#not good or anything but at least they seem to be there like they come into sight you think about them and develop them more

[reignpage]

His Loss, Their Gain

Synopsis: in which you get stood up and the jjk men are more than ready to step up for you (pre-relationship) Warnings: a little cursing, vaguely sexual language or allusions, a little angsty, but mostly fluff, crack and comfort, one-sided pining perchance, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.6k

Gojo

He heard all about your date from Shoko when he took a student to her dark, miserable corner to get all fixed up that morning. To say he was peeved was a massive understatement. In fact, the man had been muttering ‘ooh y/n’s got a date with some non-sorcerer ooh good for her’ under his breath pretty much the entire day. 

The students are both amused and irritated by his constant yammering. 

“I go on loads of date!” He grumbled, flicking a leaf as he leans against a tree, watching the kids spar. “What’s the big deal?”

At lunch, he strolled into the teacher’s lounge and whistled some tune. As always, you were sat by the window enjoying a bento box that made his mouth water — man, what would it be like to enjoy a meal made by you.

Casually, he mused, “I heard through the grapevine, you’ve got a hot date tonight.”

You threw him an unimpressed glower. 

“Who the hell told you about that?”

Satoru shrugged. “Oh, y’know, just the grapevine. So, what’s he like?”

Nonchalant as he may have seemed, he had enough self-awareness to know that he was pretty bothered by how spruced up you’ve gotten for this guy, whoever he is. God, did you have to make your hair all pretty like that? And oh hell, is that a new perfume? 

You didn’t entertain his game, choosing to ignore his thinly veiled attempt to pry, and chose simply to poke his side, tickling him away from the path to the exit he was blocking. The white-haired man rolled his eyes, desperate to quell the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

That one interaction, that fleeting touch he never blocked out and that momentary glimpse at your shy smile, smothered the complaints that had been festering inside since he visited Shoko. You looked anxious, embarrassed, but more than anything, excited. Happy.

He was quiet the rest of the day. 

The students didn’t know what to make of his sudden shift in mood; he was contemplative, focused and serious. None of them complained, after all they were finally learning a thing or two but it was an odd sight, him without a smile on his face.

When the sun was lowering, and the students had all headed home, Satoru leisurely exited the school feeling, for reasons he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, more tired than usual. But then he saw you, standing at the gates staring at your phone. Checking his own, he frowned.

You were supposed to be long gone by now. 

When he appeared right beside you, you weren’t the least bit taken aback by his sudden voice. 

“Ugly loser not coming?”

Muttering, you weakly replied, “You’ve never met him. How can you possibly know he’s ugly?”

Satoru threw back a retort that you didn’t respond to. He sighed. With his hands tucked into this pockets, he nudged you. “Alright, stop pouting, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. God, being a teacher really takes its toll on the body.”

“You barely do anything.” 

Despite yourself, you smiled. 

So did he. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still hungry anyways. So, let’s get going. Your treat.”

And despite his incredibly annoying, pretentious tone, you found yourself walking away from the school, the dwindling warmth of the sun setting behind you, with Satoru. He tried to hide his self-satisfied grin and the slight pep in his steps, and especially the peak under his blindfold at the two shadows you cast. 

For as long as other men sucked, he knew he still had a chance.

Geto

“Got plans?” 

You gave him a side glance, pulling your panties back up your legs. That arrangement of yours was complicated, to say the least. An on and off thing, neither of you could really keep your hands off each other, and all while staying as friends. Of course, the being friends part was easy — he’s fun and you’re sweet. But the staying as friends, and just as friends, was oh so difficult. 

Clearing your throat, you took the bra he was dangling from his finger with a brow raised. And you said, “Yeah. Kinda. Some guy asked me out so we’re gonna get some dinner or something.”

“Sounds exhilarating,” he mused. 

He was always like that — judgemental, mocking, and irresistible. Desperate to not be that weak, pathetic girl, you’d force yourself to move on, to see what else was out there because that thing you had with him?

It was unsustainable. 

With a sigh, you shrugged on your shirt. “Suguru, don’t.”

He chuckled and raised his arms up in surrender. And then you turned to leave but you didn’t get every far, how could you when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest? You were breathless when he brushed your hair back, skimming his lips down the curve of your neck to plant a soft, barely there kiss on your shoulder. 

“Have fun.”

And then you were off. 

Leaving a long-haired man alone and frowning. Truthfully, he was itching to keep you there, to distract you with some more pleasure or a movie, but he knew that wasn’t fair. The unspoken part about the type of arrangement you two was that no one could get jealous or lay some moronic wolfy-claim on the other. 

He focused his attention instead on showering, washing away the remnants of you and even tried to wash away the idea of someone else taking you away. If this date of yours worked out, then that would effectively end your special relationship, devolving back to just ‘friends’. 

How pathetic.

No, that wasn’t the most pathetic thing about the entire ordeal. What was truly more pathetic was that he was sat, in his car, outside your place, waiting for that light in your bedroom to go and for you to leave. 

You didn’t. 

Geto groaned and threw his head back. Relieved as he was that you weren’t with some other prick, he couldn’t shake off that discomfort in his chest at the thought of you being disappointed, embarrassed or anywhere close to sad. He sent a quick text to you. Come out, he said. 

Your reply was, I’m not in the mood for sex.

Good. Neither am I.

'...' danced on the screen for a solid minute or two and he thought you were coming up with colourful ways of telling him to disappear, like 'walk off a cliff' or the classic 'fuck off', but you didn’t. Instead, he got a thumbs up and he sighed. 

Guess neither of you were willing to give up the game after all. 

Choso

He heard it from his brother. 

Who heard it from Megumi and he in turn heard it from Nobara. And the details might have differed somewhat as the information got passed along, like the time and place and with whom, but one thing remained consistent. 

You have a date. 

And man, was Choso distraught. At first, he was speechless, eyes blinking and jaw hanging. Then, he was making odd noises like steam was coming out of his ears. No one knew what to do, no one had ever taught them what the procedure was when a half-curse, half-man suffered from a nervous breakdown.

Eventually, he regained enough life to splutter, “WHAT?”

He fainted.

When he awoke, laid down on a bench, he was very surprised to find you looming over him. You looked beautiful. Positively stunning, and he was certainly stunned. He had a terrible dream, one that left him trembling, but your laughter stilled his shaking hands. 

“Choso, did you actually pass out? That’s so crazy.” 

The man couldn’t even blush. He was just so happy you were there, with him, talking and laughing, and he could pretend nothing was wrong in the world. Because, if you could smile at him with so much warmth and light and familiarity, there didn’t seem a plausible way for things to be wrong.

Pushing himself upright, he said, sheepishly, “Yeah, I think so. Um, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, y’know, just stopping by to check up on you –”

“That’s really nice of—”

“Before I head off to meet my date!”

"...what.”

You blinked at him. “I have a date. Surprised you didn’t know since the kids have been bothering me about it all day. Well, anyways, happy to see you figuratively back on your feet. Gotta get going now. Bye!”

And then you were gone, completely oblivious to the twitching of Choso’s eye and the way his pigtails quite literally deflated. 

There was a pout on his face the rest of the day. 

Only on his way back home did that pout disappear because, there, at the end of the street, was you. Only you could look that pretty when miserable. Oh, he was so happy to see you! 

Sure, you looked upset, and you were kicking a streetlamp, but he wasn’t the least bit discouraged from skipping over to you, pigtails swinging and a big, wide grin on his face. He shouted your name. You looked up, still mad, but brows relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Oh, hey, Cho. What’s up?”

“Nothing! Just heading home. What about you?”

You shrugged. “Well, I was supposed to be on a date, but he never showed up. Didn’t even text me so I guess I’m gonna head home too.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible.”

The amused look on your face clearly conveyed your disbelief. Choso was many things, a great man, loving brother, fun friend. But a convincing liar? He was not. 

“Well,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “do you wanna just be with me? I mean! Do you want to spend some time with me? Hang out?”

You shrugged again, this time with a smile. And the both of you began walking side by side with no particular destination. He didn’t talk much, just wandered the streets with you. The sun, or at least what remained of it, was warm and the roads were empty. Neither of you could think of a better thing to do than just exist. 

Together.

Toji

“Whatd’ya just say?”

He was staring at his kid, the little boy peering back at him with a look of pure innocence. The father, holding a spoon up to his lips, was pissed the hell off. Immediately, he was calling you, still feeding the baby. Your nonchalant voice on the phone made him even more irritated. 

“Ya going on a date? Whatd’ya mean ‘none of y’r business? ‘Course it’s my business. Mother of my son prancing around with some other guy ain’t a good look on me, is it? Oh, yeah yeah, the divorce didn’t look good on you either, whatever. So? Is it true? Oh, hell. Can I use my veto? Whatd’ya mean I don't get a veto? What kinda bullshit is that?”

The little boy blabbered, rubbing salt in the man’s wound, as he reminded him his diaper needed changing, immediately, and he had blueberry compote all over his face and clothes. How the hell did the kid manage to get food on the window?

You didn't sound impressed at all, but that was always how you talked to him. And the conversation wasn't going anywhere, much to Toji's frustration. Why did he have to find out from a toddler?

Call ending soon after that, the two boys decided to make the most of their day together. 

Sat on his lap, they watched a football game on the TV. Of course, his son wasn’t really paying attention, he was far more interested in the rattling toy in his hand, and in all honesty, neither was Toji. He just kept thinking about the fact that you should be there, with them, cuddled up to his side. Not with some fucking loser. You should be home, comfortable, looking pretty for him and with a ring still on your finger, the way his ring remained on his. 

But who was he to say shit?

It was his damn fault to begin with that you were living apart. If only he had cut back on the bad habits and the dangerous jobs. Regret was a damned thing, like a coin dropped in a well and never hearing it drop. 

And then searching for another coin so you could wish to get back the fucking coin you should have never dropped to begin with ‘cause you weren’t a fucking pussy. 

Ah fuck it. 

“Wanna go piss off y’r mum?”

The kid grinned. 

And so there the two were, showing up at the door, both with shit-eating grins contrasting your stern glower. You were in a dress, a very sexy dress and Toji wasn’t shy about letting his eyes wander, and you weren’t shy about the finger you showed him. 

“Are you kidding, Fushiguro?”

“Kid couldn’t stop asking for ya, so just wanted to let him get a peek before you go off on y’r fancy date,” he replied. 

You let them in and with embarrassment lacing your words, you admitted, “Well, date’s cancelled. So, good timing.”

Grin widening, he assured you, “Ah the bastard doesn’t know what he missed out on.”

And soon, you two fell into old routines. You cooked dinner whilst Toji set the table, kid on his back. The conversation shifted from anything and everything and nothing. And after, he cleaned up as you put the baby to sleep. He followed soon after, looping an arm over your shoulder.

“We did good with him, didn’t we?”

When life was that easy, that simple, and good, one was left wondering where did it all go wrong? When did you, or him, or both start wanting more? Or was it the case that things just didn’t work out? Was there still a chance? Should there be? And for whose sake?

Guess none of that mattered. Whether that piece of paper was still there or not, the core of your relationship would never change. Not really.

“Yeah. We did.”

Nanami

There you were, a vision in your suit, sitting at your desk, the way you did every day. He loved his seat; he had the best view of the entire office. Kento especially loved that, for you to get to the water cooler, you had to walk past him, and every single time you did, you’d always stop by, asking how his day was going and whether he’d like his water bottle filling up. 

Of course, he declined your very kind offer, but only so he could walk to the water cooler with you, and for the five minutes you two had, you’d chat about all sorts of things – he was more of a listener than a talker, but you never seemed to mind. 

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were the one good thing about this office, and he certainly looked forward to every little interaction with you. 

Until one such interaction became his worst nightmare: you had a date. Oh, and how casually you brought that up to him, as if the fluttery atmosphere between you was a figment of his imagination and the way you gushed about this other man certainly left no doubt in his mind. 

You did not like him the way he liked you. 

That was all he could think about the rest of the day. Even as he wrote up a progress report, attended a client meeting, ate his lunch with the interns he was in charge of, and even when he went to the bathroom to splash cold water on, what he was only then realising to be, a very pale face. Kento must be coming down with something. 

For the first time ever, when you got up from your desk and strolled over to his, heels clacking, and asked if he’d like his bottle filling up, he declined. It came out faster than he could process and the shock evident in both of your faces was like a crack in his glasses. 

Oh, dear. 

You were silent until the end of the day. He didn’t walk out with you, didn’t even get to say goodbye and ‘see you tomorrow’, and he had never been more miserable in his entire life. 

With a heavy sigh, he walked out of the office an hour or so later than everyone else and pulled on his tie. A nice warm bath was all he could think about, at least until he spotted you, waiting on the side of the road. You were restless, shuffling on your feet and checking your watch every couple seconds. Being of above average intelligence might not have meant he was a genius but it sure did mean he was smart enough to figure out what had happened. 

That bastard. 

“Would you like to have a drink or two with me? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about,” he said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have walked up so quietly but it was a habit of his. In that moment, as his pulse was beginning to speed up, all he could think about was how creepy he sounded – he certainly wouldn’t blame you if you ran to HR. 

“What things?” You asked. 

He smiled, a desperately casual smile to show he was sorry for his cold display. “Well, for one, I’d like to make my case clear; I’d never leave you waiting for me on a date.”

And he never did.

Sukuna

“Repeat that for me. Slow.”

You bit your lip, not at all surprised by his reaction. The King of Curses wasn’t known for his calm disposition, in fact, he was known for exactly the opposite. Still, he was nice to you, an ordinary servant in his grand estate doing this and that. One could not put a finger to exactly when this...friendship, should we say... developed but it was one you so terribly cherished. 

Working at the estate of a mass murdering, sadistic monster – your family’s words, not yours – meant you didn’t maintain many friendships. So, to have one with him felt like standing in the eye of the storm, even if that storm was always so fickle and the eye kept moving. 

“I’m. Going. On. A. Date,” you recited, enunciating every syllable loud and clear. When he gave an instruction, you’d found it was always best to be quite literal, lest he tired of your mortal limitations. 

“No.”

Blink. 

Blink. 

Adjusting your robes, you clarified, “No? Sorry, my Lord, but whatever do you mean by ‘no?’”

The tall, hulking man, or rather curse, walked on, his long legs taking him so far within seconds you had to run to catch up. He loved doing that. He thought it funny, you supposed. “Just that. No.”

“But, my Lord, I don’t think you can really interfere with my personal life.”

He stopped. 

You bumped into his back, the smell of sweet death and gentle fire filling your senses. And when he turned, looking down at you with all those eyes, one of his hands gripped your jaw, pulling you upwards and much closer to his face than ever before. 

“Can’t I?”

Then he was gone. 

You didn’t see him the rest of the day. Neither did any of the servants. Perhaps he was mad at you, after all you had no business, and no authority at that, to tell him what he could or couldn’t do. You got complacent, too confident and cocky. You overestimated the depth of your friendship and the limits of his patience. It would be a surprise to no one if you were found dead before dusk. 

There were no texts from your date. Not a single one. Not even after you texted to ask if you were still on for night. And when every call when to voicemail, you were so sure you had been ghosted before you could even meet the guy. Sukuna was right. 

Men were no good.

Living at the estate had its perks: no commute, easy access to your necessities lest you forgot something essential, and the walk over to your quarters was magnificent. The well-kept garden was beautiful and that was really as far as your feeble mind could go in terms of putting into words the glorious sight you saw every morning and night. 

But that evening had been different. 

Your master was there, in his robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the sleeves whilst the top set were crossed. He looked just as regal as he always did, and the sight made your heart clench. One secret you’d take the grave would be that the friendship you so sincerely cherished was one you also sincerely resented; to be a teased with all that you could have but would never get was a torturous pain you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies.

“My Lord, may I help you?”

He beckoned you over. When his hand reached for your head, you were sure it was to slice it clean off, but instead he picked at a fluff and flicked it away with so much disgust, revulsion, and abhorrence you couldn’t help but laugh. 

Something flashed in his eyes. And then his features softened. 

“You did not go on your date?”

You couldn’t even pretend to be sad. “No, he never replied so I guess he lost interest.”

He hummed.

The two of you began strolling again, just as you did most days, sometimes even multiple times a day when he was feeling especially irritable. The tone of his voice held a certain sharpness you couldn’t quite place and when he met your gaze, the soft glow of the lanterns making him look gentler, much more human, more...attainable, you finally spotted a speckle of what you knew to be blood, having cleaned it off the floors and walls yourself too many times. 

And your imagination ran wild, a frenzy of butterflies appearing in your stomach. 

Sukuna really was too sweet for your own good.

[revcleo]

Something which I also think would be useful for people to understand is that they have to strategise their speech.

Right wing people know this, because they speak differently among themselves than they do on social media and such because they want to appear reasonable in their use of dog whistles and such, that make people who know what they're talking about either seem crazy or unable to remove their schostastic terrorism or such.

But what I think a lot of left wing people think is that being correct and on the good side of history etc means that people will always agree with them, or be evil. Never mind that there's the stereotype of leftist infighting, a lot of people seem to be either ashamed of their past and less informed behaviour, or copy the behaviour of their favourite posters (who are usually irony poisoned and sarcastic at the least, and angry warriors of truth otherwise).

The things you've got to do when you come across someone who you disagree with is first think: What do I want out of this encounter?

Do you want to change how anyone thinks?

This can be no, if you just want to let off steam or shout at people, instead think "Is this the right person to shout at?" Will you make yourself look like an idiot?

Shouting at someone can be fine, like shouting is used to either get people in line or get people to fuck off.

Shouting works when it's either someone you largely agree with who is doing something fucked up and you go "what the fuck?" and talk to them, but mass shouting when it's someone you largely agree with does not work in that way. I've never seen a lot of people shouting at someone who they agree with 99% on things, ending up productive. It just creates divides and ends up as a form of harassment.

If you want to shout at someone for catharsis, the best way to do this is to do a sort of preaching to the choir about something fucked up you've seen, or shouting at an in person protest.

Since this is also an option for if you don't want to change someone's mind, if you find someone so entrenched and fucked up in their beliefs that they are unlikely to change, so long as you aren't going to repost their beliefs to shout at them, then shouting at them can be a way to let off steam. It won't do anything else, and may make you more angry, but it's an option.

But what if you want to change someone's mind?

First like, who are you talking to? Let's put them in a few groups:

Fellow leftist, problematic liberal, typical conservative, outright fascist

Starting from the fascist: You will not be able to change their mind and make them realise the folly of their ways.

They can change their own minds, but arguing with them will not do that. It's a special job to deradicalise fascists. The best things you can do are either:

A. bait them into saying something which they can be reported for/look into their blogs to see if they have anything reportable

B. block them, spreading their hate speech just to debunk it is still spreading their hate speech, you can debunk things without sharing the original

C. humiliate them. What you do is you need to make them look stupid by baiting them into showing their ass while you just show calm facts and logic. They often rely on appearing to be the sensible and calm one to appeal to people who are less fascist than they are, because they are irritating and cherry-pick facts it can be easy to get angry, so if you get too pissed off to do this then just block them.

Now on the typical conservative, sometimes they can be the fascist sort, where they're too deep in whatever hole, and you can just treat them as above, but if you learn to tell the difference between people who are just out to waste your time and people who are actually curious and have just picked up fucked up information (such as the example above) then if you just take your time and target your speech to align with some of their preconcieved ideas, you may be able to get them to doubt themselves on something.

You will not be able to make them suddenly a leftist, you also will probably not be able to make them even centrist, but pushing seeds of doubt is fine. Just don't spend too long, and make sure you're definitely able to tell if someone has curiousity or not. People who lack curiosity are often time wasters and will not care at all about what you're saying.

It can also be useful to get a bunch of responses to their thought terminating clichés and channel your inner MCU or something, such as "I thought the left was supposed to be tolerant" "you're confusing tolerant with a doormat/no that's the liberals/of what? assholes?"

With problematic liberals, they may be generally nice people who just say something a bit fucked up, or might just not know about something. Like let's say there's a link you post with saying "White people should read this." and they respond defensively with "Why do I need to read that?" the wrong response would be "Are you some sort of racist or something?" which is starting a fight. Whether they're a racist or not, they are less likely to engage with the information. Instead it's possible to just answer the question, which might be something like "It might be some interesting information you've never thought of before, which can help you treat other people better."

Some people can just be very annoying, feel free to block whoever whenever, and sometimes the way people brains work are different, so you can't figure out what each other means, feel free to say "Sorry, this is just frustrating and I don't think we're going to resolve anything." but someone not being as left as you doesn't mean they are inherently going to go rightwards. You can help them on a journey by giving them suggestions and telling them facts that they might not know.

Saying things like "just fucking google it" really doesn't work nowadays especially, since google is so full of shit. So having a bunch of useful bookmarks might be an idea if you want to try and convince people who are almost leftists to give it a go, rather than telling them to fuck off.

Liberals are much more appreciative of a bit of truth and facts and maybe a podcast recommendation than many leftists think. There's even many liberals who you might talk to when you are out and about IRL, you can convince them of things like sensible nuclear policy and how more bike lanes are good for everyone.

With fellow leftists, there are many different but similar sorts of arguments. Maybe someone is having a bad day and is fighty, maybe someone is just an asshole who loves to pick fights, maybe you have the same thing but from different angles and just need to work out where it is, maybe someone is just frustrated with the way how they feel powerless and has found one thing they can shout about which is unfortunately wrong but makes them feel good about themselves.

You gotta see where people are coming from on things, sometimes you just gotta block people, not that they're even bad, but just like you know fundamentally you're going to find some of the ways they think to be really irritating, or some of their comparatively harmless jokes just piss you off and it's not worth fighting about.

With leftists, sometimes taking the argument on head on is not the best way to go about things, the best thing to do is try and find where the argument comes from. Check in with your comrades, see how they're doing. Try and keep things in plain language if jargon seems to obfuscate your meanings, and try and rephrase things and see if the other person is willing to also rephrase things. Try and reach a stage where you both understand the other person's argument. Maybe you can reconcile?

Also maybe the other person just doesn't know about some information you have as well? Try keeping things cheerful. If someone really is a dickhead then you can just block them.

And one thing I've gotta say with all of this:

If you don't feel up to it, then don't do it, but don't make it worse. If you don't want to talk to someone, then don't. Also don't take this as tone policing, if someone demands politeness when they've not given it, they can fuck off.

Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

[artemisiasmuse]

always known | CH.3

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 3k

MASTERLIST

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rafe realizes he may have made a mistake when he overhears you and sarah arguing at a party. he’s walking past the room you two are in and the door is slightly open. it’s not entirely his fault your raised voice stuns him, you sound so hurt and his body goes into some sort of panic state from the sound alone. his feet feel heavy, unmovable, so he leans against the wall next to the door.

“sarah i can’t, the last time was so fucking awkward okay!” you can’t believe she’s actually suggesting you stay at tannyhill while your place gets fixed. your dishwasher, which you found out was from 1981, had broken and caused your place to flood. the repair company said it would take at least a couple of weeks, not to mention the headache of replacing your furniture. you even had to get ready in the car with plastic bags of your clothes. thankfully since your room was on the second floor your clothes and important belongings were unharmed but there was no way you could stay there with the ground floor being unusable. you planned to book a hotel or crash at one of your OBU friend’s dorms when sarah cameron swooped in to save you. at least she thought she was saving you, but here you were feeling nauseous from her suggestion.

“he doesn’t hate you, come on, that's crazy, and besides it's my house too he doesn’t decide who goes in and out. rose and dad adore you, they’d love to-“ he flinched at sarah’s words, so this was about him. that’s why you were so angry. he hadn’t heard you angry since the last party, it was still far better than your sadness. he hadn’t seen you much since the bar burger thing and it was for the best, you had seemed happy with your new friends and he didn’t want to ruin that. topper and kelce managed to keep him in the loop even if he didn’t ask about it, mentioning that you had arrived with your friends. rafe might not be talking to you but it was an impossible task to ignore you. the black mini skirt and plain grey crop top you were wearing might as well have been a wedding dress in his eyes. there was no other girl in the party, in all of outer banks, the whole world, he’d rather look at even for a few seconds. his absence in your life was a good thing right? then why did he feel like breaking down the door between you two from the sound of you in distress.

“please sarah i can’t-“ and he hears your voice crack and then the small sobs that follow it, the solo cup in his hand crunches. he wants to so badly go in and beg you to stop crying. he knows he doesn’t deserve to hear this but he still can’t move, his stomach twists at the sound of your broken breathing, it takes him back to when you would cry in his arms and he would hug you until you stopped. now he can’t even approach you and it’s all his fault. his eyes sting with unshed tears, he wills them away.

“i should beat rafe’s ass” rafe thinks that’s the best thing sarah has said in a while. you panic at the statement, wiping your tears. you couldn’t stand to break this illusion of ignorance between you two. you’d been stealing glances at him all night, even your college friends had deduced that the “hot blonde buzzcut” was off limits. you didn’t correct them, only saying that it was complicated and you hadn’t even spoken to him but he looked better for it.

“no, don’t say anything to him, i just need to get used to it s’all. we used to be best friends ya know, i loved him so much, i mean i still do but sometimes i don’t know if he even remembers me.” you can’t pretend in front of sarah, not when you see his face in hers. her brown eyes stare into yours, they’re not the shade that you’re used to. it’s always like this. you get a bit drunk and you start looking for the closest thing in the eyes of others. that’s how you ended up with your two exes, ultimately realizing the shade would never be close enough.

even now you wonder if rafe’s okay, if he’s doing better now that you’re out of his life again. he looked so uncomfortable with you around and seeing him now still makes you feel horrible but you can tell he’s happier. you can’t help the tears that keep streaming. rafe flinches at your words, hearing you say that you love him is breaking his heart and he clenches his hand by his side. it’s a privilege to be loved by you, even if it’s not the way he wants.

“you’re kinda impossible to forget.” rafe takes it back, that’s the best thing sarah said. how could he possibly forget you? you were itched into his bones, your initials tattooed on his heart, even in his dreams you haunted him. he goes to sleep looking at the framed photo of you two in kindergarten and wakes up to the one of you in middle school, looking shy and slightly goofy in your formal wear for the school dance. and he could’ve removed them, rose had even suggested it, but that just felt wrong. much like the distance between you two right now.

“thanks sare love you.” he could hear your voice muffled, sarah hugged you close.

“love you too, now stop messing up your makeup, you're too pretty to cry over him.” with that he took his drink back to the kitchen and replaced it with something harder.

rafe nearly faints when he sees you in his kitchen the next morning. he thinks he might have discovered some new level of drunk that makes you hallucinate. you’re clearly hungover too, your eyes barely open as you trudge around. clad in an oversized shirt and gym shorts that look like they might be from high school, you’re entirely too endearing to be real. when you see him you mumble something about sarah saying it was fine. he knows it’s fine, he actually thinks seeing you back in the house is the most fine he’s ever felt in years. you’re looking for something he notices, unsuccessful in your search. he curiously watches on, unbelieving that after this long you’d know where things are.

“hey uhm where’s the cereal bowls? i swear they were over here before-“ and you’re right they were where you were standing, rafe shuts his eyes for a few beats to find some semblance of self control. when he opens them he’s looking away from you and grabbing a glass of water for the painkiller he desperately needs.

“next to the fridge.” he motions towards the cabinet on the left and you nod.

“that makes more sense.” rafe doesn’t tell you that wheezie had said the same thing before insisting the bowls be moved there.

“oh-“ your hands reach for a bowl but your gaze is captivated by the explosion of colors stark against uniform white bowls. it’s the bowl you and rafe painted together after pottery class, your initials engraved into it and your eyes water at the sight. your heart aches at how different your friendship is now compared to the love and respect gone into making the bowl only years ago. looking at it now the bowl is pretty hideous, none of the colors complement one another but somehow it makes sense.

“hey why are you-“ his voice plants you firmly back into reality, it doesn’t have the soft lilt it used to have, the one he reserved for you. it sounds almost angry. once again hard and distant and it jolts you back into obedience, grabbing a regular one and wiping at your eyes. rafe feels like he might throw up when he watches you physically flinch from his words. the thought that he scared you of all people made what little resolve he had left crumble. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who insisted he wasn’t the monster rose thought he was, that ward was a terrible father for how he treated you. you couldn’t be scared of him, you were the only one. now you flinched from his voice alone.

