crashing back down onto your behind.

Smack!

“Ah!” You cry out from the sharp sting. Your rear is still tender from sliding down the rocky ravine, and now it’s throbbing.

“You ran away from me brat. I don’t pity those who disobey me. Now shut up and take it,” he says harshly, keeping his hand on your tender asscheek as he kneads it through the fabric.

You remain quiet, staring at the ground, trying not to shift under his forceful hand. He keeps walking, his strides so large that you know you'll be back at the shrine soon.

Still grasping your ankles open, you wonder what he will do next. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him raise a hand to his mouth and spit a glob of saliva onto his fingers. The sight of the sticky mess makes you shudder. Bringing his soaking digits back to where he had them, he yanks your undergarment away again.

“Let’s try this again.” His voice is gravelly as he smears his saliva-coated fingertips across your folds. You fight the urge to squirm, heart pounding against his shoulder, and you are sure he can feel it because his three hands tighten around you. Hard. Firm. He is holding you in place.

“You like that?” He muses as his massive fingers push your swollen pussy lips up and down and side to side in slow, torturous circles. “From now on, I want you in my chambers every night. And if you try to escape again, I will chain you up like a dog,” he hisses. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, Master Sukuna,” you say, panting at the treatment he is giving you. It makes you feel heated like your entire body is pulsating.

“Good girl. Now let me have my first taste of this sweet cunt of yours.” He drives one of his fingers past your outer lips, pressing deeply into your clenching walls. You moan loudly, hips bucking. Your arms shoot out, and you desperately cling on for dear life to his lower shoulder. Slowly, he begins to push the finger in, then out, in, then out as he stretches you.

“So fucking tight.” He runs his tongue across his teeth. “We’ll need to fix that for what I have planned.”

Stepping over a rock, you feel his body tipping slightly. The movement catches you off guard, and he uses that to push even deeper, making you a quivering wreck as slick coats your inner thighs. Pleased by the sounds you are making, he quickens the pace until you are writhing.

“Such a needy little thing,” he chuckles, sliding in a second finger.

“Oh! Fuuuck, please, no more,” you cry out. Ignoring you, he bullies the second one in deeper. He pushes until his knuckles graze your folds, then twists them in a circling motion before he pulls away, only to slam them back in. In and out, curling them occasionally, making you tighten around him.

“Ahh-ah! Sukuna!” You whine. He laughs mercilessly at how easy it is to get you all riled up. Your hips grind forward as if your body wants to increase the pressure.

“That’s a good girl. Keep showing me how pitiful you are.” He mockingly swats your ass a few times.

“Too much,” you moan, mouth dropping open, blood rushing to your head.

He chuckles again. “Oh, we are just getting started, brat.” He punctuates the last few words with a few forceful thrusts of his fingers, making you scream.

You were so lost in the sensations that you barely noticed him climbing steps, signaling your arrival at the shrine. The steps pass through your line of vision as you hang over his shoulder, reminding you that you're back at the place you tried to escape.

Pushing open the massive doors, Sukuna strides in with you atop his shoulder. You can hear a group of servants gathered at the main entrance gossiping about your daring escape. He’s still fingering you unapologetically so everyone can hear the sound of your wet squelching cunt. Your face heats in embarrassment as their chattering fades, and they turn towards their Master. You squeeze your thighs around his hand, attempting to halt his ministrations.

“Go back to your fucking rooms!” Sukuna bellows, and they scatter like frightened rabbits in the presence of a predator.

Huffing, he nudges your thighs apart and begins to stroll down one of the corridors, no doubt heading for somewhere private. You can see his enormous shadow cast on the floor by the lanterns, but you don’t stare long because you feel a third finger enter your sloppy heat, making your eyes slam shut.

“Oh, god,” you moan as he fills you up further, slick running down his hand. You are practically vibrating with need as he plunges deeper.

There’s a loud rumble from Sukuna’s chest. “You should be referring to me as your god tonight.” Another swat to your ass, you squeal.

Suddenly, you hear a door slide open with a loud bang, and Sukuna carries you into a dimly lit room. The door slams shut. Lifting your head, you see the overwhelming extravagance of the space—opulent wood furnishings and rich fabrics confirm that you’ve entered his lavish chambers.

After a few measured steps, Sukuna removes his fingers from inside you, and then abruptly, you feel yourself go airborne. The world blurs as you fly off his shoulder and crash onto the futon with a yelp. Fortunately, you land on a cushioned surface, sinking into its softness.

Without a moment's notice, he moves toward you. As he looms over you, you instinctively tilt your head to meet his gaze. His presence is imposing, and the way he stands so close casts a shadow across your form.

Raising his fingers glistening with your essence, he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“So sweet," he hums, licking up every last drop. You blush and clench your thighs together at the sight.

Surveying his fingers, he returns his attention to you. Splaying his hand across your breastbone, he shoves you onto your back, watching as your hair spills out and your anxious eyes dart up to meet his.

Leaning over your body, he puts his face directly before yours. "What was your plan if you had managed to escape?" he asks, moving his lower hands to your trembling thighs and gripping them tightly while his upper hands go on either side of your head, caging you in.

You swallow, taking a moment to let your brain catch up to the situation you’ve found yourself in. The King of Curses hovering over you, your juices staining his lips.

"… maybe going to a village. Starting anew, marrying a good man, and starting a family,” you say quietly.

Sukuna’s upper lip twitches. He glares down at you, clearly upset with your answer—no, he’s fucking fuming. 

Suddenly, his lower hands clutch your ankles, and you’re being yanked to the edge of the futon so your legs hang off.

He steps back.

“Start anew? Marry a good man? Start a family? Do you think you deserve those things?” His tone becomes colder, and he’s crossing his four arms over his chest.

“Well, I—”

“You don’t! You are nothing. Worthless. Now, take your fucking clothes off,” he demands.

Instantly, a knot forms in your belly. You want to refuse, but you know it’s futile. Sitting up, you scoot closer, eyes fixed on him, and your hands go to your obi. Unravelling it, you reach for the front panels of your robe, shrugging it off and onto the bed. Now, in your undergarment, you hesitate before reaching for them.

“Slower,” he interjects, as his upper hands move to his hakama, and pulls it down, allowing it to pool at his feet. Two monstrous cocks—hard and weeping with precum—eagerly spring forward. Biting your lower lip, you avert your eyes, lowering them and looking away.

“Ah, ah, ah. Look at me,” his voice rises as he gives you the command.

You return your eyes to him, taking in his naked form. You are transfixed by the sight before you. Despite his reputation as the King of Curses—a monster to many including yourself—he stands before you as the epitome of perfection, unmatched by any other in this world.

Grabbing both heavy shafts, he begins to stroke in slow, languid motions. You want to tear your eyes away, but you can’t. It’s so mesmerizing. His hand squeezing the swollen meat makes you clench around nothing.

“Go on then,” he hedges. His voice has become seductively lower as he grins viciously at you, waiting for you to reveal yourself to his hungry eyes.

Moving in what feels like slow motion, you gradually remove the last piece of clothing covering your body. Your eyes meet, and your face flushes as he drinks you in. Heated face, pert nipples, supple tits, soaking cunt. He already groped your ass on the way back, and he can’t wait to sink into it.

You are everything he wants.

“Look at you,” he rasps, increasing the intensity of his strokes. 

You watch him in awe as his balls start shifting forward, moving with the actions. It’s turning you on, watching him pleasuring himself to the mere sight of you. But suddenly, he stops, you pout. He gestures with two fingers directly at the spot on the floor in front of him.

“Get on your knees,” he gives the order, and your body unconsciously obeys. Before you even realize it, you find yourself kneeling before him.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes out, “although your answer on why you wanted to escape needs to be addressed.”

A hand comes forward, and he inserts his thumb into your mouth, hooking it to your bottom lip and teeth. His other fingers go to your chin to pry it open.

“Open wide and say ahhh.”

You don’t even have time to because he’s already shoving his throbbing upper dick past your lips and deep into your throat.

You flinch, then strain and sputter to hold in his girth, feeling your mouth stretch as tears well up and begin to slide down your flushed cheeks. The satisfied groan that rumbles in his chest is so loud it makes your whole body vibrate.

“Fuck… just like that.” Sukuna hisses through gritted teeth, then steadily moves his hips back and forth. His eyes narrow as he watches you, trying to accommodate him.

Almost gently, he pushes your hair back to get a better look at your face. His crimson eyes stare down at you, making you want to shy away and lower your head.

“Open that pretty mouth wider for me,” he says reverently, running a thumb across your cheek and through your tears.

Obediently, you open your mouth wider until your jaw twinges. Sukuna’s eyes glimmer with satisfaction as he begins to thrust deeper and harder into your constricting throat. You moan as drool cascades in rivers dripping down to your chest, his cock, his balls, and then the floor.

“That’s it,” he groans, hips snapping until you are pressed to his navel, his cock sufficiently stuffed down your throat. Your moans grow louder, and Sukuna grunts from the vibrations, tilting his head back, his mouth agape. 

His thrusts slow once he is pleased with the mess you’ve made. He pulls out of your sopping mouth to look down at you on your knees. He’s so damn pleased to see you down there, he can’t stand it. Gripping his lower cock, he slides it into your wanting mouth for you to suck and lick at. He releases the upper one, causing it to hit your face with a wet slap, drenching you in your spit.

"You will be a disgusting mess when I’m finished with you. And after that, we will do it all again." He declares, voice growing deeper with lust as he runs the wet shaft along your cheeks while fucking your face with the other one.

You look up at him in a lustful daze, trying your best to keep up, gagging and choking your way through it. It turns you on the way he uses you like this, the way he is dominating you. And you know it pleases him to no end. The inexcusable heat that pools between your folds drives you mad, and Sukuna notices. He sees how your eyes have become heavy-lidded and your movements more sensual.

With one more thrust, he makes you gag a final time before withdrawing. Strings of drool connect the two of you, making you groan at the filthy sight. You take a moment to gasp for air and try to catch your breath as you prepare for his next move.

He breathes down at you, a sneer crawling across his face. "You want me. I can see it in your pathetic pleading eyes," he says, his smug tone almost shaming you, but you nod in agreement.

Sukuna reacts instantly, lifting you by your arms and throwing you back onto the futon. You squeal as you land on your back. You really should be more prepared for this kind of treatment.

Approaching you like a feral animal, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing you on all fours as he climbs behind you.

With the soles of your feet exposed, Sukuna touches the cuts and sores you acquired during tonight's chase. You feel him tense briefly, grumbling wordlessly before he goes quiet as if it had never been there.

You feel him lean closer to you. “Tell me what you want slut,” he growls, running a hand teasingly along your inner thigh and through the wetness that has leaked out. “Do you want to be wrecked by me? Is that what you want?”

His filthy words make you tremble with need. It’s a thick feeling, making your brain fuzzy.

"I... I, uh..." You hesitate, unwilling to tell him what you truly desire. How you want to be fucked into oblivion. To be held down by all four of his arms as he takes you. To forget all the reasons for wanting to leave this place, but you stay silent.

“Speak!”

“Fuck me!”

So much for staying silent.

He clicks his tongue, and you can almost imagine the smug, prideful, arrogant expression as he leans over your back—a true king.

He presses his mouth to the shell of your ear. "Then, my pretty little runaway, you will be fucked, stretched and filled so you can never leave this place again,” he whispers. Goosebumps pebble across your skin because of a few words.

Sukuna aligns the fat head of his lower cock with your wet entrance, gradually pushing in. As soon as the tip slips inside, he thrusts himself forward until you completely engulf him.

“Ryomen!” His first name flies from your mouth as he enters you, trying to suck in a breath at the sudden intrusion, but you love how deliciously full your pussy feels.

"That's right, I'll fill you up until you can't take any more. Your greedy body needs to be taught a lesson,” he murmurs as he begins thrusting, his hips moving like a piston. Your body starts to tremble uncontrollably. You have to brace yourself against the futon to keep from collapsing under his intense movements.

With each powerful thrust, his upper cock slaps against the seam of your ass, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You can feel the precum spattering against you with each movement. The lewd sensation only heightens as the friction between your bodies increases. You can’t help but moan as he continues to drive into you, the sound melding with the slap of skin on skin.

Sukuna's movements slow down abruptly, his fingers digging into your hips. "It's time to take all of me," he growls through gritted teeth.

You can hear him spit, and then you feel a warm glob land above your ass, making you flinch. He massages it down to your unfilled hole and coats it with his saliva before slowly inserting his fingers inside. His movements are deliberate and sensual, savouring the sight before him.

“Ahhh,” you moan, rocking your hips back and forth as he slides his fingers in and out of your asshole before removing them and pressing the blunt head against it.

Bracing yourself, you prepare for his second cock to enter you. Your body tenses up with nerves, and you grip onto the sheets. The pressure builds at your entrance as he begins to penetrate you.

It builds and builds. Until a sharp pain shoots through your body as he pushes it in. 

“It hurts,” you let out a low whine, unable to hold back the discomfort.

"Shh, you will take it," he says with a dangerous tone, ignoring your protests and continuing to inch forward.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally manages to work it past the rim. With one final shove, he forces it in all the way. The sudden stretching sensation is intense, causing your mouth to drop open and drool to spill uncontrollably. The pain subsides quickly, replaced by a deep throbbing that spreads throughout your entire being.

You are completely filled by the King of Curses.

“Hmngh, fuck, yes,” You can't help the throaty moan that breaks loose from you. You are too far gone now as you rock back against him, desperate for him to start moving inside of you. “Fuck me,” you plead.

He doesn’t move. He wants to torture you some more.

“Look at that,” he murmurs. His lower hands run reverently across the curve of your ass as he admires the sight of you bent over and fully impaled on his dual cocks. "This is how it will always be. Every fucking night. You and me. This." he growls aggressively.

Pulling back all the way until you feel just the tips inside of you. He pauses, leaving you tense, before thrusting forward with full force. The impact scrambles your mind, and you fist the sheets before the moans and screams start tumbling out.

The rhythm he sets now that your snug holes are swallowing him is relentless. You can feel yourself being driven towards the edge. There’s the sound of grunting. It’s either him or you. You can’t even be sure. Everything is just a daze, making you babble incoherently.

Splat!

You feel a rough, slimy tongue glide across your lower back as his stomach maw emerges. It explores around your tailbone, sending tingles up your spine and causing you to writhe uncontrollably. Your reactions, please, Sukuna. He breathes harder, and he increases his thrusts, driving himself into you with more vigour. As a result, drool from his maw splatters onto your heated skin and drenches the sheets. He had warned you that things might get messy, and he wasn't exaggerating.

“You like that? You like being pummeled by me?” You can barely hear him through the sounds of your fucking.

“Yes,” you moan out, hoping that’s what he wanted to hear.

He roughly grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back, causing your spine to arch. From this angle, you can catch a glimpse of his profile. He continues to thrust into you forcefully like an animal, and as your eyes meet his, he places a hand on your throat, fingers tightening as he applies pressure until you struggle for air. Your body goes limp in his hold, arms dangling helplessly at your sides.

He’s like a monster coveting a prized possession. It feels good—almost too good—being treated this way by him.

He leans in, his rough breath tickling your nape as he nips and licks at it. You can feel the roughness of his mask grazing against your skin, and despite yourself, you can't help but enjoy it. You can only imagine his view of you submitting to him like this.

"Tell me who you belong to," he whispers gruffly, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrusts in and out, dull nails poking at your flesh.

“You! I belong to you,” your needy voice reaches his ears.

Smack!

His hand comes down hard on your ass.

"Louder! Tell me louder, who do you belong to?"

Your eyes roll back. You can feel yourself getting closer to climax.

"You!" You scream, feeling like a wild banshee. "You! My King! It's always been you!"

Smack!

Another painful slap lands on your ass, causing tears to well up in your eyes from the pleasure and pain.

"Yes! Fuck me harder!" You cry out, urging him on as he picks up the pace.

“That’s right,” he hisses as he tries to maintain his rhythm, but it becomes increasingly erratic. He's losing control now. He’s never one to lose control.

You notice him shifting his leg, placing one foot closer to your upper body for better leverage. He thrusts into you with more force, his hands gripping onto you as he takes what he wants: your complete submission.

"Cum for me!" He commands, tightening his grip on your throat. He wants to see you cream all over him. Wants to feel you clench onto his cocks like your life depends on it.

He pushes your face down onto the futon, and the hand around your throat moves to your cheek, tilting it to the side so he can witness every expression on your beautiful face.

He's hitting all the right spots inside you from this new angle. It's intense, almost too much to handle. The maw’s tongue suddenly swipes up your back, making your body tremble. That’s it for you. The heat is building up, coiling in your belly. You know you're close to release. All you can do is look at him as his thrusts become more forceful, his thumbs digging into your hips, and you feel his cock hit against your cervix.

"That’s it. Cum for me," he grunts, urging you on as he keeps pounding into you.

He fucks you so brutally it seems as though he pushes you to the brink of despair, almost abandoning you, before pulling you back like the sweetest salvation.

You scream out in ecstasy, begging him to go harder as you watch him, watching you reach your peak. Your walls clench around him, drenching his lower cock in your juices.

“M-my King!” You scream until your lungs are sore and abused, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in him.

He grins evilly, his face twisting with pleasure as he thrusts inside you. "Look at me," he demands, wanting your undivided attention. You open yours and lock eyes with him, feeling his two members throbbing inside you as he gives you a few final thrusts before slamming down on you with all his weight.

"Let my cum fill you up," he groans, and the intense heat that fills you is like burning lava. His release is unlike anything you've ever felt, seemingly endless as it fills you to the brim. Over and over. And you eagerly take it, writhing beneath him and moaning as your body milks him for more.

"Sukuna!" You cry out desperately, not wanting this sensation to end as your body twitches and shakes beneath him. But eventually, his seed stops showering your insides, and he slows.

"Good girl," he smirks, looking down at your exhausted form and the cum leaking out from between your used holes. He pats your face condescendingly before pushing you off his members.

Your body jerks forward as Sukuna pulls away. You make a small keening noise at the loss of his touch. His naked form abruptly retreats from you and leaves the room, making you frown at his sudden absence and the loss of his warmth. You fall back onto the futon and turn over, staring at the ceiling as you try to steady your breathing and heartbeat.

You hear him return moments later, carrying a small water basin and cloth. He places them on the futon, grabs your ankle, and reels you closer to him.

Lifting your foot, he examines the cuts and sores on your soles. A tiny crease begins to form above his nose—subtle, but you catch it. Then, with practiced efficiency, he dips the cloth into the water and gently cleans your wounds.

"Why the hell weren’t you wearing footwear this time, you little shit?" he asks, his tone tinged with irritation.

The game between you two is officially over.

You sigh, relaxing. You had noticed him trying to hide his concern about your feet all night, and knowing this makes your heart thump.

Lying there naked on your back, you look at him hulking over you, holding your foot delicately between his firm hands.

"I was too excited," you huff and shrug. "I forgot to grab ‘em."

He stares at you as if you were a child while the warm, damp cloth glides along your foot. You try not to pull away from the tickling sensation as little droplets slide down your leg.

"Oh, you were excited. You forgot to grab them, was it?" he mimics, admonishing you as he squeezes your calf hard. "Footwear next time.”

You roll your eyes. "I’m not the only one who should be in trouble here. What about that cursed spirit you almost let kill me—"

"If you honestly believe I’d ever let anything happen to you, then you're even more of a fool than I thought," he snaps, his eyes flashing with intensity. "I would never allow my wife to be in danger… idiot." His voice softens slightly as he carefully cleans both of your feet. Then, suddenly, he tosses the damp cloth onto your face.

It slaps against you. “Ay!” you exclaim, pulling it off and flinging it at him. He catches it with impressive reflexes, drops it into the basin, and sets it on the floor.

Your husband crawls next to you, pulling you into his chest, four arms encircling you.

Caught.

He presses his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of musk from your brutal fucking, and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

You stay quiet and still as you relax in his arms, your mind replaying the night's events. You remind yourself to return the servant’s robe you borrowed for this.

Sukuna shifts suddenly as if agitated by, gods know what.

“What you said about leaving, starting anew, finding a good man—I would hunt you down, you know,” he pauses momentarily, considering his words. “Then I would fuck you in front of him and rip his spinal cord through his mouth and drag you back here,” Sukuna growls, his lips brushing against your skin with soft kisses.

Your heart tightens. The jealousy over some imaginary man you mentioned is almost sweet.

"Hmm, I know you would," you say, settling against him even more.

You know you would never leave him because you have everything you need right here. He is the only one who can satisfy your perverse desires, and you might be the only one who doesn't see him as the disgraceful monster he truly is.

You both lie there together, your bodies aching in ways you never thought possible.

Finally, you break the silence. “When you threatened to chain me up like a dog… were you serious?” You ask, trying to mask your true intentions.

“Princess,” he says with a patronizing affection, “when am I not serious with my threats?” You can hear the smugness in his voice as he weaves his fingers through your hair and gazes down at you.

A smile spreads across your face as you look up at him.