“i’m sorry.” you’re apologizing for something you’re not entirely sure of and rafe begins to hate himself. why couldn’t he be normal? why did he have this insatiable urge to make you his? all the anger and frustration he felt when you left was nothing in the face of seeing you cry because of him. and it’s the second time it’s happening in the span of twenty-four hours.

“come here.” you look up shocked and find him with an arm outstretched to pull you into his side. his expression is cracking like yours, his brows drawn together and his head hung low, he looks almost apologetic. you’re so shocked you think you might be dreaming so you don’t hold back. you loop your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest breathing in his scent and relishing in the warmth while you can. you’re sure you’ll wake up soon but the scent of his detergent and something that’s just him is starting to seem real. rafe breathes out in relief as he hugs you back properly and he can feel tears against his chest. at least now he can comfort you, if he hugs you long enough you’ll stop right?

“i’m sorry.” you say it again, rafe clicks his tongue at your words, they’re muffled and said into his chest but he hears them still. you’re so small in his arms now, curves and soft skin make you feel fragile in his hold and he curls around you protectively, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as his arms hold your upper back.

“why are you apologizing?” his voice is softer now and murmured into your ear and you cry more, your heart breaking at the sound. the edge dulled, if he cuts you now it will be worse, you won’t survive it. he feels you shake in his arms and he tightens them instinctively, you might just hold your breath until the illusion shatters. until he leaves you.

“i don’t know, i feel like i must have done something wrong for you to be mad at me.” the admission breaks you in two, you’d been holding onto it for years, the guilt of wronging your best friend, the frustration of not knowing what you did. you clutch the worn cotton of his shirt, the fabric presses against your fingertips like it might just be real.

“you’re forgiven, you've always been forgiven, i'm just mad at myself.” the words are a relief and a burden, you hate that he blames himself, for what you’re not entirely sure but you don’t press him, you have him in your arms that is enough for now. rafe doesn’t miss the way your hands are still clenching around the material of his shirt, but you let go. you let it all go. in the face of losing him forever you let a lot of things go, you’ll be his friend forever if that’s what it takes.

“that makes zero sense, rafey.” there’s the nickname, the one you called him hundreds of times maybe even more. your voice devoid of sadness, he can hear the teasing in your tone and its familiar, welcome. he breathes out in relief when he hears it and it still lights a fire within him just like the first time you said it and he realized you might just be more than a friend. you feel the breath on the shell of your ear, this isn’t a dream but maybe you should keep pretending it is. you lean back to look at him, hands falling to your sides and he releases you, his own hands resting on your waist instead. you don’t move away, you let him and he nearly cries himself.

“yeah i know.” a small smile curls his lips and you return it tenfold, a grin taking over your face. rafe decides he’d do anything to keep you smiling instead of crying over him.

after that you and rafe slowly fall back into friendship, he helps you clean up your place and move out any damaged furniture. you get to know him again and he does the same, he hasn’t changed much. he still has this hard exterior for everyone else, one that he sheds for a select few but you know him. you know he’s still the little boy who would stop everyone’s game of tag to tie your shoelaces or sneak out and run to your place after you texted him that your parents were arguing again and you couldn’t stop crying just so he could hold you through it. ward still underestimates him and at the same time expects too much and rose still pretends he’ll leave soon enough so she can continue ignoring him.

there is a slight change to one thing though, your rafe is now absurdly, annoyingly hot. sure you’d had a crush on him in middle school, maybe even a bit more than that but you had never considered him hot. now he’s a man and when he acts like one it sends your system into shock. for instance, he carried your couch out by himself, arms straining and glistening with sweat, making you feel a bit dizzy, you blamed it on the heat and made him set it down for you to sit on, just so you didn’t have something to stare at. that didn’t work since he dragged the couch with you on it. or then when a waiter got your order wrong and proceeded to tell you that you must have misspoken, refusing to take the blame. rafe quickly shut it down asking him to remake the dish, in a way only he could without any room for arguing. you could have handled it yourself, maybe you would have been nicer about it, but knowing that you didn’t have to, that rafe would take care of it made something coil in your stomach. one time he even dropped you to class just as an excuse to get coffee with you. he’d told you to have a good day in a way that stunned you into silence. the image of him leaning over the console to open the door for you and watching you climb out had you zoned out for half of the class. you were starting to grow attached to him in a different way, something less pure and innocent than what you had always known. the fact that your place was still being restored and you were a few steps away from him every night didn’t help either.

staying at tannyhill had its pros and cons. the pros being obvious, 24/7 unfettered access to your best friend and your favorite siblings. the cons being the parents of said siblings. rose was as nice as she could be, she never fully understood your friendship with rafe and you didn’t need her to. ward, however, was unfortunately unchanged. he was out of the house most days working and when you finally did meet he made sure you knew that he was still an asshole.

“hey kiddo look at you, all grown up into a beautiful young lady! i am so happy you’re back, im sorry for not greeting you earlier. work has been keeping me out late” he gives you a warm side-hug that you accept graciously. he’d always been kind to you, rafe was the troublemaker of your duo anyways so he never had any reason to be otherwise. but you knew all the things he said to rafe, you knew how he treated him from the very beginning, so you could never really open up your heart to ward cameron. especially not when he was good at acting the perfect father in your face.

“it’s no problem ward, thank you for your hospitality.” you did mean that last part even if you didn’t particularly like him. your parents also seemed to get along with him so spoiling any kind of relationship wouldn’t help you.

“oh come on tannyhill is your home too you know that, rafe really needed you back here too. how are your folks doing?” you bristle at his words, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him. you’d forgotten how casually he disparaged your best friend.

“they’re doing well, they send their best wishes and love.” your words came out automatically, your mind on autopilot. you had to say something but the fear of disappointing your parents loomed over your head. ward knew you, he knew you would never fall out of line as long as he knew your parents.

“i’ll reach out to your father, it’s been a while since we caught up.” a silent threat, you nodded at his words turning to leave. there was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded in your chest, it screamed for you to stick up for rafe but your head relented. you were almost out of earshot of ward when you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“ward?” you called out, making sure he was still able to talk.

“yes sweetie?” his head turned toward you, warmth in his eyes. you supposed he must see the little girl who walked home with rafe hand-in-hand. you do hope he can take you seriously.

“rafe doesn’t need me, i think he just needs love and support. he’s been doing fine without me.” ward couldn’t tell you just how wrong you were. he could however parse the subtle jab sent his way.

“you were always wise beyond your years.” he says it with that smug smile you can’t read and leaves first. you’ll tell yourself you won this round but really there were no winners only one person who was losing.

rafe is none the wiser to your conversation which you take as a plus, you’d worried ward would reprimand him for what you said. you don’t talk about ward though it was never your favorite topic anyways. and you don’t talk about the five year gap, even though it keeps you up some nights.

a/n: war is over 🙏 i’m too much a softie to continue the angst + there’s only a few chaps left and we have to get freaky!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk

[bigmomma25]

Character Analysis of Pete Dinunzio (Comic Vs. Pilot)

Disclaimer: This is by no means a very good or professional analysis or anything, this is just me whipping out my Honors English high school powers for fun, to put these guys in a jar and shake them. Getting as much content out of this comic as possible even if it means yapping. Pete goes first because he's easy, lol

The Comics Highlight His Flaws

The first difference I noted when watching the pilot first and then delving into the comics is; Pete is aggressive. Much more aggressive. He's the most argumentative member in the first few panels, with most of his comments being rather pessimistic or sexual in nature. He always has some sort of retort or comeback to defend himself and his views, and his passions come out mostly in anger.

There's also a silent shame that comes with his behaviors, much more likely to complain about what he doesn't like than happily explain what he's passionate about. When he does have passionate moments, it's because these things that make him very vulnerable are being criticized, and he gets defensive. Like his love for Christopher Lee.

Without any prior knowledge of these characters, it can be assumed that Pete comes from an abusive household. His behaviors are major signs. He's most likely so combative because he's used to constantly being under fire, especially with (I think) 8 other siblings who are implied to be mostly older men. If he didn't have a slick comment or keep up this "tough" persona, he'd be their personal punching bag - figuratively and literally.

All Pete really knows is aggression, being canonically the poorest member (he states that he couldn't even afford to be in the Boba Fett conversation in the comics). It's been shown that the club lives in a shitty area in Staten Island. Plus, they're heavily bullied. It's shaped the way he communicates and interacts with the world around him. Even his obsessions - he likes seeing people get ripped apart to the point it becomes a kink.

Even the way he speaks sets him apart. Not necessarily his accent, but his word choices are usually much simpler and his points are very blunt. He's not portrayed as booksmart, and his swagger comes off more as a performance (both of masculinity and of nonchalance) than a natural way of being.

It's also worth noting his position in the very first panel of the comics. Bill is head of the table, of course, it's his house and he's the leader. (I'll get to that symbolism in Bill's analysis). But Pete is sat right next to him, lower than Bill and somewhat distant from him, but still seeming closer and getting more focus than Jerry and Josh.

His position is meant to draw your eye from an artistic perspective, he is unconsciously trying to secure himself a good spot for control and stability. If you're on Bill's bad side, you end up like Josh (I'll get into the lolcow-ification of Josh later on too), but Pete gets the least shit from Bill. Pete is not a pushover, and he feeds into Bill more. Their bickering seems almost comedic.

Totally different dynamic than he has in the pilot, so them getting along so well may be retconned. He has much more of a moral compass in the pilot, and while both versions show Pete *attempting* to be a mediator and a voice of reason, the pilot shows it more. Almost like Pete didn't want to be there, much preferring Jerry's company since they were both reasonable.

Bill and Pete's dynamic also goes to solidify Pete's relationship with his father and the toxic masculinity he displays constantly. Pete has the urge to stray and separate himself from the obviously immoral tendencies of his father, but still seeks approval from an authority figure in which he admires. Someone he sees as "cool" and capable, teeter-tottering between loving him and fighting him. His father is very authoritative, Pete was never allowed to question anything. He associates anything "girly" with pain - like how Bill associates women with sexist stereotypes, expecting to be hurt by them because of their shared experiences with bullying and Bill's mommy issues. Except Pete had it literally beat into him.

Him connecting masculinity to being capable and independent leads directly to his tendency to make choices on the fly. In a house that's always arguing, someone has to make a decision. And Pete wants to be seen as the macho man who knows what he's doing, but also doesn't care that much. So he mainly makes decisions with common sense, emotion, and whatever he's compelled to. A very "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" mentality from living in a conservative household.

Though I do feel that most of his decisions come from a place of shame. If you're secure, you usually don't have to make it a point, or brag about it, or defend it so vehemently. You just... are secure. This directly ties into his canonical bisexuality along with his horror passions. His whole life he's been told everything about him was fundamentally wrong, and he's trying to run from it. Which is why he tries to separate his personal love for horror makeup and SFX from traditional gay and drag art forms. Those things are looked down on. He hates being looked down on. Which is why he uses gays, along with Josh, as scapegoats.

The Pilot Highlights His Positives

From the first 25 seconds of the pilot, Pete is already a more positive version of his comic alternative. He's more successful in diffusing the bickering between Josh and Bill, and is more level-headed and goal-oriented. He's calmer, seeing things go wrong and actually wanting to find solutions instead of dwelling on the small details and who-did-what. He almost feels like a disgruntled mother with more humor. His independence also shines, but so does his tendency to run into danger without thinking.

Pete also sits much farther in the pilot at their meeting table. He's at opposite ends of the table, like the other head, or leader, willing to criticize Bill and never really seeing eye-to-eye with him. He tries to lead before Bill does, starting with the "Sexy Sirens" tape, and has a little bit of a power struggle. He's leaning back, to distance himself, and his nonchalance is more natural, it's just who he is. Josh and Jerry seem closer to Bill than Pete is, which is a total 180 from the comics.

A big point of Pete's character in the pilot that isn't touched upon at all in the comics is his sense of justice. He wants things to be fair - from the trivia-off in Joe's shop, to the DnD game. He tries to break up fights but will hit back if he's being hit, or someone else is being hit unjustifiably. Much like a shephard dog instead of a guard dog, like his comic alternative. But only to the club, he's still a menace to his general environment.

His trauma is shown more subtly but it is still made a point - while Pilot Josh is unconcerned when Bill's mother is yelling at the club, Pete seems the most worried and distraught, the first to start sweating and holding his head. His body language screams abuse. His introduction panel also shows he's relatively used to beat downs, seeming silently resigned and defeated rather than horrified like the other characters.

His sexuality also seems more on-par with a teen boy and less hypersexual, and there's less sexist comments. He's definitely still a little freak, shown with his creepy little faces, clawing at the glass, and his comments about "Battle Broads" the series, but he's not trying to repress nearly as much.

Combining the Two

Since the point of the comics was to be an exaggerated version of real life incels, I'd say the pilot is a more realistic representation of who Pete is as a person. But with such a short run, it didn't get to show the entirety of his character, which would have to be fleshed out across multiple episodes. The comics is a satirical piece mocking and displaying the worst of the worst, and t pilot is a commentary on the societal failures that lead to children with this kind of behavior.

There are some parts where they undeniably intersect though. Like Pete's tendency towards violence to solve his problems, and one specific comic panel (which I can't exactly find right now) where Pete comments that sewing's for sissies, and Jerry insists that he's not. Pete's reply is "Of course not you, Jerry, you're a wizard. Keep it up." This can be seen as him just wanting his clothes repaired, but it can also be interpreted as Pete putting his own insecurities and internalized feelings aside because he loves and respects his friends too much. It shows that he doesn't actually believe what he's saying to the degree he insists. Pete is the second most likely to have the capacity to change his ways, if he ever so chose.

Honestly, it's up to interpretation how these traits are combined. Some fans like the comics more, some fans like the pilot. Though Evan seems to be leaning more into the pilot interpretations of the characters now than the comics, showing a possible reboot or retcon of their old traits, just like the retcon of Epilogue Pete.

Summary (MBTI, Enneagram, etc.)

I'm gonna use my general knowledge of personality quizzes to get my point across, lol.

I honestly believe his MBTI is ESTP, as someone who studied it for a very long time and spent way too long on PDB. But he is a very unhealthy ESTP that never found an outlet for his more creative attributes, and lives in unhealthy environments that disrupt his peace.

On the good side, he can adapt easily, read his environment and the people in it well, and he is extremely passionate. He's pushed by his love of horror and film, seeking out people with the same interests and motivation to get things done. He's very experience-based, seeking out adventure, and has a lot of energy. He's very down to earth, lives in the moment almost too much, can easily improvise and comes up with decisions very quickly. He's a quick thinker, but thinks after he acts, not before, and is very life-smart. He's a good communicator, he's practical, hedonistic, and fair.

Deep down, he seeks validation from his peers, wanting to be seen as competent, talented, valuable. At his best, this helps him connect with others in a meaningful way like he craves. But he never really gets there, which leads to him forming a persona he believes will get him that respect. He's actually a very sensitive person in that way, not necessarily emotional but very touchy when it comes to what he loves. He's prone to pessimism, doesn't think about the consequences of his actions, and doesn't see himself in a world in which he's truly successful.

He's selfish, rude, doesn't trust others, has an intense aversion to rules, and doesn't look at any information that goes against what he believes. He can be bossy at times, or judgemental of others who don't meet his standards, and doesn't keep other people' feelings in mind. This leads to an internal struggle with seeing everyone as fake or not as dedicated, but also wanting, needing connection with other people. This can lead to him being rather conspiratorial, which leads to the whole "Jock vs. Nerd" conversation.

I also think he's a sp/so (self-preservation social) 8w9. His biggest fear is being hurt and betrayed by the people he loves, so he seeks out control and stability so that can't happen. He tries his best to be self-reliant so he has no need to open up to others and make himself vulnerable, and he's hard to warm up to. But once he likes you, he's loyal for life. He isn't very loud about these traits, trying to maintain an air of calmness while also being no-nonsense. He doesn't want to lose control of his anger, but also has a tendency to do so, leading to small outbursts of strong aggression. While he craves connection, if he has too many failed relationships, he may start to see them as a waste of his time and become very introverted, like how he became in the epilogue.

__

Yep, that's it, enough yapping for me. Those are all the things I noticed, hopefully it's entertaining to somebody lol.

[snoopychris]

TA!matt discovering camgirl!reader online

warnings: masturbation, kinda sub!matt, matt's kind of an ass, cammy used in place of y/n

11:03am

“ok… professor thomas isn’t here today. you guys are stuck with me. i’m not legally… allowed to teach so just. do whatever. you can leave if you want.” matt speaks, his voice booming clearly throughout the room. the tests you had taken the week before were sitting face down in front of each seat. you’re almost scared to look at your grade. your friend, melissa, takes her seat next to you, flipping her page over instantly.

“78. how’d you do cammy?” she asks, glancing at the marks on her paper before you flip yours over. 65. “what the hell?” you whisper, looking around the room. nobody else seems to be freaking out over their scores. you make your way to matt’s temporary desk, setting your paper down. “a 65?” you mumble, glancing between matt and the paper. he sets his phone down on the desk, looking up at you. “well, yeah. your determinants were wrong and you did the wrong method. i was being generous with the grade.” 

you shake your head in disbelief, glancing over matt’s features. “i didn’t… i was so confident in… is there anything you can do for me?” you whisper, biting your lip so hard that it begins to bleed. matt shakes his head, flipping through his textbook. “do the problems on page 117. give them to me on friday and ill use some of those as proof that you know what you’re doing. daddy’s money can’t pay its way through college” you scoffed at his words. sure, you had a lot of materialistic things, always having the best backpack, the best notebook, dressed in the best clothes, but was always from your own pocket. “that’s not fair.” “oh no... you actually have to work for something for once. crazy isn’t it?” matt replies, looking back down at the papers he was grading. 

it feels like the walk of shame on your way back to your seat. when you sit down, melissa elbows your ribs, making you chuckle. “i mean shit, cammy, i’d give anything for him to talk to me like that. at least he’s hot though, right cammy?” “i’d never ever think that man was attractive. i would never. ever. do anything with him. matter of fact. hit me if i ever do.” 

11:03 pm.

matt had been going through the worst dry spell of his life. chris and nick had been making fun of him for it nonstop. he just felt desperate. in the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing was pathetic and probably frowned upon by some people. a wednesday night isn’t typically spent looking through a camgirl website hoping that one of them is cheap enough for him to afford them walking him through an orgasm. he was twenty two years old for gods sake. he shouldn’t be doing… whatever this was. the girls on his screen were all beautiful. they all had a confidence he wishes he could have. he didn’t judge the girls on the other side. he’s been desperate for money too. it’d be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered pornography. the scrolling continued for a while, only coming to a halt when he saw a free livestream.

on the other side of the city, you were growing bored. there can’t have possibly been that many other cam girls available at this time on a wednesday night. you had been live for about an hour, talking to nobody other than yourself. your face was hidden from the camera, only your lips and lower body visible. still, with no audience, you tried your best to make it seem like you were doing anything. a bullet vibrator sat near your clit, attached to your fingers by a holster. it was off, and you weren’t doing anything other than moving it in circles. maybe this whole free thing hadn’t been the best ideas. your face brightens slightly when a user finally joins. mateo81. “hello mateo… y’got yourself a private show tonight. everybody’s too busy for me.” you pout, your voice covered by a voice changer. they were common on this app. 

matt thinks it’s almost too corny. then again… you look good. just his type. and free. he would’ve paid if he had too. was it too good to be true? he should find out right? matt puts the website on full screen, typing a message out in the chat. completely free? NSA?

“completely free mateo… no strings attached.” you smile, tapping your bullet vibrator on the camera. “unless you wanna tip. i do a free stream every once in a while… you got lucky today and got it allllll for yourself. you’re gonna be such a good boy for me aren’t you?” you whisper, your voice like silk. usually matt’s not into this stuff. he’s not submissive. there’s something about you that’s making him do it all. he types another message, swallowing roughly. he doesn’t even remember getting as hard as he is right now. please. so hard rn. he pushes his boxers down, staring intently at the screen. every word you say is like a potion, drawing him further under your spell. he hopes there’s no antidote. 

you chuckle as you turn your vibrator on, holding it on your clothed clit. you bite your lip, holding back a small moan as you await another message. how much for you to take it off? you giggle once more, shrugging your shoulders as you press your tits together with one hand. “just gotta ask nicely baby…” you smile, slipping the small panties—if you could even call them that— off of your figure. 

matt watches with full attention as you do so, fisting his cock faster and faster. he wasn’t trying to cum so fast, but he had gone so long without any form of release that he felt like he had to. besides, it’s not like you’d see him. the precum that was coating his tip is rubbed away gently when matt rubs a thumb over his slit, biting the hem of his t-shirt as he reaches his first orgasm of the night. he doesn’t send a message regarding his cum coated hand, but opts to send one anyway. tits look nice. he hopes he doesn’t sound too pathetic or weird. 

your top is quickly discarded, gently jiggling your breasts on the camera for the person watching over the screen. matt groans at the sight, his sticky hand beginning to move up and down again. you continue to rub the vibrating toy on your clit, letting out small whines and whimpers. you always made it a point to not fake moan like other cam girls. you’d rather be authentic than seem fake and money hungry like some girls on the app were. 

“you’re doing such a good job… wish i could touch you right now. bet you’re dripping aren’t you? you dripping out of your dick over the fact that i’m fuckin myself with this toy for you?” matt could hardly type at this point with how covered in cum his hands were. he didn’t even remember having a second orgasm. or a third. but he knows that he did.  your words were making him feel something so different than anything he’s ever felt before.

with shaky hands, he types a yes, sending it to your screen—wherever you are. you chuckle at the message , pouting your lips for your sole viewer. “such a good boy mateo. so so good… fuck i’m gonna cum… gonna cum for you okay? do it with me yeah? unless you’ve already done it… won’t judge you…” he nods even though you can’t see him, meeting his climax once more. you whine loudly as you release, your body squirming as the feeling takes over. “f-fuck.” you whisper, pressing a small lip gloss kiss to the camera. matt chuckles at the sight, using his discarded shorts to clean himself off. 

his computers pointer moves to the follow button, clicking it as he begins typing a message in the chat. this was fun. do it again sometime? i’ll actually pay haha. he sighs of relief when you nod on camera, giggling quietly. “i can’t wait. i gotta go now. have to pee and all. i’ll see you next time okay, mateo?” you smile, turning your live stream off. matt feels a pang of sadness when he audibly says goodbye and gets no reply.

he glances at his clock, noticing that the minutes are just ticking by. there’s still a pile of math tests on his desk waiting to be graded. he throws his head back and groans, standing up to wash his hands before sitting back down at his work area. the first test he grades is almost a perfect score. 98%. he always tries to avoid names when grading test to avoid any unintentional bias. he chuckles to himself when he reads the name after he’s done grading it. cammy.

you whine as you shut your laptop, walking into the kitchen. you’re still in minimal clothes after putting your top back, but it’s decent enough to be seen by your roommate. he walks into the room, clapping slowly at your performance on the other side of the wall. “you did great, cammy. truly. always put on a show! you get this months rent yet?” he asks, handing you a cloth towel for you to wipe off any sweat with. you chuckle at his words, downing the water bottle in your hand. “free show tonight tucker. y’shoulda seen em! all… one of them! the art of camming is dying and i am going to bring it back. mark my words.” tucker chuckles at your words, grabbing his own water from the fridge. he pops it open, taking a long swig before ruffling your hair. “no judgement here. i support your whore career so long as you support my music career.” you can’t help but smile at his words, knowing he’s being genuine. he supports you in everything that you do. he always has. “yeah whatever. you’re such a good role model.” tucker rolls his eyes as he opens the fridge once more, grabbing some precooked pasta to heat up. 

“did you ever get that math test back? i got an 85. i think that matt guy really likes me or something cause i did so much shit wrong and yet here i am” you shake your head at his question, putting on a tshirt that was thrown over the couch. “no he doesn’t like me much. in fact im probably the last person on his mind 24/7 and when i am on his mind its probably all about how he dislikes me and how bad of a linear algebra student i am.” you shrug, taking a bite of your roommates pasta. “im sure that’s not true.” “oh no. it’s definitely true. there is absolutely no way that I am on his mind right now.” matt got through the stack of papers faster than he had expected. he used your nearly perfect example as an answer key of sorts. he began getting ready for bed, properly this time, knowing that he had an early start to his day with a few morning classes, followed by his nightly internship. he needed to find more time for himself. as he nestles into bed, jellycats at his side, he stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes. his mind keeps drifting back to the camgirl from earlier. cherry. he hopes she’s okay right now. that she’s had a good meal and that she was safe, wherever she was. it was all that was on his mind. the only person on matt’s mind was you. and it had absolutely nothing to do with your mathematical abilities. in fact— he wasn’t even thinking about your test grades anymore. you were absolutely on matt's mind right now, even if neither of you knew it.

tags(reply/message to be added!): @mattsstarlet @oopsiedaisydeer @marrykisskilled @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @cykss @throatgoat4u @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @jetaimevous @muwapsturniolo @sturnsrecord @13hoax @whore4mattsturniolo @sophsturns @chrissweetheart @cl1tlover3000 @applecidersturniolo @babytrapsosa @backwardshatnick

dividers by rose @bernardsbendystraws !

[alwaysanundertone]

high sex drive | poly! marauders x fem! reader

hurt/comfort + smut

TW: NSFW, piv, non-protected sex, oral (f/m receiving)

Sirius was drawing patterns on your thigh, the tips of his fingers grazing the supple skin there ever so slowly while his head rested on your belly. Your other two boyfriends were cuddling each other, they were all spent after coming many times, so why weren’t you?

You found every touch maddening, it didn’t make sense for you to be so wound up; it wasn’t like you hadn’t gotten off, because you had, and plenty of times.

The problem was your sex drive. Your desire wasn’t something that your ex boyfriends accepted, nor did they deem it normal, one of them even suggested to go see a sex therapist one time, and you did. The session failed to give you answers, and after some time you just gave up, resigning yourself to a life of not voicing your own needs.

It went good, as good as faking being satisfied would go, but it wasn’t that bad after all. With these guys, though, it was really difficult to just pretend.

“Love?”

You looked up, finding three pairs of eyes focused on you. “Mh?”

“Where did you go, dove? You’ve been awfully quiet. Sirius just asked you if you are hungry, we thought about ordering something, is pizza good?”

You refrained from blushing, hating the fact that you weren’t able to mask your true feelings even in a peaceful moment like that. “Sorry, I’ve just been lost in my own thoughts, I guess” You chuckled, sounding suspicious even to your own ears. “Pizza’s good, thank you”

You felt Sirius mouth closing over your inner thighs, its teeth piercing the supple skin there, making you gasp. “Come on, darling, you know you can tell us anything”

The thing was that every boyfriend you had started this conversation like this, telling you that it was okay, that he would have taken care of you, and then when they found out that they couldn’t change you, they’d start to call you a nympho, making you ashamed of yourself. So no, you weren’t sure you could tell them anything.

“You’re doing it again, love” James was looking at you through pleading eyes, it was really hard to resist him when he was acting like this, but you had to. The guys were the best thing that happened to you in a long time, and you weren’t willingly letting them go for something as stupid as your sex drive.

“Oh, uh” You blushed. “I think I’m just kind of tired, you know? Nothing crazy”

There was a moment of silence, then Remus spoke up. “This thing won’t work if you’re keeping stuff from us, dove. You have to understand the importance of trust, if you don’t want to talk about it now, fine, but at least tell us the main topic that’s bothering you so much you’re not even listening to us when we’re talking to you”

His words felt like a harsh slap to your cheek, bringing true tears to the surface, which you tried to fight against, to no avail.

“Sorry, I don’t want to bother you, I do trust you, it’s just-“

“Was sex too much? Were you unconfortable? You’ve been like this since we had sex, did we hurt you?”

Sirius sounded horrified, and you couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of your mouth, you had to fix this.