“I think I have an idea for our next game.”

*****

If you're interested in more Sukuna x Reader (smut, slow burn, forced marriage) content, I'm much more active on Ao3: Beneath The Silk

[wearysparrows]

In my Room

ao3/masterlist

summary: After Caleb comes back into your life, he finds new ways to fill all the places he left empty in his absence.

CW: female reader, reader is mc, angst, hurt and comfort, caleb spits in your mouth, he also puts his fingers in there, it's pre-release so he's ooc, term of endearment "pretty girl" is used, not beta read 2.1k

That wasn’t your brother, sitting there on your couch, in your apartment, in the dull light of dusk. It wasn’t your brother, with his legs spread wide, big black combat boots still on, neglecting to have removed them – taking up the space of a man, not a boy. That wasn’t your brother, looking at you with eyes of cool lilac, inviting you in a way you thought they never had before. It wasn’t your brother, with muscles that rippled with warmth under his skin. This was someone else, wearing your brother's skin. Seeing you with your brother’s eyes. A man’s eyes in your brother’s skull.

There were times when you hated him. Then – now – still. As children, sometimes you had fought so badly that you had sworn him off. You’re not my brother. My brother could never be so cruel. You were glad you couldn’t see yourself in the slope of his nose, in the downturn of his eyes, in his dark and honest eyebrows. Those times, he wasn’t big brother, but Caleb Xia. But there were times when he was the root, the one thing connecting you to the ground when everything else was being lifted away into the sky, when there was another cool stethoscope against the bare skin of your chest, a needle in your arm. His big, warm hand in yours. Focus on me, pretty girl. Only me. Those times, you could see your reflection in his eyes, and it was like he was you. A place where you could see the parts of yourself that were only bared in the soft recesses of your mind. In his mind. He was your big brother.

When Caleb died, you could only focus on him. There was no more root, no remaining connection. Your cord was cut. Up in the air with no tether. There was nothing to focus on when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched your skin but the sluggish beating of your own heart. You thought of the blood that still pumped through it without reason. You didn’t even have his heart to bury. The mortician had nothing to take out of him. No one to sew back up, a Y shaped line of stitches across a too-still chest. You had buried your own heart in his stead. It was always his, anyway.

 On Caleb’s fifteenth birthday, you had made a blood pact. You had grown so close by then that you were upset his blood wasn’t flowing in your veins – that you couldn’t claim to be cut from the same cloth, that there was nothing real tying you to him. You had no claim on him, and you desperately wanted one. He had pulled you aside from cake and balloons, his rowdy group of friends, whooping when they saw the two of you disappear together. He covered your ears so you wouldn’t hear their jeering. Into the little bathroom of his bedroom you went. He kept a knife on the counter, one he had swiped from the corner store into his pocket without paying. 

Don’t tell Gran. 

With it, he sliced open both of your thumbs, pressing the two pulsating wounds together until the blood had been all mixed up, and you weren’t sure what was his and what was yours. 

You’re a part of me, pip. Now I’m inside of you, and you’re inside of me. Forever.

That was how it was now. What guilt was his and what was yours? Was there a way to discern it? Did it matter at all? You weren’t sure whose blood carried the taint. Blood letting wouldn’t drain it out. You couldn’t take off tainted flesh and wash it. It just was. It only got dirtier.

“I don’t mind you looking, but I’d much rather have you next to me, pretty girl.”

Caleb’s voice, intimate and strange all at once. It was like it was still shedding the last vestiges of his boyhood, trying to violently tear them away. You had been standing in your living room, barefoot, staring at him. The coolness of the night air drifted under your night shorts, your thin cotton top. He had a familiar smile on his face, a warmth that crept up into his eyes, almost all the way. It couldn’t quite fill him, anymore. Some part of him was always cold. Gooseflesh rose over the parts of your skin exposed to the air.

One arm was open to you. 

Caleb had begun to spend time in your apartment after his return. Sometimes, you were ecstatic to bursting for his presence. Other times, you hated him so much that you couldn’t believe he would dare to show his face to you again. He let you slap him, beat on his chest. You bit him, kicked, scratched. Once, you had swung the baton he had given you at him, aiming square for his abdomen. You died. I had nothing to bury. I buried myself in your stead. You’re dead. I’ll kill you again. He caught the baton in his hand, pulled you close. Tossed it aside.

I’m so happy you let me in your room again, he said.

Everything decays, of this you were keenly aware. The source was you. Still, love loped in your heart like a wounded animal. You stepped towards him, the tiles radiating cold up into your bare feet. You were, for reasons you couldn’t identify, aware of your differences in clothing. Compared to Caleb, most of your skin was exposed. His bare arms and face were all that was available to see clearly, not obscured. You slotted yourself next to him, into his waiting arm, which immediately pulled you close against him. His scent, which had once been the only thing to calm you, set your heart stuttering. Caleb brought one of your thighs up over his, so your calf was dangling in between his legs. It was strangely vulnerable, and forced you to sit with your legs open on the couch. Everywhere your bodies touched, he gave a warmth that sank into your permanent chill, a crack in your ice. Having him alive, next to you, was like falling into the sky and sinking into the ocean all at once. His hand that wasn’t around your waist drifted to your jaw, and turned your face towards him. His grip was insistent, but it need not be. You didn’t resist.

“Tell me what’s going through that head of yours,”

His thumb brushed your cheek, like he was wiping a tear that wasn’t there. There weren’t any left in you.

“Tell me how I can fix it.”

You were looking straight at him, but he wasn’t your brother. He said so himself. But right now, you wanted your big brother. The one who had wiped so many tears away from you, only to draw the last of them out of your well, until you were all dried up.

His thumb was still on your cheek. You wanted your big brother. You saw the junction between his index finger and thumb. You wanted your big brother.

I was never your brother.

 His strong, tanned hand. You opened your jaw, and pushed your head forward. You felt compelled by the shroud of his death, the loss of your childhood. Your teeth sank into his hand. Hard. His flesh easily gave way underneath your teeth, sinking in. You felt his whole body tense against you, heard the sharp inhale he took through his nose, saw the curl in his lip. His eyes never left yours. He made no move to stop you. His skin had a placatingly clean taste under your tongue. Just the same as all the times you had bitten him as a kid. He always said he would get you back one day – but he never did. He died, instead. Maybe this sort of torment, his spectre appearing before you, was his own kind of revenge. This man in your mouth, letting you soothe yourself the only way you knew how.

You released him, finally. Your jaw ached with how hard you had been holding on. How desperately. The marks your teeth had left were an angry red-purple. You hoped they’d last. You hoped you could leave more. That he was real, and could be marked. Your voice escaped you, spilling things out, like you were the one who had been bitten.

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here, baby. Between your teeth.”

Caleb retracted his hand as he spoke. His eyes grazed over the mark your teeth had left on him with a cool intensity, like he was remembering something and committing the image to memory all at once.

“You’re not. You’re so far away.”

You felt bereft of him without his hand in your mouth. Caleb stood without warning. Your leg fell back to the couch from where it had been over his, and he was reaching for you, slotting his big hands underneath your armpits. You were about to protest, saying you were probably sweating, you weren’t a kid anymore – but he hoisted you up from under your arms like you were nothing, just as he had when you were children. He had only gotten bigger, become a man, and you had stayed the same. You dangled in the air, but only for a moment. He took a few steps, and deposited you back on your feet against one empty wall of your apartment. His broad chest eclipsed your vision before you looked up into his face. 

“Caleb?”

Saying his name still felt almost foreign, now. You had forbidden yourself from even thinking it after he had died. Now, it was all strange and sharp edges on your tongue. Nothing like the shape of those apples he liked so much.

“You said I was too far away,”

Caleb’s hand – the one you had bitten, still marked by you – came into your vision. His fingers gripped your jaw, hard enough for you to feel his touch against your teeth through the skin of your cheeks. 

“So I got closer.”

He overtook everything, so alive before you. You no longer wished to deny him as you once had. You traced a vein in his forearm with your eyes. You thought you could almost see his heartbeat, there.

Caleb retained his grip on your jaw. The fingers on his other hand were suddenly very close to your mouth, and then inside of it. He stroked at your upper gums with his index and middle finger, pushing your lips out of the way. The right side, left side, bumping across the ridges there. You could hear your own breath, loud and quick through your open mouth. Your saliva made his work easy for him. He repeated the motion with your bottom teeth. His eyes were locked on his motions, tracing the curvature of the inside of your mouth. His thumb pressed against your tongue. He stroked it. You tasted his skin again, this time under his control. You curled your tongue under the pad of his finger instinctually. You saw a muscle in his jaw twitch, just barely there.

“You’re so wet,”

His gaze drifted from his finger on your tongue to your eyes, and his voice dropped to a low whisper, hoarse with something you couldn’t place.

“And warm,”

Caleb took his thumb from your mouth. His grip hadn’t lessened on your jaw. Firm, almost enough to hurt. Your lips were forced to stay slightly parted. Your breath felt thick in your throat.

“And I want to be inside of you.”

Caleb’s fingers increased their grip on the place where your teeth met each other, against your cheeks. Your mouth was pried open under his strength, and you relaxed it into further willingness when you realized what he wanted you to do. You opened your jaw for whatever he was giving you.

You watched as his lips parted, his face hovering over your own. You, looking up at him, his open lips, revealing one canine that stuck out, crooked, from his otherwise straight, white teeth. Him, looking down at you. You were breathing nothing but the hot air from his mouth, from his nostrils, and he from yours. The air was achingly familiar. It endured, hotly, possessing you, until you could hardly differentiate his breath from your own. Caleb’s tongue passed over his open lips, shiny and wet with his saliva. It collected, until it began to form, falling in a singular rivulet from the tip. In what seemed an eternally slow moment in time, it passed from his mouth onto your waiting tongue.

You had been willing the dead to come back, and now the waters of his life were in your mouth. Still warm from his own. His taste. Clean. Wet. Warm. 

Alive.

You closed your mouth. Swallowed. Committed him to memory. He couldn’t part from you again.

[a-leg-without-fear]

Nightmare🌧️

angst babes!!!

Ship: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 986

Warnings: experimentation, allusions to drowning, needles, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, self-doubt

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Clear water surrounded him on all sides. Burying him in a freezing, liquid tomb. He was completely submerged. Frigid liquid would be slithering into his lungs if it wasn't for the rebreather firmly lodged between his teeth. Artificial air pumped into his mouth in quick bursts. Opening his eyes resulted in them stinging from the chemicals in the water, so he remained in darkness.