“No, no it’s quite the opposite actually” They were all looking at you expectantly, you sighed. “It’s just- I have a high sex drive, okay? And I hate it, I know it’s twisted and disgusting and not right but I need to get off multiple times a day and sometimes having sex worsens the situation because then I keep wanting more and I hate it, you evet got me off so many times I’m the worst girlfriend ever.” Now that the words were comung out of your mouth, you couldn’t seem to stop them. “And I’ve been to sex therapists but they don’t know how to turn this off and just- I’m so sorry you’re probably regretting even-“

“Do not finish that sentence for the love of God”

You furrowed your brows. “Sirius what-“

“No, I should be the one saying sorry, I’ve been torturing you for the past hour and I didn’t even notice it.”

“And you’re not disgusting” James piped in.

“Dove, it’s nothing crazy, we can just-“

“No you can’t fix it.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth even if you tried, years of shame weighting you down. “Every ex that I had told me that they could fix it but it just doesn’t go away and I know it’s a burden” You pressed your hands to your face, hating this situation and hating yourself even more for letting it happen.

“Dove, would you please let us finish?” You nodded, your hands firmly locked in place. “Okay, I was trying to say that you can tell us if you’re needy and we’ll be really happy to help. There’s three of us, and if we aren’t available, there are your toys, you know? I don’t know what douchebags you dated, but this would never be a burden to us” His eyes were pleading you to believe him, and you found yourself wanting to.

“I think it’s anything but a burden, darling” You blushed slightly at Sirius, who was now laying on his belly, his head hovering right above your centre. You squirmed unconfortably, he smirked at you. “I’m being mean, aren’t I? Hovering just above you, so close yet so out of touch” His lips were now grazing your earlobe, making you shiver head to toe, the movement of his hands on your inner thigh maddening. “Such a pretty little thing, so flustered, what do you want now, love?”

You tried to tell him, but being vocal about your needs was something you weren’t used to, especially after years of slut shaming in your past relationship. You tried to avoid his question, wriggling your hips. “You know what I want”

He tsked. “No, I don’t. Do you want my mouth?” He lightly kissed you above your panties and shorts, making you grunt. “Mh, interesting. Maybe it’s my fingers that you want?” He caressed your nipples over the thin fabric of your -James’s- shirt. “My cock?”

The moment was interrupted by a pornographic grunt, coming from a very flustered James. “Fuck that’s so hot” He palmed his dick over his boxer briefs, making you blush.

“Look at him, darling, you’re making him needy. I think we should give him a show.”

You whimpered. “Sirius, please”

“I can give you everything you want, love. Just ask me”

You swallowed your pride. “I want your mouth, please”

He tutted. “Where do you want it? Here?” He grazed your forehead, the slightest touch sending you ablaze with need.

“No, Sirius, fuck, I want it on my pussy, please eat me out, I’m begging you” You couldn’t recognize your own voice, it sounded breathy, restrained, too close to begging.

“Gladly, darling” He pushed your shorts down, ripping the soft fabric of your panties in two. You didn’t have time to complain, his mouth immediately landing right on your clit.

His tongue started massaging the little bud, making you gasp as he flicked it repeatedly, moaning while doing so.

“You’re so wet, darling, I’m kind of mad, you know? You were really trying to keep this from me, from us” You shivered as you felt his index finger teasing your hole slowly, making you arch your back.

As he entered you, Remus was right above you, his dick in his hand, stroking your cheek with his free one. “Open up, dove, make me feel good”

He didn’t have to ask twice, your mouth opening right as Sirius thrusted into you with his fingers. “Fuck, she’s so wet James, fuck the show come here”

Suddenly, all three of your boyfriends were on you, James lining the crown of his cock at your entrance as Sirius lips closed right on your clit, sucking on it hardly. You felt one of Remus’s hands right over your right nipples, pinching it slightly, making you arch your back.

Your head was spinning, you felt awfully close to orgasming. “Fuck, love if you squeeze me like that I won’t last”

“That’s fine” Sirius piped in. “That’s why there’s three of us, to keep her satisfied” He tutted as you tried to close your thighs. “That isn’t nice now love, is it? Keep them open for us, stay still”

You loved when he was mean during sex, loved how he made you feel like you were at his mercy. “Sirius, close, god”

He chuckled. “You’re already coming, aren’t you? You’ve been such a good girl, telling us what you need, I think you deserve to come” You felt Remus’s cock swelling in your mouth, you rushed to swallow every drop of him, trying to focus on it, but it was difficult when you had two of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen between your thighs.

“Come now, darling. Be a good girl and come for us”

It was all it took for you to explode, your mouth wide open, eyes shut as you gripped Sirius head with all your force. He wasn’t complaining, though, still lapping at you, while James got off inside of you, his thrust loosing force and rhythm.

Just as you were coming down from your high, you felt another cock probing at your entrance.

“What…”

“Hush, love, I think you got one more in you, don’t you?”

You weren’t able to respond, your long-haired boyfriend immediately started rutting into you, his hips hitting the back of your thighs at a punishing rhythm.

“You’re so hot, fuck” The sounded that came out of you were pornographic, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, you could already tell that this orgasm was going to shake you thoroughly.

All you could manage to do, to say, was chant your boyfriends’ name like a prayer.

“Come on now, dove, give us another” Remus leaned down to kiss you, his tongue caressing yours, you couldn’t help but moan in his open mouth.

You obliged, drenching Sirius’s cock as your brain completely shut down. You could feel your boyfriend coming inside of you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself down to Earth.

You found yourself in a hot tub, James massaging your shoulders behind you while Remus stood kneeling outside of it, rubbing your feet.

“How do you feel? Good?”

You hummed, looking up at your long-haired boyfriend, your hand reaching up caress his face.

“Really, love? Me and Remus are both cuddling you, and it’s him you reward?” James’s tone had no bite in it, still you reached your other hand behind his head, scratching his scalp.

“Hey, it’s me who ate her out, it’s only fair, really” He winked at you.

There was a bit of silence, then you felt Remus hands wondering up your thighs.

“What-“

He smiled at you. “I think I can get another one out of you, just relax against Jamie and let me do the work”

You moaned lightly, nuzzling against your boyfriend’s toned chest, wondering what you’ve done to deserve them.

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.7 - Trial & Error

ft. Julie, Natty, Haneul and Chaewon

You’ve never owned a pet before.

But it’s not a bad experience at all.

Especially if your pet’s an immortal goddess who’s addicted to your cock.

It has become a somewhat normal occurrence to wake up to Chaewon choking herself on your morning wood, serving herself breakfast even before you have woken up.

It’s not a pretty sight. Not at all. A goddess who has once treated men like pests has been reduced to nothing but a cock hungry slut, all her resentments and fury replaced by lust. If the old Artemis could see what she have become, she would have committed suicide on the spot (yeah, she’s immortal, alright. just me exaggerating). But it’s too late now. You don’t know what becomes of her hunters but the mark has rewritten Chaewon’s entire personality. 

And talking about the mark, you haven’t had the chance to use it again since your encounter with Aphrodite. You’re not sure how long it has been. It’s difficult to tell the time here. Especially with the storm shrouding everything in darkness.

It seems to be raging on even more since you have regained consciousness. Rain pounds steadily against the glass walls, thunder growling low like an ancient beast. The lightning, when it strikes, is bright enough to momentarily bleach the whole room white.

The world beyond isn’t stable either. At least the world you are allowed to see. One moment, you’re staring at a familiar New York skyline, neon lights shimmering beneath the rain. Then, in a blink, you are staring at the Eiffel Tower. Another, and you would see the Colosseum. You know the properties of the building to choose what it shows to its occupants, but it has never shifted this quickly before.

On the other hand, Eros remains calm. Almost too calm.

He hasn’t assigned another task for you yet, though you’re not sure if that’s a good thing. He’s unusually quiet. If anything, he’s been…patient. Watching. Waiting.

What he’s waiting for, you have no idea as usual. So, you decide to make the most out of this strange, uneasy peace - no matter how short it lasts.

A literal god can’t afford wi-fi in his place so using the phone is out of the question. The TV is, as usual, useless. Eros hasn’t changed his mind about setting every channel to play either romantic comedies, sappy dramas or dating shows. It’s as if the entire entertainment industry is curated by Aphrodite herself. You would last at most five minutes before shutting off the TV with a groan.

Kazuha has no interest in entertaining you either. You guess she’s somewhat affected by the death of her fellow angels, but it’s not an easy job to see through her cold, indifferent mask. She brushes off your attempts to make conversation, instead resorting to staring at the shifting landscapes amidst the storm, like it’s her favourite thing to do.

Luckily, you have a pet goddess.

A pet who’s so eager to grab your attention through your favourite spot - your cock.

So, it’s not really a surprise when you wake up once again, with your cock blocking Chaewon’s airways. She’s so busy attending to your morning(or night) hardness that she doesn’t even notice you stir. She keeps bobbing her head, devouring your cock like it’s her favourite lollipop.

“Chaewon” you call, trying to alert her of your awakening. She looks up at you through half lidded eyes, mouth still full of your cock. She mutters a muffled ‘morning’ and instantly goes back to sucking you off.

“Chaewon” you call again, this time a bit louder. She stops blowing you and meets your eyes, though she still has no plan to take your dickout of her mouth. So she waits there, eyes expectant and mouth full of cock.

You tangle a fist in her hair, pulling her lips off your cock. It comes off easily with strings of drool stretching in the path. Chaewon stays with her mouth gaping, like she can’t wait to swallow your dick again.

“Eager, aren’t you?” you ask, still holding her hair firm. It surely burns her scalp, but it’s nothing compared to what she has done to you before getting brainwashed into a cock depraved slut. Perhaps, she doesn't remember. But the fact remains true.

“Yes, master…” she mutters, voice hoarse from god knows how long she has been deepthroating your shaft. “Chaewon can’t help herself. Chaewon misses master’s cock so much and…”

That earns a slap across her face. “You lying bitch. It hasn’t even been a day since I fuck a load into your cunt, and you miss it, already? God, you really love cocks, don’t you?”

“No, master. Chaewon only love master’s cock. Chaewon can’t live without master’s cock. Chaewon needs it in all her holes everyday” 

You laugh, almost like a madman. Is this what they call karma? One moment, you dread men. The next, your life source has become a cock.

“You are such a slut” you say, rubbing your drenched cock across her face, smearing it in her own saliva. She doesn’t complain, letting you violate her like the toy she is. Who knows a goddess can look even more pretty painted with her own drool?

“Yes, master. Chaewon is master’s slut. And Chaewon wants to make master feel good. Chaewon is a good slut”

The way she repeats her name reminds you of the house elf from Harry Potter. What’s his name again? Dobby? This one does cleaning too, just in different places. 

“I can’t deny that. But you do have to prove it, don’t you?” 

At your question, Chaewon wriggles her raised ass like an eager dog. She has stayed bare so far, and you are not complaining. Not with how easy it is to just squeeze a handful of her ass or bend her over a surface and fuck a load into her whenever you feel like it.

“Yes, master. Chaewon will prove to master how slutty she can be. So please..” she tries to go to town on your cock again but you tighten the grip on her hair, causing her to pull back.

“Listen, you little slut. I’m your master, got it? You don’t do anything without my permission” 

“Get- get it, master” she whimpers, flinching at the pain in her scalp. You almost feel sympathetic. But then, you remember Artemis hasn’t shown you any sympathy. Why would you show it to her?

“Good” you muse. “Now stays just like that and open wide when I fuck your slutty mouth, got it?” 

Chaewon nods feverishly, though it’s hard with how hard you are gripping her head. She opens her mouth anyway, lolling out her tongue like a pet asking for food. And you will feed her very soon. A really hard, really big pet food.

“Open wide” you warn and shove your thick cocks past her lips, groaning as her hot wet mouth envelopes you. She gags and sputters as you force your way in, not caring about her discomfort. All it matters is your pleasure, you need to use her like a cheap fucktoy. 

You start thrusting into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat with each buck of your hips. Lightning flashes and thunder strikes again, but it can’t be as loud as the steady glug glug glug echoing the room as you use Chaewon’s throat like a fleshlight. Streams of saliva drip from the corner of her lips and stain the bed sheet, but it doesn’t really matter. You have found out long ago that the thing cleans and folds itself. Though you doubt it would like having blowjob drool on its sheets.

“See, Artemis? That’s what happens when you talk too much. You get a cock shoved into your mouth” you say, effectively showing her how right you are.

You stop fucking her face for a while, just to make an act of slapping your cock on her tongue multiple times before you shove it back into her warm wet heat. Things have become really messy now, tears flow in a steady stream and mix with the drool, turning her face into a filthy mess of bodily fluids. 

But she plays her part of the slut perfectly. Not complaining at all as you continue to use her throat for your own pleasure. You press your tip to the inside of her cheek, making it bulge before doing the same thing to the other side of her face. It makes her look even more like a slut, if that’s possible.

“Fuck, this mouth does more than taunt and complain. You should have sucked cocks since the beginning. Then, your pretty mouth wouldn’t have gone to waste for millennia”

Does she understand you? You doubt it. Even if she does, her brain is full of nothing but cocks by now. She would have gladly agreed.

You let your eyes wonder and drink in the sight of her magnificent ass. She still has it up in the air, as if beckoning another cock or two to fill her holes. You know she’s more than capable of using that round, juicy ass to her advantage. You have watched enough ‘Smart’ fancams to see the proof. It’s the kind of ass  that begs to be grabbed, spanked and fucked hard. You can already imagine those plump cheeks jiggling as you rail her from behind.

But for now, her mouth would have to suffice. You set a brutal pace, slamming into her throat over and over. Your heavy balls slapping against her chin with every thrust, your shaft stretching her jaw wide. She continues to make obscene gurgling noises, spit and drool dribbling down her chin as you wreck her mouth.

“Fuck, your throat feels so good,” you grunt, picking up speed. “Such a perfect little cockwarmer. This is all you are good for, aren’t you?”

You reach down to grope her tits, squeezing and twisting her erect nipples as you continue to rail her mouth. She moans around your cock, sending delicious vibrations through you. You know you wouldn’t last long, not with such a tight, wet heat wrapped around you.

You pull your cock from Chaewon’s mouth at the last moment, a string of saliva connecting your swollen tips to her bruised lips. She looks at you with bleary, lust-filled eyes, panting heavily as she waits for your command. 

“Beg for it,” you growl, fisting your shaft. “Beg me to paint that pretty face with my cum”

Chaewon obediently parts her lips, tongue extending and ready to catch your load. “Please master,” she whimpers. “Please cum on Chaewon’s face. Chaewon need it, Chaewon needs her face covered in master’s hot seed”

Her vulgar words send a thrill through you, your balls tightening with impending release. With a grunt, you aim your cock at her face and stroke faster, relishing the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Then, you are coming, long ropes of thick, pearly cum erupting from your cock and splattering across Chaewon’s eager face. You pump load after load, painting her from forehead to chin, watching as your seed drips down her flushed cheeks.

She moans with delight, eyes fluttering closed as you coated her in your essence. When you are finally spent, she’s the perfect picture of a cock drunk slut, marked as your property by the mess on her face.

Chaewon opens her mouth, letting a thick glob of cum drip onto her extended tongue. She swirls it around, savoring the taste before swallowing it down with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you, master” she purrs, scooping up some of the cum from her cheeks and sucking it off her fingers. “Chaewon will always be your personal cumdump. Please use Chaewon whenever you want” 

And that’s how your mornings go lately. 

🖤 🖤 🖤

Your peace comes to an abrupt, violent end.

And at the worst moment.

You have Chaewon pinned against the wall, her wrists trapped above her head in one of your hands. With the other, you keep a tight grip on her waist, slamming your cock into her soaking cunt rapidly. 

“Fuck, you are so fucking tight” you grunt, leaning down to bite at her neck. “Always wet and ready for me, aren’t you? Begging to be filled and used like a sextoy”

Chaewon moans, pressing her ass back against you desperately. “Please master, Chaewon needs your big cock. Need it inside me, stretching me out. Please use Chaewon like the slut she is”

Her vulgar words resonate around the room, serving only to get you even more riled up. And that’s saying a lot, with how throbbing hard you are already. 

And that ass. That ass that sways and jiggles and bounces with each thrust. If Chaewon’s whorish face - rolled up eyes and lolling tongue - isn’t enough, the sight of her tight ass is an additional luxury.

“Fill me up, Master. Fill Chaewon with your load. Knock me up with your seed” Chaewon continues to beg, lost in the pain and pleasure of your cock. She may be an immortal goddess but at this moment, it won’t be so hard to believe she needs your cum to survive.

You can feel the approaching finale, your cock throbbing with anticipation. Just a few more thrusts, maybe even fewer and you will grant Chaewon her wish - a nice, big, hot load.

Then, the door opens with a deafening slam.

“Well well look what we have here”

You forget about cumming.

Eros stands in the doorway, one hand still on the handle, the other stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. His golden hair is an absolute mess, his shirt crumpled, like he has just rolled out of bed. He studies you with a flicker of amusement in his eyes, like it’s his favorite form of entertainment to break into rooms when people are having sex.

“There’s something called ‘knocking’, you know”

Eros shrugs his shoulders.

“And ruin the fun? No way. And it’s not like you would have heard me with how loud your little ‘pet’ is begging for your cock”

Before you know it, a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You have never meant your activity with Chaewon to be made public but it’s not like you have been secretive either. You have hoped the walls were thick enough to drown out the sound. Seems like it wasn’t the case.

“Look. I-”

Your attempt to reason fails miserably. What does one say when their boss walks in on them having sex? ‘Sorry’? ‘Let me empty my balls first and then we’ll talk’? And the fact that you are still balls deep inside Chaewon makes it even worse. 

Eros makes an exaggerated expression of rolling his eyes. “Finish this up and then come to the living room”

And just like that, he’s gone.

The orgasm is not at all satisfactory. You are too busy pondering what Eros has in store for you this time as you pump Chaewon full of your load. At least the slut gets what she wants in the end.

You hastily change into a sweatshirt and khakis, ignoring Cahewon’s pleas to fill her ass next, pocket your phone and exit the room.

As you step into the circular hall, the first thing you notice is the statue. Eros - marble wings spread wide, that signature smirk carved into his face. The hunters had sliced it clean in half but now, it has been restored to its full glory. Not a single crack remains. If anything, it looks even more smug, as if taunting you personally.

You snort and keep walking, footsteps echoing against the marble floor as you move down the corridor leading to the living room. 

As soon as you step inside, they are already there.

Eros and Kazuha.

Kazuha leans against the pastel-pink kitchen island, arms crossed over her tank top and watching you with that unreadable expression of hers. Meanwhile, Eros is seated on the couch, tossing a lollipop between his fingers like it’s a dagger.

Behind them, the glass walls reveal a cityscape that looks ancient - stone structures, towering columns, remnants of an empire long gone. You don’t recognize it, but the storm still rages on outside, thunder crackling through the sky like a war drum.

Something tells you that whatever comes next is not going to be good.

Eros glances up, pops the lollipop into his mouth and grins.

“Finally! Our guest of honor!” He spreads his arms like he’s welcoming a long lost friend, his grin widening around the lollipop in his mouth. Thunder rumbles, casting flickering shadows against the glass walls, but he doesn’t seem concerned.

Eros gestures to the brand new couch across from him, one that definitely wasn’t there before. It’s upholstered in plush, wine-red velvet, looking way too luxurious for your taste. You half-expect it to swallow you whole once you sit down.

Still, you take a seat.

“So,” you say, stretching your legs. “What’s the occasion?”

Eros leans forward, golden eyes glinting. “I’ve got a quest for you”

Of course he does.

You don’t bother responding. Instead, you let your head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like it holds the patience you no longer have.

Eros grins. “Oh, come on. Don’t look so dead inside. You are gonna love this one”

That gets a laugh out of you. “That’s what you said last time. And I end up dying”

Eros waves a hand. “Details”

You let out a sigh. “Just tell me what you want”

Eros stretches out on the couch like a cat and flashes you his iconic grin that usually precedes horrible news.

“Tell me, Michael,” he says, popping his chin up with one hand. “Do you know Wonder Woman?”

You stare at him, oblivious to why the god is asking if you know a comic book character. “...Yeah?”

He spreads his hands, as if presenting you with a grand mystery. “And what is she?”

You frown. “A superhero?”

“Yes, yes. The one in the skimpy outfit. But what is she?”

You narrow your eyes. “A woman?”

He lets out an exaggerated groan and flops onto his back like he’s personally offended by your answer. “Michael, Michael, Michael. Yes, technically, but you are missing the essence of the question”

Kazuha, who has been silently enduring this nonsense with the patience of someone who has clearly had enough, finally chimes in. “Just tell him already”

Eros shoots her a scandalized look. “Kaz, please. Do you know how dull life would be if we all just gave answers immediately?”

She glares. “Do you know how much less annoying you’d be?”

“Harsh” Eros comments, before turning back to you. “Come on, Michael, give me another guess”

You sigh heavily. “A goddess?”

He clicks his tongue. “Colder”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “A warrior?”

He gives you a so-so gesture. “Warmer, but still missing the key element”

Kazuha rubs her temples. “Eros.”

“Fine, fine.” He sits up properly, stretching his arms overhead before finally, mercifully, giving you the answer. His golden eyes gleam as he smirks. 

“She’s an Amazon”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “The company?”

Kazuha looks like she wants to strangle you. Eros slumps his shoulders so dramatically you’d think you just told him Santa Claus isn’t real. 

“Kazuha, you are gonna have to sit him down and teach him the basics one of these days,” he mutters. “This is getting painful.”

Kazuha lets out a slow breath like she’s mentally preparing herself for this. “Amazons, Michael. And no, this has nothing to do with Jeff Bezos. They’re a race of warrior women. Fierce, highly skilled in combat, and they don’t take kindly to men”

You blink. “So they’re just another version of the Hunters?”

Kazuha shakes her head. “Not at all. The Hunters of Artemis swear off men entirely. Well….though you kinda ruin that. The Amazons don’t hate men - they just don’t see them as equals. To them, men are tools, something to be used and then cast aside”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh and that’s not everything,” Kazuha continues, a slight chuckle in her voice. She’s enjoying this way too much. “They are the daughters of Ares, the god of war. That means they’re not just some regular warriors - they’ve got divine blood in their veins. Strong, fast, nearly impossible to beat in a fight”

“Wonderful,” you remark. “Let me guess. I have to try to fuck them so that I can grow even more powerful and help Eros impress his mom”

“Well, that’s your job. And you are very good at it” Eros says. If that’s supposed to make you feel better, it doesn’t. “Plus, it’s not the only task at hand”

Another task apart from trying to get into the pants(or armor, whatever) of deadly female warriors? This is just wonderful. 

Eros leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I want you to steal the Belt of Hippolyta”

You blink. “The what?”

“The Belt of Hippolyta. A divine artifact once gifted by Ares to the Amazons’ greatest queen. It increases the strength of its wearer tenfold”

You rub your face. “First, Hades’ helmet, now, this. You sure you don’t need me just to smuggle goldy artifacts?”

Eros grins. “A thief with a charm is just a gentleman rogue”

You pause, frowning. Last time, you barely managed to steal the Helm of Darkness before the servants of the underworld came crashing in. Even then, you have to struggle with a single goddess - Persephone, before she gave in. This time, it’s a whole army of women you have to deal with and you are pretty sure their weapons won’t be vegan-friendly like Persephone. You are starting to hate this job.

“Ok. How exactly am I supposed to steal something like that under the nose of women who will probably try to kill me? Walk up and ask nicely?”

Eros ignores your sarcasm. “Come on, Michael. After all those adventures, you, of all people, must surely know that I always have a plan”

‘Plans that push you closer to the brink of death each time,’ you think. But you keep your mouth shut.

“So, here’s the deal,” Eros starts, biting down on the lollipop with a loud crunch. “The Amazons have this little event every year - big tournament, lots of fighting, lots of blood, real Spartan stuff. A test of strength and skill. And the grand final is always overseen by Ares, who happens to be my dad. 

‘Whose wife I happened to rail,’ you think again. But Eros doesn’t need to know that. 

“And,” Eros continues, his grin widening. “Ares is a little busy at the moment.” He gestures at the storm raging outside. “You know, with everything going on”  He winks. You scoff. “So, being the generous and ever-helpful god that I am, I offered to go in his place”

You stare at him. “And he just let you?”

“Of course,” Eros says, feigning offence. “Why wouldn’t he? I’m a god. I’ve got credentials”

“Like you didn’t use charmspeak on him,” interrupts Kazuha.

Eros shrugs, clearly pleased with himself. “A little push in the right direction. Nothing serious. Besides, the Amazons don’t question it. As long as they get to watch people wrestle, they don’t care which god oversees them”

“So, that’s it?” you ask. “I’m supposed to sneak in and grab this belt or whatever while they are too busy with the tournament?”

Eros chuckles, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple,” he flips the remaining plastic stick of the lollipop, making it vanish.”See, the Belt of Hippolyta isn’t just some fancy accessory you can snatch off a dresser. It can’t be stolen, at least not directly. It can only be given away - willingly - by the Queen herself”

Of course, it’s not supposed to be easy. Those tasks never really are. You groan. “Oh, come on”

“Yep,” Eors pops the ‘p’ smugly.

“So I have to convince an Amazon Queen - one of the deadliest warriors to ever walk the earth - to hand over her most prized possession?”  You scoff. “Right. I’ll just ask really nicely. Maybe throw in some chocolates”

Eros flicks his wrist and a golden pocket watch appears between his fingers. He clicks it open, eyes scanning the time before snapping it shut. “Anyway, I’ll explain the plan later. We’ve got somewhere to be”

You frown. “Wait, what?”

Eros grins. “It’s almost time”

Your frown deepens. “Time for what?”

“The tournament, of course.” He tosses the pocket watch over his shoulder like it’s trash and stretches his arms. “And we’ll need to make an entrance”

You blink. “Wait - hold on - we’re going now?”

“Well, yeah.” Eros gestures vaguely. “I figured we could ease into it but since someone’s too occupied trying out his new pet-”

“Oh, screw you”

“Too late for that darling.” Eros claps his hands. “Point is, we are going undercover. It would be suspicious for me to bring a mortal. So you, my friend, will be posing as one of my angels”

You stare at him. Not the craziest thing you’ve heard but still, you are baffled. “And how do I pose as an angel?”

“Easy enough,” Eros shrugs. “Keep your head down and don’t talk much. Just look at Kazuha”

That earns a glare from her but Eros either doesn’t see it or care.

“Come on. We’ve got places to be”

🖤 🖤 🖤

Eros leads the way back into the circular hall, his boots clicking against the marble. The massive statue of himself is still standing smugly at the centre, looking like it’s laughing at you. You are starting to suspect Eros rebuilt it just to mess with you.

He stops in front of one of the many doors lining the wall - this one looks ancient, dark mahogany with strange swirling symbols carved in its surface. 

You eye it warily. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Themyscira,” Kazuha answers before Eros can drag it out with another dramatic monologue. 

“Themuh-what now?”

“Themyscira,” she repeats, arms crossed. “The island of the Amazons. Hidden from the mortal world, ruled by Queen Hippolyta. It’s been their home for thousand of years”

You blink. “And we’re just walking in?”

Eros smirks. “With style”

Yeah. You are definitely going to die.

Eros pushes open the door with ease, its strange symbols glowing faintly as it creaks. A blinding light spills through the gap, washing over the room like a wave, and without waiting, Eros steps forward, disappearing into the light. You follow, hesitant, but Kazuha gives you a reassuring nod.

As you cross the threshold, the air shifts. Gone is the artificial luxury of Eros’s penthouse - now the sun beats down on your skin, the scent of salt and wildflowers filling your lungs. Before you stretch an island of gleaming white marble, lush green hills, and endless blue ocean. Towering statues of warrior women line the cobbled streets, and in the distance, a grand palace rises above the city, its golden banners catching the wind. The sound of clashing swords and fierce battle cries echoes all around.

You barely have time to take it all in before movement catches your eye.

A group of warrior women, all dressed in tank tops, jeans and sturdy boots strides toward you. They all hold edgy expressions, like they are expecting something bad to happen.

The woman leading them, taller than the rest, seems awfully familiar to you. But it doesn’t take long for you to realize why.

It’s Haneul.

From Kiss of Life.