The sounds of the world around him were muffled. Faint discussion filtered through the water like raindrops on a car roof. Snatches of "pulse at 82," "body temperature nominal," "preparing the adamantium now," reached his strained ears. Fists clenched around the metal table beneath him. What was taking so long?

Mechanical whirring buzzed in the water. Like a swarm of angry wasps submerged in a pond. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from. Waves of harsh droning sped through the water at high velocity. He would have covered his ears if it weren't for the metal restraints firmly holding his wrists to the table.

Dozens of spinning needles stabbed into his skin. Hot poker after hot poker spearing into his flesh and making him cry out into the rebreather. Sparks of absolute agony swirled in the blood leaking from his new wounds. He thrashed against his restraints, desperate to escape from this new torture.

Logan's eyes snapped open as a harsh breath filled his lungs. His pulsed raced in his ears like a galloping horse. Sweat covered his skin in a thin coat. The cotton sheets flew from his body in fistfuls of cloth as he threw them from himself, scrambling to sit at the edge of the bed.

As his bare feet touched the hardwood, chest heaving, he took in his surroundings. Framed pictures of his new life in this universe decorated every available wall and flat surface. Images of parties at Wade and Althea's apartment, Mary Puppins graduating from dog-training, Laura with her new girlfriend. The group of framed pictures on his nightstand were singled out, the photos containing someone he held so dearly the frames were more expensive than the rest.

You.

Stills of you and Logan at a bar getting drinks, you asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in your lap, you and Wade playing cards when you know he cheats. Your bright smile decorated every frame in a cheerful glow. Always one to make people happy without ever really trying.

A deep, revitalizing breath filled Logan's chest as he scooped up one of the pictures. It was a selfie he had taken a few months ago. You and Logan were on the beach somewhere in California. Teals and greens flowed over your shoulders from the two-piece bathing suit you'd decided to wear that day. Your sunburned arms were wrapped around Logan's shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek as you gave him a laughter-filled kiss. A content smile was stretched across his weathered face.

Logan looked over his bare shoulder to see you. Cuddled under the blankets, mouth slightly parted, deep in sleep. Your hair was lightly tousled from your usual tossing and turning.

How did he ever land himself here? After everything he'd done, or didn't do? How in the fuck did he manage to build this perfect life with you? How did he earn the right to wake up next to you every morning, a sleepy smile playing at your lips as you kissed his forehead, with pure adoration flooding his senses?

The frame glinted in the moonlight as he set it back on his nightstand. Logan's touch lingered on the glass. Wind had blown your hair from the bun you'd secured it in earlier that day. Wisps blew across your closed eyes and had tickled Logan's nose.

"Logan?" came your mumbled whisper. He shifted on the bed until he was facing you. Tired eyes blinked up at him from your place amongst the sheets. Your eyebrows were furrowed, confusion etching into your sleep-addled features.

"Sorry, doll. Nightmare," he cooed quietly. He smoothed his palm along your cheek. Your skin was warm, plush, comfortable. Like holding a peach on a summer's day.

You nuzzled deeper into his hand. A small smile pulled at your lips, "It's okay. Wanna talk about it?"

The question hung heavily around his head. Smoke curled in his mind from where his nightmares originated. Clouded, a monstrous fog that Logan could never quite focus on. It lingered in his mind like storm clouds over a choppy sea. He'd tried to direct his ship toward the tempest, to access his memories, but he'd always sink beneath the waves before he'd reach it.

Doomed to repeat his past every night and to not remember a single thing.

"Nah, I'm alright, sugar. Go back to sleep," he soothed as he brushed a stray hair away from your face. Your hands unburied themselves from the sheets and gripped at his forearm.

"At least hold me until then?" you asked, so damn sweetly. Like the only shelter in the wilderness was in Logan's arms. Like he was safe, someone worth being near when times got tough.

"Of course," he breathed with a sigh. You tugged the sheets down to offer Logan space to envelop you. He dutifully obeyed, sliding under the covers and cradling you to his chest. A content sigh puffed from your lips. He felt your eyes flutter closed as you buried your nose against his neck.

"Love ya, Lo," you slurred into his skin. It was only a few moments before your breathing mellowed out, sleep taking you under its soft wings.

Logan ran his hand up and down your spine. Soft skin ran past his fingertips in fields of heated velvet. The repetitive motion grounded him, reminded him that you were his. He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head.

"I love you, too," he whispered. He knew, unequivocally, that he was yours. Nightmares and all.

i might cry

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza

Want to be on the taglist? Fill out this form!

[tmwcs]

Finale

Warnings: Hints of somnophilia, kidnapping, yandere 😏, dazed and confusion, mentions of reader being drugged (prescription drugs), there’s a little bit of a Timelapse and can be a little confusing so make sure you read/re-read part one before reading this.

Authors notes: Yeah, so fairy tale series is no different from the traditional acts and content of yandere obsession and love that is featured in a lot of my work…so please only read if you don’t find the content disturbing or discomforting.

“I feel so…weak…tired…like all my energy being drained from me. I can barely keep my eyes open…how is this…”

Your body sinks into the comforter—the small prickle on your fingertip tingles you to sleep. In deep slumber, your mind is enveloped by a passionate dream—one you’ve never had before. You didn’t know who he was or why he was there, but he seemed to hold the key to paradise. Sweat stains the silk satin sheets as you fade in and out, feeling him pumping and thrusting slow and sometimes fast. He’d go hard and deep—other times he’d tease you by rotating just the tip of it in the opening—probing and puncturing as he breathes into your neck and growls into your ear. It felt so real—so everlasting.

At a cyclic rate, the same dream went on and on. It felt eternal, and the pulsating sensation of your womanhood creates a tight knot in your gut. Your hips roll and dips into the mattress, you swore you opened your eyes and awoke, but it only lasted for a second and you’d fall right back into his arms as he picks up where the dream left off and ravishes your body once more. Tainting your body, he marks it inside and out—you’ll forever be ruined.

Your hands grip the sheets as you feel the cool air freezing those beads of sweat decorating your skin. Your heart skips a beat whenever he whispers into your ear…

“Yeah? Right there? Is that the spot, baby? Keep telling me how much you like it…”

You swore you responded and begged him to stop, but he kept going—much to your deepest gratitude. There were moments where his tongue, hands, and lips felt too good—moments where you couldn’t stand it any longer and felt yourself screaming internally. God, what a feeling…it’s indescribable.

“Stop…please no more…”

He ignores your pleading and keeps going. He fills you, pumps into you, and stuffs everything he’s got deep into the center of your core. You hate to admit it, despite your begging, you love that he kept up his momentum and continues. This feeling of being owned—belonging to one who claims you and shows you who is in charge…it was like…like…

“Wake up, baby.”

You hear his voice beckoning. Your smile fades as you feel yourself being pulled away from the vanilla environment. Instantaneously, the silk, candlelight, and cinnamon air disappears and a different sensation hits you. Your eyes slowly open and grogginess takes over. “Mm…huh?”

Fully awake, your eyes stinging from the beaming light in your face. “Wh…what is—“

“It’s quite alright, relax. I’m going to listen to your heartbeat, take deep breaths for me.”

You do your best to abide but struggled. In and out you overhear the voices above you.

“She’ll be alright. Just keep giving her the medication prescribed and limit her movements. Have her continue with bed rest.”

You force your eyes to open through a series of blinks. The blurry image of your surroundings finally becomes clear, and you raise a brow once you realize that the entire room was unrecognizable. Skin sore from the IV needle securely taped over the back of your hand—your mouth slightly dry and lips chapped. “Wh-what is—“

“Shh—relax, baby.”

Baby?

You squint your eyes shut once more to ease the stinging. Finally, they adjust to the bright lighting and you can fully make out the room. Beige tapestry, vanilla colored silk sheets, and cinnamon scented candles.

You hear the voices come to a minimum and the door shuts. Gentle footsteps grow closer and a strong hand caresses your cheek.

“I really don’t want to keep you on those medications, but if you’re still in pain then I guess we can have you take them for just a bit longer.”

Confused and scared, you find your voice to question the young man before you. It came out cracked and incoherent, to which he was kind enough to prop you up and help you drink water from a fine glass. He had a slender build but was strong—you could tell by the lean muscle and the veins that trailed his forearms. His face was well defined yet soft. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, yet you’re unsure if his looks were enough to ease your discomfort. “Who—who are you?”

He smirks. His jawline becomes more defined and his slick brow raised, taking his level of attraction to a devious one.

“What was the last thing you remembered, baby?”

“S-stop calling me baby…who are you? And why am I here?”

He frames his fingers around you chin and forces you to look into his sharp gaze. “What do you remember?”

You gulp. A sense of fear hits you when he looks at you so sternly, and you don’t know why. You’ve never seen this man before. “I…I was dropping my little sister off at her friends house. I…I went home and I fell asleep as soon as I got in.”

He continues to smile, which further exacerbates the fear within you. “Oh baby, is that all?”

“What do you mean is that all?” You stir a confused look in his direction. He ignores it as he reaches over to a small dresser and fishes out an article. Lovingly, he lays it out on your lap and sits beside you, much to your chagrin. He pulls you in closer—cradling you to his side. “Are you coherent enough to read on your own?” He asks you. The tone in his voice came off tender yet teasing. You ignore it and begin reading. A few sentences in and your heart drops. “What the hell is this?” You look over and question the young man. He chuckles with a small bit of blush tainting his cheeks. “Keep reading and you’ll find out.”

The more you read, you shook your head in disbelief. “No…no…that’s not…I—I…”

At a loss for words, you wondered about your house, your parents, and your younger sister. Do they have any idea where you’re at? So they even know?

“I…no!! I was at home!”

He smirks against your cheek as he pulls you in. With a tender kiss, you felt the thin layer of saliva coat your skin, which you rubbed off harshly as you pushed him away. “Get me out of here!! I want to go home!”

He smiles once more. “You are home. In fact, this has been your home for over a year.”

“What?” Your voice cracks once more, only this time it was out of shock. “What the hell are you saying? I’m telling you dammit! I was home! I was just home earlier today!”

He shook his head, once again, his display of tenderness comes off more demeaning than loving, despite the adoration glazing his eyes. “Na-uh. Look at the date baby.”

You scurried the article and peered at the date. “Yeah? That’s today’s date.”

He smiles as he takes his phone and pulls up the date and current time. “Don’t think so babe. You’ve been heavily induced with all those medications, you don’t even realize just how much time has passed. My poor sleeping beauty, good thing I’m here to take care of you.”