With the same sharp jawline, the same piercing gaze, the same presence that demands attention.

At this point, seeing divine beings take on the forms of idols should be normal. It’s happened too many times already. And yet, you are mesmerized. 

Haneul sweeps her eyes over your group, then settles her gaze on Eros. “We’ve been expecting you,” she says, voice steady. “Ares has given you his blessings. But don’t think that means you can do whatever you want”

Eros grins, the picture of innocence. “Me? Never”

Haneul nods towards the distant city. “It’s nearly time. Follow me”

You walk after her, along the stone path that leads into the heart of the city. The place is a strange blend of the ancient and the modern - marble columns rise between sleek, contemporary buildings, the glass reflecting the golden light of the setting sun. Women pass by, dressed in almost similar ways to Haneul. Some carry swords at their hips, others have pistols strapped to their thighs. 

Ahead, the city opens up into a vast coliseum, its stone arches weathered yet imposing. Even from here, you can hear the roar of the gathered crowd, a mix of anticipation and bloodlust thick in the air.

“This way.” Haneul leads you up a flight of stone steps, weaving through the gathered Amazons until you reach a reserved section at the very top of the coliseum’s seating. From here, you have a perfect view of the massive arena below.

The arena itself is a circular pit of sand and stone, gleaming gold under the sunlight. The towering walls are adorned with ancient carvings of the amazons in different battle poses. 

Women fill the stands, some standing with their arms crossed, others leaning forward in anticipation. The energy is electric, the air thick with the scent of sweat and dust. 

You and Kazuha take the seats on either side of Eros. Haneul studies you three like a new species of pest . “Wait for me after the tournament,” she says before leaving to join her fellow Amazons.

“Whatever,” Eros grumbles. “It’s about to begin.”

Suddenly, a voice booms across the arena, amplified by unseen means. All the Amazons fall silent at its emergence.

“Sisters, the time has come! The final battle of this year’s tournament is upon us!”

A deafening cheer erupts from the crowd, fists pounding and boots stomping against stone.

The voice continues, “And today, we welcome a guest of honor in place of our great god Ares. The one who embodies passion and war in his own way - Eros, the god of love!”

Not much applause follows the announcement. Nevertheless, that stupid grin is back on Eros’s face, looking every bit as smug as you’d expect. You can already tell he’s enjoying this far too much.

“Now, let’s welcome our champions!” the voice calls, and the crowd explodes into cheers once more.

“First, the challenger - Natty, the Bronze Tempest!”

You watch a figure step into the arena, and your breath hitches.

Natty.

Another idol. Another member of Kiss of Life. Seems like the Amazons are big fans.

She strides forward with confidence, her body bare save for the simple loincloth tied around her waist. Her skin gleams under the sun, polished like bronze, and you realize why she’s called ‘The Bronze Tempest’. 

Your eyes are automatically drawn to her tits - round, full and shining with sweat. Not to mention her half-exposed ass under that little bit of clothing she’s in. You are getting too distracted. 

The Amazons pound their fists against their chests, chanting her name. If they keep this up, you are turning deaf very soon. 

Eros leans in and whispers. “See? I told you you are gonna love this one”

You don’t answer. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the sight before you. And desperately trying not to get hard and failing.

“And now, the reigning champion, our queen - Julie, the invisible!”

The crowd roars even louder this time. You shift in your seat, already knowing what to expect but still taken aback when you see her.

Julie.

Yet another idol. Yet another face that belongs on a stage, not in an ancient battleground. But here she is, striding into the arena with the same effortless confidence as Natty.

Like her challenger, she wears nothing but a simple loincloth - tits out and ass flashed. Muscles coil and flex with each step, her body honed to perfection. Her hair flows behind her like a lion’s mane, framing sharp, battle-hardened features.

The Amazons chant her name, voices reverberating like thunder. She lifts a single hand in acknowledgement before her gaze locked onto Natty with a predator’s focus.

You glance at Eros, who looks far too entertained by all of this. 

“So, do they always fight half-naked, or is this just a special occasion?” you mutter.

Eros smirks. “Would you rather they wore full plate armor?”

You roll your eyes but say nothing, attention back to the arena where the two contestants now stand. The match is about to begin.

“Let the final battle commence!”

The announcer commences and for the millionth time, the crowd cheers. You start considering shutting your ears. 

But Natty and Julie have started circling each other, muscles taut like coiled springs, eyes locked and unblinking. Neither rushes in blindly. Every step is calculated. The air between them hums with tension. 

Then, like a flash of lightning, Natty strikes first.

She closes the distance in an instant, her fist cutting through the air with brutal precision. A blow meant to end things quickly.

But Julie is faster.

The Amazon queen tilts her body just enough for the attack to skim past her, letting momentum carry Natty forward. 

The crowd roars at the display, but neither woman acknowledges it. Their focus is solely on each other.

You exhale. “Alright, that’s pretty cool”

Eros eyes glint with amusement. “Oh, we’re just getting started”

Natty doesn’t let up. She strikes again - then again - then again. Each blow is faster than the last, her movements a blur of raw power and precision. She’s relentless, a storm given form, her fists cutting through the air like bolts of lightning.

But Julie remains true to her title - invisible. 

She shifts effortlessly, her body weaving through the attacks like water flowing around jagged rocks. A slight pivot, a step back, a turn - each motion calm and calculated. Her eyes remain unwavered on Natty, reading her moves before she has executed them.

The crowd watches in stunned silence, captivated by the contrast. Natty, all fury and speed and Julie, an immovable force, unbothered, untouchable.

You lean forward, growing impatient. “Is she gonna dodge forever?”

Eros chuckles beside you. “Patience, my dear. The queen knows what she’s doing”

Natty lunges forward, her fist aiming straight for Julie’s ribs. It looks just like her last attacks - predictable, easy to dodge. And Julie moves accordingly, twisting her body to the side to evade.

But it’s a trick.

At the last second, Natty shifts her weight  pivoting on her foot, and drives her other fist straight into Julie’s stomach. The impact is solid, the sound of knuckles against flesh echoing through the arena.

Julie exhales sharply, her body jolting from the force. It’s the first real hit of the match. The crowd erupts, Amazons roaring in excitement at the shift in momentum.

Eros smirks. “Oh? She got her”

You glance at him. “You sound impressed”

“Of course. It’s not everyday someone lands a hit on the queen”

In the arena, Julie doesn’t stumble. She doesn’t fall. Instead, she straightens, rolling her shoulders. Then, finally, she smirks.

Natty tenses, realizing too late - Julie let her land that hit.

Before Natty can even process what has just happened, Julie moves.

It’s like a switch has flipped. One second, she’s composed and steady. The next, she’s a blur. Her fists fly, striking from every angle - left, right, center - so fast that Natty barely has time to register them, let alone dodge.

A punch crashes into her ribs. Another glances off her shoulder. Then a sharp one lands square against her jaw, snapping her head to the side. The crowd erupts again, but this time, the cheer feels heavier, almost reverent.

Natty stumbles, her feet skidding slightly against the ground as she scrambles to recover. But Julie isn’t done. She presses forward, her movements relentless, every strike perfectly placed, precise. There’s no wasted motion, no hesitation. It’s overwhelming.

Eros lets out a low whistle. “And that’s why she’s the queen.”

Natty grits her teeth, forcing herself to steady her stance. She knows the gap between them is widening, yet she refuses to back down. She lunges forward, trading blows with Julie, but each strike is growing slower and weaker. 

‘That was Julie’s plan’ you think. ‘Try to exhaust the opponent first before striking.’

And it works perfectly.

In a split second, Julie sidesteps Natty’s next desperate strike and sweeps her leg out from under her. Before Natty can react, Julie is already there, catching her throat in the tight grip of her arm.

The crowd roars as Natty struggles, her body twisting in a last attempt to break free. But Julie’s hold is ironclad, not allowing a single breath enter Natty’s lungs. 

Natty claws at Julie’s arm but that just makes Julie tighten her grip farther. Natty starts growing limp. The match is all but decided.

For a moment, it seems like Natty would fight to the bitter end - but then, with a sharp inhale, she slaps Julie’s arm twice in surrender. 

The arena falls silent for a heartbeat before the voice booms across the space. 

“The challenger has yielded! The queen reigns supreme!”

A deafening cheer erupts from the gathered Amazons, their voices blending into a victorious roar. Julie releases Natty, letting her drop to her knees before stepping back with an air of effortless dominance. She raises her arms, basking in the glory of yet another victory.

Suddenly, the crowd cheers start to rise into chants. You have no idea what it means but it sounds something like - “Diaper!?”

Kazuha, noticing your confusion, turns toward you with her usual stone cold expression. “It’s diapernó,” she explains. “Greek for ‘penetrate’”

“And it’s the best part of this whole tournament,” Eros chimes in, eyes fixated on the arena with mad glee.

Before you can ask what he means, another Amazon steps into the arena, carrying a ceremonial plaque. Your gaze locks onto what’s placed atop: a golden object, gleaming in the harsh light. At first, you can’t place it. But as she lifts it higher, you can’t deny the unmistakable shape.

A golden dildo.

The crowd erupts in loud chants, their excitement growing as the object is presented. The Amazon hands it to Julie with a bow, who grabs it with a smirk.

With a single movement, she gets rid of the loincloth, revealing her whole body in its full glory. You don’t even bother hiding your boner now. 

For a moment, she studies Natty, bruised and broken, cowering at her feet. Then she straps on the dildo. 

Once again, the crowd erupts.

“It’s not just an ordinary dildo,” Eros cries above the roars. “It’s enchanted to behave like a real male sex organ. The wearer feels like she has a real dick”

Will the surprise ever end?

In the arena, Julie pushed the stap-on dildo into Natty’s pussy, who’s on all fours now and bare. To your surprise, a loud moan echoes through the arena.

“Oh, they amplify the moans too,” Eros smirks. “Lucky mf Ares. Watching this every year”

Natty continues to moan loudly as Julie rails her, the sand shifting beneath them with each powerful thrust. “Oh god!” she moans, arching her back to take more of the dildo inside her. All her exhaustion and pain seems to be gone now, replaced by pure pleasure.

Julie grips Natty’s ass tightly, pounding into her with a strength that equally matches the one in combat. “Fucking slut,” shs snarls, spanking Natty’s ass hard. “Thinking you can beat me”

You have a hard time (no, not that ‘hard’ time) believing that these women  were at each other’s throat just a while ago. Now, all their vigour have been poured into this one on one fuck session.

It’s like they have never been opponents at all.

Natty cries out in ecstasy as Julie hits deeper into her with the dildo. “Yes, yes, fuck me harder!” she pleads, pushing her ass back to meet each thrust. 

Julie obliges, slamming into Natty with brutal force, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the coliseum. Natty’s ass jiggles with each brutal thrust of Julie’s, the sand clinging to their sweaty skin. Somehow, it’s really hot.

“Fuck yeah, take that cock,” Julie growls, spanking Natty’s ass hard. “I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Natty moans, quivering with pleasure. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Julie pounds away, her expression determined. She reaches around and rubs Natty’s clit hard, sending her over the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, Natty came hard, letting out a guttural scream that washes over the coliseum. Julie keeps fucking her through her orgasm, drawing out her pleasure, until she’s a quivering, filthy mess of cum and sweat. 

The Amazons explode with applause, some wearing dazed, blissful expressions on their faces. For a race who despises men, they do enjoy manly pleasures.

You think Julie’s done. Apparently she’s not.

As Natty comes down from her high, Julie pulls out of her pussy and slaps her ass hard. “Wake up, slut,” she commands, giving Natty’s ass another sharp spank. “We’re not done yet”

Natty groans, the sand grinding against her skin as she rolls over onto her back. She looks up at Julie with bleary eyes, her body still shaking from the intense orgasm. 

Julie grabs Natty’s ankles and pushes her legs up and apart, exposing her tight asshole. “Time for the next hole,” she growls, pressing the tip of her strap-on against Natty’s puckered hole.

Natty tenses, realization washing over her. “Wait, not there,” she pleads, trying to squirm away. “I’ve never-”

But Julie isn’t listening. With one brutal thrust, she shoves the dildo into Natty’s ass, splitting her open. “Fuck yeah, take it!” she cries, slamming into Natty’s ass hard.

Natty cries out in pain and pleasure, eyes rolling back as Julie pounds into her. Her tits bounce with each thrust, putting on quite a show. 

Julie grips Natty’s waist, fucking her ass with wild abandon. The sand flies around them as she slams into Natty’s body, grunting with each brutal thrust.

Meanwhile, Julie reaches down with her free hand, sliding two fingers into Natty’s wet folds.

“You like this slut, don’t you? Having both your holes filled and fucked,” Julie growls, pumping her digits in and out of Natty’s cunt while she pounds her ass.

Natty moans loudly, her body writhing from the intense double penetration. Julie’s fingers curl inside her, stroking her g-spot as the dildo stretches her ass.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” Natty cries out, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. It’s too much, I-”

But the queen of the Amazons show no mercy, fucking her harder. Juice spills each time she thrust her fingers, betraying Natty’s arousal.

“Fucking cum for me again, you little slut,” Julie commands, rubbing Natty’s clit hard with her thumb. “Cum on my fingers while I fuck your ass”

Once again, Natty cums. But this time, a fountain of juice squirts out of her hole, drenching Julie and earning another roar from the crowd.

“How many times is she gonna make her cum?” you ask, glancing at Eros who seems too absorbed in the show.

“What?” He turns, looking dazed and dreamy. “Oh! It’s gonna be ending soon. Look”

Down below, Julie yanks Natty up by her hair, forcing her to kneel in front of her.

“Time to put that slutty mouth to work,” Julie sneers, slapping the strap-on against Natty’s cheek. “Open up and show me what a good little cocksucker you are”

Natty whimpers, but obediently opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue to receive the dildo. Julie shoves it in roughly, pushing past Natty’s lips and lodging it deep in her throat.

“Take that cock, you slut!” Julie growls, gripping Natty’s hair and face-fucking her hard. 

Natty gags and sputters around the thick dildo, tears streaming down her face. But she doesn’t resist, letting Julie use her mouth like a fucktoy.

Julie buries herself in Natty’s throat, pressing her nose against her crotch as the girl struggles to breath. “You love choking on this cock, don’t you, slut?” Julie taunts. “God, you are such a slut”

Julie pulls out of Natty’s mouth, the golden dildo drenched and shiny in the sun. And then, she begins stroking it, the tip aimed at Natty’s whorish face.

“Open wide, slut,” Julie orders. “Get ready to bath in your queen’s cum”

Natty obediently opens her mouth, tongue lolling as she obediently waits to be painted in Julie’s load. 

Of all the strangeness you have encountered today, this one might be the strangest yet. The dildo pulses in Julie’s hand and with a final squeeze, it erupts, sending thick ropes of cum splattering across Natty’s face and body. Natty closes her eyes, the warm liquid coating her skin.

Julie laughs as she seals her victory against Natty, who kneels covered in cum. “Fucking pathetic,” she sneers, giving Natty’s hair a final tug before letting her go. “Take her away”

At the queen’s command, a group of Amazons strides into the arena. They move like well-oiled machines, wearing stony expressions as they lift Natty, who’s still panting like a bitch, to her feet and guide her away. She lets herself be carried away. You doubt she has the energy to resist

Julie stands tall in the center of the arena, her strap-on dildo still hard and gleaming in the sun. She takes one last sweeping look at the crowd, then dips her head low in a slow, regal bow before turning on her heel and exiting through the opposite archway. 

At that moment, the unseen voice emerges once again. “That concludes this year’s tournament! Let us celebrate the strength of our sisters and the honor of our queen. 

For the final time, the crowd erupts in cheers and applause, the colosseum vibrating as their feet stomp the stone. You, on the other hand, are still frozen in place, staring at the now-empty arena in a dreamlike trance.

Because, honestly? You’ve seen some weird stuff since falling into Eros’s mess. But this? This was something else entirely.

“Well, that was fun,” Eros says, a satisfied grin on his face.

You aren’t sure what part he finds entertaining - the brutal beatdown, the dramatic chanting or the part where Julie turns Natty into a complete slut - but you aren’t about to ask.

Instead, you just exhale, still trying to process everything. The Amazons were nothing like you expected For one, they weren’t running around in bronze skirts and wielding spears. For another, they seem very committed to their traditions. Maybe a little too committed.

Kazuha, who doesn’t seem a tad bit mesmerized by the whole thing, turns to Eros. “So? What now?”

He dusts off his shirt like he has just finished a casual brunch instead of witnessing the strangest event. “Now,” he says cheerfully. “we go meet the queen.”

You blink. “Wait. Just like that?”

Eros claps you on the back. “What, you think I’d throw you into a lion’s den without at least saying hi first? Come on.”

“But I thought Haneul tells us to-”

But Ero is already leading the way out of the arena, weaving through the crowd of Amazons, who are still cheering and exchanging bets on the fight. As you walk further, you are given a deeper glimpse into the city’s architecture - sleek marble streets, white stone buildings and towering statues. The place is ancient yet modern at the same time, like Themyscira has an unlimited budget for historical preservation and urban development.

At the heart of it all stands the palace - a grand structure curved into the side of a cliff, overlooking the sea. It’s massive, its pillars stretching up so high they practically scrape the sky, banners of deep crimson and gold hanging from the balconies.

Just as you are mentally preparing yourself  for whatever nonsense Eros is about to pull, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

“You were supposed to wait for me!” 

You turn to see Haneul storming toward you, her followers right on her heels. Her earlier composed expression has been twisted into a frustrated, furious glare, her arms crossed over her chest like a disappointed teacher catching a student sneaking out of class.

Eros, of course, looks completely unbothered. He just tilts his head, offering his usual smirk. “Oh? Were we?”

Haneul’s eye twitch. “Yes. You were. We are responsible for escorting you, and instead, you took it upon yourself to march straight to the Queen’s palace without permission.”

Kazuha lets out the quietest sigh, like she has expected this from the very beginning. You, on the other hand, are impressed that Eros has managed to annoy people this quickly.

Eros gives a nonchalant shrug. “Well, you found us, didn’t you? No harm done.”

“No harm-” Haneul inhales deeply, probably resisting the urge to strangle him. Instead, she turns on her heels. “Follow me. Properly this time.”

With that, she leads the way up the steps into the palace, her warriors flanking your group like a very fashionable prison escort. The inside is just as impressive as the exterior - gleaming marble floors, gold and silver sconces lining the walls, giant braziers casting flickering light across the high ceiling. More statues of the Amazons stand in neat rows along the corridor, their carved gazes watching you with every step.

You walk in silence until you reach a set of massive doors adorned with intricate carvings of warriors in battle. Haneul pushes them open and steps aside.

“Wait here,” she says, her tone making it very clear that you don’t have a choice in the matter. 

Then, without another word, she and her warriors disappear beyond another hallway, leaving you alone in the throne room. 

You exhale. 

“Anyone else feeling like a prisoner right now?” you mutter.

Eros just grins. “Relax. We’re guests.”

Yeah. Sure.

With nothing else to do, you let your eyes wander around the throne room. It’s grand - because of course, it is - but in a way that’s more imposing than decorative. The walls are lined with banners depicting various Amazon victories, the fabric deep crimson with gold embroidery. Towering columns stretch up to a domed ceiling, where an enormous mural displays a battle scene so intense it looks like the figures might leap right off the plaster. 

But the real centerpiece is the throne itself.

It sits atop a white marble platform, carved from dark stone that shimmer faintly under the torchlight. The armrests are shaped like roaring lion heads, their jaws open as if ready to bite. The backrest is tall and slightly curved and embedded in the very center of it is a large, gleaming ruby - the kind of thing that screams touch me and die.

Yeah. No pressure at all.

Just then, Julie strides into the room, now dressed in a more formal attire - flowing crimson robe fastened at her shoulders with golden clasps. Her hair, still damp from the battle, is slicked back and somehow, she looks even more intimidating this way. Behind her, Haneul follows in that sharp suit of hers and somehow, against all odds - Natty is back on her feet, dressed in something similar. There’s no sign of the bruises and exhaustion she should have sustained after getting thrown around like a ragdoll and fucked senseless. Either Amazon healing is on another level, or she just wants to look unfazed.

Julie ascends the platform and lowers herself onto the throne, one leg draped casually over the other. She doesn’t say a word, just rests her chin on her knuckles and looks at Eros expectantly, like well?

Eros, of course, steps forward with his usual effortless grace. “Your majesty,” he purrs, pressing a hand to his chest in an exaggerated bow. “I must say, witnessing the tournament firsthand was a privilege beyond measure. A true display of strength and honor. The stories hardly do your Amazons justice.”

Julie raises an eyebrow. She does not look flattered. If anything, she looks about five seconds away from throwing something at him.

“You’re a replacement, Eros,” she says flatly. “Not Ares.”

The words hung in the air, blunt and dismissive. Haneul and Natty stand motionless on either sides of the throne, their gazes unreadable, but you’re pretty sure Natty’s trying not to smirk.

Eros remains unfazed. He tilts his head, a knowing smile curling at the corner of his lips. “A harsh way to put it,” he muses. “but accurate. And yet, here I am, standing in his place. Doesn’t thay make me just as important?”

Julie exhales sharply, leaning back against her throne. “Cut to the point.”

Eros chuckles. “Straight to business - I admire that.” He steps forward, gesturing dramatically. “I come bearing gifts.”

Julie doesn’t react. She just stares at him, waiting.

You start to feel the realization sinking in. Whatever Eros is about to say, you just know you are not gonna like it.

There’s a beat of silence before Eros gestures grandly in your direction and declares, “I present you a most precious gift - one that will ensure the prosperity of the Amazons for generations to come.”

You blink. Wait.

Eros smiles. “Behold my offering: an angel!”

You whip your head toward him so fast you nearly get whiplash. “I’m sorry - what?”

Julie raises an eyebrow, finally looking mildly intrigued. “An angel?

“Indeed.” Eros nods, clearly pleased with himself. “Not only is he a capable warrior, but with his divine lineage, any offspring would be stronger, faster - even immortal”

Julie examines you like she’s considering a new warhorse. “And he’s aware of the risks?”

Eros places a hand over his heart, all mock sincerity. “Oh, absolutely. He understands the sacrifice and has chosen to offer himself willingly for the noble cause of Amazonian strength.”

You stare at him. Stare at him so hard you hope your eyes burn a hole through his skull.

Julie tilts her head, unimpressed. “He doesn’t look very willing.”

“Ah,” Eros waves a hand, “he’s just overwhelmed by the honor. If I can just have a word with him…”

He grabs both you and Kazuha by the shoulders and pulls you into a corner of the throne room, just out of earshot.

You rub your temples. “Let me guess. You want me to act like I’m totally on board with being served up on a golden platter?”

Eros sighs like he’s dealing with a difficult child. “Michael, at least pretend you knew all about this. You are making me look bad.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to offer me as an Amazon breeding stock!” You keep your voice low, but it takes everything in you not to start strangling him.

Kazuha crosses her arms, ever the voice of reason. “The Amazons need men to reproduce. But once the deed is done they kill them.”

You freeze. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Kazuha nods. “That’s how they’ve survived for centuries. They keep their bloodline strong and their society untouched by outside influence.” 

You whirl back to Eros. “You’re handing me over to get murdered?”

Eros rolls his eyes. “Ugh, obviously not.” Then his lips curve into a knowing smirk. “That’s what the mark is for.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. The mark.” You say, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible. Just one of the many situations Eros has put you into a situation that has zero chance of survival with the same excuse - ‘Hey! You have the mark! Use it to get yourself out! And don’t forget my order for a godly artifact!’

“Use the mark to overwhelm her. Make her your bitch. You know the drill by now,” Eros continues. “Then  ask for the belt. Like you did to Persephone.”

You stare at him, then at Kazuha, then back at him. “You’re insane.”

Eros grins, taking the insult like a compliment. “Why, thank you.”

You sigh, rubbing your face. “Okay, let’s say I actually managed to succeed and get the belt. How am I supposed to get out of here? Just walk out of the front door like, ‘Oh hey, thanks for the hospitality. Let me just grab your most prized possession and I’ll be on my way’?”

Eros’s grin doesn't falter. “That, my dear Michael, is where the Ero app comes in. When it’s time, I’ll send you a little extraction method through your phone. So keep it close.”

You stare at him, feeling the last of your sanity slips away. “I hate you so much.”

“I know”

🖤 🖤 🖤

You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the ornate walls of the room they left you in. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows across the carved stone, the faint scent of burning oil filling the air. 

Eros and Kazuha were gone. Back to the comfort of their little penthouse. How fair.

Your hands grip the sheets, clammy with sweat. You trust the mark of Asmodeus. It’s saved you before, pulled you out of countless near-death situations. But right now, sitting alone in this dimly lit chamber in the heart of an island full of warriors who could probably snap you in half like a toothpick, you feel something gnawing at you, clawing up at your throat like bile.

Panic. 

You swallow hard, running a hand through your hair. The plan - if you could even call it that - was insane. Risky. Just plain stupid. The norm. 

Your phone sits on the bedside table, Ero’s stupidly named ‘Ero App’ presumably waiting for some kind of signal. You eye it like it might suddenly spring to life and tell you this was all just a joke. 

It doesn’t.

You take a deep breath, exhaling shakily. Okay. Just keep it together.

Before you can even attempt to calm yourself down, the door creaks open. You jerk upright, heart pounding as Haneul steps inside. She studies you for a moment, as if checking how high your panic meter is. 

“Come with me,” she says simply.

You blink. “Uh…what?”

She tilts her head, clearly unimpressed. “You heard me.”

You hesitate. Weren’t they supposed to —? Isn’t this where it’s supposed to happen? You don’t exactly want to go through with it, but you were kind of bracing yourself for…whatever nightmare Eros had just thrown you into.

Haneul sighs, as if she can read your mind. “It’s a special occasion,” she says.

Your stomach knots. That doesn’t sound good. “Special how?”

She doesn’t answer, just gestures for you to follow. You grab your phone off the bedside table, clutching it like a lifeline, and trail behind her out the door.

The walk is long, twisting through endless tone corridors. The deeper you go, the quieter everything feels. The only sound is the echo of your footsteps and the occasional flicker of torchlight along the walls. 

Finally, Haneul stops before a rounded stone archway. She pushes open the door with a single touch and leads you inside.

The room is circular, carved of volcanic rock, which gives the room an eerie atmosphere. The air is cooler here, almost reverent. Above, there’s a perfect circular hole in the ceiling, like an open eye to the sky. Moonlight streams through it in silvery beams, bathing the room in a dim glow. You shudder, reminded of the similar setup in Artemis’s verse.

A strange scent lingers in the air - herbs? Incense? It’s faint but oddly calming, like something meant to dull your senses. 

You swallow hard, glancing at Haneul. “So….are you gonna tell me what this special occasion is?”

“You talk too much for an angel,” Haneul says, crossing her arms. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Then she leaves.

‘Angel my ass’ you think. You seriously need to start considering giving Eros a taste of his own medicine. This is getting out of hand.

Your eyes wonder about the chamber, considering a million ways this special occasion could go. If this place is where they perform the Holy Amazon breeding ritual or whatever, it doesn’t look so comfy. With all the hard surfaces, it would be a pain to roll around. 

“Welcome,” The sudden greeting startles you. You blink, searching for the source. But it’s no easy task when half of the room is pitch black.

But you don't have to search for long. Because the speaker makes herself known. 

From a dark corner of the room emerges Julie, like she has been molded into one with the darkness and has decided to separate for a moment.

“Look how surprised he is,” says another voice and you whirl around just in time to find Natty emerging from another corner. 

This isn’t on the plan. Two Amazons? You are not prepared for this

But that’s not the worst part yet because another voice comes from right across the room.

“Thought he only has to deal with Julie. Poor boy.”

And the darkness breaks apart to reveal Haneul, smirking at your obliviousness. 

You didn’t sign up for this. Not one. Not two. But three Amazons? They should just skip to the part where they kill you. 