The pain in your chest soars and it almost felt like it was going to explode any moment. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be. Your eyes begin tearing up. “No…no…no because my finger…my finger I remembered my mom—I hurt my finger in the rose thorn in the sink!” You force a smile as the tears flourished your skin. Holding your hand up, you point to your fingertip explaining the wound you incurred. You tried to tell yourself the truth despite what you had just read. Just when you presented the last bit of evidence to your name, you felt your skin go cold when he shakes his head and gently takes your hand in his.

“Was it really in the kitchen sink, baby?” His words were gentle and almost sympathetic as he kissed your finger. But then…a small flash back hits you. A subtle bit pierces your brain and leaves as fast as it came. Right after you rejected your friend's offer to attend a party…when her words brought you back to a time when you were in high school…

“What do you remember, baby?” He asks as he pets your hair. You begin explaining not to enlighten him, more so to backtrack your steps as you walk yourself through the events after you dropped your sister off…

“My friend…I told her I didn’t want to go to this party and she said something that reminded me of a time in high school…someone left me a rose while I was napping in the project room…”

“Oh but was it what she said that reminded you of that rose?” He interjects. You snap your head and look into that sharp gaze once more. The way he looked you over—up and down, there was nothing but adoration and love…so deep and dangerous, it was the stuff nightmares were made of. “Or was there something else that made you think of that time? Something inside the car?”

A gulp nestles in the center of your throat. And suddenly you remember…what had really happened. What was disclosed in the article. The view of the stars laid in the night sky like diamonds on black velvet, and displayed before you through your windshield. You were on the phone with your longtime friend, and her voice echoed as something on the floorboard of the passenger seat caught your eye. You reach down to grab it—“ouch!”

You remember harshly sucking your finger as you admired the deep red rose. It looked very much like the one left in your grasp in the projection room.

“Oh so you do remember my gift—both of them.” He happily delights as you froze. “You?…You’re the one behind the two roses? How? I don’t even know you…”

He wasn’t bothered by your harsh statement, instead, he delicately removed the IV needle and helped you up. “I’m sure you’re hungry, and we should get a bath ready for you.”

“No…no! Explain everything to me!”

He looks at you with a feigned look of surprise. “You already know. You saw the rose in the car and—well…everything is just what the article says.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Please…please tell me…what is all this? Who are you? Why? Just why?!”

You collapse and he catches you. He was charming, fluid with his motions to protect and shelter you…in other words, he was every girls dream, but to you, he was a nightmare. “Let me go! I want to go home!”

He hugs and tenderly kisses you once more, but this time you push him off and stumble over to the window. Hanging onto the curtains, you relied on them as your strength hadn’t fully recovered. Opening them, your mind goes blank upon seeing a brick wall…not a glass window, just a brick wall. “There's no way out—at least not that way. If you’re good, much like how you were when the doctor filled your system up with those medications, I can take you out. You’ll at least get to remember and enjoy the sunlight this time around, instead of being asleep.”

You look over to see a wheelchair stationed by a secured door. This couldn’t be! One by one, you opened up each curtain, all six of them lined up beautifully, only to find that they were merely for decoration. Each one covering a mirage of bricks—stacked and concreted into the wall. You slowly figured the room was secured underground. So deep underground.

You slowly turn around, and saw him standing. Unbuckling his belt, he walks over and wraps it around the backside of your waist—pulling you into him. You were too stunned to think or do anything. Were you really here this whole time? The dreams? Everything…the article explaining the “devastating car crash”—your car crash. How your body was never found but the car was found bursting in flames…over a year ago. That bit of you arriving home, pricking your finger over the kitchen sink…all of it was a dream. You did fall asleep…after you pricked your finger in the car. Whatever was laces on those thorns—it seeped into your bloodstream once it punctured skin. There you laid asleep, and up for his grab in the middle of the road before abandoning the car.

Yet something in your gut told you that the dreams that followed suit—the feigned paradise of cinnamon and vanilla…that wasn’t so much of a dream…to your worst fear…you explored the possibilities of his ravishing being a reality. Especially when you began to feel the bit of his essence drip down your thigh as he tugged the belt tighter—squeezing it out of you. This man…while you slept. The worst part was that you had enjoyed it—did that peer through your sleeping status? All those times when you bit down on the pillow case and gripped the sheets—begging him to stop but thanking him when he kept going…did he see all that? Was that all real? Looking up at his handsome face and seeing how he adored you…how he tenderly moved pieces of your hair from your face…yeah…something tells you that part was real.

“Don’t worry Sleeping Beauty. You’ll never have to worry about anything…just sleep. Sleep as much as you want. I’ll take care of you…I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you. Just sleep to your heart’s content.”

Sleep?…sleep…strange…you were always so tired…always felt so restless and succumbed to those moments throughout the years in school and took every opportunity to nap. However, now…to your disadvantage…you felt wide awake.

Taglist: @strxwbloody • @nshmrarki • @aquariushiiiii • @addictedtohobi • @nuriicata • @lilyuwon • @aanniikkaa •

[oscarrobertson0]

Texas A&M Basketball -A Comprehensive Guide (2024)

The Texas A&M Basketball crew is the men’s basketball team representing Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas. The crew competes in the Southeastern Conference (SEC) and has made 15 appearances in the NCAA Tournament. Introduction to Texas A&M Basketball The Texas A&M Basketball software began in 1915 and is considered to be a reputable program in the SEC. The group is currently coached…

[merowkittie]

hiii! I was thinking about fem reader asking hobie to pierce her nipples bc she thinks it’ll look cute to which he agrees. but when he gets them done he’s literally so horny bc of how hot they make fem reader look..

hope you have a great day/night <3

Thanks :), you too, sweets!

Piercing Problems — Hobie Brown

Summary: Hobie gets a little horny while piercing your tits.

Warnings: lots of talk about your boobs / very suggestive / not proof read I’m sorry but it’s 2AM / talks of needles, piercings / a short smut scene (a flashback) / umm I think that’s it..

Sorry is he’s ooc, still trying to figure out his character also this was rushed because this was requested a good week or two ago..

Hobie was back at it again with piercing your body.

He had you sitting on the counter in your shared bathroom. Your locs were put up in a bun behind your head with some pieces hanging out and framing your soft face.

You were dangling your legs from your sitting position, swinging them back and forth, waiting for your boyfriend to finish getting his stuff together to pierce your nipples.

To say you were scared was an understatement. You were sure this would feel like you were dying and you were 100% sure you’d pass out in the process. Hobie had told you that you didn’t have to do it but you thought about all the perks about getting them.. and they were really cute!

“Ya ready, love?” He turned to you with a sharpie in hand. He walked move in front of you to be standing between your legs.

You nodded your head and lifted your shirt up to reveal your hardened nipples. They were cold from the chilly air of the bathroom. Hobie cupped your breasts, fondling them childishly.

You kicked him in the thigh and sighed. “Stop! Mark the area already and pierce it.. I’m going to piss on myself, I’m so fucking scared Hobie.”

He looked at you and rolled his eyes. He pressed a kiss to each of your nipples and then to your lips as a way to reassure you. You knew he knew what he was doing but he liked to play a lot.. too much.

Here’s how the conversation went with him to even agreeing to pierce your nipples in the first place:

“Mm.. fuck! Hobie, please..!” You placed your hand on his head somewhere in his wicks and tugged his further into your body.

His lips were attached to your nipples and his fingers inside of your cunt. His fingers were pumping in and out of you at a fast pace. Your hips were meeting his motions but stopped after you felt your cunt start to squeeze him hard and your stomach felt so full.

“Please what, babe?” He stopped his fingers for a moment, waiting to here the words he was looking for from your pouty lips.

You whined and whimpered at the loss of his thrusting fingers. You tried to move on your own but he held down your hips with his free hand.

“Please.. Please B, I need to cum so bad! I need you..” you looked at him with your lust blown eyes and he nodded, biting at your nipple which made you yelp.

“There you go, baby punk. I’ve gotcha ya. Lemme hear those pretty noises, yea?” He smirked up at you when he saw your eyes roll back in your head as his fingers started their movements again.

When you two finished, you kind of just laid around watching movies and talking mindlessly about stuff. Your nipples ached because of all the biting and sucking Hobie was doing to them. They were so sensitive. Though, how would it feel if you had piercings? I mean besides the feeling you thought they’d look cute on your breasts.

“B. What do you think about nipple piercings?” You peered up at him.

He didn’t say nothing at first, seemingly in thought and then nodded.

“Yea, they’re hot. What about ‘em?” He questioned, his eyes now on you. He knew where this was going but he just wanted to hear it from you.

You hummed. You didn’t know if you were very sure about your decision so you sat in silence for a minute, thinking it over. The pros and cons. The pain, pleasure, what about it be like? Then you were like fuck it.

“I want ‘em. I think they’re cute. What do you think, querido?” You bit your lips in anticipation of his response.

“I think you’d look quite lush.” He smirked at you. Instantly agreeing with this decision and he wouldn’t mind piercing it for you.

Now here you two were in your bathroom, at probably four in the morning, piercing your nipples.

You prayed a good six times during the prep process. You really weren’t one to handle pain well. A bit dramatic people would say.

After Hobie marked little dot indications on your nipples he placed the clamp on one and you gasped.

“What the fuck. B! That shit hurts. Is it supposed to feel this tight?” You winced as he adjusted it a bit and grabbed the needle.

He shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, lovie. How did it feel when I pierced your stomach?” He raised a brow waiting for you to respond.

You thought for a second and it felt pretty similar.

“The same way.”

“Then you’re good, shut your gob.”

You huffed and playfully kicked him again. He was getting annoying.

“Alright Alright. Don’t move, I’m gonna pierce ya now.” He grabbed the needle from the napkin he placed down besides you and steadily aligned it with the mark on your nipple. “Count with me, one?”

You felt the needle start to poke you and sucked in a breath, Hobie gave you a look and you let out a shaky breath. “Tw- FUCK!”

Before you got done saying two Hobie already put the needle through and slid the bar through your bud and quickly screwed the ball onto it.

“Oh my god, Hobie. Are you mental?” You stared at him wide eyed. Your face scrunched up in disbelief and confusion. You had tears coming down your face and you didn’t know what to do with your emotions at the moment.

He snickered at your reaction and clamped your other nipple, preparing for the next piercing. He cleaned the needle he used and the bar. He already cleaned the area he was gonna pierce and marked it. He thought you were doing alright, could tone it down with the screams cause it was, super early in the morning. You guys didn’t need another noise complaint.

As he started to line the needle up with your nipple he asked you a question, “Did you know Gwen and Miles kissed? Finally, right?”

“What!” You exclaimed and then that turned into a muffled yelp as he did what he did last time, slipping the barbell in and quickly screwing on the ball.

“Yup. Lad took forever!” He chuckled.

Once he finished cleaning any blood from the piercings you took a look at them in the mirror. Your tits looked beautiful with the shiny silver of the piercing sticking out of it. Hobie was behind you admiring his handy work.. and how your nips looked. His hands came crawling up your aides and he cupped the bottom of your breasts, holding them up as they sat perky in his hands.

He kissed your temple and rubbed his hands up and down your stomach and back to your breasts. You knew what he was doing and you felt butterflies in your chest at his movements.

“You like them?” He asked you. It wasn’t really a question more of a statement.

“Hell yea. They’re awesome, B.” You smiled, tilting your head up at him and kissing his jaw.

He hummed and pinched your sensitive nipples, earning a whine and a playful swat from you. You could feel him press against you and you knew he was hard from just staring at your tits with the newly added piercing.

“You know.. I should repay you right?” You turned around and placed your hands on his chest. Looking him in the eyes you bit your lip. He nodded, as if to tell you to go on, “Do you want me to help you out with that?” One of you hands traveled down to the bulge in his boxers. Rubbing it slightly causing him to groan.

“Mhm.. I want a view of those tits when you ride me.”

[thelonelyshore-if]

Jay Drabble

Or, Jay wakes up next to MC for the first time.

The first time Jay saw you, they had no idea that they'd love you. 

Ravi had a feeling. That's all he would tell them about why they were walking alongside the lake when a storm was clearly about to break. That deep into October, night had already fallen despite the early hour. Jay had their flashlight out, scanning the beach for the source of the feeling.

The water was a cold, dark unknown. Empty of promise or reason for concern. Kristy Edwards was still missing at that point, and Jay was half hopeful that Ravi might be leading them towards her. They were focused on the beach itself, looking more for a body than anything else. 

“Oh,” Ravi had said, looking out at the lake. 

Jay turned, a sinking feeling in their gut as they found what they'd been looking for. A body, bobbing in the water like a dead fish. Limp. Motionless.

Not Kristy, though. Not anyone.

They ran in without thinking. For someone so cautious with their personal life, Jay sure had a knack for rushing into danger. 

The first time Jay saw you, you were drenched in lake water, your pajamas clinging to your skin and your eyes shut. The first time they kissed you, it was to push air into your lungs, their hands pumping rhythmically at the still heart in your chest. 

Now it's six in the morning and they've kissed you again. Kissed you and more, spent a night with you that still has their heart pounding.

Jay lays awake in their bed. One arm is tucked behind their head, propping them up enough that they can look at you curled up on their chest. The other is pinned between your torso and a satin pillowcase. Pins and needles stab at the trapped limb, and they're trying to figure out how to escape without ruining the moment. 

The problem is that they're so damn comfortable, other than the dead weight of their arm. You lay with your head buried in the curve of their neck. They can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of your skin. 

You're here. You're alive. You're beautiful.

Dim light shines in from the hallway. Last night you stayed up talking for hours. You sat shoulder to shoulder on their old red sofa, discussing anything and everything. Leaning closer and closer as the night went on. Knees bumping, hands brushing together. Talking turned to kissing turned to…

Well. 

Jay smiles. They can’t help it–a giddy, excited, teenager-who-just-had-their-first-kiss sort of smile.

You both were distracted enough that it's no surprise they forgot to turn off the light. Other than the dim golden glow streaming in from the hall, Jay's bedroom is dark. It's late enough in the year that the sun won't come up for hours, and they'll take the darkness for as long as they can get it. 

This feels like a dream, a moment wrapped in the magic of waking up with you in their arms for the very first time. 

Well. Waking up with you on their arm. An arm that is, quite frankly, killing them. 

Jay doesn't want to break the spell, but their arm is starting to feel like the static that builds up on the surface of their TV.

They stretch out their fingers and grimace when the motion sends sparks shooting straight up to their shoulder. They scoot back in bed, slowly managing to wriggle their arm out from under your neck. 

They pull free, shake out their fingers. Blood rushes back into their hand and it stings, but nothing like it was before. They watch you, fondness and amusement mingling as your face briefly twists into a mask of annoyance. You crack open a single eye, looking up at them.

“Jay…?” you squint into the darkness, words sluggish with sleep.

“Morning,” they say softly.

Jay’s heart melts when your groggy expression fades into a sleepy smile. You roll over until you’ve propped yourself up on your side. You swoop down, peppering their ribs with clumsy kisses.

“Hey–!” their voice cracks into laughter. It tickles, and they shift away from you, but you’ve wrapped your arm around their waist. They’re trapped, and they’re elated, and this is the best morning of their entire life.

“You woke me up,” you accuse.

“I couldn’t feel my arm,” they grin, “You were crushing it.”

You open your mouth to protest and they can't resist leaning in and catching your lips with theirs. They pour all of their giddiness and joy and relief into the kiss, hoping that you can feel the warmth blooming inside them. You receive it eagerly. They wrap an arm around your waist, pull you in close. 

The kiss lasts for seconds. It lasts for hours. Jay loses themself in the heat of your lips. They feel dizzy with affection, and their heart feels like it's going to burst. 

Finally it ends and you break apart, but they keep holding you. You both shift position until you're resting your head on their chest and their arm is curled around you. It'll probably fall asleep again, but they can't resist the intoxicating feeling of you at their side. 

“Wow,” they breathe, staring up at the ceiling.

You laugh, your breath tickling their skin. 

“Was it that good?” you tease. 

Yes, they want to say, but that's not all. They're marveling because they never could have expected this. They pulled you out of the lake, took pride in having helped find you. In keeping you safe 

But it wasn't until now that Jay truly understood just how lucky they were to save your life. 

“Stay for breakfast?” they say instead, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Sure,” you hum.

Jay smiles and closes their eyes. You both fall into a comfortable, drowsy silence. Hopefully you'll stick around and you can spend your day together, but for now this is all they need. 

This is perfect. 

[semischarmed]

Thread

Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.

= = = = =

The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane. 

Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability. 

I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle. 

I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.

- - - - 

I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative. 

Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded. 

And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.

I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.

— - - - - -

“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.

“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.

“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.

I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”

I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.

“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”

He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch. 

“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times. 

Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.

“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man. 

I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”

I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”

A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.

With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.

The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.

“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.

= = = = =

When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned. 

Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”

I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.

“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe. 

“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.

“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.

I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.

Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.

“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.” 

“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“

“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.

Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.

“Joey- who is that?”

I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.

I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths. 

“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.

“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.

Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder. 

I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.

I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.

With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat. 

I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”

Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock. 

What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.

Just my luck. 

Charlie.

= = = = =

A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.

[dawnwriterimagines]

debt that’s owed : Fezco (3)

Summary:  Laurie needs someone to pay her the debt that’s owed to her, Rue ran from her, which gives her the perfect opportunity to use Fezco’s words against him. But, is she worth you?

Warning(s):  Angst, talk of overdose, Fear, Drugs, mentions of sex trafficking, Laurie’s crazy ass once again, etc.

(PART 1)     (PART 2)

Author’s Note: What a beautiful man we lost, in every sense of the word. Rest in Peace Angus. Gone too soon. We all love and appreciate the works you’ve done, the lives you’ve changed and the love you give, rest well in beautiful peace.

 Buy me a Coffee? Ko-Fi 

- - -

You had woken up disoriented and drugged, a needle still sticking out of your arm, a few too many holes made that made your skin splotchy and purple. Laurie had been standing over you, hushing you as she took the needle from your skin, kissing your wrist as a mother would have her only child before she stood. “Laurie...” you sighed out, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Laurie. Please...”

The older woman rubbed your cheek, “Shhh...” the touch running through your system all the way down to your toes, you took a breath, shivering at the discomfort. “They don’t like it when you girlies talk too much, hush now, sweetie.” You’d never felt like this before. You felt terrible. 

She left the door open when she left the room, a man you didn’t recognize peeking through the crack of the doorway to look at you, he gave a pleased laugh, whistling. 

You turned on the floor, the blanket beneath you did nothing to shelter you from the cold floor below. The lights were dim from the tiny lamp in the corner, nothing else in the room, but it wasn’t very big anyway.

It took a while to realize you were naked, only from recalling what you had been wearing earlier, and the cold air that you could feel everywhere but nowhere all at once, cause you were sweating terribly. Feeling incredibly hot all of a sudden. You rolled around, pulling the blanket with you as you broke out into a fever, the discomfort you felt was enough to distract you from the horrifying situation you were in currently.

“Laurie...” you drawled, whimpering as the drugs took you once again. It didn’t feel right at all, you felt sick and you felt fucking amazing all at the same time, but you were scared most of all. You had no idea what she had been pumping you with for the last few hours. “Fez...” you called for your boyfriend, sobbing as your eyes rolled back as you quickly succumbed to the feeling. “Fezziee...” you hiccupped.

“I like this one,” you heard the stranger say.

The man at the doorway pulled out a scrunched up wad of cash from his pocket, beginning to slide off his jacket, before Laurie stopped him with a shake of her head. “Just watching for now. She’s not ready yet, still under prep. But, if you wanted to purchase her, that’s different...”

You shivered as you followed your high, wondering what would happen next and if Fezco would ever find you before something horrible happened to you.

- - -

Fezco looks around as he rushes over to Rue, checking for anyone that was around the house that may be unwanted, clearly on edge. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Rue?” he questioned the girl, she follows the two of them into the house. “Imma need you to leave, I ain’t askin’.”

Her gaze lingering on the broken screen door, unable to even close it as it had no knob now, the whole piece completely gone as if it’d been blown to pieces, “I wanted to hang out...but obviously you’ve got some shit goin’ on,” her eye’s going wide at the state of the house. “What the--what the fuck happened here?” the glass on the floor, the broken deck doorway, the flipped table, the broken lamp on the floor, the scuffled carpet.

Rue steps into the house, slowly, Ash getting on the computer, looking for something, Fezco making a call, his shoulders low as if something heavy sat upon them. The girl’s eye’s narrowing as she followed the scuffs over to the room hallway, the bedroom down the hall had its door broken down, wooden pieces still on the floor. 

Concerned was not the word to describe how she felt right. Scared wasn’t either. Worried, maybe. But, she was also pretty terrified. Terrified of the answer to her next question.

“Fez,” she hadn’t torn her eyes away from the hallway when she spoke, her voice small, reluctant. “Where’s (Y/n)?” she turns then, her brows knitted together in complete worry, stumbling forwards and away from the hall. She makes her way over to Fezco, taking a handful of his shirt as she pulls him, “Fez!” her voice breaks, her fists shaking, “Where is she?!” she sucks in a breath as she sees his face and the way he doesn’t look her in the eye. “No...” she shook her head. “What so she’s...she’s what? She’s gone?” her voice raising. “Is (y/n) gone, Fez? Come on, gimme something!”