As the three women step fully into the moonlight, you are made aware of their outfit choice. Their bodies were bare, not a piece of clothing present. Every inch of their skin glistens under the silvery beams of light and you realize, they have oiled up. Your eyes roam over their naked forms, taking in every curve and cervice. Their tits are full and perky, nipples hard in the cool night air. Their hips are wide, asses firm and round. In normal circumstances, all those sparkling tits and asses would have gotten you an instant boner. But now, you are too busy thinking of a way to survive to care.

“Strip,” Julie commands, snapping you back to attention. “We want to see what we are working with.”

You hesitate only a moment before complying. It’s not like you have any other choice. You get out of your clothes, putting them in a neat pile. And most importantly, you shove your phone under. It’s the only way of escaping. Better keep it safe.

Their eyes drop to your crotch, widening in surprise. “Well well,” Natty remarks, licking her lips. “I didn’t know angels could be so big.”

Julie nods in agreement, her gaze still fixed on your hardening cock. “Mmm, a shame we have to kill him after. But better enjoy some real cock while I get the chance.”

Haneul grins mischievously. “Then what are we waiting for girls? Let’s put this boy to work.”

She gestures to the chamber’s floor. “Lie down, stud. On your back.”

You are not a big fan of back pain but you obediently lower yourself to the ground. The cool stone sends a shiver through you but it's surprisingly soft to touch. At least that’s a win.

The three women surround you, the moonlight caressing their oiled-up skin and making them look like goddesses descended from heaven.

Julie and Natty exchange a glance, a silent communication passing between them. Then, without warning Natty straddles your face, her massive ass engulfing your vision.

“Mhmm, smell that,” she purrs, grinding her cheeks against your nose and mouth. “That’s the scent of a real woman, bitch boy.”

You can’t breathe, can barely think as he soft flesh smothers you. All you can do is inhale the musky aroma of her most intimate parts, feel the slick oil coating your face.

Meanwhile, Julie and Haneul turn their attention to your cock. They kneel on either side of you, their heads dipping down towards your groin.

You feel a hot breath against your shaft, then a wet tongue lapping at the base. “Fuck, he’s huge,” Julie gasps, her voice muffled by your flesh. “It has been so long since I have tasted a proper cock. The last one was limp as hell. And he cries like a bitch when I put that sword through his chest.”

You don’t know if you should be proud or terrified. Maybe both. But it’s hard to think with Natty’s ass blocking your airways.

Julie takes you into her mouth, sucking hard as Haneul joins her. They take turns swallowing your cock, working in tandem, slurping and licking at your cock like it’s the tastiest treat they’ve ever had.

Your hips buck involuntarily, pleasure coursing through your veins. But there’s no escape - Natty just grinds harder against your face, locking you in place.

Left with no choice, you start licking, running your tongue along the slick folds of Natty’s pussy. She tastes musky, a bit salty from the oil, but underlying that is a sweetness that makes your head spin.

“That’s it, bitch boy,” Natty groans, crushing your face with the whole weight of her ass. “Eat that cunt like you mean it. Get me nice and wet.”

You do as she commands, delving deeper with your tongue, probing her uncharted depths. She’s hot and tight, her walls clenching around you as you lap at her juices.

Meanwhile, Julie and Haneul are working overtime on your cock. They suck you off in harmony, their lips stretched around your girth. They spit on your shaft, jacking you off with hands sticky from saliva and oil.

“He doesn’t even fit in both of my hands. This is what I call huge,” Julie says as she works your cock with both fists wrapped around your length. Haneul makes sure to spit and drool to make the movement slicker. 

“I know, right? He would feel so good stretching me out,” Haneul agrees as she takes control of your cock back from Julie, pumping you with both hands just like her queen. But her hands are smaller, which gives Julie the chance to suck the tip while she works the base.

The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. Your balls tighten, your cock throbbing with need. You’re so close to the edge, teetering on the brink of release.

But just as you’re about to explode, Julie and Haneul pull away. They grin down at you, your cock bobbing obscenely between their chins, dripping with their saliva.

“Not yet, stud,” Julie purrs. “That was just a warm up.”

With a wicked grin, Haneul swings a leg over your hips and lower herself onto your throbbing cock. She’s so wet, so ready, that you slide in easily, her tight pussy gripping you like a vice.

“Oh fuck yes,” she moans, her head falling back in ecstasy. “This cock feels so fucking good. So fucking huge.”

She starts to move, bouncing on your shaft with wild abandon. Her tiny perky tits jiggle the slightest with every movement, drawing your gaze like a magnet. You would have reached out to palm them, tweak those nipples between your fingers, if Natty’s ass has kept you imprisoned.

Natty’s getting even wilder, her movement frantic and her clit rubbing against your nose with every thrust. “Don’t forget about me bitch boy,” she snarls. “Get me off with that tongue.” 

You comply eagerly, lashing at her clit, sucking on it greedily. She rides you harder, her juices flooding your mouth, coating your chin with her essence.

Julie watches from the sidelines, fingering herself to the sight of you being used so thoroughly. “Mhmm, look at you,” she purrs, her voice dripping with lust. “Such a good little toy, pleasing two pussies at once.”

Her words spur you on, making you thrust harder, deeper into Haneul’s tight heat. She meets your thrust with each bounce, trying to take you in even deeper.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Haneul screams as you start pistoning into her, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing in the chamber. “Don’t stop! Oh my god!”

There’s no way you would. Her walls squeeze you like they never want to let you go, making sure your cock stays buried deep until you have filled her nice and full.

But that doesn’t mean your service on Natty’s slit is in any way affected. If not, you devour her pussy even harder, specifically targeting her clit.

“Just like that, bitch boy. Don’t you fucking dare stop!” Natty moans, voice frantic. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum”

Haneul pussy clenches around your cock, her walls fluttering as she cums hard on your shaft. “Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!” she screams, her nails digging into your chest.

Her juices gush around you, drenching your balls, your thighs. She milks your cock with her muscles, writhing on top of you as the waves of pleasure crash over her.

Natty follows soon after, her pussy gushing like a fountain as she grinds against your face. “Yes, yes, make me cum, you little bitch!” she shouts, her thighs trembling around your head. 

You lave her through her orgasm, swallowing every drop of her sweet nectar. The combined scent and taste of their pussies  is almost too much to bear.

And then, with a final thrust, you erupt inside Haneul. Your cock jerks, pulsing as it pumps thick ropes of cum dep into her waiting womb. She moans at the sensation, grinding down on you to take every last drop.

Julie watches the whole scene with hooded eyes, her fingers buried deep in her own pussy. “Mhmm, what a good little boytoy,” she praises, pulling her digits out of her folds. “No way you didn’t knock her up.”

You pull out of Haneul’s well-fucked pussy with a wet plop, your cock slick with her juices and your own cum. Despite the huge load you have stored in Haneul, it’s still rock hard and ready for more.

That’s when you realized. The mark has not made itself known yet. Yet, you can feel its effect present. It’s not as strong as when it’s in full glory but nevertheless, it’s there. Either the mark considers Amazon not worthy of its presence or it's waiting for the right moment to strike. But that would mean the mark is alive. 

You shrug off the thought. There’s more important things at hand.

Julie wastes no time, wrapping her lips around your shaft and sucking hard. She moans around your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. You watch as she slurps the mixture of your cum and Haneul’s pussy juices, savouring the taste.

Haneul rolls onto her back, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy is a mess, dripping with your seed. “Look at that,” she purrs, running a finger along her slit. “You filled me up so well. I’m going to be leaking for hours.”

But there’s no time to admire your handiwork. Natty is already positioning herself on her hands and knees, presenting her ass to you. “Don’t think you are done yet, bitch boy,” she growls, looking at you over her shoulder. “That fat cock is going deep in my ass.”

You have no idea how fucking her ass would help her continue the glorious Amazon lineage or whatever. But with an ass like hers, there’s only one place your cock’s going in. So you decide not to complain.

You kneel behind her, gripping her ass tightly. Your cock nudges against her puckered hole, seeking entrance. She’s tight, so tight, but you push forward, breaching her with a grunt of effort.

Julie presses against your back, her naked body slick with sweat and oil. She wraps her arms around you, her fingers finding your nipples and pinching them hard. “Fuck her good,” she whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Make her scream.”

You do as she commands, starting to buck your hips and easing your way slowly into her tight grip. It’s no easy task with how tight of an ass she has but it gets easier with each thrust.

You grip Natty’s hips tighter, your fingers sinking into her flesh as you slam into her ass over and over. Each thrust is harder than the last, your cock pummeling her tight hole mercilessly.

“Fucl, fuck, fuck!” she shrieks, her face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain. “You’re stretching me so wide, you fucking bastard!”

Julie continues her assault on your nipples, twisting and pinching the sensitive buds. The pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure of Natty’s ass gripping your cock like a vice.

You can feel her relaxing, her muscles giving way to your relentless pounding. Her hole opens up for you, letting you sink deeper with each thrust. “Take it, you dirty slut,” you growl, punctuating each word with a harsh snap of your hips. “Take my cock in your ass.”

She cries out, her fingers desperately trying to find something to hold onto only to graze the hard floor. Her ass jiggles with each impact, the flesh rippling under your hands. You pulls back your hand and deliver a sharp slap to each of her cheeks, leaving red handprints on her tan skin. “Ow! You fucking prick!” she yelps, glaring back at you over her shoulder. But you can see the glint of pleasure in her eyes, the way her ass clenches around your cock. Despite all Amazon pride, she loves this degradation, this treatment like a cheap whore.

Julie chuckles darkly, her lips brushing against your ear as she continues to whisper filthy suggestions. “Keep spanking her, make her ass nice and red. Look how she’s squealing like a slut.” Her hand slides down your chest, gripping your balls and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Stretch that ass nice and loose.”

Natty whimpers, her hips bucking against you, desperate for more of your brutal thrusts. Her pussy is sopping wet, her juice running down her thighs. You slide your hand between her legs, rubbing her clit in rough circles. 

She cries out, her body trembling as you bring her closer to the edge Julie’s fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you lightheaded. “Go on,” she urges. “Finish her off.”

The pressure builds at the base of your spine, your balls drawing up tight. With a guttural groan, you bury yourself to the hilt in Natty’s ass, your cock throbbing as you unload spurt after spurt of hot cum  deep inside her. She screams, her body convulsing as the sensation triggers an explosive orgasm. Another waterfall of squirt erupts from her pussy, staining the dark floor even darker as her ass clenches down on your pulsing cock, milking you for every last drop. 

Julie laughs darkly, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “What a filthy fucking slut,” she mocks, head on your shoulder. “Her holes won’t be closing for a while.”

As you pull your rod out of Natty’s ass, you scan the chamber. Haneul lies unmoving. Her legs still sprawled out and leaking a steady drip of cum. Wait, is she snoring? And of course, before you is the slut who just gets her ass fucked loose - Natty, who lies with her ass up in the air, eyes rolled up and tongue lolled out in a picture perfect ahaego.

However, there’s still one left for you to take on. The queen herself - Julie, who has watched her subjects getting their brains fucked out with amusement.

“No time to lose,” Julie says as she positions herself on her back, spreading her legs wide in a clear invitation. “Come and fuck the last pussy you will see in your life.”

This is a pretty uncomfortable spot.

You can go two rounds in succession but three? You are not built for that.

If the mark is waiting for the right moment to emerge, this is the time. Both Natty and Haneul are far from conscious and Julie is the only one left to deal with.

Please emerge.

You stare at your pelvis. A second passes. Then two. Nothing.

You might be fucked.

“If you are thinking about backing out now, it’s too late,” Julie warns, impatient. “So make the most of the last moments of your life.”

You try. You really want to. But there’s nothing much you can do with a limp spent dick.

“I thought you would be better than this,” Julie sighs as she gets to her feet. “I guess this is the end. Goodbye, angel.”

Before you can react, she throws a punch at your stomach and you double over, clutching your abdomen in pain. Your thoughts turn hazy and your vision blurred as agony spreads through your body. You try to scream but the sound gets stuck in your throat, leaving you wheezing like a wounded animal.

The mark has failed you.

You are going to die like this. In the hands of the Amazon queen.

The Ero app might save you but there’s no way you would make it to your phone in time. 

It’s over.

“Huh. You are a tough one, I’ll give you that. Most would be dead by now,” Julie muses, circling you like a predator. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ll see how many hits you can take. Wanna make a bet?”

Her foot strikes you hard in the ribs with a sickening crunch and you roll over, gasping desperately for air as pain floods your veins. How many bones has she broken? It doesn’t matter. You are going to die anyway.

Your vision starts to turn murky, the darkness growing wider as you stare at the blue moon from the open ceiling. At least you would pass away with a view to die for. That’s something.

“Not so strong at all, are you? Eros baffles too much,” Julie says but her voice seems to grow quieter and quieter, like she’s moving away from you the more she speaks.

Then, as darkness has consumed almost every single frame of your sight, you start to see a glowing light. 

Is that it? Are you finally permitted to enter heaven? Are the angels coming to bring you over?

Are you even good enough to enter heaven?

The light grows brighter, clearing the darkness until you can see clearly again.

Then you realize the light is not coming from anywhere.

It’s coming from you.

You sit up groggily and stare down at your pelvis, at the golden, glowing upside down pentagon of the mark of Asmodeus.

It’s back.

Once again, you have ascended godhood.

You feel your veins flood with power, your fractured bones healing. All the exhaustion has been washed away, replaced by pure, insatiable lust. And most importantly, your cock is back to its full length, every vein humming with energy like it can’t wait to fill a hole.

And fill a hole, you will.

“What the fuck?” Julie exclaims in terror as you rise to your feet, cracking your neck. “It can’t be….that filthy mark. No way it’s-”

You grin sadistically at the Amazon queen, who’s staring at the mark like it’s the most horrible thing she has seen in her whole life. Her face is pale, drained of color, without any of the initial cockiness.

“Oh, it’s very much real,” you answer her as you take slow approaching steps towards her. “And I will show you how ‘filthy’ it can be.”

Julie opens her mouth like she wants to protest but no sound escapes her vocal chords. Her eyes stay fixated on the brilliantly glowing mark.

“Stay away from me you fucking bastard!” she cries, raising her fists like they would be any effective. “Take one more step and I will kill you for real, this time!”

After countless encounters, it still comes to you as a surprise how those immortal beings - no matter how powerful they are - become scared out of their wits whenever they see the mark. It’s like a mutual phobia.

You chuckle, rejoicing in Julie’s fear as you continue to move towards her. Nothing can stop you now.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You know there’s only one way out of this.”

“Die! You filthy animal!” Julie moves like lightning, bringing down a fist to your jaw. But there isn’t a need for you to dodge. Because the mark does more than required. In a combustion of energy, Julie is thrown back sprawling to the hard floor. 

She grits her teeth, staring at you with eyes blazing with pure fury and hatred. You can see her face contorted with pain from the impact but it would be unlike a queen to back down so easily.

“If you think you are going to get away with this, you will be very wrong. Ares will come for your head!” she yells, along with a string of ancient curses you don’t understand.

“Well, he’s not here now, is he?” you chuckles. “So much for threatening me with your big daddy.”

“You fucker!” Julie pounces again with fists raised, bringing down their full might in another attempt to unalive you. But as usual, the mark conveniently throws her off.

You sigh, staring as she lays panting on the floor. “Come on dear, stop resisting.” Wait, did you just call her ‘dear’? God, Eros is such a horrible influence.

“You little-” She tries to throw one last fist to your stomach but her legs give out, and she falls on her back with a thud.

You shake your head in mock disapproval. “What a pity. The Amazon queen losing to a dick? That would make a pretty good joke, don’t you think?”

Julie still shows no sign of relenting, teeth bared in unspoken fury. But her body is too worn out to protest.

You stare down at her pathetic, helpless form before you plant your kneels on the cold floor. “What was it that you said? ‘Come and fuck the last pussy you will see in your life’ ? Well, you are correct for the most part.”

Julie tries to close her legs, trying to expel your cock, as if she wasn’t begging for it just a moment ago. But with a tight grip on her thighs, you spread them open with ease to reveal her glistening wet folds.

“Seems like your pussy doesn’t quite agree with you,” you muses. “What a lying bitch.”

You grip her neck, pinning her to the floor as you position yourself at her entrance. With a sharp thrust, you bury yourself inside her, stretching the tight channel around your thick shaft. The mark shines even brighter, bathing her body in gold and silver.

“Fuck, you are even tighter than those bitches,” you grunt, immediately setting a fast hard pace. You squeeze her throat, cutting off her air supply as you pound into her. There would be no mercy. None. This slut of a queen has it coming.

Julie tries to say something but her muffled sound is lost beneath the slap of flesh on flesh and the wet squelch of her pussy being ravaged. Her face twists in a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“Still snappy, are we?” You ask as you give her a particularly hard thrust, making her jolt in a strangled cry. This bitchy queen is still trying to protest but it’s evident her resolve is slowly wavering. 

With each brutal thrust, some of her fury gets replaced by mind-numbing pleasure, the kind nothing but the mark can provide. You can see the hunger for your cock growing in her eyes, once alight with fury.

It doesn’t take long for her to succumb, though it’s still longer compared to her godly predecessors. But there’s no women that the mark can’t turn into a complete cock crazed slut.

Soon, her eyes roll back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream of ecstasy. Her body arches up to meet your thrusts, her hips bucking shamelessly against you. You can feel her pussy clenching around your cock, her juices flowing freely as she loses herself to the sensation.

“That’s right, you filthy whore,” you growl, pounding her deeper, harder. “Take my cock like you were made for it.” Her pussy is a hot, slick heaven around you, gripping you like a velvet vice. “You act all great and mighty but deep down, you are just one big slut, aren’t you?”

She lets out a strangled cry, her body shaking as a powerful orgasm crashes over her. Her pussy flatters around you, the walls fluttering and squeezing your shaft. The sensation is exquisite, pushing you closer to the edge. But you’re not ready to cum yet. You have more plans for this desperate little slut.

You flip Julie over, roughly manhandling her onto her hands and knees. Without missing a beat, you sink back into her dripping cunt, gripping her hips tight. The new angle lets you plunge even deeper, your cock kissing the very entrance of her womb. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” she wails, her slutty cries echoing off the chamber walls. Her cunt clenches around you, still sensitive from her recent orgasm. “Please, don’t stop! Fuck me harder, ruin my fucking pussy!”

There. The queen of the Amazons has become yet another one of your cocksleeves. One more addition to your collection of mythological sluts.

You continue to pound into her with animalistic fervor. The wet slaps of your pelvis against her ass fills the room, punctuated by her deep cry and whimpers. You can ravage her like this for hours, even days, with the mark active. As much as you would like to, that’s not what you come here for. 

You grab a fistful of Julie’s hair, yanking her head back to force her to meet your gaze. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with lust. Her tongue darts out, licking her lips as she pants heavily. You can see the desperation in her expression, the need for you to keep fucking her, keep using her like the cock-hungry slut she is.

“Give me the belt,” you command, voice low and threatening. Your cock continues to piston in and out of her sopping cunt, but you slow your thrusts, keeping her on the edge but denying her the release she craves. “If you want me to keep filling this pussy, you better hand it over.”

“Please,” she whines, her hips bucking back against you, trying to take your cock deeper. “Don’t stop fucking me. I’ll do anything, just please keep going.” Tears of frustration gather in the corner of her eyes. 

You chuckle darkly, tightening your grip on her hair. “Then give me the fucking belt of Hippolyta, slut.”

(It takes a while for you to memorize that name by the way)

Julie raises a hand, pam open and in a swirling mist of gold, something slender manifests out of thin air.

The belt.

It isn’t a belt in the modern sense - not some leather strap with a gaudy buckle. It’s a wide, intricately woven girdle, shimmering under the moonlight with golden threads that seems to shift and ripple like liquid metal. Ancient Greek inscriptions coil around it, each glowing faintly in steady pulses of energy. It wouldn’t take a genius to guess it’s extremely powerful.

You quickly snatch the belt from Julie’s grasp. She whimpers at the loss, her cunt clenching needily around your still-hard cock. You hold the belt up, admiring its craftsmanship before setting it on the floor, out of Julie’s reach.

“Good girl,” you praise, running your palms along her back, slick with sweat and oil. “You’ve been such an obedient little slut for me. Now I’m going to give you what you want.”

With a growl, you turn the pace of your thrusts back up. The chamber echoes with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, Julie’s wanton moans and your own grunt of exertion. You can feel your orgasm building, your balls drawing up tight as you chase your release.

“Cum for me,” you command, pistoning into her furiously. “Cum on my cock like the desperate fucktoy you are.”

Julie’s body trembles and convulses as her orgasm crashes over he like a tidal wave. Her pussy clenches around your cock, the walls fluttering and spasming as she cums hard on your shaft. The sensation is too much, pushing you over the edge.

With a roar of ecstasy, you bury yourself deep inside her, your cock pulsing as you empty your load into her willing cunt. Thick, hot ropes of cum shoot from your cock, flooding her pussy and filling her to the brim. Your seeds overflow, dripping down her thighs as you pump her full.

“Fuck,” you groan, grinding against her ass as you milk every last drop into her hungry cunt. You pull your cock out of her cunt and a gush of your combined fluids leak out, trickling down her thighs. She collapses face-first onto the stone floor, too spent to move, her body quivering with the aftershocks of her intense orgasms. 

You stand up, taking a moment to admire your handiwork. All three Amazons, who had threatened to take your life, have been reduced to pleasure-drunk wrecks at your feet. The chamber is filled with the heavy scent of sex, a potent mix of sweat, cum and feminine arousal. The smell riles you up, filling your head with new ideas. 

The mark finally dims and vanishes as it finally fulfills its purpose. Thanks to Karina, the gut-wrenching nauseous and fatigue aren’t there but you want nothing more than to get out of here as quickly as possible. You really hope Eros holds onto his promise for an escape route.

You grab the belt tight and scramble towards the pile of discarded clothes, your hands fumbling desperately under the fabric until your fingers find the cool surface of your phone. You yank it out and tap the screen, heart hammering in your chest.

A notification pops up.

“Houdini Act: One-Way Ticket to Freedom, Courtesy of Yours Truly ♥️”

Leave it to Eros to name an escape route like it’s a magic trick.

But before you can even press it -

BOOM.

A violent force erupts through the chamber,  sending you flying backwards. You crashes onto the stone floor, the force through your bones. The air crackles with something dark and furious, and when you look up, you see a swirling mass of shadows coalescing in the center of the room. 

Then, from the depths of the void, a figure emerges. 

Glowing red eyes lock onto you, filled with raw, seething rage.

“You!” it growls.

As your eyes come back into focus, you take in the figure before you - a towering warrior clad in ancient Spartan armor, the kind that looks like it belongs in a museum exhibit titled “How To Die In The Most Brutal Ways Possible”. But where there should be a face beneath the helmet, there’s only darkness, a swirling abyss with nothing but two burning eyes set upon you.

Your stomach twists. You know who this is.

“Ares,” you mutter.

The war god doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts a hand, and from the void, a spear manifests - long, jagged and pulsing with dark energy.

You don’t even have time to think before the spear comes hurtling towards you. You throw yourself to the side, rolling over the stone as the weapon smashes into the ground where you have just been, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the floor.

Clutching the belt tightly in one hand, your fingers desperately fumble with the phone.

“Come on, come on-”

Ares yanks the spear from the ground and lunges again. You barely manage to scramble out of the way, heart pounding as you desperately try to tap the notification.You duck, roll and scramble across the stone, fingers slipping on your phone screen. 

“Just tap it, tap it-”

Easier said than done when you are butt naked, gripping a belt in one hand (you are starting to notice how heavy this thing is) and a phone in another, and the god of war us trying to turn you into a kebab.You really wish you still have the mark.

The next attack comes too fast. You twist, but the spear’s tip scales your side, tearing through flesh. Pain erupts as warm blood gushes down your skin. Your vision blurs, but through sheer adrenaline, your thumb finally slums against the notification.

Instantly, a column of light bursts down from above, engulfing you in a golden glow. Relief floods through your veins - you’re getting out -

But then Ares moves.

The war god’s spear slashes through the light.

A deafening crack splits the air. The world shatters in an explosion of blinding energy, and you are hurled backwards, your body weightless, your mind slipping. The last thing you register is the roar of chaos and the taste of blood before everything turns to black.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Everything aches. 

You feel like you have been trampled by a band of horses and then set on fire for good measure.

You can feel something soft beneath you - silk, maybe. It cushions your aching body but the relief is fleeting, drowned out by the cold breezes drifting through the space and brushing against your skin. Somewhere distant, you can hear the rhythmic chirping of birds. The scent of salt lingers in the air.

Are you back in Eros’s place?

You force your eyes open, blinking against the blur clouding your vision. Everything is hazy, shifting, the world refusing to come into focus.

Then a shadow moves above you - a figure, tall and poised. A woman.

“You’re finally awake,” she says, her voice carrying a lazy amusement, as if she’s been waiting for this moment. Then, after a beat, she tilts her head and smirks.

“You’re lucky I haven’t turned you into an animal.”

🖤 🖤🖤

This is the first time I write multiple idols at once. Hope you like it.

Have a Chaewon to suffice for the lack of Chaewon pic in the cover.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of kissing, mentions of family death, bra touching, talk of needing to piss ? 

A/N: This chapter is LONG. Lmk if we like it being this long or if I should break it up next time sorry! Proofread by @darksturnz (ty lovely girl!)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P7: Bras & Piss

wc: 2700+

Not even a single insult. Chris barely even lingered in the main room with Matt and me—like he couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as me. 

It hurt. The dull ache in my chest seems to worsen everytime he ignores me. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, it still just felt different, and not in a good way. 

Luckily, Chris hadn’t caught me loitering in Matt’s room to help him out with his date with Mia. Although, part of me wish he had. Maybe then he’d at least ask or say something mean. And I just wanted him to say something—anything. 

“Pleaseeee?” Matt begs, his hands clasped as if he’s praying, the same plea falling from his lips yet again. 

Ever since I helped him with his outfit, he hasn’t stopped pushing one idea—he wants to make it a double-date. That way, it wouldn’t have to be so awkward at the beginning. 

But who the fuck was I gonna take on a double-date? The only men I’ve talked to recently are Chris, Jimmy, and Shawn. 

Chris is just not an option. Even though Jimmy’s sweet, that would be weird as fuck. And Shawn…well, I’m still mad. But I have to pick. And I can’t let Matt down—not when I see how much effort he’s putting into this girl. If I couldn’t have a perfect love story, at least I could watch it. 

Shawn. 

I stare at his contact on my screen with distaste, my gaze flickering from my phone back to Matt sitting across the table from me.

“But you and her will have so much fun—”

“Please! I don’t know what I’m doing and I just…I’d feel a lot better if I know you’re there,” he says, his face contorted as if he’s in pain. 

Sighing, I look down at my screen with hesitation. My fingers brush against the key, my cheek pulsing with a sharp sting as I feel my teeth gnaw into the muscle. 

I may hate Shawn right now, but I don’t hate Matt. Matt felt like the first real friend I had made in a while, maybe even ever. And this would help our friendship grow, maybe I’d even like Mia as a friend too.

Ugh. 

|  To Shawn: Hey, do you wanna go on a double date with me this Friday?  |

I send the message before I can rethink the wording. My nose scrunches as I see the read receipt pop up immediately, three dots moving on the screen as I watch Shawn type back. 

|  From Shawn: Fuck yeah ;)  |

Ew. How did I ever think this man was crush-material? Before that dumb party, it was like some sort of unspoken thing, we were always flirting, always touching more than just friends typically would. But now even the thought of his dumb brain coming anywhere close to me made everything in my stomach churn uncomfortably. 

“Thank you, you’re the fuckin’ best!” Matt cheers, walking over to me, pulling my head in his hand before planting a platonic kiss on my head. His arms shoot up in the air. He does a stupid little victory dance, nodding his head to an imaginary beat. 

“What the fuck.” I look over, seeing Chris staring at his brother incredulously, scratching his head before nodding his face from side to side, turning around and walking back down the hallway. 

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in days. For some reason, it makes everything inside of me feel a little bit lighter, like it’s some sort of relief. 

Maybe he’s easing up. 

I shake the thought off as Matt sits back down, blabbing on about anything and everything. 

It’s nice to have a friend. 

___

Matt was helping return the favor. It felt weird to bring a boy in the house, my mother was definitely judging. But I needed help. And I liked Matt’s style the first day we talked, plus—who the fuck else was I gonna ask?

“What do you want to wear?” he asks, flipping through the clothes in my closet while peeking his head over his shoulder to look at me sitting on the bed. 

I shrug. “Matt, I don’t know. Maybe something comfy, but like…I don’t know,” I whine, huffing as I roll my eyes. Why did this have to be so difficult? Shawn was probably gonna wear what he always wore—black jeans and a long, loose T-shirt, the ones that always had a sports number on the back. 

“What about this?” Matt pulls out a skirt. 

I immediately shake my head. “Hell no. It’s too windy, I’m not dealing with that.” 

He points, nodding as he shoves the article of clothing back into place before shuffling through more options.

“Hey, um, what even happened that night? You know…with Chris,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before. 

My face scrunches as I think back on the memory. “I don’t even know. He showed up at window at like, 2 in the morning—”

“How did he know it was your window?” Matt asks, cocking his head to the side as he turns to look at me. 

I shake my head quickly. “We made awkward eye contact when he was taking a walk—but that’s not the point. He came here, bribed me to go on a walk—”

“How did he bribe you?” Matt quips. He holds his hands up defensively as I glare at him.

“Trevour, duh.” I state, the obvious information dripping sarcastically as I let out a dramatic sigh, “Then, we went for a walk. It was… nice?” My voice rises almost as if I’m asking a question. Matt nods slowly, his scrunched face unrelenting as I continue to explain, “He gave me an apology. I mean, he didn’t say sorry, but like—well—you know what, I don’t fucking know, okay? All I know is that we came back here but my window had slipped shut. He was gonna sleep on the floor, but he just couldn’t and we were too tired to argue and—”

“And then you cuddled like a married couple?” he cuts in. 

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, squinting at him as I cross my leg over the other, resting my hands on my knee. “Matthew, shut the fuck up. I’m going on this date for you—I’d rather lick a toilet seat, fuck a splintered broom, and—”

Matt cuts me off, walking over and shoving clothes into my lap. “What about these?” he asks. 

Looking down towards the fabrics, I purse my lips to the side. Baggy cargos, a tight fitted black long sleeve shirt with lace details, and a maroon bra—

BRA?

“WHY THE FUCK—”

“WAIT SORRY!” he panics, grabbing the bra and throwing it aggressively back into the closet, “I just didn’t wanna hear about you fucking a splintered mop or whatever the fuck so I panicked and I—-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he shouts, his eyes bulging as he covers his mouth with one of his hands. 

My face relaxes and I swallow thickly. He didn’t mean to, it’s fine. He saw my fucking bra, but it’s fine. 

“You’re lucky we’re friends and I like your dad,” I whisper lowly, my eyes twitching as I inhale a shaky breath, “-or I would slap your man tits so fucking hard they melted off your scrawny fucking chest, you stupid little—”

“Oh my god, wait! This is like—just another level of friendship for us then! Think of it that way,” he says, slapping my arm lightly. 

Is this bitch for real?

“I’m gonna go change in the bathroom,” I announce, stalking off towards the bedroom door. I turn around and point my finger directly at his chest, watching as he gulps. “Don’t touch a thing,” I warn. 

Matt nods quickly, clasping his hands together as he stands deathly still. 

At least he’ll be the only one touching my bra tonight. 

___

It wasn’t awful. 

Burst of colors and history are painted throughout canvases hung on the colossal walls. Matt and Mia had already ventured off. In fact, it didn’t really seem awkward at all. 

It made me smile watching their brief interaction. Matt was being an absolute fool, scratching the back of his neck like a damn dog. Mia, however, was shy, but excited. Apparently she really liked all of this. She loved it even more when she realized Matt would listen to her rant about each masterpiece for hours on end. 

Shawn was fine. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. I think he could sense my stiffness, being able to understand that whatever we had going on had taken a big step back. 

“How’ve you been? Tessa said you guys haven’t hung out for a while,” he points, his hand swinging obnoxiously between our bodies. I think he was trying to hold my hand without directly asking. And it was fucking annoying.

I rub my lips together as I try to keep my gaze pointed ahead. “Yeah, I guess I just haven’t had much time with the project and all,” I answer. 

That’s a lie. I had time. Honestly, I've been kind of bored recently, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Shame, we miss you, ya know?” he teases, bumping his shoulder into mine. 

They miss me? 

My body slumps a little more with each step. I see Matt and Mia from the corner of my eye, a smile crawling on my face as I see him utterly infatuated with her presence. Maybe that could be me someday, having someone who wanted to understand the most pointless things about me. 

“Heyyyy,” he waves his hand in front of my face, pulling my attention back to him as I feel my cheeks flush. Damn. I’m like a fucking iPad kid when it came to everything. “If they're too distracting, we can venture off further…you know, just us,” he suggests, his brows lifting on his face as he licks over his lips. 

His face is even pissing me off. Why is he looking at me like that?

“Shawn, I’m still upset with you. You drove drunk,”

“I only had a few drinks, you’re being fuckin’ dramatic,” he interupts, huffing as he rolls his eyes. 

Only a ‘few drinks’ could do a lot of damage. 

I wonder what Chris was like before he lost his mom and his brother. Maybe it was someone like Shawn. Someone so incapable of taking any sort of accountability, someone so… careless. 

Silence sinks into the air. A brush of heavy tension weighs downward as I try to create just the slightest bit more of distance between us. 

“Hey, hey,” he coos, quickly tugging my hand into his before cradling it with his other. I look up at him as he stares down at me, my face twisting as I gaze around us. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s dumb, I know. I just… I guess I just wanted to have fun and make sure you had fun too, alright? That’s all it was, it won’t happen again. Swear,” he says, pulling our hands apart and interlocking our pinkies. 

My eyes squint harder at him before I let out a deep sigh, slowly nodding before retracting my hand back to my own body. At least he’s taking accountability. 

“We’re gonna go get ice cream, you guys wanna come with?” Matt asks, stalking towards us with a stupid smile on his face. My eyes fall down, seeing his hand pulling Mia’s lightly, his thumb swiveling against the back of her palm. Oh, he’s so fucking adorable with her. 

“Nah, go ahead. I’ll drive her back, go have fun,” Shawn answers before even sparring me a singular look. 

Bitch. He’s not even my boyfriend and he’s trying to speak on my behalf. Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. 

“Are you sure…?” Matt’s eyes trail to mine. 

I purse my lips before giving an affirmative nod. They’ll have more fun alone. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t have too much fun,” I joke, offering a small wave as they walk down the marble flooring, disappearing past a corner. 

The sound of Shawn’s chuckle makes my face furrow, my lips curling into a tight line as I raise my brow at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask

Shrawn shrugs. “Just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could ya?” he teases, playfully wiggling his brows and sparing me a wink. 

I chose this over ice cream? 

___

That date hadn’t ended awful, but definitely not good, either. I was still waiting for Matt to finish up. It had been hours at this point, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be anything but happy for him. 

I didn’t know where else to go. I felt really drained, I just wanted someone to talk to. This was the only thing I could think of. And even though it seemed a bit odd at first, it felt normal, as if this was something that has happened at least twenty times before.

“And then what happened after Matt and Mia left?” Jimmy asks, petting Trevor nuzzled up in his lap as he gives me his full, undivided attention. 

He was more than happy when I showed up knocking at the door. I was just glad it wasn’t Chris who answered. And speaking of, I still didn’t know where he was. Probably in his room or something. 

“Well…” I look up to the ceiling, retracing the memory as I explain, “It wasn’t bad, I guess? We used to, I don’t know—flirt? But he’s just so…I don’t know how to explain it,” I groan, sinking further into the couch. 

Jimmy laughs. “Then what went wrong today? He seems sweet enough, why were you even mad at him?” he asks. 

My eyes scrunch close. I wasn’t gonna tell him that detail. I had already told him too much, definitely more than I should have. 

“I think he was gonna kiss me and I…I don’t know. I just kinda brushed it off and asked him to drive me home and well… here we are,” I sing, covering my face with my hands. 

The old man looks down at Trevor as he rubs the dog’s ears. “Maybe you just gotta get out of your head and give him another chance, kid. Whatever he did, just put it aside and try things out. I mean, thank god for my wife giving me chances. If not, she would’ve left me in the dust when I accidentally got paint in her damn hair,” he breathes out gruffly, laughing dryly at the reminiscent memory. 

A smile climbs on my face as I listen to his tone get softer. The slight joke holds meaning, a lot of meaning. No wonder Matt was so sweet, he knew how to treat a woman. Chris on the other hand? Maybe he did at some point. Definitely not now though. 

“Thanks, Jimmy–”

“What did I say!” he exclaims, standing up and ruffling my hair, “Call me J-Dawg!” 

I shake my head with a vicious laugh. “I’m not calling you that.” 

The man shrugs before stalking off towards the garage. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go fix this damn light switch in the garage, keep Trevor company until Matt gets home, alright?” 

I don’t have time to offer a response as I hear the heavy door click shut. My eyes drift over to the snoozing dog, my heart melting into a puddle as I watch his closed eyes flicker with a vivid dream. 

He could be dreaming of going on a walk—a walk with her, a woman I’ve never met—a woman I’d never get the chance to meet. 

Maybe Chris dreamed of her too. Maybe that was why he didn’t typically sleep well. 

“I need to pee, hold on, Trev.” I announce to the dog, slightly shaking my head at myself. Not only is he a dog, but he’s dead asleep. Did it really matter if I let him know? 

As I start to get up from the couch, I freeze hearing his voice. 

“Why’re you in my house? And why are you telling my dog you need to fuckin’ piss?” 

Chris. 

[mokulule]

A Man has Needs part 3

First

Fandom: DP x DC Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny) Summary: In which Jason keeps up ending up in Danny's bed and not even for any fun reasons.

Part 3

Daniel James Fenton, 20 years old, born and raised in Amity Park, Illinois. Graduated high school with barely passing grades. Currently enrolled in Gotham U’s aerospace engineering program, with (ironically) a Wayne Foundation scholarship of a type that was reliant on entrance exam test results rather than high school grades. Either his high school teachers hated him or he spent the gap year studying his ass off to ace the exams.

At least it explained what he was doing in Gotham of all places, Jason thought as he leaned on the kitchen island chin in his hand, laptop open in front of him. The WF scholarships for Gotham U were very good, yet still most people had the sense not to move to Gotham - and Crime Alley at that.

Him being from the Midwest might even explain some of the strange hospitality, though Jason felt he probably took it a level above most people.

Of family there was an older sister - like he’d mentioned. Jasmine Fenton was currently doing a PhD in the field of Psychology.

The parents, Jack and Madeline Fenton had doctorates of their own, though what little he could find published from them was from very disreputable paranormal sort of publications. They seemed to have very little basis for their theories - one of which was that ghosts were inherently evil - which was just absolute hogwash. They apparently lived off the payout of some early inventions they’d made and sold to the government.

Beyond that there was only an aunt.

Friends were much harder to judge. Danny’s social media presence was practically non-existent. He’d only just opened an account on Mugshot, Gotham’s favored social, this Monday, apparently due to encouragement from new Gotham U friends.

Jason absently drummed his fingers on the counter, as he stared unseeingly towards his laptop. Maybe Tim or Babs could find more, but Jason found himself reluctant to involve them, they would want to know why he was looking into the guy, they would want a reason to dig deeper than the basic background check Jason had already done.

Jason could not- would not, tell them about this… attraction? Jason rubbed his face tiredly. Attraction was a terrible word, that implied other things, but it was the best he had.

The oven timer had the kindness to beep then, signifying that batch of cookies was done, and distracting him for a few minutes as he transferred them to the cooling rack and got another plate going.

It was a limited reprieve however and all too soon he was back in front of his laptop. He had no other avenues, there really was only one thing to do.

Oo o oO

“We need to talk.” He flung the words out the moment a surprised Danny opened the door. The surprise however quickly gave way to a grimace as he registered the words.

“Do we have to?” Danny asked honest pleading in his voice.

Jason felt really tempted to say no, but forced himself to say “yes.”

“Okay,” Danny sighed, leaving the door open for Jason to step inside.

Jason closed the door after himself and felt his shoulders relax from their tense position and his breath come out in a relieved sigh. Safe.

He looked to Danny who wrung his hands.

Jason had meant to say something, ask something, he’d had a plan. He wanted answers. Answers… Jason opened his mouth, sound getting stuck in his throat. Just ask him what was going on? But what did it really matter?

“Ah! Please don’t say anything,” Danny interrupted Jason’s internal struggle. “I have been trying so hard not to make this awkward.”

Jason grimaced when he saw how uncomfortable Danny looked. Jason was making him uncomfortable.

“Okay look,” Danny took a deep breath and held up his hands, and looked at Jason with his big blue eyes, “will you please, just let me start, and if you really feel like you need to say something you can do so afterwards, yeah? Though it’s really not necessary.”

“Okay,” Jason managed mouth dry.

“I don’t know how to make this not awkward, but here goes, it’s okay.”

“Okay?” Jason reiterated brows raising in confusion.

“Yes, it’s okay, truly. Fuck, how would Jazz say it,” Danny looked thoughtful for a moment before meeting Jason’s eyes again. “You have needs, and that is okay.”

Jason frowned bewildered and alarmed. Needs?

Seeing Jason’s frown Danny unfortunately rambled, “I know it’s not exactly socially normal no matter which way you look at it, but it’s fine. I have a big bed, truly it’s fine. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, or apologize-“

Overwhelmed, Jason held up his bag of cookies and Danny thankfully stopped talking.

“Coffee?” Danny croaked after a moment’s silence.

“Please,” Jason agreed.

Five minutes later they sat at Danny’s small table a plate of cookies between them, looking down at their steaming coffee, awkwardly avoiding looking at each other.

Jason didn’t know what to think. Had he gotten any information out of this? Needs… Jason had needs, and those let him to Danny’s bed? He cringed away from the thought.

Across from him, Danny poked the handle of his cup. “Can we just pretend this conversation didn’t happen?”

Maybe Danny had the right of it. For both their sanities, maybe that was best. Aside from his confusion, Jason had felt better after both times he’d slept at Danny’s. Would it be so bad to, just for once in his life, not question things? Jason was unsure how much of this was his brain being muddled in Danny’s presence, but he agreed with a nod, and took a sip of coffee.

Oo o oO

Danny wanted to scream. He had made such a mess of things! All his good intentions and he’d gone and made things awkward anyways. It was a relief his guest was willing to just go with it after all.

And, Danny lamented, his guest had even spoken earlier today, like in a full sentence and now they were back at single words or nonverbal. Poor guy. It had to be so uncomfortable to wake up in a stranger’s bed. If only Danny had an easy way to give him straight ectoplasm, but then that might actually overwork his starved core and make everything worse. The slow absorption of Danny’s ambient energy, probably was best for him.

Half still lost in thought he took a cookie and promptly groaned in pleaures, it was perfect and there was no way he could keep his train of thought. It was crisp on outside and chewy in the middle, and the chocolate bits were so rich.

“You made these?” Danny exclaimed between heavenly bites and was rewarded with a quick shy smile and a glance of blue-green eyes. Fuck, why did Danny’s guest have to be both hot and cute? Life was so unfair.

But it seemed the ice had finally broken, and they were back to something comfortable.

Oo o oO

Later in his own apartment, Jason tried once again to make sense of things.

Facts. Jason woke up in Danny’s bed twice, it was likely to happen again.

Apparently Jason had needs. He shuddered at the thought, because what did that mean? But in a twisted way it also made sense, because he had woken up twice in that man’s bed through no conscious decision of his own. There was something about Danny that drew Jason to him and while it was kinda freaking him out, it was also kinda not. Which in itself was freaking him out if he allowed himself to think about it.

But another fact was that Jason felt better, lighter somehow, than… actually he didn’t really remember when he’d last felt so good. Maybe he really had just needed some proper sleep?

And Danny himself?

Jason had no idea what his deal was. It was very odd how accepting he was of the situation - he’d said it himself, this wasn’t socially normal no matter how you looked at it.

He was clearly not normal no matter how you looked at it. But neither was Jason really.

-

And this is the end of part 3.

They almost talked? They gotta get props for trying right?

You can subscribe at the masterpost

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' DEPOLLUTE ME , GENTLE ANGEL ,,

|| pairings: hawks x reader / keigo takami x reader

|| warning: a little suggestive, but it stops, other than that its comfort <3 listen to the song "We'll Never Have Sex" and you'll understand. reverse comfort

|| word count: 0.8k

Hawks. Number two hero in all of Japan. Fastest hero in all the country, youngest too, only age 22 and he was number two. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, woman, man, anyone. It made sense, of course, he was attractive. He acted carefree, always with a boyish grin on his face and everything he did seemed so effortless. Perhaps that was apart of the problem.

No matter what he did, everyone made their assumptions. Made their ideas, believing him to be a playboy or some sex-driven man. He hated it. Keigo was told to just let it happen, it was good publicity. Especially with how much his fans ate it up, he complied. He let it happen.

That all changed when he met you. Who's hands were never quick, never yearning in a way to get his clothes off. Your hands were soft, gentle. Always caring, never forcing. Keigo didn't understand it, why weren't you trying anything? Why weren't you trying to make him apart of a fantasy?

Your soft lips against his as you sat in his laps, but it wasn't quick. Not 'hot and bothered' as some may speculate, no, it was slow and careful. His hands placed on the small of your back as the two of you kissed. It was a comfort, it was wonderful. Something Keigo always yearns after he finishes a hard day of a hero, to come home where you'd swing by. Watch a movie, make some food, just be together. Sweet kisses exchanged, tonight was no different. The only small change was that those small kisses turned to a small make-out.

You, who'd move your hands just a bit down, down Keigo's chest. He didn't want it to stop, but at the same time it felt like too much. Something he wasn't ready for, not yet at least. The vermillion feathers ruffled behind him as he forced himself to let this happen. You, on the other hand? You stopped and pulled away, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a gentle kiss on Keigo's scarred cheek.

"Why'd you stop?" Your boyfriends question was barely above a whisper as he held you close. He didn't understand, was he not kissing you well enough? Not being good enough for you?

"Because you wanted to stop," You ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. One that's been kissed by the winds that he flew through during the day. Before he could try to fight back you continued. "I could tell your hesitation, love."

"Dove, we can keep going-"

"When you're ready."

Keigo stared at you with his golden eyes, staring up at you as you mindlessly brushed through his hair with your fingers. Untangling any mess that had happened from the day, taking out any small pieces of dirt or debris from the day. He didn't understand. No, he wasn't a virgin, why were you acting like he was? He held you tighter as he pushed his face into the plush of your neck.

Taking a deep inhale of your scent as he relaxed under your touch.

"Thank you."

You knew how the media treated him, as some sort of sex symbol. Always putting him on a pedestal as the number two hero, fastest hero in all of Japan. It killed you everytime you'd see an article of some made up scandal Keigo was supposedly apart of. You'd compare that article to your boyfriend. The man who'd come home, dragging his feet against the wooden floor. Eyebags under his eyes once he wiped the make up he used to conceal it. He was exhausted, overworked. Yet all the media saw was some one-dimensional man.

With a small hum, you shook your head and pushed a small kiss to your winged boyfriends forehead. Lingering there for a few moments before pulling away. A small smile on your face as you kept your gaze on him.

"You don't need to thank me, Keigs."

"But I should, you-"

You pushed your finger against his lips, a small smirk danced on your lips as you huffed.

"I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with. We don't have to do anything soon," With a small sigh, not of disappointment, you pressed your forehead against his. Fluttering your eyes closed as you kept speaking softly. "I kiss you just to kiss you, Keigo. If you don't wanna go too far, we don't have to. I'll be as patient as you need."

Your words hit a chord somewhere in Keigo. He always felt so pressured to do.. Well, anything. Hero work, the Commission, friends, enemies. He had so many things he had to do. But with you? He could go his pace for once. Not Hawks'. Not the man he presented to be, not the fastest hero in Japan. Just Keigo. He could go as slow as he needed, and you'd be there to support him.

"I love you," He whispered softly, his voice trembling just the smallest bit as he kept his emotions in check. Trying not to cry.

"I love you too, my darling."

"I love you," He repeated again. And again. And again. He kept whispering it as he kissed your neck softly, not a tease, not to lead up to something else. But because he could, because he wanted to.

"My gentle angel."

|| GUYS. GUYS. IM CHDBSIUBSIBVIDBLDVSAA i love keigo oml. i love how complex he is, he means sm to me OOOMMMLLLLLL :(( TO BE CLEAR!! im not anti-sex or smth, i js find it interesting to see the difference between hawks and keigo. i can make a whole essay on this

[thequeenofcurses]

Deadly Valentine

story inspired by the above & this art by @sweetlandspos (with permission to post here <3)

summary: ghostface!bf sukuna x f!reader. sukuna doesn't want to wait 'til halloween to try out the new mask kink you told him about tw: CNC, dubcon, mask kink, slight yandere?, dacryphilia, knife play, rough, ghostface, break-in, breeding, sry if I miss something, im so bad at tws. not really proofread words: 4500 (sorry)

masterlist | jjk masterlist

As soon as you got home from work, you knew something was up.

It was eerily quiet. The tv wasn't on and the living room looked as if nobody had touched it.

The house was often filled with some sort of noise and Sukuna always made sure that the tv was always on or he was gaming.

“Kuna, I'm home.”

Nothing.

“Sukuna?!”

Silence.

Maybe he wasn't home? But where would he go?

You checked the whole house and his car was still here, yet no sign of him. Perhaps he went to buy some beer?

You were about to head upstairs until you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest.

Who could that be? Was it Sukuna? No, he would've called you.

You hesitantly opened the door to see a white and black ghost shaped mask staring back at you.

“Er, hello?”

There was no response.

“Can I help you?”

The mask turned his head slowly, and in a raspy voice, he said, “you're so cute.” His voice was distorted by some kind of voice changer.

You scoff. “Thanks, but I have a boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse me-” You try to close the door, but the masked person wedges their foot in between the door, preventing you from closing it.

“I just have one question.” He doesn't move his foot.

You sigh heavily. “What is it?”

“What's your favorite scary movie?” he asks.

You roll your eyes then put your finger on your chin and tilt your head up cutely while you ponder. “Saw.”

He finally removes his foot and steps away from the door.

“That's a good choice”, he says.

You give him a curt nod and go to shut the door, but before it completely closes, he sticks his head in and whispers, “I'll be seeing you real soon.”

The door slams on his head and he grunts. You hear a chuckle as he walks away and then the sound of his footsteps disappearing.

“What the fuck?”

You quickly lock the door and take off your shoes and jacket, running up the stairs.

“Sukuna!” you shout as you look for him. You check every room possible, making sure the doors and windows are locked, yet the house seems as empty as a church on a weekday.

You breathe steadily trying to calm yourself down. It was probably just one of the neighbors playing a prank. Sukuna should be home soon.

As if he could sense your weariness, your phone beeps with a text from Satoru Gojo.

Gojo: Woman, I'm at the store with this moron Gojo. He rushed me and I ended up forgetting my phone, so I'm borrowing his. Need anything? ~Sukuna

You: I just need you <3

Gojo: can you two not get all mushy on my phone... ~Toru

You shake your head, putting your phone away, and decide to make some popcorn and watch a movie while you wait for him to get home. The second you slide the bag into the microwave you hear another knock at the door that makes you freeze. The store was at least ten minutes away, so there's no way Sukuna could've gotten home so quickly...

You tiptoe to the front door, peeking through the peephole. Nothing. Maybe it was just the wind.

POP! A kernel from the microwave sounds off, jolting your attention back to the kitchen.

This is getting really annoying.

You plop back onto the couch, awaiting your buttery snack to finish it's creation. You surf through the Netflix screen until you find something you like. The screen blackens and the room is pitch black, silent. The only sound coming from the kitchen.

THUMP! You flinch once again, the sound catching you off guard. Okay, what the fuck is going on? It sounded like some thing or some one, had fallen upstairs.

POP! POP! POP! The popcorn cried out for you, signaling it's readiness. You hurriedly take it out and leave the bag on the stove. You quickly open the top kitchen drawer and grab a knife. If someone really is here, I'm going down fighting, you think.

Your phone rings.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

It would be dumb to answer the call. It's so obvious, yet something in your brain compels you to do so.

"H-hello?"

"I told you I would be seeing you again."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Come upstairs and find out." The call ends, and you're left confused with a heart beating so quickly, you can hear it. You pull up Gojo's contact and hit call.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

You dial 911.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

BEEP! Incoming text.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Nice try, sweetie.

Fuck, fuck. FUCK! My phone service isn't working. You pace in the kitchen as your mind racks with a million thoughts. I can't call for help or Sukuna. I just might have to face this guy.

You're not going to go up there.

Don't.

It's a trap.

That's how every dumb bitch in every horror movie dies.

Yet, your feet have a mind of their own, and they softly take you up the stairs. You hold the knife pointed outward as you ascend the stairs to your shared bedroom. Worst case scenario, if that masked person really did break in, you can use those self-defense moves Sukuna taught you and restrain them until the police arrive.

Your heart beats rapidly with every step you take. An advantage you have that the ghost doesn't is you know this house like the back of your hand. There's a secret door in the back of your bedroom closet that also leads to the hallway. You drop to a crawl and quietly sneak through the secret passageway. The ghost will never see you coming. 

As you finally reach the door leading to your closet you inaudibly open it, firmly grasping the knob, as to not let its click make any noise. After you go through, you come face to feet with shoes you don’t own. Fuck.

CLAP CLAP CLAP. He’s clapping, he’s fucking clapping. 

“Impressive,” he laughs with that distorted voice. “I knew you would try to go this way.”

“Don’t hesitate,” you hear Sukuna’s training voice in your mind. “Strike first. Ask questions when they’re where you want them.”

You do a side kick, aiming for the ghost’s knee. He stumbles backward, out of your closet and you use your bought time to stand to your feet. You rise, kitchen knife in your right hand. You finally size him up and holy fuck, he’s so much bigger than you. He’s at least a whole foot taller. He stares at you, waiting for you to make your next move.

You blink back your thoughts. Focus. You rush at him, aiming to stab him in the shoulder. You swing downward, pump faking, as if you were going for his groin, then at the last second, change directions, slicing him in the shoulder. The slice cuts through the fabric, barely piercing his skin. The knife has the tiniest drop of blood on the tip.

Is this guy insane? You internally deliberate. He didn’t even attempt to move.

“W-why,” you stutter out. “Why didn’t you dodge!?”

He scoffs. “Why would I dodge a meaningless attack like that?” The ghost tilts his head, wagging two fingers at you. Asshole. “Come at me again.”

You don’t rush this time, but wait for an opening. The ghost waves at you, taunting, and that’s when you decide to slice again. When he looks like he’s vulnerable, you aim for his chest this time. You use your body weight to thrust forward and the knife looks like it’s going to connect. Until it doesn’t. The ghost grabs your weaponized arm, then uses his other hand to force you into an armbar. He hooks his left arm over your right one, shifting the weight. He twists your hand backward towards the ground until you’re forced to make a decision.

In this position, you have to either drop the knife or you’ll drop to the ground. Either way, you’re fucked. 

You try to hold on, but he’s too strong. He slightly presses down on your hand and it’s enough to make you wince in pain. You let the knife slip out of your fingers and he finally lets go of your hand. 

For only a second. 

The next moment, he turns you and puts you in a headlock, his left arm under your neck and his right one above your head.

“I told you,” he laughs. “Meaningless.”

“My boyfriend– ” you gasp out. “Is going to kill you.”

“Oh, really?” He lets you go and claps dramatically. The power in your room seems to suddenly go out and you’re both enveloped in darkness. Just outside of your room window you notice flashing lights coming through the crack in the curtains. The ghost pulls them back only for you to see Sukuna to be tied to a chair with strobe lights behind him. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Please don’t,” your voice is shaky and raspy. You drop to your knees, not sure if the ghost can even see you in this darkness. “Please, please, don’t hurt him.”

As if on cue to torture you further, outside the window Sukuna is stabbed right in front of you. Your eyes well with tears and your breath gets stuck in your throat. Subsequently, the outside lights disappear and you're wrapped in darkness again. The lights in your room seemingly come back on and the ghost is walking back into your room. 

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he laughs. “All those muscles didn't help much.”

“Fuck you!” you spit at him.

“Tch. Good idea.”

“What–” you're cut off by the ghost grabbing you and tossing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. Your vision is still blurry from the tears that are now streaking down your face, but your legs still work. You kick and kick and kick at him, scratching and clawing into his arms, but to no avail, he tanks it and pushes forward. It isn’t until he straddles you and has your arms pinned above your head, that you start to accept your fate. 

The ghost lifts his mask up, ever so slightly, only to bend down and lick your tears. You twist your head away. 

“You’re sick,” you snap at him again.

“Your tears are making me so hard,” he admits. You internally wretch and avoid his gaze. Sukuna, I need you. Your thoughts go to the only thing that can ever ground you. Sukuna, please, save me. Although, it was pointless to think that after watching the horror show earlier.

He releases one of your hands, only to guide it to his hardening length under his black robes. He then glides his finger across your lips. 

“Open,” he commands.

“Make me,” you refuse, defiance all over your face.

“That can be arranged,” he laughs. Not letting his hold on you go, he grabs the knife off the bedside table. When the hell did he put that there? Was it when the lights went out? The knife slides against your cheek, then tantalizingly slowly down your neck. It hovers above your chest before it’s digging into your shirt. He pulls the knife down, slicing your top in two. But he doesn't stop there. The knife continues its venture, cutting open your bra, then your skirt and panties open.

The ghost tightens his grip on your chin, tilting your head up as the knife drags down your stomach, cold and teasing against your heated skin. Your breath hitches when the tip circles around your navel before trailing lower, stopping just above your pelvis.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs through the voice changer, pressing the flat of the blade against your hip. “Is that fear? Or something else?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to respond. His weight pins you down, his body heavy against yours as his free hand slides up your ribs, fingers skimming over the shredded fabric of your shirt.

“Still not talking?” he chuckles, shifting his hips just enough for you to feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh. “No protests? No begging? Maybe you want this.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, struggling against his grip.

The ghost tuts, clicking his tongue. “We’ll get there.”

He sets the knife aside, leaving it close enough for you to see its gleaming edge from the corner of your eye. His newly freed hand replaces the cold metal with the warmth of his fingers, ghosting over the curve of your waist, then lower—gripping, teasing, exploring. His touch is rough, calloused palms scraping over your soft skin, but calculated, like he’s memorized every inch of you.

It’s terrifying how well he seems to know your body.

You swallow hard, clenching your fists as his hands travel lower. 

“Oh?” he remarks as if he’s made some new discovery. “You’re wet.”

No. Impossible. You would never get wet for anyone aside from your boyfriend. Especially not this monster. He’s probably hideous under that mask.

He slaps you across the face, and you wince in pain. It stings, but you know that wasn’t at all his full strength. The ghost uses this opportunity to force his lips on yours, tilting his mask up once again. His kiss is hard, forceful, and his tongue slips through your parted lips, licking the roof.

You try to push him away with your free hand, but his hand finds its way to your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make it difficult for you to breathe. Your nails dig into his wrist, a futile attempt to make him let go.

He breaks the kiss, smirking. You can feel his breath against your lips, warm and shallow, and it makes your skin crawl.

“Now for the main event,” the ghost whispers. He reaches to remove his cloak, and as he pulls it off, his black undershirt rides up slightly, exposing a glimpse of inked skin beneath.

Your breath stutters.

Your eyes dart to his stomach, tracing the familiar dark lines curling over his abs, trailing up to his ribs– 

Tattoos.

Your stomach flips, shock crashing into you like a wave.

No. No, it can’t be.

But as he finally pulls his shirt off completely, standing over you in nothing but those dark pants and that haunting mask, the truth slams into you.

The tattoos. The scars. The physique you’ve memorized with your hands and lips a hundred times over. Your eyes go wide with surprise.

Sukuna.

Your entire body tenses beneath him as the realization hits, and the ghost tilts his head, amused by your sudden change in expression.

“What’s the matter, y/n?” he questions, rubbing his erection through his pants. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He chuckles, and your blood runs cold. You remain silent, still processing everything you’ve just seen.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is still distorted, still playful, but now you can hear it, the underlying smugness that’s so unmistakably him.

You don't reply.

You can't.

You just stare at him, unable to form any coherent thought, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Sukuna removes the rest of his clothes, keeping nothing but that forsaken ghostface mask on. He then climbs on top of you, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head once more. His cock brushes against your stomach as he leans over you, the tip slick and glistening, and you realize how wet you are.

This is fucked.

He takes a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes raking over your body, admiring his handiwork. The remains of your clothes are scattered across the bed, barely covering you. Your hair is a mess, sticking to the sides of your face and neck, and your lips are red and swollen from his rough kisses.

Fuck, he loves seeing you like this.

He takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few lazy strokes before rubbing the head along your slit. He teases you, dragging his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick.

With how wet you are, he doesn’t need any lube tonight.

Your breath catches in your throat as he nudges your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against you. You squirm beneath him, trying to buck your hips away from him, but his weight pins you down, trapping you in place.

His grip on your wrists tightens, and his other hand finds its way to the knife. He raises the blade, pressing the cold metal against your throat.

"Don’t move."

You hold still, terrified of the blade.

Sukuna chuckles, and you shiver, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

He leans closer, the mask grazing your skin. “I'd hate to have to cut you.”

He presses the knife harder against your throat, enough to draw a thin line of blood. You wince, hissing through gritted teeth, and he laughs, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through his chest.

“There's my girl.”

He eases his hold on your wrists, sliding his hand up your arm, over your shoulder, and to the base of your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck, applying gentle pressure as he guides himself inside.

His cock stretches you, filling you completely, and you cry out, arching your back.

Fuck, it hurts, but it hurts so good.

“So tight,” he groans, his voice muffled through the mask. “I'm gonna make you take it all, princess.”

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, the feeling of his cock filling you taking over your senses. You're so wet, yet his size makes you feel like you're going to rip.

His grip on your neck tightens, and he begins to thrust, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes.

You cry out, tears streaming down your face, and he picks up the pace, the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoing throughout the room.

“So fucking good,” he growls, his voice strained. “You're such a good little slut for me.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan that's threatening to escape.

You hate how much you love this.

“Don't hold back,” he coos, his hand leaving your throat and finding its way to your clit. His fingers rub tight circles over your sensitive bud, and you let out a strangled moan, the pressure building inside you.

You can feel yourself getting close, your walls clenching around him, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm.

He leans down, his mask brushing against your cheek, and his voice is a low growl in your ear.

“I want you to come for me, princess.”

He presses the knife against your throat again, just enough to remind you of its presence, and that's all it takes to

You come hard, screaming his name, and he follows, emptying himself inside you with a grunt.

His cock pulses, filling you, and the sensation is almost enough to send you into another orgasm.

He pulls out of you slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thigh.

“Mm, perfect,” he sighs, running his fingers over your skin.

You lay still, trembling from the aftershocks, and he takes a moment to admire the sight before him. You're a complete mess, covered in sweat and his cum.

Your hair is tangled and your cheeks are stained with tears. Your lips are red and swollen, and the cuts on your throat are still bleeding, the crimson droplets streaking down your neck.

You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I could fuck you all day,” he hums, stroking his cock, already half hard again.

He slides his fingers over your slit, collecting his cum on his fingertips.

“And I will,” he purrs, bringing his hand to his lips. He licks his fingers clean, savoring the taste of you mixed with him.

“Mm, sweet” he moans.

You shiver, and he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You did so good for me, princess.”

He pulls his mask off and his pink hair cascades down, framing his handsome features. He tosses the mask aside, revealing his signature fanged smile.

“How'd you like my little surprise?”

“S-sukuna…”

He smirks. “Yes, baby?”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “You really scared me”

“Keheheh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “No, you don't.”

He pulls you into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine.

“You did so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.

“Kuna, please...,” you beg.

“Shh, I know, baby,” he says, brushing your hair back and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I'll take care of you.”

“Should I show you some mercy,” he questions, whispering into your ear. Mercy. The safeword you and Sukuna had agreed upon when you first started dating. You gently shake your head and he nods. If you really wanted this to be over, you could say "mercy" or "red" and everything would stop.

His hands move to the back of your neck, and he gently massages your muscles, his fingers working their magic.

“So tense,” he teases. “Let's fix that.”

You groan, closing your eyes and letting the sensation of his touch wash over you.

You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh, already hard again.

“Such a whore,” he hums, his fingers digging into your skin. “Always ready for my cock.”

You squirm, trying to break free of his grip, but he holds you tight, his grip unrelenting.

“I'm going to fuck you again, princess,” he promises, his voice husky with desire. “I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming my name, begging me to stop.”

"Kuna!"

His fingers grip the back of your neck as he pins you down, his body heavy on top of yours.

You can feel his cock pressing against your ass, and his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place.

“That's right,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “Scream for me, baby.”

He rubs the tip of his cock up and down your wet slit. The mixture of both of your fluids being the perfect lube. He edges the angry, reddened head against your lower entrance. Once, twice, three times before he finally slams his cock into your ass, filling you completely, and you cry out, his name a broken prayer on your lips.

“Fuck, y/n,” he moans, his voice strained. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He thrusts with each word.

“It–  it hurts,” you whimper, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothes, his fingers tangling in your hair. He stops his movements in you, studying your face. “Just relax, let me take care of you.”

His grip on your neck loosens, his hand trailing down to your breast. He pinches your nipple, rolling the hardened nub between his fingers, and you moan, arching your back.

His lips brush against your cheek, feather-light kisses tracing along your jawline.

“That's it, baby,” he encourages, his voice husky with desire. “Just feel.”

He starts to move, pulling out slowly, then thrusting back in, burying himself deep inside you. You moan, your eyes rolling back, and he sets a slow, steady pace, his cock filling you completely with every stroke.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he coos, his fingers twisting in your hair. “Taking my cock like a champ.”

“K-kuna, please,” you gasp.

“Shh, I know,” he purrs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”

You nod, biting back a sob. He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your cries, and his hands find their way to your breasts, his fingers squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

You can feel the pressure building inside you, your body humming with anticipation, and you reach for him, your fingers gripping his hair as he pounds into you.

“S-sukuna, I'm–” you can barely get the words out, the feeling of his cock stretching you sending waves of pleasure through you.

“I know, princess,” he groans, his voice a low growl.

With one of his hands, he starts to vigorously rub your clit while his cock still pounds into your ass.

The feeling of his fingers on your clit and his cock filling you is too much, and you scream out, your body trembling as you come undone.

“Sukuna!” you exclaim, your legs shaking.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic.

He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours, and he whispers, “Come for me, y/n.”

With those words, he sends you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. You cry out, your nails digging into his back.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he moans, his cock throbbing as he comes, filling you with his hot release.

He collapses on top of you, his body spent, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. The tips of his pink hair tickling your face.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his breath ragged. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, your voice hoarse. “It was.”

You both lay there, catching your breath, and enjoying the afterglow of your orgasms.

After a few minutes, he slowly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss, his cum dripping out of your ass and onto the sheets.

“I'm still mad that you scared me,” you pout into his chest. “I really thought someone had hurt you.”

“Keheheh,” he gives you his infamous laugh as a response. “Sorry, princess. It was the only way.”

You look at him, confusion written on your face, urging him to explain.

“I had Yuji throw on my clothes and sit out there,” he explains. “The brat owed me a favor, and since we’re twins, it was the perfect opportunity to trick you.”

“But, the tattoos…” you tilt your head skeptically. “How did you guys?”

“Sharpie,” he simply responds. “That’s why Gojo and I were at the store.”

You think about the plan, how intricate and well executed it was. He must have had this planned for weeks.

It was so perfectly Sukuna.

You sigh. You can't stay mad at him. Besides, it was originally your idea for him to surprise you with your mask and CNC kink. You just never imagined it would happen at the same time.

“Next time,” you warn him, pointing a finger in his face. “I'll be the one surprising you.”

“Keheheh,” his signature laugh reverberates. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

He presses his lips to yours, his kiss gentle and tender. “I love you, y/n,” he whispers. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

"I love you too, Kuna," you murmur back, closing your eyes and letting sleep claim you.

Sukuna smiles, content with his work.

“Sweet dreams, my little princess,” he kisses the top of your head

It was definitely the perfect Valentine's day.

A/N y'all really should check @/sweetlandspos art out! I love her style and everything she draws is soo delicious! 🤤😫

A/N P.S. Sorry I'm late. I wanted to post this TWO WEEKS AGO for Valentine's, but I had bad writer's block and alot of irl stuff interfere. I'm gonna try to post more consistently though <3

dividers by @omi-resources & @cafekitsune

<- masterlist

[lightlycareless]

just had to get it out of my system 2.0

warnings: none too grave. naoya unintentionally makes you feel insecure about your weight.

Naoya, the I’ve never had an official girlfriend before so I gotta make the best of it, deciding to show off his muscles by carrying you.

Naoya, the doesn’t know how to shut up not even for his own good, unsurprisingly ends up saying insensitive things to you when realizing he can’t carry you as effortlessly as he wanted—and if that wasn’t enough, he also had to be quite dramatic about it.

“Oh, Y/N—! You really have to lay off the mochi!” He jests, finding no unwarranted cruelty behind his words nor the hurt in your eyes as he continued to tease you. “You’re quite heavy—"

Naoya, whom even after you manage to jump down from his grasp and storm away, doesn’t find anything wrong with his actions. His words hadn’t come from genuine malice, after all.

But it’s not until the love-deprived Naoya, the one that quickly had come to realize he couldn’t live without you after seeing you for the first time, suffering the greatest of tortures at your persistent silence, that he finally realizes his mistakes.

That, alongside the consistent threats from your siblings, who were just waiting the slightest mishap on his part to prove their accusations, pushed him to do so.

However, Naoya didn’t even give them chance to retaliate, swiftly showering you with gifts to showcase how regretful he was—and how it was ok for you to indulge in the mochi you’ve dejectedly avoided since then.

And, of course, making it his personal challenge to demonstrate you weren’t too heavy, but rather, he was too weak.

How he managed to do such feat in such little time only serves to refute the misconceptions your siblings and friends had of him (or more like no longer applied) and once more show how utterly devoted, he was to make you happy.

“I need you to help me with something.” Naoya suddenly says, his request, while bold, doesn’t startle you.

“Hm? What is it?” you ask. “Is it paperwork again?”

“No, nothing like that. Just… stay there and—” with one swift movement, Naoya lifts you up, making you squeal and instinctively hold onto his shoulders, a combination of fear and shame envelopes you soon enough where you’re begging him to put you down.

“Please, just—let me go!” but he remains, only to continue surprising you upon realizing he wasn’t carrying you with both his arms, but rather… just one.

It’s confusing to you, to say the least; you didn’t know whether to indulge in your shock and gush at his undeniable improvement— or wonder why he insisted, after all, didn’t he label this endeavor agonizing to perform…?

Naoya wins you to it, however. Concern was written all over your face, there was no way he couldn’t point it out.

“You should know by now that I never back up from a challenge.”

“I didn’t know carrying me was a challenge…” you pout. “Seemed like punishment.”

“Oh, princess, having you like this can only be a pleasure.”

“Alright, alright!” you fluster, urging him again to put you down before a crowd gathers. “If you wanted to show off there were a million other ways to do so… instead of calling me fat and then working out to prove yourself wrong.”

“Fat? I never called you fat.” Per usual Naoya fashion, he would attempt to gaslight you and act as if that sensible moment had been nothing but a figment of your imagination, or, in this case, a misunderstanding. “I meant to say that’s how I get whenever I see you.”

“What? What do you mean that’s how you get? How can you get fat—” the understanding of his subtly crude words suddenly hits you, making the redness in your face burn even brighter as you decisively fight against his hold, just to avoid the embarrassment. “Oh, my god… You’re gross!!”

“Well, you can get as angry as you want, still doesn’t lessen the truth.”

“…When are you ever going to stop being gross?”

For someone like Naoya, you might as well be requesting the impossible.

But who are you kidding? It wouldn’t exactly be your Naoya if you asked him to be literally anything else but his genuine self.

And you’re not that far off either when it comes to perversions, he’d come to learn delightfully so in due time—but that’s a story for another time 😊

he didn't see anything wrong with his words at first until he heard someone (like one of his friends or relatives) say the same thing towards you and THEN was he like UH NO.

:)

[solarmorrigan]

3 & 4 steddie? I love everyone's takes on eddie interacting with steve after the halloween party in s2💛

So! A thing about me is that I'm actually not always comfortable writing about drinking. The "why" of it is kind of a moving target, and I really should have just nixed "drunk" as an option in the tags, so that's my bad D: But! I think I got the rest of your prompt in pretty alright??

4. Cry - Eddie &/ Steve

-

Eddie had only been looking for a quiet place to smoke. Business is great at parties like this, but sometimes he needs a break from all the hubbub. The backyard had been milling with people, but as Eddie had trailed out towards the edge of the property, close to the tree line of the woods behind the house, the crowds had dwindled to nothing, leaving undisturbed peace in their wake.

At least, Eddie had thought so.

It takes a minute for him to notice the new noise – the soft, inconsistent huffs of air working counter to the sound of the whispering breeze. It’s the sound of someone gasping, he realizes, cold anxiety beginning to pool in his gut.

Is someone hurt? Had some drunken idiot wandered out back here, maybe fallen or run into a tree and injured themselves? Were they too hurt to get back up? But, no – as Eddie gets closer to the source of the noise, it becomes clear it isn’t pained gasping, it’s the hitched-breath sound of sobbing.

And just as he starts to think maybe he should just give this person their privacy, let them have a good cry in peace like they clearly intended, he rounds a tree and sees exactly who it is that’s come out into the woods in their lament.

He can’t see the face, but even in the half-light spilling out from the house, the head of hair is unmistakable: Eddie’s just crashed Steve Harrington’s private backwoods breakdown.

For a moment, Eddie is frozen, unsure of what to do. He feels a little like Actaeon stumbling across Diana bathing in the forest, and at any moment he’s going to be turned into a stag for witnessing something he shouldn’t have (and take that, Mrs. Davis – he does pay attention in English class. To the cool parts, at least). Except it doesn’t seem like Steve has noticed him yet, still wrapped up in whatever’s got him miserable, so maybe Eddie can just make a clean getaway? Pretend none of this ever happened?

Intending to do just that, he takes one careful step back and puts his foot down directly on what is apparently the loudest twig in existence. The crack of it rings out like an alarm, and Steve’s head snaps up, his cheeks shining wet in the low light, glancing around frantically until his eyes land on Eddie.

“Uh,” Eddie says, raising one careful hand in greeting. “Hey.”

That seems to knock Steve back into action. He swears, reaching up to wipe roughly at his face, running a hand through his hair, probably trying desperately to look like he hadn’t just been crying. Eddie figures he should probably let him, give him some plausible deniability, pretend he hadn’t been able to see anything in the dark, that he hadn’t heard anything at all. Except now that he’s here, Eddie finds he can’t quite leave well enough alone. He’s curious.

And maybe he feels a little bad for the guy. Just a little. He looks sort of devastated from where Eddie is standing, eyes wide and wet, cheeks red, hair disheveled (but still goddamn pretty. How is that even fair?).

“You, uh… You okay?” Eddie tries, feeling a little lame in the attempt.

“Yeah,” Steve snaps, running a hand down over his face again. “I’m fine.”

Clearly.

“Did you come here with someone?” Eddie asks. “Like… someone I can go get?”

“What? I’m not drunk or anything, man, I’m fine,” Steve huffs, leaning back against the tree he’d been half-hidden behind, shoulders still slumped.

“No, yeah, I just – like, whatever’s going on with you, I figured maybe a friend would be… better,” Eddie says, waving a hand vaguely at Steve, who scoffs at him. “Wait– Wheeler. You came with her, didn’t you?”

That doesn’t get an answer – not a verbal one, anyway. All Steve does is sniffle and glance away.

“Ah,” Eddie finds himself nodding, speaking before he can stop himself, “trouble in paradise?”

Steve scoffs again. “You know what?” he asks harshly. “When your girlfriend says you’re bullshit, and that your love is bullshit, and blames you for her friend dying, you start to think that maybe there was no paradise to begin with.”

Eddie blinks. That’s a lot to process. “I thought Holland ran away?” he asks after a moment, because apparently that’s the thing to focus on.

“Right. Ran away,” Steve spits out, and that’s – hm.

What do you know that I don’t, Steve Harrington? Eddie wonders.

He doesn’t ask, of course, because nosy as he is, Eddie also has a healthily developed sense of self preservation, and this seems like the sort of thing he shouldn’t be prying into.

“That’s kinda fucked up, man,” he says instead. “She seriously accuse you of that?”

Steve shrugs, says nothing, but still looks miserable enough that Eddie would believe it. Whatever went down between Steve and Nancy had clearly been a hell of a mess. He isn’t entirely sure why he cares (his persistent soft spot for strays is honestly a bitch sometimes), but he finds he doesn’t want to leave Steve like this, depressed and alone in the woods on Halloween.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws his pack of cigarettes, shaking two out into his hand. Steve tenses when Eddie takes a few steps closer, but the only thing Eddie does is offer him a cigarette. There’s a moment of confused staring, eyes flicking between Eddie’s face and the cigarette in his hand, but eventually Steve reaches out to take it.

Eddie takes a chance, leaning in a little closer to offer him a light, and Steve takes it, the warmth of his face near Eddie’s cupped palm feeling almost as strong as the flame from the lighter.

Eddie drops his hand as soon as the cigarette is lit. He needs to get a grip. He lights his own cigarette and takes a drag.

“Thanks,” Steve croaks once he’s blown out his first breath of smoke.

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie replies.

They smoke in silence for a minute, watching the backlit figures of drunken teenagers churn in and out of the house before them.

“Maybe she’s right,” Steve finally says.

“Hm?” Eddie glances over at him, but Steve is glaring at the ground.

“Love,” Steve sneers. “Maybe it’s really just bullshit.”

And something about that just hits Eddie wrong. Maybe he’s never believed in love, as such—not the way it’s described in poetry or sung about in ballads or written about in shlocky romance novels—but Steve clearly does. Anyone who’s been around him and Nancy for more than a minute in the last year could see that. For it to be otherwise feels like it goes against the natural order.

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Love is out there, man. The real shit, y’know? Stuff worth fighting for.”

Steve lets out a little snort, more amused than derisive, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. “You’re not a romantic, Munson,” he says, so sure of himself – which is fair.

“Oh, I’m a cynic through and through, baby,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve gives him a little laugh. “But you – you’re a romantic. You don’t really believe that love is bullshit. And you shouldn’t.”

Subsiding, Steve leans back against his tree, taking another drag of his cigarette like he’s stalling for time. “Why do you care what I believe?” he finally asks.

Eddie shrugs. “The world needs people like you. Romantics. Dreamers. You keep people like us pessimists from collapsing beneath the weight of our own dark souls.”

“What?” Steve coughs out, really laughing this time, and Eddie smiles right along with him.

“Just saying,” he offers.

Steve shakes his head. “Okay, drama kid. And I’m guessing people like you – what? Help people like me keep our feet on the ground?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Everyone needs a rock now and then. A nice solid foundation to start from.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, finishing off his cigarette as Eddie does the same. “Well – you’re, uh. You’re a pretty good rock, Eddie. Thanks.”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie says, pretending that the weird little compliment hadn’t made him light up just a bit. “Don’t mention it.”

And Steve doesn’t, but the smile he gives Eddie – well. What’s something else.

[postmoe]

I find it attractive of a beta or alpha get turned into an omega if they get fucked to much. So what about yandere alpha geshu lin x beta/alpha male reader x yandere alpha jiyan. Or yandere Mydei x beta/alpha male Reader x yandere alpha Phainon. Reader getting turned into an omega so they can keep him all to themselves and maybe baby trap him 🤭.

dude i have so many beta fantasies it's not even funny. thank you for this opportunity.

non-con, abo, male reader, beta -> omega reader,

.

It was always the three of you; Phainon, Mydei, (Y/n). You went through training together, fought the hardest battles together, everyone revered you like you were unstoppable.

Well, everyone respected you in a passive/aggressive way because you were covered in the musk of two supreme alphas. Unfortunately for you, in the womb, you never grew to the next stage from being a beta.

Betas were pretty rare now, they started off as the dominant second gender, but as time grew so did the power of evolution. Everyone starts off in the womb as a beta, then months down the line you unlock your social status. Sometimes, you just get stuck as the runt. There have been few cases of people opening their second gender later in life, though only within a very specific fate of events.

It's not all bad. Apparently, Mydei's and Phainon's scent was so extreme that a lot of people couldn't stand near them for a certain amount of time. Alpha's get antsy, compliment or aggressive. Omegas have gone into heat on the spot, rolling over motionless as their hormones take over. Now, they're pretty good at controlling their smell, or so everyone says.

It never bothered you to begin with, your nose not suited to judge others. You couldn't read emotions if it wasn't present on their face, which in this day and age is more of a talent than anything; at least, that's what Phainon says to make you feel better.

For a beta to get this far in life is pretty astonishing. You realise you had a lot of help from your two friends. They've been able to sniff you out when you're in danger, or their scent that lingers on your clothes is enough to stop any intelligent bandit or monster. However, even when you're feeling down about it, even when the world criticizes you for 'using' two alphas to your advantage, they both have been there to keep you reeled in.

"Why do you even bother trying to lie to us," Mydei huffs, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest, "You have a smell, too. It's not like we don't know what you're feeling."

"That's unfair," you sigh, shoulders slumping, "Maybe I just don't want to talk about it, ever think of that?"

Phainon nods, his arms coming to drape over your shoulders from behind, rubbing his cheek against yours, "Everyone is allowed to have their secrets."

You roll your eyes, going back to polishing your sword with the rag while he lounges against you, "It's not even a secret, just the usual shit." You go silent for a moment, feeling their eyes burn holes into for more information. It should have been common knowledge by now that you won't get out of anything from them, so you gently place your sword down groan, "Fine! I walked past one of your fan groups today. An omega was saying how I was only holding back your true potential, that with me on the battlefield then you can't go all out."

Both of them opened their mouths to speak, you held up your hand to zip them shut.

"And before you say anything; yes, I know that I'm strong too. Yes, I know I can fight. Yes, I know they're just 'jealous' that I get to hang around you." You can't make eye contact with either of them, knowing that you might just crack if you do, "... It doesn't always help. I'm okay with that, though. This is the life I chose and I can deal with all the shit thrown my way."

Phainon buried his face in your neck, sniffling into one of your more sensitive parts, the scent glands. You shivered from the contact, he didn't seem to mind as he practically cried, "You're so strong, (Y/n)! But you know, you still have to take care of your mental health, too. I think you should stay away from those people for a while."

Mydei stood from his spot on the grass and walked over, ruffling your hair with his hand before dragging it down your face and to trace your neck, "We haven't been around because of the recent attacks, so our scent is waning from you. Here, we'll ward them off."

You shook your head out of their grip and rolled to the side, away from them, "I don't need you to scare anyone away by smothering me. I think your scent only makes them more mad."

"It's natural biology for an alpha to cover what's theirs in their smell, you can't just tell us to stop," Phainon argues, shrugging like it's the most obvious thing.

With a laugh, you stand and pick up your sword, "Since when am I yours?"

They both silently looked to each other, communicating in a language you would never understand. Mydei tells you, "You've been our beta longer than you've been alone."

"Yep~" Phainon teases, "Should have thought about that before you became our friend."

Yeah, right. One day these two will find their omegas, they'll create a beautiful family and you can be the cool, beta uncle that showers the kids in annoying gifts to rile up their parents. "Sure, whatever," you dismiss, now taking on an offensive stance, "So, we sparring or what?"

...

Storm season is fast approaching in this part of the land. You three had been sent out patrol the far, outer lands on a 'boys' camping trip'. The trek made you sweaty, the days humid and the nights cold, yet you didn't stop until you reached an open cave near the top of the mountain.

Forests surround you, rushing rivers and falls heard in the distance, and the sounds of insects chirping were drowning your ears. You had abandoned your shirt long ago, rolling yourself in insect repellent that did well to make your two companions scrunch up their noses in distaste.

As you set down the heavy bags in the cave, the sun setting in the distance, you noticed some faded, rock drawings on the walls. Walking up to them, you see crude images of stick figure deaths, a chimera with little hearts around it and a spurting dick. Phainon placed his hand on your shoulder, "Mydei drew the penis."

You both look over to see him skulling his sack of water, giving you both the middle finger. You purse your lips, "Even though I've known you for so long, it's always weird to see such a childish side of you."

After setting up camp, you realise how much you may have missed when you weren't able to accompany them on missions. This place is gorgeous, and they only tell tales of greater environments, it left you feeling a sense of awe and a pang of sadness. When they laugh together, bicker, playfully shove at each other, you can see it the way everyone else sees it.

Two, great alphas Mydei and Phainon - plus you. Little, ol' beta you.

It's nothing to get worked up over. Not a big deal, not an issue at all. You notice they've stopped talking and are looking at you with concern. Fuck. Why are you having this crisis now of all times? They can definitely smell you, they know what you're feeling and they're expecting an answer.

You smile at them widely, "Sorry, I just got lost in a daydream." Can they smell when you lie, too? If so, they speak nothing of it.

...

Being able to swim in such beautiful, clean water was a luxury you didn't know you needed. The baths and streams around Okhema were amazing, there's no doubt about it. Hot springs sent from natural sources, lotions and soaps created from the best ingredients, but this... This was something altogether new.

The water was a cold that made your muscles relax, the flavour refreshing and dare you say, curative. The sound was a delightful white noise of rushing water and splashing ripples from either of you or the fish that swim by.

On the shore, Phainon was the last to disrobe, the three of you deciding to skinny dip as a fun, good morning. You greet him with a smile as he resurfaces from bombing into the water, shaking your face of stray droplets, "Are you sure it's alright for us all to be here? I really think one of us should keep watch at the cave."

He lays on his back, closing his eyes while he floats around you, "Don't stress, there are others at points around the outer city. Someone is always watching from one direction or another."

"I see... I guess I'm just wor-" your voice is cut off as your ankle is suddenly grabbed and you're yanked down under the surface. You see the blurry image of Mydei, the red tattooed lines on his skin the main stand out for the fuzzy, underwater alpha.

The two of you duke it out - poorly - until you both resurface and you're gasping for air. He huffs out a breath of his own, hiding any semblance of exhaustion, "You're going to need to fight better than that if you want to get on our level."

As if coming to your rescue, Phainon swims over to him, "Oh, please, as if it's normal for someone to be capable of fighting under water." He then winks to you before shoving the blonde's head down, effectively drowning him out.

The three of you relax around the falls, floating idly in the water side-by-side. You think you could fall asleep, except your nose twitches at an interesting smell. You've smelt it before, very faintly and only when they really push it. What can be excruciatingly stunning to others, you only get a whiff of as a beta; the smell of these alphas.

Mydei and Phainon are a rare sort, extremely strong and capable of power beyond mosts comprehension. A few people are rare like that, some omegas even being too intoxicating for the outside world. It's a pleasant smell, to you, something you not-so-secretly indulge in whenever you get the chance. It also makes you feel slightly more normal.

You wade over and gently rest your head on the upper part of Mydei's stomach, closing your eyes and sighing happily, "I don't get why people can't be around you guys if you're too strong. I like your smell."

Phainon playfully pouts at you choosing Mydei, coming over to join you and rest his head on his chest. He inhales the Kremnoan's scent, smiling serenely, "Omega's and Alpha's never really stop developing their senses until their mid 30's. The older you get, even smells like perfumes can become too much, let alone the emotions of someone with tremendous power."

"Does that mean you guys aren't holding back anymore if I can smell you?"

Mydei moves a wet hand to pet your head, "We don't need to hold back up here."

"Besides," Phainon gazes at you with a fondness in his eyes, "It's nice to share something so personal with someone close, don't you think?"

They can't just relax like this around anyone, and since you all spend most of your time in the city, you hardly get a chance to get a whiff of them. A giddy smile decorates your face, your eyes closing as you relax once more, "Yeah, I agree."

...

On the third day you notice something odd. Your friend's seem to be more agitated, little offsets leading to snarling and biting, every twig snap or rustle has them staring in that direction in case of a particular threat.

You've never seen them like this.

They must be stressed by all the work that's been unloaded onto them. An argument broke out five minutes ago about something you didn't understand, the two deciding to take a walk to cool off and collect more firewood. You decide that this is the perfect time to help them out, picking up a sword and attaching it to your waist before heading out on a patrol. When you get back, they can relax at the duties already being fulfilled.

You don't know the area very well, however, you did accompany them the past couple of nights so you have an idea of where to go. You're not too stressed about getting lost, the trail somewhat visible to someone like you, who has been taught overcome these kinds of obstacles. What you didn't expect was that it gets darker quicker under the canopy of trees.

It appeared you had an hour of daylight left, yet only fifteen minutes later and you noticed a dramatic change. The mountains are certainly an interesting place to be, you're usually stationed closer to the city and nearer the fallen towns.

With the darkness comes fauna that arouse at night, a particular croak gaining your attention. You crouch down with interest, seeing a teal coloured frog with a lighter stomach hop into a puddle. It was smaller than the palm of your hand, yet the sound it made was so loud you would never expect it to come from such a tiny creature.

Your admiration was halted as you hear heavy thumping from deeper in the brush. It's fast, leaves and sticks being moved and thrown out of the way to make room for whatever is coming at you. You quickly draw your sword and take a defensive stance, readying for whatever may be in store.

If it's a boar or something similar, you could climb one of the thicker trees and make your way around by jumping branches. If it's something more like a giant bush cat, then you would have no choice but to fight it.

Turns out, it was neither. Before you had the opportunity to lay eyes on it, there is ablur of movement and your weapon is thrusted from your hand, flying off and landing into the dark distance. You're immediately incapacitated, wrist close to snapping and arm yanked back as you're brought to your knees.

Mydei is snarling aggressively in your ear, holding you down like some convict trying to escape. He spits his words like venom, "What the fuck did you think you were doing? Are you stupid?! Leaving the nest like that wandering off on your own!"

You cry out in pain as he tightens his grip, the sound and pheromones you let off making him back off slightly but not letting go.

Before you can ask what the hell is going on, Phainon appears behind you and walks around so he can kneel at your front. He tenderly cradles your face and looks over you for any other injuries, "Don't hurt him, Mydei. He made a stupid decision but it wasn't his fault."

A breath of relief leaves you when he finally lets go. You slump and cradle your aching arm, flinching when Mydei falls to his knees behind you and resting his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbles into your flesh, "Why did you leave like that? You could have gotten hurt."

With a new found annoyance, you flick Phainon's hands away from you and shrug the other off your back, "What the fuck??? Why are you both acting like I just up and left?"

"Because you did up and leave," Mydei growls, only halting when he and Phainon meet with a hard glare. He tuts and stands, making sure you have nowhere to run if you decided to flee, "We should have just been outright with him from the beginning."

You didn't like the sound of that. Without a word, you look to Phainon for an answer, Mydei is acting too impulsive for your liking right now. Phainon stands before you, both of them now crowding any escape with how close they are, "In truth, we brought you up here because we knew our ruts were coming and we wanted you with us."

"P-Pardon?" It was so incredulous you were sure you heard wrong. But, what else could he have said? "You do know what I am, right? We've only known each other for a couple of decades so be honest if you need a reminder."

Mydei scoffs and grabs you by the back of your shirt, hefting you to your tippy toes to growl, "Our Beta's got jokes. If you can jest then you can mate."

"WHAT?!" You kick your feet comically in the air, trying to find some sort of purchase, "I can't mate - I physically cannot mate! Not with an Alpha!!"

Phainon chimes in giddily, "Two Alphas! Don't worry, we'll ensure you're thoroughly pregnant by the end of this rut."

Body limits aside, being a beta means your reproductive organs aren't open to be used. They're sitting inside you, dormant. For some reason, you don't think they see that as a drawback, instead viewing your biology as more of a challenge to be tackled.

...

Day six and you're sore. Your legs, which have been in every position possible. Your arms, which are restrained when they're doing anything that's not fucking you. Your poor, poor hole, which hasn't been dry in days. Your oversensitive cock, now you can't tell what liquid comes out, your last orgasm streaming like piss on the rock below.

Phainon drags his hot, wet tongue up your neck, moaning as he slips his erected cock into you again. Your mouth hangs open, arse clenching when he's stopped by his knot hitting your rim. He's got you in a full nelson, your thighs over his own, a sound of discomfort coming from you at the stretch of his knot trying to enter you.

He shudders, lightly humping upwards, "Do you smell that, Mydei? He's changing."

Mydei flops his own dick in your face, tracing his leaking tip along the bone of your cheek before he slips his length between your lips, "How interesting. All our darling beta needed was a little push."

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as they fuck you again, your pretty, little hole gaping ever larger to accommodate them.

...

The cold, wet soil near the falls was blissful on your overheating skin. You've never felt this hot before, you assume it's a fever coming on from being under these two for however many days now. Mydei has you on your back, tongue swirling and mouth slurping at your puckered arse.

It was nice to just relax and be tended to, as fucked up as that seems. Phainon was behind him, washing his own body and admiring the scene before him.

Mydei licks a stripe from your hole, up the length of your taint and to your flaccid cock. He coos patronisingly, kissing the sensitive tip and making you jolt, "Poor sweetheart, have we been too rough with you?"

It's too little too late to ask you that now. You stick with your mission of giving them the silent treatment unless necessary, turning your head away and closing your eyes, thinking back on the coolness of the soil.

Until, "A-Ahh! S-Stop!" You moan, hands going to his hair and yanking as hard as you can, trying to stop him from swallowing your cock and drinking it over and over again. The way his tongue and cheeks move against your flesh has you throbbing and twitching in his mouth. "I can't, I can't," you breathe, swaying your head side to side as if to deny the oncoming torture.

But you can't, even half-hard he has you spurting your cum down his throat. You hold his head down with each half-hearted thrust, only to pull again before another tingling jolt of your hips.

When you can open your eyes again, you pleadingly gaze to Phainon, who had paused his washing to stare solely at you both. His eyes dart to meet yours, mind working overtime to bring him out of his daze and pull lightly on his companion, "Hey, save some for me, okay? Let him recuperate a bit."

Mydei flies his elbow back, not getting off you. At this, Phainon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and locks the blonde's head with his elbow, flipping him back into the water.

You take a deep breath as they start to wrestle. Now you can rest again, you rarely get time to yourself now. When they sleep, sometimes, you're still plugged with one of them inside you, cockwarming throughout the night. Otherwise, when they go hunting, you might be tied tightly inside the cave, though there is usually at least one of them with you.

A gentle rain starts, the drops hitting your heated face. You need this, the rain a lot cooler than the falls as it collects in the sky. Lately, you've been feeling weird, unwell, hot. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

Not to mention their scent. The boys' sweat, bodies, just everything about them is becoming less off putting and more desirable than ever. If you're honest, you're scared with what's happening.

...

They had both left you in the cave, the rain a perfect mask for hunting good meat right now.

"Need to keep our darling's energy up!"

You're not sure when, but some time after they left you were reeling in some sort of pain. Not like being slashed by a sword, or thrown by an enemy, but more like a strange punch to the gut. It blossomed within you and bloomed around your body, effecting your head and pelvis the most.

Breathing became difficult, your chest rising and falling quickly, you couldn't focus on how to fix it. No, not with the gnawing pain and discomfort in your gut.

You had wormed your way towards the entrance but the rope only let you go so far. They didn't give you enough leeway to get more than halfway through the cave, which meant you couldn't get any rain to cool you down.

What you did find, however, was their sashes they didn't wear today. Your nose twitched, and you reached your tied wrists over so your fingers could grab the red fabric and scrunched it to your face, moaning in absolute delight. Quickly, you secured the blue and gold one and weaved it between your legs, covering as much of your body as you could.

You're not sure when they came back, only realising they were standing ominously at the entrance of the cave when their musk started to seep heavier than the sashes you were breathing. The rain hadn't let up, both of them drenched and Mydei holding the antlers of a dead deer beside him.

Your jaw trembles, tears running down your cheeks as you whimper, "What's happening to me?"

It's only when you talk do they enter, dropping the carcass to the side before carefully kneeling down to cradle you. Your ropes are torn off and you sit between the two men, both leaning so they can run their teeth over the scent glands in your neck.

You whine as Mydei gently nibbles you, a low groan causing your cock to leak rivulets down your shaft, "Perfect for biting now."

Phainon reaches to gasp your cock, smoothly jerking up the length before circling his fingers along the glands, "I knew your unawaken second gender was this. You just had to be an omega, what with the way you were taunting us; begging to be bred."

Unawaken... Omega? No, that's-

"Hah~ Please..." You lift your hips when you feel fingers enter inside you, easily stretching you open now.

Mydei chuckles deeply, grinning at all the new possibilities going through his head, "Perfect for knotting now, too."

[blessedmisery]

summary: sung jinwoo x reader - boyfriend headcannons. sfw and nsfw included. warnings: fluff, smut, idk this is silly authors note: ty for reading, hope u enjoy. likes and reblogs always appreciated <3

sung jinwoo is super introverted and literally so oblivious to anyone liking him so it'll take a while before the two of you get together

but when you do it'll be sooooo good. so so good.

jinwoo is terrible at communicating his feelings, and he will struggle to show you that he loves you at first

so you will be the one saying "i love you" first

his love languages would be acts of service, physical touch and quality time because this man seriously needs a hug but also loves doing things for you

he likes his space and alone time, but he would love to be in the same room together while the two of you do your own thing.

he'd be surprisingly really good at cooking because he's super detail-oriented and attentive

that also applies to your feelings, if you're feeling a certain way, he'll catch on instantly

but he won't really know what to do, he's pretty cold sometimes so he's not great at comforting people.

terrible texter. he texts like my dad. "ok", "👍" he's just super dry and doesn't feel the need to say more than he has to over text.

very blunt and honest, if you need advice he'll never sugarcoat. he'll tell you how things are straight up, even it it's the last thing you want to hear. he's a very no bullshit kind of guy.

arguments with jinwoo would actually be the worst. he hates being wrong and will argue until you give in and agree that he's right. he'll also fuck you while arguing to really drive the point home.

possessive. so possessive. will never let anything bad happen to you, and likes knowing that you are only his.

on that note, he also gets really jealous. but he won't make it obvious in public. however you will pay for making him feel that way later when you get home.

i imagine he looooves having his hair played with.

and just loves feeling taken care of in general. he's always taking care of everyone else that the feeling of having someone take care of him is so new but so intoxicating to him.

hates pda. he thinks that shit has a time and place (and i mean he ain't wrong) the most he will do is wrap an arm around your waist in a crowded area

but in the car? hand GLUED to your thigh. at home? always touching you or coming by to give you a kiss.

speaking of cars, he'd be a really good driver. but why have a car when you have kaisel.

BUT when jinwoo is being a normal member of society (aka not getting around on a literal shadow wyvern) hear me out, he would totally ride a motorcycle.

omg can you imagine riding on the back of it with him, the wind blowing against you while you tightly wrap your arms around his waist to hold on. fuck.

really hates valentine's day (he thinks it's stupid and a waste of time)

but that doesn't mean he still won't go all out for you and buy you flowers, chocolate, a huge teddy bear and fucking pink and red heart shaped balloons (he's so extra)

also hates his birthday, to him it's just any other day. that's when you have to come together with beru and igris and plan something out to make this man feel special.

fav season would definitely be fall or winter. he seems like someone who would despise the heat.

really annoying when he's sick. he'll pretend like he's fine and then he will act like he's dying. (he secretly just wants someone other than beru to take care of him)

forehead kisses. he loves to kiss you on your forehead, it's one of his favourite ways to show intimacy.

also gives really good hugs. he just has a really comforting aura (at least to you. others would likely disagree.)

really likes seeing you wear his clothes, particularly his hoodies. or when you sleep in his t-shirts. drives him absolutely mad.

has really good hygiene. i imagine he always smells really good.

with that, he's also a clean freak, and really hates making a mess and will get mad at you if you leave your clothes on the floor.

not a huge fan of pet names but will mostly stick to calling you "baby", "my love" when he's fucking you in missionary late at night, or "kitten" when he's feeling playful.

he's a cat person. i don't make the rules.

huge fan of the rain. he loves rainy days because they're an excuse to relax and lay in bed all day with you. and fuck.

hear me out, he would definitely be a reader. i can picture him enjoying a nice rainy afternoon with a good book. (anything to not socialize with other humans)

NOT a morning person. he likes to sleep in if he has nothing to do that day.

on that note he's a very light sleeper and has trouble falling asleep. so when he does u better not wake him tf up.

super competitive. if you're playing any games or making any bets with this man, best of luck to you. he will do anything to win.

lowkey a gamer. he's got a nice, expensive setup and he likes playing video games. especially when you're sitting on his lap while he plays.

hates being in pictures. good luck getting this man to smile in a photo.

stares at you a lot? (kinda creepy ngl) but he just really likes looking at you

now lets discuss the sex:

realistically he wouldn't be very experienced because this guy spent all his time in gates instead of talking to women.

but ofc its sung jinwoo so he'll be instantly good at anything he does

very respectful towards you overall

i imagine he's actually pretty vanilla, at least at first because he hasn't had many opportunities to explore kinks

unless he's mad. then ur getting it babe. and ur getting it good.

he will push your head into the sheets and take his anger out on you, pounding into you mercilessly while whispering dirty, degrading things into your ear.

"act like a bitch, get fucked like one" attitude when he's mad.

he's not very vocal himself but looooves to hear you make noise

lowkey size kink cuz hes tall af (6'3 i think?)

despite being kind of vanilla and abit of a clean freak this man gets filthy with you when then two of you fuck.

really likes cum play. and oral sex. he will spend hours eating you out like there's no tomorrow. he also loves getting head.

like i said he's not very vocal but if you give this man a blow job. whew. he will make the hottest sounds you'd ever hear coming out of a mans mouth. can you imagine him breathing heavily, his voice all raspy saying "fuck baby keep going, just like that" while he grabs your hair, choking you on his cock. bye.

and licking. holy shit. once he starts he wont stop. he will lick you from ass to clit. no questions asked.

really likes edging you�� "what was that baby? i couldn't hear you" he'd mumble against the sensitive skin surrounding your clit after eating you out for a whole hour, pushing you so close to the edge but denying you your sweet release. by this point you're panting, tears are prickling the corners of your eyes and you've become completely incoherent. "p-please jinwoo. p-please ah, i need to c-cum" you'd utter, taking all of your energy to form that one simple sentence while tugging on his messy hair. "mmm kitten i know. but i'm not done. you just taste soo good" he'd mutter drunkenly in response and continue licking and sucking you until you've quite literally lost your damn mind.

hes so pussy drunk omfg

dacryphilia. really likes seeing you cry from his edging or overstim during sex

"you're mine. only mine". constantly whispering this in your ear while you fuck. (like i said, the man is possessive)

has the prettiest cock (just like him). not wide but he makes up for that shit in LENGTH. def above average length. good luck fitting that shit all the way in (if u say u can't he'll make u)

one word: fingering. yeah. those long, slender fingers will be exploring every inch of your clit and pussy. and you'll be loving every second of it.

loves to cum together. he's a big fan of creampies.

big handcuff enthusiast. likes to see you struggle.

his favourite position would be missionary. like i said, he loves looking at you and hearing the noises you make. missionary is ideal for him.

very big fan of shower sex. something about getting home after a long day and having a good fuck in the shower is so appealing to him.

"good girl" yeah mhm. he'd say this. a lot.

praises. these will be rare with jinwoo and you'll really have to earn it but he will praise you so good when you do.

ass > boobs. like i said, i don't make the rules babe.

© @blessedmisery 2025.

[gallifreyan85]

Before the day is done

pairing: Agatha x reader

summary: cast out of the only life you've ever known, you find yourself in the imposing presence of agatha harkness herself, set to get revenge on the witches you're with. she deals with them accordingly, but what to do with you?

A/n: had this in my WIPs for a while now, thought I'd try and make something out of it. This is sort of a part zero?? for this fic, but can be read as a standalone. enjoy!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Your head ached. You had only yourself to blame for the situation you found yourself in, seeing as everyone else had already given up on you. Your village, your family, your acquaintances... everyone. And so, alone, naive, defenseless, you managed to stumble into the path of none other than one of the most feared witches in existence.

Agatha Harkness.

The Agatha Harkness.

You realized it soon enough, but it was already too late. It seemed the witches that had so kindly taken you in, showed you sympathy by letting you stay for a night, had also angered her. And she came to get her revenge. It was only a matter of time before she captured you too, bound you with magic and who knows what, and you couldn't- you didn't see a way out of this. You were already cold, exhausted, trembling before her in fear while she sighed. Tilted her head. To one side, then the other, like a predator looking at some helpless animal they had caught, debating the best way to--

„My, my." she murmured to herself, voice low yet intrigued. „It seems I've got myself a little extra this time. What do you think, darling? Should I go ahead and—" she waved a hand, making you flinch.

You followed her calm gaze to the bodies of the witches she'd fought. Well. It wasn't exactly much of a fight. One second they were all turning on her, blasting her with magic, and the next---

Purple.

Blinding.

All-consuming.

And she just laughed, held out her hands as if saying come and get me, go on, as if teasingly luring them to their demise. And that was indeed what happened.

They dropped like ragdolls after that, one by one, drained, powerless.

Dead.

Everyone but you. You had hid, of course, too afraid and surprised and taken off guard by being woken from the first sleep in two days by all the magical crossfire and spells in the air.

When you raised your head a little more the air felt heavy with power, the aftermath of wilting magic, cast and now split into nothing. You allowed yourself a shaky inhale. Agatha, still in front of you, just smirked.

She moved her hand about, enjoying the way you almost winced every time it shifted in your direction.

"Go on, dear." she said coolly, "Give me a good reason to keep you alive. Or else... well..." she smiled, giving the clearing you were in another glance. No words left your mouth. You wanted to speak, to plead, anything, really you did, but you were just... frozen.

You blinked.

She blinked.

Her hand paused in the air, movements ceasing momentarily.

You felt the back of your throat tighten, the threat of tears in your eyes as heavy as the weight holding your bound hands, magic pressing against you from all sides. You were trapped. Alone. There was no changing her mind, and you had no real, good enough reason for her to spare you. A tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another. She sighed.

"Oh, Hecate." you heard her scoffing. "Are you seriously crying?"

A sob escaped you, shaky and uncertain. Almost apologetic. She sighed again, looking annoyed, not that you saw it through your endless steam of tears.

"If you're going to sob at my feet at least try to have some-- hey!" you flinched when she lowered herself down to look at you, blinking at her tearfully.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked.

You nodded quickly.

"Do actually know anything useful? Like, at all?"

A shake of your head. And another sigh from her, frustrated this time.

"Hell's sake." she murmured. "You really are useless. Fine."

She stepped back, and you almost stepped forward.

You weren't even sure why.

You should have kept a distance, a safe distance, but nothing you did felt safe anymore, not for a long time until she--

The movement was a mistake. Because she paused. Stood up. Looked down at you. She was frowning now. It only made you cry harder.

"What was that?" she asked.

You gulped.

Words seemed to find you, your voice, returning.

"I- I'm sorry—" but she cut you off at once, looking affronted,

"No-- no. Don't you dare lie to me or so help me I'll look into your head for myself."

That made you freeze. You knew a little about her. Famous, ancient, scary witch. But could she really do that? You supposed she could. So instead of letting her make up her mind you simply blurted,

"I-- I don't-- know."

An eyebrow raised. She looked unimpressed.

"You don't know?"

You shook your head pathetically.

"You don't know why I caught and bound you here and instead of pleading for your little life you actually move closer towards me?"

"I-it's just-- I've been..."

"Yes?"

"I just- I've been... alone... for so long... and I didn't r-really feel safe, at all, but then when you..."

Oh, now she was listening. With a sort of bewildered expression on her very-much-not-349-years-old-looking face. And you just went on. You already lost your dignity. Might as well tell her everything now. What was the last time you were so honest with someone? You found it sad that you couldn't even remember.

"I just... thought... you... you took them down so quickly, like... like you weren't even trying, and I thought, whoever is on your side must feel really, really safe." you said.

It was an odd thing to say. But it was the truth. However terrifying she did seem, there was something about her that seemed to lure you in. Made you want to find out more.

She gave you a look.

Frowning. Processing. As if your words had made zero sense.

"This is so depressing." she muttered, stepping away, disappointed almost. "Honestly, I was about to threaten you and everything and you're already so close to falling apart I didn't even get to making you beg."

"I-- I can still—"

"Oh, can you?" she retorted sarcastically, tilting her head in an exaggerated move. You winced.

"Are you really so pathetic that—" she turned abruptly, then stopped, as if really, really begrudgingly deciding something.

You stayed quiet.

And then, just barely, slowly, so faintly, you felt her magic around your hands loosen a little. You sniffled. Looked up. She was still standing there, stock still, lost in thought. You hesitantly got up. Stumbled. Caught yourself.

She turned so abruptly again that you startled. Her eyes went over you. It seemed she wasn't expecting you to stand up.

A moment of silence. Then-

"Alright, I see this has been a complete waste of my time," she sighed, annoyed, "and you did show some self restraint not attacking me like they did... of course I suppose that was just..." her words trailed off. "But I'm feeling generous today, and this pity party going on in your head really is very pathetic, so... you're free to go."

You said nothing. What was wrong with you? Why did a part of you want to come with her? You let yourself see it for a moment, not alone anymore, but by her side, gaining insight into magical knowledge and-- maybe even learning how to control it. How to do what she can do.

And you scrambled after her.

"W-wait--- wait- please..."

"Oh, now she pleads." Agatha sighed, turning around. "I think I told you to leave. Not many people get the chance to walk away from me unscathed, dearie, so consider yourself lucky and be on your merry way."

"But I want to come with you." you blurted.

She turned. Fully. Facing you again, looking utterly confused. Like no one had said those words to her before.

"With me." she echoed. "You're so desperate, aren't you? Willing to tag along with any powerful witch you meet? Darling that'll only get you more problems. You want to be safe? Learn to protect yourself. And don't get in my way again."

"But I don't know how." you said, a little more sure of yourself but still desperate. You took another tentative step closer.

"Does that sound like my problem?" she said flatly.

You looked up at her, pleading.

"Don't give me those eyes, kid, that won't work."

You blinked. Came just a little closer.

"I'll do anything you want—" you offered hopefully.

"Anything, you say?" a sly smirk on her face, prefect teeth smiling, "Anything at all?"

A nod.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into darling. I'm not much of a caring teacher."

"I don't care. Just please. Let me come with you, I can- help. I can be useful, please—"

"Alright, alright, enough of that. I don't want to listen to more of this pathetic nonsense." She scrutinized you once more, as if assessing whether or not you'd be good on your word.

"And you'll do anything I say."

You nodded. "I promise."

She smiled. Not a cruel smile, but something mocking, teasing you almost, as if saying you'll regret that later, darling. You blinked, eyes still teary, and before you could say another word she nodded. The faintest, barest, hint of a nod.

"Fine."

You swore you wanted to jump up and down. But you stayed put. Didn't move. Scared you misheard her. When you turned around again she was already walking, going down the grassy path, leaving you in the mess of her destruction.

"Come on then, hun." she called, pausing for the merest second, "magic won't wait for you, and neither will I. Let that be your first lesson."

You watched her for a moment, imposing, confident, formidable. Perhaps things would be different now. You'd make them different. You'd make sure of it. You hurried after her, trailing by her side, absentmindedly rubbing over your sore wrists and standing just a little taller. Like an apprentice. Like a witch. 

A/n: title is from Seven Devils by Florence + The Machine. Feel free to comment if there's something more you'd like to see from Agatha in the future. Also, I'm thinking of making a tag list (tagging people when posting a new agatha fic) so if anyone is interested in that comment here or send me a message on private. Love y'all!! <3