“She’s not gone,” Fezco turned to her with a hardened look, pulling her hands from his shirt, the material stretching out as her grip hadn’t loosened. “Imma find her. Imma find her and kill the motha’fucker that did this,” he seethed to himself, stepping away from her. “Ash, go over the tapes. Try yesterday and this morning, find a camera that isn’t fucked with.”

Ash doesn’t say anything but nod, rushing to the room down the hall as Fezco took the laptop from him, sitting down on the couch, Rue following Fezco, still confused with what was going on.

“Who...wait, who did this?” Rue asked, loudly. “Stop ignoring me, man.”

“I told you to fuckin’ go home, Rue,” Fezco’s eyes flickered up to the girl before back down at the screen, rewatching this morning’s tapes, trying to find someone he recognized. “I ain’t need this right now.”

“Need what? I’m tryin’ to help you,” Rue frowned, offended. “I wanna help! My best friend’s fucking missing, well...kidnapped, by some fucking jackass and even trashed your crib,” she gestured around the house at the damage. “Lemme do something, I can help! I can help find her!”

Fezco looked up toward her, agitated. “You wanna do somethin’ helpful?”

“Yeah, dude!” She nodded before making a face. “Wait, you aren’t gonna just tell me to leave--”

“Go home, Rue.”

“Oh, come on!” she yelled out. “I can help you! I be doin’ mad detective shit. Besides you need all the help you can get, it’s not like you can ask the guys in blue.”

Fezco ignored her for now, trying to stay focused. “Just go sit down somewhere, man. I don’t got time for this.”

And so, reluctantly, Rue went towards the other side of the couch, around towards Ashtray, she sticks her head out of the sliding panel doorway, which was now gone, broken through. Alarmed, she looks down at the glass at her feet, it crunches, burying itself further into the carpet. 

Behind her, Ashtray took a note from his pocket, letting it sit on the coffee table, sliding it over to his brother. “This gotta mean something. Wanna run this through some contacts?”

Fezco thinks on it, before nodding at the idea. “Yeah, man. Let’s try it.” 

As they head back to work, Rue perks up at the new source of info, “Wait, ya’ll got a clue?” coming over to the coffee table, picking up the note, Fezco fumes and Ashtray gaps at the girl’s unwanted involvement.

“Rue!” Fezco grits. “What I just tell you, man!” He usually saw her presence as quite endearing

Rue brushes him off. “I’m good at riddles, just--” then she really looks at the note. 10k.

10k...?

Oh my fucking god, 10k.

As Fezco snatches the note from her grip, Rue stands there, horrified. Her expression morphing completely, shoulders stiffening and hands tensing up, she turns quickly so Fezco can’t see the mortified look on her face. The guilt that quickly begins to eat at her. 

She had thought about it, of course. Of the money she owed Laurie, the drug dealer that she had made a fake deal with in a pathetic effort to get the pills that her regular plug, Fez, had been refusing her. In some way, she blamed Fezco, if he had just given her the damn pills and let her deal with whatever happened to her later, maybe she would’ve never went to Laurie, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped...

No, it was her fault, oh my god it her fault. She went to Laurie cause she was fucking desperate and then she ran when Laurie had gotten her the first time, but now you were taken in her place.

She recalled being drugged out of her mind, just as she wanted, but locked in a room and awaiting to be sold for a fuck. 

Rue feels so goddamn sick all of a sudden. She wanted to vomit. 

God, that’s what you could be dealing with right now. 

She did this. Oh god, she did this to you.

But, Fezco does notice. 

“Rue...” he says, slowly.

Ashtray looks up, stopping in his typing. He glances between the two of them silently, before looking at Rue a bit more seriously, taking note of the way her entire demeanor’s changed. He closed the laptop.

Rue didn’t answer Fezco, didn’t even turn to face him, trying to think of something to say, anything that could defend why. But what could she possibly say besides the fact it was supposed to be her.

Fezco forcefully turned the girl around, “Rue!” to which she stumbled back away from him, her face made his stomach drop, knowing now that she knew exactly why this was happening. “You...”

“I didn’t know, I swear, ok?” Rue started, hyperventilating, sniffling as she wiped a panicked tear from her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I felt like I was fucking dying, Fez! I was dying! And I--I just--Fez!” she cried as he turned from her, running his hands over his hair, down his face, trying to gather himself, trying to keep himself together. “Fez, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please, I didn’t think she’d come after anyone, I didn’t think any of it would go this far, please--” 

Ashtray’s eyes widened, lost for words.

“RUE!” Fezco roared, his body snapping towards her, pinched fingers silencing her, “Motherf--FUCK! Are you fucking--!” he shoved at the side wall, hitting anything that wasn’t her as anger overwhelmed him. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Rue?!” he couldn’t believe this. How far the girl had really fell to really get herself, to get you, into this kind of situation. 

“I know! I know! I know!” Rue sobbed, covering her face as Fez screamed at her. “Fucking god, I know! I messed up!”

“DO YOU?! Cause (y/n)’s paying for your bullshit, your fucking dumb ass, fuck shit! You mother--get the fuck out,” he fumed, running a hand over his mouth, gesturing to the door. He turned from her, he couldn’t even stand to look at her right now.

Rue sniffled, shaking. “Fez...Fez, I’m sorry. I can fix it, I can--”

“GET. THE FUCK,” Fezco explodes. “OUT!”

And Rue has no other choice but to leave, casting a guilty glance to Ashtray as well, who stares her down as if he were ready to pull the trigger on her with the glock he currently suddenly had in his hand. 

She quickly left the house, sobbing to herself, hardly able to breathe as she stumbled away from the steps. “I’m sorry...” she hiccupped, turning to the house. “I’m sorry, please...” she whispered. “I can fix this...please, I can...I can fix this.”

Rue made her way away from the house though. Making up her mind to fix this. She can fix this...

- - -

Fezco and Ashtray took their guns, a few mags full of bullets and as much cash they had stashed up, just over 8k, not enough to cover, given the raid that cut their stash short for a while. But, if Laurie wouldn’t take the bribe than getting violent was the next best thing. And Fezco didn’t mind the latter.

So when they arrived at Laurie’s home, weapons tucked into their waist bands, into the inner pockets of their jackets, Fezco parked up, Ashtray loading up his shotgun and snapping the end back into place. “Blow the bitch’s head off if this don’t work out, ight man.”

“That’s the plan, bruh,” Ash said, his young face hardened with his hatred for the sadistic dealer that had stolen his mother from him..

Fezco leaves the car, walking up to the house, fighting the urge to kick the door in and unload every bullet into someone’s fucking skull...”What’chu want, man?” Bruce, Laurie’s partner, large and intimidating in his size, glared down at Fezco.

The young man wasn’t swayed, unblinking eyes peering up at him. “Laurie.”

Bruce frowned at the tone. “You got yo’ shit this month, ain’t you? Unless you got payment already?”

“Laurie, man,” Fezco fought to keep his cool. “Where is she?”

Bruce put his hand on the gun he kept at the waistband of his trunks, “What you gotta say ta her, you can say to me.”

Fezco stood there a while, the two men exchanging violent glares, eyes boring into the other and Fezco itched to grab the gun at his side and let loose. But, he didn’t even know if you were even at this house, he needed to know first. “Ma girl...(y/n), where she at, bruh?”

Bruce smirked, straightening. “Shoulda started with that,” Fezco’s nostrils flared at his words. “You got the money to buy her back, huh?”

“She ain’t belong to nobody, man. And ya’ll fucked wit us with some shit that ain’t got nothin’ to do with her,” Fezco gritted his teeth. “Thought we was cool on this bullshit, bruh.”

“You said she was family,” came Laurie’s soft-spoken voice. She came around the corner, behind Bruce, patting her husband’s arm to back him up, “Didn’t you?”

“She’s a fuckin’ child. And got her ass into some shit. But, if you had a problem wit us, come to me,” Fezco sneered. “You came up and took ma girl--” his nails bite into the palms of his hand, he itched to kill this fucking bitch and her demented ass husband. “Where the fuck is she?”

Laurie calmly stepped in front of Fezco. “Don’t worry, Fez. She’s ok,” she assured him, with dead eyes and a quiet voice. “But, remember, I still need 10 thousand, and another few hundred more for a few packs of morphine, a bit of fentanyl...” as Laurie spoke, Fezco’s heart clenched. 

Fezco tosses the bag at her feet, “A lil’ over $8500 in there,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck if it ain’t enough for you, you took my girl, all your fucked bullshit, trashed ma crib, my fucking family--” he huffed harshly to contain himself. “This all you fucking gettin’ from me, and it’s more than you’ll ever get from us again. Where. Is. She. You fucking bitch.”

Bruce took a step towards him at his words, stopped by Laurie, who held a hand up to keep him where he was, entranced by the rage on the young man’s face. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Laurie--” Bruce began.

“Come on in, she’s right in here, Fez,” she welcomed him inside.

Fezco followed her inside, Bruce sneering at him, to which Fezco didn’t bother to acknowledge, all he was focused on now was finally getting his hands back on you, rescuing you from this dreaded place.

Laurie stopped in front of a locked room, pulling out a key from her pocket, the lock clicks open. She takes the lock off and opens the heavy door with a light grunt, the dim lighting offering nothing much, but it was light enough to see you in the middle of the room. 

Breathing harshly, turned on your side, skin drenched with sweat, “Fez...” you drawl out, constantly. “Fez...Fez...” you cried, silently, delirious as you tossed and turned.  

Fezco races into the room, “Ma!” he cries, sliding to his knees at your side, quickly sitting you up, wrapping the thin blanket around your naked frame. “Hey, hey, baby, hey,” he gently slaps your cheek, stroking your flushed face as you shiver in his arms, your eyes unfocused, rolling in the back of your head. 

He didn’t like that, taking your face in his hand. “(y/n), (y/n) look at me, look at me, come on, ma. Look at me,” he turned your head to look him in the eye, “Please, baby, can you look at me, you can, you got it, ya see,” you slowly began to regain consciousness, eye sight clearing. “That’s my girl. Look, you’re ok, you’re alright,” he rubs your arms, you’re freezing but you’re sweating terribly.

“Fez...” you whispered.

“I’m right here, ma,” he assured you. Picking you up off the ground, blanket wrapped tight. “I’m right here. I gotchu, come on, we’re going home, baby,” he stands, heading to the door. Casting a long glare to a calmly smiling Laurie, before exiting the room, he couldn’t afford to do any damage, not when you were in this condition.

“I don’t feel...” you spoke, loosely. Head limp against his shoulder, eyes hardly open. “I don’t feel that great, fez...”

“You’re alright, you’re alright, ok?” Fezco went down the hall as fast as he could, keeping the fear out of his voice, the panic from his tone. 

Coming up to the front door, where he found Rue standing at the steps. Bruce had a short stack of cash in hand that he didn’t have before, less than 10k clearly, but enough to make him happy enough to move out of the way when Fezco made his way past.

The young girl was crying hard, relief clear in her face as she saw Fezco come around the corner with you in his arms, but the state of you made her heart drop. “(Y/n)...hey, is she alright?” she asked, worriedly. “Fez...” To which Fezco brushed her off, moving past her without as much as a word of acknowledgement. 

Ashtray opens passenger door for Fez to place you in, buckling you up as you slump, quickly beginning to pass out once again. “Hey, don’t sleep. Wake up. Mom!” Ashtray startles you awake, leaning over towards you in the backseat as Fezco runs around to the other side to the driver seat. Rue enters the backseat, hesitantly, and stays quiet to not be noticed. She looks at your tired, uncomfortable face in the side mirror, and she cries a bit harder.

Fezco drives off with a final glance to Laurie and her husband waving them off at the step, as if they had just passed by for tea and cookies. The psychopaths'. They waved, knowing he’d be back for blood.

“You’re ok,” he says as he drives. Squeezing your thigh as you shift and turn, “You’re ok, hey, ma. Ma, baby,” he draws your attention. “Hey, there you are, baby.”

You’re lucid and high off whatever the hell must be in your system when you smile at him, “Hi, baby...” you smile at him, before slumping once again. 

Terrified what may happen if you fall asleep, he yells. “(Y/n)!” he startles you awake again.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

“You’re ok, it’s ok, just keep awake for a little alright?”

“Can we go home now...” you wondered, quietly.

“On our way,” Ashtray says. Fezco glances at his little brother in the mirror.

But, they don’t go home. They stop by a friend’s spot, who had offered to let them crash for the next few days, since he was out of town and they were in some shit.

Entering the home, Fezco carries you to the tub, Rue following behind, as Ash locks the door behind him. Filling up the tub as you lean against the porcelain edge, the warm water clearly calming you, the sound of the running pipe...

But before anything, Fezco sticks his fingers down your throat, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats as he forces you to gag up anything you might have ingested, emptying out your stomach contents, which wasn’t much. You sniffle and cry, hacking up whatever you could get out, leaning against your lover as your stomach churns in discomfort.

He then helps you into the tub, the water climbing to your chest. Cleaning the dirt from the floor you had been laying on, the dried blood and the horrors of the day...

Fezco takes off his sweater and his jeans, left only in his underwear, he steps into the tub behind you, holding you close, “There you go, baby,” he soothingly speaks to you, kissing your forehead as he squeezes you. “You’re alright now. I’ve gotchu, I got you...”

He glances down at the holes in your arm, bruised and crusted with blood, your hands were cut from the glass earlier. He raised one of your hands to his lips as you turned to lean your cheek to his chest, and he began to cry, closing his eyes tightly.

You slept as he wept.

 But he was grateful he had gotten you back.

At least god had given him that much today.

He kissed your hands, your knuckles, your cut skin, the tips of your fingers.

Then, he just held you to him as the faucet dripped to a stop.

- - - 

Awakening in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar place, you stood fast and out of the bed, your back slamming against the wall in surprise. You reached for a light switch, but you couldn’t see anything around you, nothing felt familiar at all, you shook in terror as the man you laid next to stirred and sat up in your mad scramble for light.

“No, no, please!” you collapsed in the corner, covering your mouth before the stranger could even say a thing, he had stood too fast for you to think nothing else but soon violence brought against you. 

“Ma! It’s me! It’s me,” Fezco found a light switch, the dark, unfamiliar room illuminating, to reveal himself to you. “It’s just me.”

You released a heavy sigh of relief, that visible took a weight off your chest. But, it also made your tears run fast, the days having been too much for you, the thought alone had brought you down to your knees and crushed you before you even knew it wasn’t true. 

Fezco quickly went around the bed, coming to sit in front of you, to which you fell into his arms, quickly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I thought someone--I didn’t know if I--” Fezco interrupts you with a simple stroke of her cheeks, running his thumbs across your cheekbones to soothe your thoughts and wipe your tears.

“I know, I know,” he whispered to her, his voice cracks as his control leaves him. It pains him too much to see you break like this. “But, what happened, huh? You’re here with me. They didn’t get you, baby. They didn’t. You’re here with me.”

“You saved me,” you hiccupped, holding him desperately, just wishing to be close enough to feel nothing but him. “I thought I’d never see you again. That I’d never see Ash.”

“Impossible, ma,” he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Can neva get rid of me, you know that. And Ash on his own lil’ demon time, he ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You release a watery laugh at his joke, sniffling harshly as Fezco rocks you in his arms, safely keeping you wrapped up in his embrace. 

There’s a knock at the door, they raise their heads, Ashtray entering the room, silently. He stands there for a second as he shuts the door behind him, he shifts from one foot to the other, eyes glancing around, a frown on his face. 

“Ash?” you whispered, looking to the boy. Fez knew though, what was wrong.

As Ashtray looked at you finally, his frown deepened, but it wasn’t a frown, just a miserable look he couldn’t hide anymore, a joy that trailed to sadness and brought tears to his usually hardened eyes. And then suddenly, Ash looked like the little boy that you had always allowed him to be, and that he would’ve never been again if you had gone.

“Ash...” you spoke, softly. Reaching out to him, you pulled him by the wrist, into your arms this time. And he broke like glass.

Like a dam, his tears flow like a downpour. An unwilling sob escapes him as he sniffles and cries into your shoulder, embracing you as he hoped he’d be able to every time he prayed to God for your safe return. 

You kissed Ashtray’s forehead, stroking his face, his hair, and you squeezed him like no one ever had. You breathe deeply, a shiver leaves you as you fight your own tears, “Oh, my sweet boy,” you hold him close, as he buries himself to you. “I love you, I love you.” You say it fast, and you say it with all the love you have, like it could be your last time.

Complete. Is how their family felt again. Fezco engulfed himself in the feeling. The thought of losing you, the absence of you, it would’ve destroyed them.

Fezco leans his forehead to his brother’s, knocking heads gently, the boy peering up to him as he sniffles into your neck. The big brother tenderly rubs his little brother’s head, he kisses his soon wife and let them both fall into his chest, into the side of the bed.

And like the family they were, they collapsed against one another, holding each other tight.

Everything’s ok.

TAG LIST

@world-of-bitchcraft @chaoticevilbakugo @slytherheign @angelreyesgirl100 @randomhoex @sunflowerlamb @iamasimpingh0e @stephhevring @wobblywolf @winterswhore @fxirysxc @whitejuliana1204 @richietoziersbum @ameerakane20 @scenesofobx @fezcosgirll @r93339 @iwannabeapogue @mel119g @p-peacholic @vidyagaems @diasnohibng @imkikibtw @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @padf00ts-l0ver @thecraziestcrayon @rosepetalsparks @hellbound-bunny @runway-to-my-aid @herejustforjj @pookiedookie06 @wxnderingthoughts @ziayamikaelson  @taysirene  @herejustforjj @runway-to-my-aid @p-peacholic @iwannabeapogue @vidyagaems @derangedangel @itty-bitty-dancer​ @sugercoated-lame @chaoticficrecs​ @ aphr0d1teh @​ ​ goldenmoonbeam @ carolinagand @ teamspideyman @ fruitypebblesstuff @ fvcking-gxddess @ rosaprep @ pussy-drunk @ raynelbabe @ softmullet @ hopelezzromanticsblog @ xxlaynaxx @ imatrisk @ gublerstylesobrien1238 @ thefemininemystiquee @ namjoonsbuspass @ pinkyprincess147 @ leah-bobeea @ lonely-bebita @ babygirlwilly @ wannabeddiesgirl @ winterswhore @ meowarmin @ maxinehufflepuffprincess @ lovestay-woozi17   

[anantaru]

I just wanna ride and suck Baizhu until he's just a whimpering mess holding my hips and hair weakly :(

It's not asking much.

cw. riding, he’s your boss, fem! reader

the current, vulgar— although tasteful setting you happen to find yourself in was, on all counts, unplanned and in every way coincidental.

first and foremost— to clear up the suffocating air abutting through your glued down thoughts, you did not expect to end up fucking yourself on your bosses cock when you were originally supposed to work, yes, and manage the pharmacy. primarily doing the extensive chores you were being paid for by the man who was currently holding onto your restless hips for his dear life.

baizhu found himself in heaven— and he was criss crossed, panting, puffing and blowing warm exhales from his pinching lungs while you incessantly rolled your stuffed pussy on his cock, fully slotted on him and leaning real close so he could sense your signature fragrance and keep it imbedded in his nostrils, so your boss baizhu wouldn't forget about this day for years to come.

individually from each new shove forward, loose stings manifested right from it, fueling the uptight knots in your stomach that were like a bubble being continuously nudged and forced to pop.

while the tremors— like pins and needles, intensify whenever baizhu feeds your insatiable desires with his coarse hiccups and cries. he can barely catch his breath when you decide to clench down again, tighten around him while letting go right after— you know he loves it when a little smile crosses his pretty lips.

"leave it to me." you coo and settle your pulsing walls on his girth, gnawing down again, releasing the tension once more as he began to feel up to ten times heavier in you and you work together like the most melodic, in tune symphony from an orchestra, with the end being a freeing release.

"f—fuck." he pours the remnants of his power to his moaned out words, "this, keep going like this." although frail and husky, you fuse into him at each of his weak whines, your toes twisting at the featherlight touches and little thrusts into your warm, wet cunt. he wanted to vocalize his pleasure because baizhu wasn't one to fully take the lead, ever.

"whatever you say." you drawl back, repeatedly slipping him in and out of your used hole, "—boss." and he closes his eyes in euphoria at the name— it triggers something in him, something the clever man himself wasn't able to discern, but his body reacted to it almost immediately as he sloshed all his thick whites and smeared his seed over your thumping walls— your name weakly falling from his plump lips.

his eyes remained closed, chest heaving up and down in large pumps as you pettishly circle your hips on him with his warm whites strewing and gushing out of your worn out pussy.

how much more powerful baizhu felt outside of this, when he was in charge of your doings, your boss, the man who paid you and was responsible for your livelyhood, yet there he was, naked, bare and exposed, his cock twitching and forcing a tear out of his eyes when you tank yourself into his member again, arching your back as your new thrusts caused him to see white.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify