#pounding grooves

[saaammmnn]

Maybe my favorite mix I've made. Militant, cold, emotionally driven techno, tribal rhythms and acrid noise.

[djevilninja]

I'ma love you more than love, baby, so what's above that? They say opposites attract, so who got your back? I do, I try to, not to come across you To lie to you 'cause you know I love you.

Tha Dogg Pound feat JANE HANDCOCK & October London - The Weekend

[barid-bel-medar]

Specifically for:

Sticks and Stones 'verse

How Buggy Got His Groove Back (the 'Buggy actually trains during the time skip/gets his shit together AU')

Failure to Explode

Pound of Flesh (Shouto got taken by the HPSC)

A World Turned Upside Down

Let Me Be The Mastermind

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

[wickedzeevyln]

Bang a Drum

Bang a drum. Like a new year is here. Boom! Boom! Let the paper dragon slither. Plunk-bomp-womp-bomp-womp! Like a funky bass, the morning twangs, low and groovy, shadows of James Brown shuffling on dance floor sending vibrations in the bones of the city and churning its marrows. Skritch! Skritch! Raspy tires against damp asphalt, spilling their secrets of where they have been before the world…

[ranger-kellyn]

ready to be done with nanowrimo bc i just wanna play video games all day ;o;

[synvil]

say it back // bf! rafe cameron blurb (( tiktok trends mini-series ))

synopsis : you play a prank to not respond to rafe when he says ‘i love you’. suggestive warnings.

“Alright, i’m heading out. I’ll be back in a few hours. I love you baby.”

as he passes the couch, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head. you smile sweetly his way and look up at him. “okay, be safe.”

rafe was already past the couch when he hears you stop talking and glances over his shoulder. “i will. love you, babe.”

you just send him an innocent wave and a cute grin. “okay, see you later.”

“…sigh..” the man exhales heavily as he briefly checks the time on his watch. “[name].” your name comes out almost as a warning as he starts taking strides over to you. “i don’t have time for these games. say it back properly.”

but determined to keep up the act, you swallow whatever nerves you had and muster up the courage to remain innocent. “i don’t know what you mean, babe?” you furrow your brows and look to the door. “you should get going though.”

“you’re right, i should.” rafe crosses his arms as he decides to test you once more. “so i’ll be going now.. i love you.”

“i like you too!”

rafe actually lets a laugh slip, except it was out of disbelief. “you know what—“

“w-wait, i-i love you, i’m sorry, it was a joke!” realizing he was losing his patience, you raise your hand defensively and he scoffs, grabbing your wrist and pinning you to the couch back behind you. “enough of your jokes- i think i’ll teach you a lesson instead.”

you flush at his words and stare into his eyes, a pink hue spreading over your cheeks while your legs cross underneath him, a small arousal growing at how aggressive he was being. “but you have to go- you’re supposed to meet with barry for a couple hours.”

“screw that, i’ll spend the next couple hours pounding those three words into your damn mind so you won’t ‘forget’ again.”

a/n : hope you enjoyed ! <3 i’ll probably be doing these for a bit while i get back into the groove of writing because i have been burnt out and feeling out of these days and these mini blurbs are easier to handle. let me know your thoughts!

part 2 nsfw !

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟸........... THE SORCERER KILLER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: an extra toji fushiguro should be double the trouble and double the fun but neither likes to share, you know for sure which ones your toji—but do you really even care?

classifications: bratty!reader, brat taming, breeding, baby trapping, hair pulling, spit play + creampies, jealousy, grump!toji, daddy kink

incidents: 4.8k

*bam-bam*

Your favorite playlist pulses through the speakers as you occasionally stir the creamy mac and cheese simmering that’s almost ready for dinner, the rich aroma of melted cheddar and butter fills the kitchen.

Using the spatula as a microphone you’re filming a cute lil reel for all your IG followers. So absorbed in the tasks the unexpected knock at the door pulls you from your groove.

“Toji—Daddy, I’m still cooking. Can you get the door?”

Urgh, you’d have to edit this out.

*bam-bam*

“Baby, there’s someone at the door!”

*bam-bam*

“TOJI! ANSWER THE DAMN DOOR NOW!”

Irritated, you stop recording and storm out of the kitchen. 

To be honest you are already at your wits’ end as Toji had been gone all week and had promised to take you out tonight—quarantine be damned—after being stuck in the house for so long. However, he showed up much earlier than expected, looking like a stray dog who hadn’t seen shelter in days and grumbling about being hungry. 

He frankly didn’t look like he’d be in any condition to take you out later but you weren’t about to let him weasel out of this so easily. So you drew him a bath, sat him in front of the TV with some beers and were now cooking him food like the good little domesticated girlfriend you were proving to be—ensuring he had no excuse not to take you out tonight.

You wanted date night and new content to post after so long in isolation!

Stomping into the living room, ready to tell him off, you find Toji completely knocked out on the sofa, sound asleep snoring, with a UFC match playing on the TV.

“Ugh, you’re lucky you’re kinda cute when you sleep, old man…”

You shake your head, yet the pounding at the door interrupts your musings. 

*bam-bam-bam*

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming! Keep it in your pants.”

Rolling your eyes, you mumble the last part under your breath.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you peep through the window only to see that your impatient visitor was—huh?!

TOJI!? 

“Hey, been waitin’ out ‘ere forever doll, lower the barrier. C’mon, mamas.”

You freeze before slowly backing away from the door.

Fuck! A doppelgänger …? 

Or wait…surely your Toji is already inside, right?

RIGHT?!

Quietly, you creep back down the hall into the living room to find Toji still passed out on the couch. His head tilts back, mouth opened wide enough to catch flies as he continues to snore, legs sprawled out in a manspread. In one of Toji’s hands he holds a scratched-off lottery ticket (he won 2000 yen), while the other lazily scratches his balls in his sleep. 

Empty, crushed beer cans are scattered across your coffee table, while the crumbs from your brand new, yet now-demolished, bag of wasabi peas linger on his chest.

Yeah… *sighs* ...this was definitely your Toji alright. 

It also dawns on you that with his heavenly restriction, any barrier is pretty much nullified. 

Toji didn’t need you to lower it for him. He could waltz right in himself like it wasn’t there—like he’d done earlier too—completely surprising you as he didn’t even bother to knock or call ahead. 

Okay, well, yay—your first dopplegänger encounter and you correctly identified it. 

That was simple enough.

Now to actually deal with the doppelgänger  at your door was a different matter entirely. 

You sure as fuck weren’t letting them in. 

But you also weren’t so sure it would just go away on its own as they’ve been reported to be pretty persistent.

Tsk, should you wake Toji up then? 

You knew Toji to be a big grumpy ol’ man bear after a nap and you didn’t want to deal with that. Plus, you’d barely seen him all week with an increase in his contracts from Shiu due to the doppelgänger  appearances, it’s why he’s passed out so hard in the first place.

Toji would be even more disgruntled to see a doppelgänger  of himself of all people, effectively ruining the night you’ve been waiting all week for.

So you would just have to get rid of this fraud Toji yourself…somehow.

Easier said than done though as it’s not like you could kill the thing yourself, being the low grade sorcerer you are, especially if it mimicked Toji’s strength too.

You lightly chew your nail in contemplation, unsure of what to do exactly when you hear the knocking again, this time more urgent. 

*bam-bam-bam-bam-bam*

Shit at this rate the real Toji would wake up.

With a huff you return to the foyer. You were more quiet this time in your approach but the doppelgänger  curse senses you regardless as he speaks to you through the door. 

“C’mon on baby, I’m so sorry for not being around as much. Please lower the barrier, alrite? I’ll make it up t’ya mamas.”

Cautiously peeking out the window again you frown as doppelgänger Toji is still parked outside your door, clearly not going anywhere. The copy was pretty convincing too you have to admit, looking every bit as delectable as the real thing—maybe even a bit more—given the actual Toji’s current sloppy couch potato status.

BUT—’So sorry?!’  

Since when did Toji ever so willingly apologize for anything—and the ‘please’?! 

Yeah, please is right, as it’s something Toji would never say this easily—this creature was definitely not your Toji!

Even if you had been moved ever-so-slightly by the tinge of genuine contrition in its voice, this thing had Toji’s personality all wrong.

You had to admit it was a pretty good ploy though. 

The curse even sounded just like Toji and used similar lingo, it was almost flawless—but—the flaw it did have was huge. 

“Listen, I’m gonna level with you. It’s not worth it buddy, turn into someone else. He's sleeping now but he'll literally rip you apart if he wakes up and I don’t wanna deal with the ‘tude he’s gonna have after. It will ruin our whole date night and I never get date night!”

You harshly whispered through the door. 

Although, to be honest you were a little embarrassed you let that last part slip out like that. However your frustrations from the isolation were boiling over and this Toji looked just like the real one, you couldn’t help but take it out a little bit on them.

“Besides, I know for a fact you aren’t the real Toji.”

Pulling away from the window, you check the barrier again as you silently hope the doppelgänger  will just get the hint and leave. 

Standing in the foyer, you don’t hear anything for a minute and you think it might have actually left—although you wouldn’t know without looking again as the thing seemingly also mimicked heavenly restriction to a certain extent as you weren’t able to sense him either. However, thankfully the limitations of the fraud Toji appeared to be keeping it from freely passing through barriers apparently—one thing thankfully that could not be mimicked. 

“Ya know ma…I already know—that you know, that is. Tsk, wouldn't be hard to figure out, given his abilities alone.”

Toji’s smooth voice comes through the door. Well, not your Toji, Toji #2, the doppelgänger. 

You had a sassy remark ready to throw at him but the doppelgänger’s next words give you pause.

“But it wasn’t the abilities that gave me away, right? He doesn't apologize as much as he needs to, eh ma?” 

Silence.

“N’ ya really think y’er going out somewhere tonight, mamas? That old man ain’t waking up for a while.” 

You're not sure how exactly to respond to copycat Toji. 

Thoroughly stunned, you know his words ring true, yet they manage to sound just as condescending as the real Toji does sometimes when he's certain he's right.

Scoffing, you know you remaining quiet is an answer all on its own. 

“You know you don’t deserve that, mamas… You could do better. Someone who could actually be around more, eh?”

Spot-on in his assessment, doppelgänger Toji doesn’t need to see you chewing on your lip to know he has you hooked. You are too caught up in your own head, left isolated for too long to think rationally at the moment. 

However, had you taken the time to peek out of the side window again, you would have seen the self-satisfied smirk on the clone’s face knowing he had slightly hooked you.

“Don’t think of me as a copy mamas—consider me an upgrade.”

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

When Toji—the real Toji—finally wakes up, he’s practically ravenous. 

The wasabi peas did little to satisfy him, waiting for you to finish cooking your famous mac and cheese and drinking all that beer had amplified his hunger even more. 

Although overall, it had left him tired. He hadn’t been on this many jobs in literal years. Though he had turned down many contracts in the past out of disinterest or sheer laziness, the money these clowns were offering to eliminate wayward copies was pure insanity

Upwards of 150 million yen for some light-weight level one & two curses?

Toji would be a fool to turn down that easy money. 

And while certainly easy, the jobs had been tedious, feeling near endless. 

Nearly every bastard in Tokyo had a copy running around—if not multiple and after a week of non-stop work with barely any sleep, it finally caught up to Toji.

With a yawn more similar to a light roar, Toji looks around, cracking his stiff neck. He isn’t sure how much time has passed but he’s a little annoyed. Most of the lights are off and you are nowhere to be found, usually he’d hear you in the kitchen or you’d be curled up beside him, molded into his side body. 

His eyes briefly narrowing, Toji knows he was supposed to take you out tonight so you can finally get some air after being cooped up so long. But knowing how big a brat you could be, you’d better not have disobeyed him and gone outside yourself just because he’d overslept—it was still too dangerous.

Yet any remnants of sleep instantly dissipates when Toji hears your soft flirtatious laughter coming from the foyer. 

Rising up from his hibernation spot on your sofa and following the sound of your voice to the front of the house, Toji’s annoyance grows with every step. He can sense something’s off—his innate senses are screaming at him.

When Toji lays eyes on you he realizes there’s actually something that leaves him even more irritated than you speaking with your coworker, Gojo Satoru.

Much worse. 

You were talking, no—flirting with Toji’s own doppelgänger at that!

Not only had you made yourself comfortable, chatting with him through the screen door from a cozy chair while he sat on a stool he’d scooched over on the porch, but you’d even lowered the barrier long enough to give the lousy clone a plate of food—a plate Toji instantly recognized as the mac and cheese you were supposed to make for him.

You fed that fucker his food too?!

Toji’s patience dwindles rapidly as you fail to notice him right away—too deep in conversation, happily entertaining a version of Toji that, for once, actually listens to all the topics the real Toji dismisses as ‘girly shit.’ The clone lavishing praises of your dancing skills and how cute all your photos look as you show off your IG and TikTok. 

Even though you are genuinely clueless, it's apparent that his doppelgänger notices Toji. The subtle smirk and twitch of his clone's scarred lip mocks the real Toji as the doppelgänger leans into the barrier, trying to get closer to you. If Toji were the introspective type, he might have realized in that moment how insufferable he sometimes appeared to you, seeing as how much his own expression had just pissed him off—but the murderous intent boiling in his veins seared away any such thoughts.

“THE FUCK?!”

Hearing Toji’s roar starles you so bad you almost fall out of your chair. 

Snapping back to reality you had nearly forgotten you’d spent the last 3 hours or so chatting with DT—short Doppel Toji—as you dubbed him. Unlike your real block-headed oaf of a boyfriend you have, Doppel Toji was so easy to talk to—about anything! 

Wanting to learn more of human culture and customs, Doppel-Toji hung on to your every word as you explained the details of being a new breakout influencer and how hard it was seeing as the real Toji wanted you to block nearly every man who commented on any of your posts.  

“Oh, Toji, you’re finally up? It’s only been 3 hours and the restaurant is likely closing down by now!” 

You roll your eyes.

“Anyway while you were napping, Doppel-Toji, DT here, has been keeping me company.”

Doppel-Toji nodded in approval of the nickname, the same smarmy smirk on his face that the real Toji was itching to rip off.

You turn back to the real Toji, seemingly unaware of just how close he was to losing his entire shit. 

“Babe, these doppelgänger ’s aren’t that bad at all! Some, like DT here, just want to live normal lives as doubles! DT here wants to be a milkman, isn't that right?”

Doppel-Toji gives you a wide smile that reached into his eyes, one that creeped Toji out to see on his own face, especially as you were even smiling back at him foolishly not even realizing how the doppelgänger ’s gaze had since drifted onto your jiggly tits and then even lower to see how your dress had ridden damn near past your supple thighs. 

Wearing only your cute, thin, cotton-ribbed lil pj dress with cherries printed on it you were practically naked as the sheer material teases the color of your nipples and shows the outline of the thong straps digging into the swell of your thick hips.

Yeah, by the way his doppel is looking at you the real Toji is certain the only milkman job his freak of a doppel wants is to be one turning your succulent fat cunt into heavy cream.

Heh, over the Toji’s dead fucking body though—well the copy of it at least that's for sure.

“Mamas, c’mon you can’t be this bird-brained…”

The real Toji crossed his arms leaning on the wall trying to keep his cool so you'd realize on your own just how silly you were being but he unintentionally made you lose yours.

“A bird?! Did you just call me a fuckin’ bird Toji Fushiguro!?”

You turn back to Doppel-Toji, whose smirk shifts to an understanding expression by the time you meet his gaze again.

“See this is exactly what I was talking about!”

Pointing an accusing finger at the real Toji and DT nods sympathetically, shooting eyes over to the real Toji who didn’t need his enhanced senses of heavenly restrict to sniff-out this nice-guy act was all a fuckin’ farce from a mile away. 

Voicing your frustrations, you're still griping as you once again face the real Toji who was just about fuckin’ fed up with this stupid-ass charade. 

“Listen, Toji we need to talk… DT says you don’t appreciate me enough! You haven’t been around at all lately and I know you’ve been busy but you could at least call—”

The real Toji closes his eyes, unraveling his arms and cracking his neck as you continue to prattle on. He’s at his limit and he ain’t about to sit through a nagging lecture all while a phony ass version of himself sat there ridiculing him too.

Furthermore, despite there being truth to Toji not being around lately, he’d actually tried to make up for it the best he could. Toji had venmo’d you money to cover your groceries and bills—something he hadn’t done for a woman since his late wife!

Overindulging you, Toji even bought you the newly released iphone you wanted (even though you still have last year’s model and its working just fine). However, according to you— ‘you need the latest new camera for your reels! And what else were you supposed to do but take fire selfies for all your followers if you’re stuck inside all day!’ 

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Toji wasn’t exactly sure when you had domesticated him. Nevertheless, somehow he’d gone from asking you to ‘hold 4000 yen for the week’ to sending you large chunks of his payouts to keep you happy—all before he realized he’d cared enough about you to even go this far. 

If you being a materialistic attention-seeking slutty lil’ thing wasn’t enough, you were also greedy too—still not satisfied and pouting until he was home again to bend your legs back over your head while he ruined your greedy lil' pussy.

As a result of the real Toji spoiling you sour, you’d turned into the nag before him now. Acting like he cared nothing for you whenever you didn’t get your way exactly when and how you wanted it.

“—and that’s why DT says you better act right before you lose me!”

Heh…

Your clingy lil ass wasn’t going nowhere—you were a fuckin’ brat and Toji should have known it would come to this.

Opening his eyes with a chillingly murderous grin, Toji’s demeanor sends shivers down both you and the doppelgänger’s back. 

“S’that right ma?—Is that what he says, eh?”

From there it all happened so fast you weren’t sure what exactly even happened.

You think Toji had ripped the screen door off its hinges, destroying it and shattering the barrier while seemingly producing inverted spear of heaven out of thin air to take the doppelgänger's head right off his body. 

But you weren’t sure.

Where were you? Still in the foyer?

In fact, you can’t really be sure of anything at the moment as Toji has your nighty rolled up past your tits that bounce wildly in his face as his big brawny hands around forcibly slide you up and down on his girthy cock. 

You didn’t know where your panties had even gone, Toji likely tore them off, shredding them to bits, for all you know. 

Your thoughts and current timelines are utterly jumbled as Toji completely hollows out your insides, molding your poor abused hole to the shape of his cock. His brawny grip imprints into your flesh, slamming your hips flush to his while allowing his bulbous cockhead to roughly kiss your cervix with every breath-stopping thrust down on his length. Shivers furiously ripple through your body as your clit is continuously assaulted over and over by the unkept pubes at his base. 

The rough treatment—just how you like it—releases waves of sublime ecstasy sizzling in your brain. Toji is effectively lobotomizing you with his mean fat cock, the relentless drilling thrusts liquifying your consciousness.

Fuck…wait—um, what was your name again even? 

The only name, thing, place you can think of right now begins and ends with Toji as he continues to bully himself inside your body, rippling shockwaves through your cunt that shift your organs around just to his liking.

“Tojiiiiiii, d-dahddy puh-leaseeee!!”

Your slurs are near intelligible but Toji can still make out his name as drool spills over your lips almost as fast as your babbles, thoughts of his doppel completely wiped from your slutty lil’ head. 

Yet even with the now decapitated clone, it wasn’t fully dead just yet. It was a stronger one, near special grade, severing its body parts wouldn't be enough to destroy them. The effects of the inverted spear made RCT impossible for it though as it withered on the ground.

It lay helplessly, dying slowly as Toji fucked the dogshit out of you on the comfy chair you had once been in. Proving to you and the curse that no copy could ever hope to have you falling apart like this—completely dumb for his cock only.  

So easily getting cockdrunk anytime Toji stirs up your guts is why you don’t even register the raspy words Toji practically growls as you—

“You hear that, baby?”

Smacking your ass hard, your flesh ripples against Toji’s palm.

“Answer me slut!”

His insatiable plundering of your cunt as you so blissed-out that the sting of your sore redding ass startles you.

“T-T-Tojsshii!!!”

You whine, sobbing as tears pour down your face, soaking your nighty that was damn near pushed up to your neck now. Toji knowing how big he was usually let you have the reins while in cowgirl but not this time—this was your punishment for being such a bitchy lil’ brat thinking he could be swayed behind some empty fuckin' threats of being replaced.

“Nuh-uh, slutty mamas.”

Toji mercilessly delivers another opened palmed smack that sizzles the nerve ends on your reddening bottom.

“Ya fed that discount version of me my dinner—so I’mma have to make my own—mmm ya hear that?  My version of mac n’ cheese s’almost ready.” Of course, the mac and cheese Toji is referring to his none other than your ooey gooey cunt. Your pussy lips stretch to their limits, yet desperately swallowing his thick girth with a series of wet squelches, glops, and bubbles. The milky fluids that are pushed out of you make an awful mess, running down Toji’s heavy balls and soiling your expensive comfy velvet chair. 

“Now this—this is how you make mac n’ cheese ma, hear that creaminess? You thought that fuckin’ loser ass fake was gonna make a freak-nasty pussy like yours sing like this?”

You can only gasp in response, trying to hang onto him and your own sanity while you dig your nails into Toji’s biceps for leverage as he drills you down on him within an inch of your sanity—the acoustics of your cunt ringing salaciously in your ears. 

“Tsk, look at ya ma, actin’ like you can’t take it when this is what ya really fuckin' wanted all week.”

PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP!

You’re really going to have to speak up now to get Toji to hear you over the sordid sounds of your cheeks being clapped to hell and back. 

"HMPH! MMM—N-No! AHHH—I-I want… SHIIIIIIT S’GUD—ahhh ahhh—d-date!!”

Another slap stings your ass as you pathetically pout, making Toji smack your jiggly flesh once more for good measure. Your cute lil’ expressions only fuel his mean streak.

“Now mamas, ya know we were never gonna go on that date—n’ I know, ya know why.”

Blushing, you bite your lip, shaking your head as you feign ignorance. holding back your sobs—not wanting to own up to what you and Toji both already know to be facts.

“C’mon slut, don’t act all shy now. Ya know the reason why we never go on dates—because this filthy leaky cunt of yours can’t be ‘round me for too long without wanting to get filled up—at the movies *smack* —in the back of the bar *smack* —heh, didn’t ya even make me fuck ya horny lil ass dirty in the filthy-ass stall at the park? *smack* Bratty lil cunt not being able to wait the 5 minute drive home…”

Your pussy flutters tighter around Toji, answering for you as he continues to chuckle at your embarrassment. You were a shameless lil' whore for his dick, and you were at your worst level of brat when you didn’t get it for even a short period of time.

“Whaddya say then? Ya don’t think I appreciate ya ma? Even though I fuck ya, whenever and however your pretty pussy begs for it? Heh. Well then, let me show this pretty cunny how much she's appreciated.” 

Further sliding down the chair, Toji plants his feet firmly on the ground so he can pump himself into you harder. The new angle has his cock pounding deliciously against your g-spot. You bounce wildly for a few pumps before your core muscles, fatigued and screaming at you, have you falling forward onto him. Nuzzling your head into his well-sculpted chest to smother your wails, you're unable to do anything but just take it. 

“Ya hear that, mamas? That's your pussy saying thank you to my cock. She’s always so grateful t'me mamas, better behaved than you anyday.”

Biting into one of his large pectorals Toji chuckles at your feeble attempt to still rebel against him. Your bites feel more akin to a soft tickle—yet the indents your teeth leave spark a feral urge in Toji, who in turn, ramps up the voracity a few levels. 

Sliding his hands from your waist he grips your cheeks, spreading them while you sink down further a few millimeters that almost seemed impossible, already being so full of him. 

“I know she knows how much I care about ‘er by the way she’s gushin’ on me, squeezing me like she’s begging me make her cum, she deserves it even if ya don’t.”

Cheeks cracked-open wide, your puckered rear exposed, Toji smirks as he presses his middle finger against your ridges to toy with the entrance of your asshole. When Toji starts rimming the tight ring of muscle in a furious circular motion, the finger already so slick n’ sticky from your juices—you can already feel just how fuckin hard your about to cum.

“Tsk—shame that mouth of yours you always gettin’ her and your lil’ ass in trouble, eh?”

Soundless moans leave you, your throat raw from the straining of your vocals—that is until Toji sinks his burly finger deeper into your hole, hooking and pressing against the thin wall to the point he can feel how hard he is coring-out your cunt from even the tight insides of your ass.

OH FUCK! 

Too much! 

Too good!

The intrusive and unexpected assault on your back hole is what finally does it for you. Toes curling to the point of cramps your bision blacks out and you think you lost consciousness completely but its your own vocals croaking out cries as you cum—hard that grounds you back to reality. Shivers take over your body and your clenching around Toji so ferally he lets out his own string of curses and he bites into your neck, filling you up—his hefty load overstuffing your pussy as it squelches out and down the sides of his cock.

You don’t know how much time has passed but you’re still trembling in the afterglow of your orgasm. Weakly look up at Toji, all teary-eyed and dazed, in pout so adorable it only makes him want to ruin you more in the most animalistic way possible.

You honestly had him wrapped around your finger like no woman had before and he was going to fuck that knowledge into you, preventing this situation from happening again.

Better yet—Toji was gonna fuck a baby into you to prove it. 

Sear his cum directly into your walls, painting you with his scent and effectively turn your womb into a pretty lil' dump over n’ over—until he finally planted his kid in you.

You wouldn’t be able to complain to him about being lonely then and fuck knows how long this doppelgänger shit was gonna last. 

Fuck tho.

The thought of you fully pregnant and round with his child got his dick back up n’ jumpin’ just from picturing you n'your cute round lil' belly waddling around. So much so that when Toji pulls you off of him to manhandle you into the next position he doesn’t even notice your brand new phone on the ground next to his feet until— 

*CRUNCH*

“Tojiiii my new phone! I still have reels that haven’t been posted!!!”

You’re coughing out your complaints, dizzy and out of breath from being fucked so hard. Scanning the ground for your phone you can barely support yourself as you bend forward to access the damage, until you feel Toji snatch you back up.

“Heh, fuck that phone and fuck ya IG ma. I’mma about to give ya something to put on a sonogram instead—now drape ya fine self over the back of this chair n’ toot that pretty peach of an ass up.”

The slap to your backside this time is so loud the force causes your ears to ring along with the rest of your body to tingle, your tongue lolling out of your mouth drooling from the force rocking into your overstimmed cunt. 

“N’ m’not asking ya!”

You would have surely collapsed to the ground if Toji, fed up, hadn’t just taken matters into his own hands and positioned your limp, ragdoll-like body over the chair himself.

Ass up and out on display, Toji parts your swollen folds with his thumbs. Admiring his cum plugging your gaping slit, Toji gifts a wad of spit into your hole adding to the fluids before he rubs his dick, now even harder than before, through your ruined folds. 

Grabbing your hair and yanking your head back Toji’s words send shivers down your spine as he bullies himself into your core once more—all in one go, taking him in so nicely like a slutty lil glove.

“Listen ma, the only DT I ever wanna hear you say is ‘Daddy Toji’. Now scream it for me, baby. Loudly. Tell the whole neighborhood, eh? They're already lookin’. ”

Huh? What was he…Fuck, the front door was wide open this entire time?!?!

Struggling to keep your bleary eyes open, your body keenly jolts from the backshots Toji is ruthlessly gifting your cunt. Losing yourself to pleasure again you see another doppelgänger on the approaching from the street—

This time it’s a perfect copy of—you! 

However your copy freezes on the lawn once it catches sight of your state caused by the giant bear of a man recklessly pummeling into your limp body from behind and his nearly dead doppel, whose limbs still miraculously twitch while scattered over the porch. 

Your doppel’s face twists in horror before she quickly flees the scene, smart enough to have more self-preservation than Toji’s as she wisely decides against engaging in any of these fuckin’ problems.

......RESULT: FAILED. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛—𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up geto, already finished posting 10/21.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[sweetimpurity]

Thinking about how Miguel’s dick is just so big and he knows how to use it so well. And you do too ;)

Not only does he know exactly how much prep his love needs to take him, but he knows how much you can take, even when you say you can’t take anymore.

And he does things that he knows make you feel brain meltingly good even if they don’t do that much for him. In other ways, they actually do so much for him because seeing you lose your mind over his dick gets him off way faster than just pounding into your pussy.

Like when you ride him, he doesn’t mind if your thighs burn and you can’t bear to push yourself up anymore, opting for grinding on him, not even bouncing up and down, just grinding your clit down on his pelvic bone while he’s buried deep inside, pressing kisses to your cervix with his gummy tip, the dark hair at his base, the friction making your eyes flutter and roll back. He’ll hold your hips and help you stay steady, encouraging you with deep praises and letting you get yourself off on his dick. Even though you’re not moving up and down on him anymore, he’s still getting closer to cumming at every face you make, the squeeze of your velvet walls on his thick shaft. The soft sweet sounds that leave your kissed lips, your shaking hands on his hard muscular abdomen.

“That’s it baby… there you go… it’s all yours…” He husks deep and breathy, his chest tinted red and flushed under the hair that covers his chest.

And when he’s on you, he doesn’t just stick it in. At least not when he’s getting in his groove. Spreading you out and working his cock inside in ways that make you scream, that make you cry and tremble. Staring down at your teary face, gliding just the first few inches through your slick in shallow quick thrusts, 1, 2, 3, 4 times until “Ngh!” he pushes all the way to the hilt, deep and hot. Groaning low and rough in contrast to your soft fluttering whimpers. Then pulling back again, 1, 2, 3, 4, push, “Mm!” Bringing you closer and closer to orgasm.

He’s unlike any man you’ve ever been with and you know he has to be the last man you’ll ever be with. Sex with any other man for the rest of your life would be deeply disappointing.

[awakesoo]

Even before leaving, Caleb has always seemed a little possessive, but you always chalked it up to his responsibility of acting like your older brother. Throughout the years that amount just seemed to increase despite your protests that you could take care of yourself perfectly fine and that he would always hold a special place in your heart. However, this reassurance was never enough for him.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

"T-tell me." Caleb grunts. His cock is shoved deep inside your throbbing walls, hands gripping your waist, leaving deep red marks in their wake. The room filled with short breaths as he grit his teeth, trying to hold back from his release as he bottomed out. You weren't faring very well either, hair tousled and splayed across the pillows with countless whimpers falling from your lips. Trying to distract from the grip surrounding his shaft, Caleb leans down until his lips graze the shell of your ear. "Tell me you belong to me- that you're mine." He says in a low growl. He begins thrusting as a means to get a response out of you, but it seems to have an opposite effect, or rather provided a less direct answer.

Moans tumble out of your lips as you feel every part of his cock. The singular thick vein that adorns his member drags along your achy walls, catching on every single groove. His bulging tip reaches the deepest parts of your pussy, causing spurts of wetness to collect right where you two meet. The further lubrication drives Caleb crazy as he looks down at the creamy ring and follows its trail as it drips down to meet the bedsheets and smears across both of your inner thighs.

"Say it. Say that you belong to me." His thrusts come to a halt. You whimper at the lack of friction and look Caleb in the eye. "I-I'm yours Caleb, I belong to you.", you let out, eyes begging for him to start moving again. Your response turns his pupils darker, completely blown out due to your words. He sets a quick pace again, fast yet enough to completely fill your pussy. "S-shit, you make me crazy baby." He lets out a long, shaky breath and pounds into you deeper, relentless with every stroke.

"This pussy has always belonged to me. Was practically made for me, huh?" Too drunk on the pleasure, you were practically fucked stupid on his cock, only gasps and moans leaving your mouth. Caleb tsks, "Answer me pipsqueak." His hand moves to your jaw and lifts your head up to make eye contact with him. "Yes Caleb. 'W-was made for you." His thrusts pick up again, securing both of his hands behind the back of your knees, hiking them over his shoulders.

The new angle caused him to reach even deeper, his tip practically ramming at your cervix. Your vision becomes spotted with pleasure, nails raking down his back as you repeatedly call out his name. "C-close, p-please." You manage to sputter out. Caleb was barely holding on as well, fingers gripping your thighs like it was his lifeline. "Cum for me baby, show me you're mine." Your back arched, eyes rolled back as you let go around him. His jaw clenched, feeling the fluttering aftershocks of your orgasm around his cock. He chased his peak, his pace picking up slightly as you whimper from overstimulation. Caleb looks at the slight bulge in your tummy, moving his hand over it and feels the outline of himself as he thrusts in and out. Seeing just how deep he was, he finally reached his peak, filling your pussy with seemingly endless hot ropes of his seed.

In a desperate attempt to keep his cum inside you, he carefully lays you both on your side and cuddles you into his chest. There was still a sticky mess between the two of you, globs of his release mixing with yours and coating his and your lower half, yet he smiled at you and pulled you closer, murmuring 'i love you' and promises of eternity.

A/N: im so sorry idk how to end stuff LOL and this isnt edited whoops !

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 002 . . .

in which namgyu breaks the heart of his childhood sweetheart and tries to piece it back together again while fighting death.

previous next masterlist playlist

You floated through the next week like a ghost. You worked your usual shifts, took overtime for a few colleagues, barely spoke a word to anyone minus the patients you had to attend to and slept through the rest of the hours. You never saw the strange man again but you pondered a lot about that unusual night. The numbers on the card burned a hole in your pocket, every day becoming more tempting to dial.

It was like some form of twisted fate had heard your inner battle. You exited work with a phone flooded with messages and unanswered calls, all from the same number you had been avoiding. You sighed a little too loudly catching the attention of a passerby who didn't attempt to hide his scowl, you bowed an unamused expression on your face and quickly made your way towards the subway station. Your tired eyes read the messages over and over again.

You said Monday.

Don't give me the same shitty excuses.

Bring the money to the usual place or it won't just be pretty boy losing a kidney. Midnight, tonight.

You couldn't stand to look at it any longer, walking onto the train platform you tucked the phone into your backpack as far from your hands as possible. You took a seat, watching a train pull into the station. The doors opened and what looked to be college students exited, kitted in halloween costumes. It suddenly dawned on you that today was October 31st. Somewhere deep within you feel jealous. You’re here barely able to keep your head above the crashing waves, all your problems piling one on top of the other, ready to take you out any second. Your debts worry you most, you know the messages don't come lightly, they would happily take a body part or two just to cover what you owe. There was no way for you to get that kind of money so soon.

You groaned, forcing yourself from your racing mind to look at the notice board, your train was arriving in 8 minutes. You rested your head against the cold tiled wall, teeth nervously ripping at the skin inside your lips. A bad habit you were trying to break. Your fingers scraped against the card in your left pocket, you felt the grooves of the numbers carved into the back. Would it really be so bad? You could go and at least try, if you don’t win then you can just leave and give the loan sharks a kidney and maybe a lung too for all the interest they've added on top. You laughed out loud. You were going insane.

A few minutes until your train. There really was no other option. You pulled out your phone, dialling the eight digits and pressing call. It rang for a second then abruptly went through.

"Do you wish to participate in the game?" A voice on the other end questioned.

"Yes"

The male voice replied in an instant, "Seoul Tower, 11:30pm" You heard the faint rumble of your train approaching as the call ended.

Hushed whispers awakened you from your slumber. You reluctantly opened your eyes, they felt heavier than usual as did your limbs, as if they had been removed and reattached - and no longer belonged to you. You moved your pounding head to the side, rows of beds piled high greeted you. You slowly sat up in confusion. Your memory felt hazy, none of the pieces from the night before fitting together. You remembered leaving your apartment and getting into an unknown car, thinking now that probably wasn't the best of ideas but there was nothing after that. You took notice of the countless people making their way to the centre of the room - so bright and big it was blinding you, eyes squinting to see.

All of the people were dressed similarly. In matching green tracksuits, numbers stitched to their chest. You kicked away the thin blanket only now noticing you were no longer in your work scrubs. Like everyone else you were in a tracksuit that didn't belong to you, the numbers 382 rested against your chest. You should have felt some sort of panic at being kidnapped, like the woman beside you who was currently scanning the place in shock but instead your worries were on Namgyu. Even in the worst situation you were only scared for him. When the loan sharks arrived at the meeting place at midnight and hadn't found you there, ransacked your apartment and harassed your neighbours, it was him they would look for instead. They'd make good on their promise and probably kill him in the process. Your heart raced in fear thinking about it.

Commotion from the centre of the room pulled you from your darkening thoughts. Eight figures entered: all of them in red suits and black masks. You could vaguely remember one of them being the driver the night before.

"I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you," The masked man in the middle said, voice echoing across the room. "Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days, those who win all six games receive a handsome cash prize"

"Excuse me," a woman called out from across the room. You were too far to see properly, but you could faintly make out a face descending the stairs. “You said I'd be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me, so how can I believe you?" she asked the masked guards.

She was right, you thought. But right now you would do anything to get some extra cash in your pockets, so if it meant being kidnapped, then so be it.

"I apologise, please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game's security"

Another woman called, this time from somewhere at the front, "What's with the mask then? Is your face also a secret?"

"Yeah! Why are you hiding your face? Is this some kind of illegal gambling house?" A man cried out in agreement.

"Even the dealers don't cover their faces in those places" The same woman replied.

You watched as a hundred heads nodded in agreement.

The guards don't falter at the countless voices hurling questions at them, instead the centre one replied, "To ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality it is our policy not to reveal the identities of staff." He paused. "Please understand"

The same thing goes on for minutes, different voices from all over the room calling out, sometimes ridiculous, questions. Your head flies up at the mention of a familiar name, "Player 333, Lee Myunggi"

You found him in the crowd, only seeing the back of his head and the number 333 on his back. He looked up at the screen as it changed to a clip of him playing ddakji.

Just as a hand raised to slap him, the masked guard spoke up again, "Age 30, used to run a YouTube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappear"

You always told yourself if you somehow bumped into the man who was one of the leading factors in your relationship ending, you would hit him and never stop. But now looking at him he was getting everything he deserved, his debt was big enough karma.

The guard continued naming off names, all of them in similar or more debt than you. Your questions had finally been answered, only after everyone had been shamed for their piling money worries. The prize amount was 45.6 billion. You couldn't fathom ever having that kind of money, what could you even spend it on; other than the obvious. Everyone around you seemed to be feeling the same, shocked whispers filled the room.

The masked guard - the centre one with the square, said loud and clear, no emotion in his voice, "If you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form. Those who do not wish to participate please speak up now, we will always give u the chance to leave the games"

PLAYER CONSENT FORM.

1. A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit.

2. A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.

3. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie players will vote again.

4. If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.

SIGNATURE________.

You quickly signed the paper, no hesitation in your decision. You bowed your head at the guard, turning to leave the overflowing line. You noticed MG Coin, now known as Myunggi, signing where you once were. You walked back to the bed, eyes still on him. He turned, a little smile on his face that slowly dropped as two figures approached him.

Namgyu stood beside a purple haired boy. The number 124 attached to his chest. His hair was longer than it had been six months ago but his face was exactly as you remembered. No part of you was surprised to see him here. If money was involved, more than likely Namgyu also was. You felt stupid for worrying about him. All of your sympathy leaving at the sight of his smile, the same one you longed to forget.

You moved closer to hear their conversation but far enough away that they wouldn't notice. The purple haired one, player 230, spoke up, "You may not know me, but I know you. MG Coin" He waved his hands in front of his face while speaking. "I was subscribed to your channel and I lost a shitload of money, asshole"

"So did I," Namgyu agreed, both boys staring Myunggi down. "Money and my fiancée" He added, side-eying 230 for a reaction but he gave none.

You laughed, hand quickly covering your mouth at the stares from beside you. He had the audacity to act as if he wasn't also to blame, as if your relationship wasn't already broken long before.

"You've got the wrong person" Myunggi defended, moving to pass through them.

Player 230 stopped him with a hand on his chest, knocking him back a little, "I watched your content all day, every day. Now I see you in my dreams, motherfucker" He swore. He rested a hand against Namgyu's shoulder who looked at him awkwardly. "Was your name Namsu?" 230 asked.

"It's Namgyu from Club Pentagon" He replied. You felt your heart drop at the mention of the nightclub. It was a place of nightmares.

"Right," 230 replied, waving him off. Myunggi looked to the side, uncomfortableness written all over his face. You sat still as his eyes met yours but he quickly turned again. "Thanks to you, I bonded quickly with Namgyu here because we share the same pain" He finished.

The purple-haired boy turned to walk away and just as you thought it was over Namgyu spoke up again, "I thought the sons of bitches who made that coin fled to the Philippines with the money. So why are you here? Did they cut you loose?" He asked.

"What do you want from me?" Myunggi questioned.

Player 230 rushed forward, his hand grabbing the back of Myunggi's neck, gasps erupted in the room. "What do you think? Give me my money" 230 seethed.

The grip on his hair was strong as Myunggi fought back, "Did I force you to buy that coin?" He broke free, questioning both of them.

"You told us to bet it all, you fucker." 230's voice was angry. "You swore it'd shoot up! You said we'd be fucking idiots if we didn't buy it" His voice grew louder.

Myunggi took in a deep breath, repeating like he had been rehearsing his entire life, "You are responsible for the final decision on your investment, didn't you hear me say that at the end?" He paused. "You said you watched every day"

You in a way knew he was right. He didn't force Namgyu to waste your joint savings on a coin that only broke you apart, Namgyu had done that on his own accord. But you needed somewhere to place that blame and Myunggi happened to be that person.

Player 230 grasped Myunggi's zip-up, fist raised at his face. "You asshole" He bit through clenched teeth.

Namgyu attempted to break the two apart, "Hey calm down" He repeated. "People are watching, you don't wanna be on the news"

The three eventually broke apart, Namgyu following his new friend like a lost puppy. Myunggi watched the pair, you could sense a little fear and embarrassment on his face.

With them finally gone it only gave you room to think about Namgyu again. You were going to finish these games without bumping into him, as hard as it would be in such a small confinement, you didn't need to open old wounds. You would win that money, pay your debts and never have to face him again.

previous next masterlist playlist

notes . . . warnings for future chapters include child abuse, drugs, alcohol, death, toxic relationships & all the usual squid game stuff. will add them before the chapter they're included

taglist . . . let me know if you wanna be added!

[sturnibugz]

just answered an entire ask and realized i read it wrong >:( so here’s more sub!reader and rafe for now.

—

rafe almost always has control over you, bedroom or not. he’s got you so well trained that even He gets a little concerned sometimes.

you’re at a party, music blaring and people screaming and dancing. you are beyond exhausted, leaned against rafes shoulder while he talked to kelce and top about something you tuned out ages ago.

“don’t you fall asleep on me now.” rafe wrapped an arm securely around your waist scooting you closer to him.

“m’ tired rafe.”

he lifts his hand and give your cheek a few light slaps, “don’t care, you can stay up for me.”

you just nod and rub your eyes, “m’kay.”

later that night he has your face pressed into his pillows, your fingers digging into the cotton bedsheets. he was pounding into you relentlessly.

“not so fucking tired now huh?” he took a fistful of your hair pulling you up so your back was pressed to his chest.

your brain scrambled to find a response, the feeling of him buried in your cunt was all you could think about and all you could manage was a strangled moan.

“fuckin’ answer me,” rafes hand wrapped around the base of your throat. “i asked you a question.”

“no rafe, not tired—oh fuck.” his relentless pounding sent you quickly over the edge.

your walls constricted around his cock as his orgasm followed suit.

“see what happens when you listen to me? would’ve missed out on this if you went to sleep.”

he kept you close against him your back still against his chest as he littered kisses down your jaw.

“you always know best.”

—

also this is rushed :(( i’m just trying to get into a groove

[willowed-wisp]

a one night stand with simon riley would look like… [ ghost ]

It started after a round of karaoke at the local pub… he couldn’t take his eyes off your ample figure; grooving around the impromptu stage with a double vodka shot in hand spilling drops and flooding your bare chest. There’s one thing for sure with Simon Riley, when he sees something he wants- he’s gonna fucking get it.

It all happened so fast- a flash of cheap disco lights and shots. Heated kisses and pained bites onto your neck as the night drew out. You hadn’t gotten a name, but the entire night you’d call out for god.

Split in half on him. Back arched and head thrown back, circlets from his nails digging in. You didn’t know what the bruises would look like in the morning. So caught up in that high you flew on. The large man reared onto his elbows, hugging you close- pulling every string attached keeping you upright.

Now you laid tits against his sturdy, built up frame. Hand stroked through your hair- crashing your face against his in a whirlwind kiss. You screamed into it as he pounded upwards into you, his hands moving round to pin your hands behind your back.

Eyes rolling back, body shuddering- you felt that spasm around his thick cock. Moaning into the quiet night air.

That next morning- you woke up not in your bed. The memories faded back into reality. Feeling his touch, looking down covered in large fingerprints. Ache between your abused pussy and the dark gaze of the lover whose bed you found yourself in.

That’s only when you realised the potter patters of a shower head- looking to your right. Light on.

Scrounging to find your clothes trying to come to terms with the aching in your lower abdomen. That may have been the best sex you’d ever had. But you couldn’t stay… you shouldn’t stay. You’d never stayed, you can’t stay after a one night…

Down the stairs, there was a whistle. You focused upwards- you had only remembered what his body felt like but looking at it then and there… you knew you were absolutely fucked. Scars and tattoos… an expressionless and unreadable face. Absolutely fucked.

Pinned to the carpeted staircase- sweet friction grating against your ass. Clinging to him. You laid there, fucked out and incoherent. “I still have no idea what your name is…” His fingers rubbed your sore folds, grinning against your shoulder.

Calculated eyes behind pale lashes, “It’s Simon. Keep a note of my last name, love.”

“What is it?”

“Riley.”

Your hand tracked across the scar on his jaw and swirled the tattoos on his arm. “Why’s it so important, Simon?” Hearing his name come from your lips was like a fucking prayer he’s actually listen to.

“‘Cause you’re goin’ to ‘ave it one day…”

And somehow you were completely fine with that.

————

masterlist

[sthilarions]

Crystal looks sideways at Niko, who nods at her, and turns back to Edwin. “Edwin, we - Niko and I - we were thinking. You said your case was covered up, and so we were wondering if you’d even got a burial. So we looked it up, and…” She looks at Niko again, feeling a little more heavy under the weight of Edwin’s eyebrow than she normally does.

“And we figured out you hadn’t,” Niko obligingly finishes for her. “Not even a funeral, because they didn’t find a body and also probably because they weren’t very good people. And we thought that was kind of sad. So we were wondering if maybe you wanted a funeral. We could do one for you.”

Edwin’s second eyebrow has risen to meet the first, and Crystal forgets what she’d planned to say, and instead blurts out “Do you have a body, Edwin?”

Edwin’s brows drop as he rolls his eyes. “Of course I do. It’s in Charles’s bag.”

Crystal’s mouth falls open and Niko’s eyes bug out a bit.

Edwin’s smirking a bit, always pleased to put Crystal off her groove even when she’s trying to do something nice, when he says “My bones are quite a powerful ingredient in spells, so I powdered them and Charles keeps them in a rather large jar. Only for emergencies, of course, I only have one set of bones to last an eternity.”

Crystal’s mouth drops a little further. She wishes it wouldn’t.

Edwin twitches a little in the way that Crystal’s learned means he’s about to admit to a Weakness, which is possibly the only redeeming part of this conversation, and says “Also, I couldn’t move very far from them, at first. Some ghosts can’t, and there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern. They were in a chest in the attic where I met Charles, or I wouldn’t have been there myself, so it was for the best in the end. It rather quickly became an inconvenience, however, when we realized we were either tethered to the area near the attic, or had to bring my bones with us.”

Charles has come back into the room, at some point, and Edwin glances towards him before resuming. “A dry human skeleton only weighs, oh, about five to ten pounds, but it’s rather unwieldy to be carrying one about everywhere.”

Niko seems to be starting to recover, and nods. “That does seem like it would be awkward.”

“Quite, yes, Niko. And we hadn’t thought of powdering and jarring it yet at the time. The original intent of the bag was to store my skeleton so we could more easily carry it; its wider use we only worked out a bit later.”

Charles steps up towards Edwin and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Crystal wonders why on Earth she and Niko came up with this idea without talking to Charles in the first place and avoiding… this. “He’s way better at separating from the bones, now. He can take a few minutes away from them entirely, otherwise we wouldn’t’ve been able to mirror travel cross-continent without holding hands. And generally so long as we’re in the same county he’s totally fine. ‘S part of why I was so worried when the Cat King ran off with him, though. I was worried they’d gone too far.”

Crystal finally regains her composure. “So all this time while you two have been claiming you aren’t actually attached at the hip, he literally can’t get too far away from you without, like, spontaneously combusting?”

Charles grins at Edwin, then at her. “Well, I mean, it’s more that he can’t get too far from my bag, and it’s not a combusting situation, exactly, but I guess, yeah.”

Crystal rolls her eyes far more violently than Edwin had earlier. “Of course. Fucking typical.”

[mediumgayitalian]

Kayla will never tell her older brother in a million billion years. Plus one extra.

But she knows more about Lee Fletcher than he does.

It is not something she did on purpose. Nor is it information she necessarily wants, she most certainly did not ask for it. Nor is it information she will offer.

She will not tell him that she knows the crumple of Lee’s face when he tells a lie. She will not tell him she knows the stark pain in his shoulders at the end of the day. She will not tell him she knows the grooved scars on the palms of his hands from bitten-sharp nails. She will not tell him she knows the sounds of his quiet, pillow-muffled sobs as well as or better than she knows the sound of her father’s voice.

Instead she will watch him. And she will meet Lee’s tired eyes. And she will nod to him, and he will nod back, and they will both look at Will, exhaling.

———

The first time she sees him she is hallucinating.

Genuinely. Medically diagnosed and everything.

“Kayla,” Will whispers, and there is a strain in his voice, as there always is when one of them is sick. “Kayla, dolly, the cloth needs to stay on your head.”

“Cold,” she sobs, “please, Will, I’m so cold.” Dolly. Dolly. He calls her dolly when she’s crying, when the tips of her fingers are bleeding and her knees are scraped raw and she screams if he gets too close to her. “‘M so —”

Her teeth clack hard together so hard her mouth glues shut. And the ice in her finger and toenails fires up her veins and pricks through all of her capillaries, turning her solid, and it burns, and it aches, and she bawls enough that acid burns up her throat and dribbles down her chin, down her shirt, in her bed. And over the heart pounding in her ears she hears her older brother exhale a soft little broken moan and choke it back just as fast and his always-warm hands brush over her cheeks, and she groans and squirms away from it and cries harder, and he whispers “Hold on, dolly, the fever’s almost broken, I can feel it,” and she opens her eyes and he is there, hair longer, hair neater, lab coat starched and collar covered in old Star Wars stickers, bulky glasses barely clinging to his face, tears soaking his long, angular face.

And Kayla squints, and the freezing ice recedes ever so slightly, sparking just under her skin, and she tilts her head, and she stares at him, at his freckle-free face, and whispers, “…Will?”

And he squeezes his eyes tighter and begs, “One more time, kiddo, I’m so sorry. One more time. I can’t help you if I can’t touch you. Pull back the light, baby, I can’t see, you have to control it just a little more. Just enough so it doesn’t burn. Please.”

And she squints again and Will-not-Will wavers, and the infirmary lights blink off his tears, off the lens of his glasses, and the. she squints again and the lights are dimmer, and the lab coat is gone, and his hair is frizzier.

“What,” she croaks, and Will pats her hair, and his hands are rough like she’s used to, and his round face is wet, and his scrubs are barf-stained, again, and he is smiling, tears dripping into his mouth, bright blue eyes clear, and he laughs and touches his forehead to hers.

“One-oh-one,” he whispers, shoulders shaking. “You’re safe, dolly. Your brain is out of the oven. Gods. Holy shit. Holy shit, Holy God, Holy Hera.” And he starts to pray.

She exhales hard, exhales, and forgets about it.

———

The next time her brain is not cooking hard enough her proteins are denaturing.

The next time she is sleep deprived, which does not help her determine reality.

She is lucid enough to notice the change, though.

She should not be awake. This much she knows. Will had sent her to bed hours ago, a half-hour after Austin and a full hour after the kids — as is her right; she is a full 13 years old — and she went, not without grumbling. And she meant to sleep. She usually does. But the moon was bright, and unusually warm. And the fairy lights twinkled with twice as much laughter than usual. And the audiobook her daddy sent her was just so enticing, just so flowery and beautiful, and as she listened to the gravel-low voice of the woman narrating and stared out the window she could see it playing out, plain as day, over the silver-washed hill of Thalia’s tree and the gentle giggling of the Atlantic waves.

She’s not supposed to be up late enough to watch Will creep in.

But she is, and that’s that. She hears the creak of the rickety screen door, slow like he’s trying to keep it quiet, and holds her breath, careful to make all her muscles react to keep her from being seen. The cabin is big but not that big and she sees him quickly, out of the corner of her half-closed eyes, tiptoe careful across the wooden floorboards, hopping over the noisiest ones, resting at the side of each of their beds and waiting, watching at the ends of them, shoulders dropping, eyes blackened and eyebags heavy. After a moment at each he reaches out his burned hands, resting gently on her siblings’ foreheads, and closes his eyes, exhaling, letting the fiery warmth from his palms spread slowly through their veins, wrapping strands of sunlight neatly around them like spider silk. As it recedes he sighs, in exhaustion or relief, and holds his hand, for a second, breathing in, breathing out, and moving on.

He comes to her last.

She has relaxed her breathing by then. She is thirteen years old and remembers every day of it; knows how to twitch her muscles and murmur in gentle sleepiness, knows how to breathe til her heart goes slow and flicker her eyelids so her face shows its dreaming. Daddy checks on her too, when she’s home, and she likes to stay up for him, likes to wait, likes to savour the feel of his string-callused fingertips and soft cool palms.

“I know you’re not sleeping, you little twerp.“

He flickers again — she sees it this time — and the heat of his hands fade a bit. His face gets a little longer, chin a little pointier, and the wild curls around his head mellow into something wavier, something gentler and more tamed. The glasses balancing on his wide nose are unbelievably thick, thicker than Julia’s whose prescription is a joke, and make his blue eyes look buggy, beetle-shaped. He’s got half as many freckles but that could be the moonlight. His smile is the same.

“I know what REM feels like, you know.”

She says nothing and keeps breathing. He sighs. He strokes a thumb against her forehead and it is familiar, and she knows, immediately then, that it is her brother who strokes her, who guards the foot of her bed.

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed. If you’re not asleep by then I’m gonna smother you, ya pain in the ass.”

He pulls away and she watches, follows the thwack of his falling-apart Converse, the rise of his gentle humming. He pulls tiny bathroom’s door shut and the humming swells along with the fireflies, echoing soft and melodic in the kind-of-big cabin, and she means to stay awake, really. She wants to watch him transform again, wants to watch his shoulders grow back and his spine stretch straighter. Wants to see the familiar roundness of his cheeks.

But his voice is so beautiful, and the scrape of his toothbrush is as rhythmic as ever, and the moon is so high in the sky. Her audiobook fades to silence as she slips away, warmed, into the cradle of her bed.

———

The third time she sees him there is no excuse.

It is the dead middle of summer and he is exhausted. The camp swells with the sum of them all, with the drum of running footsteps and crashing swords and crowing laughter. Her brother lives in the infirmary, practically; no matter how many times he is dragged out he keeps sneaking back, keeps slipping out of his friends’ sight and falling right back into his scrubs, hair pulled back.

“You are not supposed to be here,” Kayla says crossly. “Your shifts are done for the week.”

He smiles guiltily and the change is immediate. The slant of his shoulders is identical, the curve of his grin is unchanged, but the glossiness of his eyes fades away, and the strange ghost of her brother takes full shape. He is different, in the clear sunlight. A familiar stranger. He grins at her widely and turns on his heel, strolling to the mortal medicine cabinet.

“And who died and made you head honcho, Sunshine?” She blinks in surprise, glancing down at her hands. That is a new one. Sunshine.“It’s the busy season. I’m only keeping up with demand.”

“You’re gonna wear yourself right out,” she hears herself say. “Right out, and then what?”

“And then the sun will keep shining,” her brother says. “Besides, you’ll be taking over in no time. You’re already better than me, squirt.”

It’s an odd thing to say — she isn’t. By virtue of her parentage she can heal, and she can sing the hymns. But her strength is in her bow and her violin; her strings, not the stretch of bandages or shine of the suture. Will knows it. This brother, though, the one who stands in his place, is not speaking to her.

“I am?”

“‘Course. You know anyone else who can drag an errant soul right back into a body?”

Yes. She’s seen Will do it on more than one occasion, on more than one justification. She’s seen how it makes Chiron’s lips tighten and the atmosphere go dark. There is healing, and then there is blasphemy and challenge. Will walks the line like no one has since Zeus struck the challenger clean off the Earth.

This brother is not talking to her.

“Am I really going to take over, Lee?”

She says it carefully, because she isn’t sure. There are no pictures and Will tells no stories. But she hears whispers, sometimes, from the scattered few who knew them both, who watch Will corral the lot of them to breakfast or take the reigns of the chariot or calm hysterics with a touch, who whisper: “Sometimes I look at him and it’s like seeing a ghost.”

Her brother smiles a wide thing at her. It is as soft as she remembers. “Course, baby. No doubt in my mind.”

———

The fourth time she sees Lee Fletcher, she makes him come.

She waits very carefully. He comes when Will’s tired, she hypothizes. When his own strength won’t stand. So she waits, for the second wave of camp flu, for his lead on the climbing wall, for the rare nights when Gracie gets cranky and homesick and stomps around the cabin, throwing things and yelling. She waits for the look in his eyes, for the glassiness to smooth into something soft and reverent, something timeless.

It does not come when she expects.

The fourth time they are sitting together. Or, Will is sitting, legs tucked under him on the side bench, and Kayla stands, breathing careful, arms pulling elastic taut.

Her third missed shot, he is behind her.

“Relax you jaw,” he suggests. “Your tension is throwing you off. Let yourself hit the edge — it’s a new challenge, kid. No need for a bullseye.”

“I always get a bullseye,” she argues.

Lee smiles. His eyes are different, she realizes. They’re — constant. Blue. Like hydrangeas.

Will’s change with the sky.

“Bullseyes are a process.” He puts a steady hand on her elbow, tilting it slightly. “You gotta aim for the bigger picture before you focus on the details. The bullseye will come. Start with hitting the target.”

She huffs, scowling, but he’s right, and on her fourth shot the arrow lodges, just on the edge of the compacted wood.

Lee cheers. That, she sees clear as day, is identical, from the strain of his arms to the crow of his whooping laughter. He even does the same clumsy, dorky dance that sends him sprawling.

Kayla smiles past the lump in her throat.

———

The fifth, sixth, and seventh times pass without her counting, as does everyone one beyond. They happen in stretches and in the blink of an eye — the shapes of his mouth when he yawns, the drawl of his fed-up sarcasm. The weight of his elbow on the top of her head, grinning as she shoves him off, the shake of his deep, bone-rooted sigh when he thinks she’s asleep and his entire body strains, curled up under his favourite quilt. The weight of his ‘v’ in I love you.

She almost stops looking.

“What did he look like?” she blurts, one evening when he takes them to the beach. The rest of them are up ahead, Austin chasing the younger ones up the muddy sand.

Will freezes, just barely, then walks on with a forced lightness, swinging his loose arms between them.

“Who?” he asks, voice light.

Kayla gnaws the inside of her cheek.

“Your older brother.”

“I had four, at one point.”

He says it quiet like he does at the campfire, when it’s only the older kids left but she’s managed to stick around, holding her breath so they won’t notice and send her away. When Will lies back on a log and matches his breathing to the flames, eyes unseeing, and Annabeth watches him carefully and whispers, “Play us something, Will.” And he picks up the guitar he keeps dusty under his bed and sings something soft like there’s no hardness left inside him. No bowstring.

“When he laughed, you could hear it across camp,” he says quietly.

Kayla had not specified which brother but he knows anyway, had been waiting for her ask, and she strains to hear, now, leans in over the turn of the waves and shifts of the sands and strives for every note, every chord of his voice. “He invented a full name for me so he could holler it when I got in trouble. William Andrew.”

“I didn’t know he made that up.”

A ghost of a smile turns Will’s lips. “Yeah, it stuck real good. Even Chiron forgets I wasn’t born with it, actually. He yells it, too.”

He tilts his heart to the sky and stares at the clouds, exhaling, hands still by his sides.

“I was his favourite,” he says finally. “He wasn’t supposed to have anybody, but he loved me. He watched me real careful. He was —” he swallows — “I loved my brother, you know. To the sun and beyond it.”

He stops, turning to the waves. She lets him and watches his back, watches the shape of his scapulae under his camp shirt.

“I wish I still had him.”

The air shifts beside him, then. She sees Lee next to him, this time, not in place of him, with a broad hand on his shaking shoulder, a tanned forehead pressed to his temple. He turns to her, when Will breathes normally again, and winks, blinking back away as the clouds move from the sun.

“I think he’d be real proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

Kayla hesitates. “I mean — yeah. You’re like him, you know? You stand like he does.”

Will is smiling, softly, eyes red.

“I’ll have to show you a picture of him, sometime.”

“Yeah.” Kayla smiles, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, I’d like to see him.”

[beforetimes]

For!!!!! The role reversal!!!! Falling into the endless abyss!!!!!!

That would be so cool and sexy if you aaaaaaaa

[link to og au]

Screams paint a backdrop for Shen Yuan’s heart pounding like a drum against his rib cage, blending together seamlessly with the blaring sirens of the System striking him with reminder after reminder of his fate. As though he was ever under any illusions that he would skirt by this—Ha! No, Shen Yuan knew better than to hope, and had fallen into this world reminding himself of that fact.

It's just so much harder to remember, he thinks now, staring at Luo Binghe wearing a look of betrayal on his face while demonic qi pours from his veins, fingers, teeth, sneaking out from under his eyelids, as though bursting from the seams now that the dam was removed. Horror is an ice pick through his chest, white hot and burning even as Shen Yuan's insides freeze.

"Shizun," Shen Yuan says, desperate, even after trying to tell himself years earlier that should this time come, he'll stay so calm and collected that no one would believe him to be behind the attack. "Shizun, please."

"A demon," Luo Binghe says, before saying nothing more at all. Shen Yuan can't help it—his legs tremble, hands shaking violently as the System blares in the corner of his vision. He can feel the heat of the gorge behind his back, sweltering and unknown. Terrifying. Shen Yuan swallows another desperate keen as he reaches out for Luo Binghe.

"Please," He says again, like a broken record skipping over and over, needle unable to find a well-worn groove to anchor itself in before jumping over to the next. Replacing him.

"Everyone will think you led the demons here," Luo Binghe notes, almost absently, as if he's very far away from everything and everyone. Watching through a screen and sounding the way he did in those first few weeks when Shen Yuan woke up in this new stolen body of his, long pale fingers pinching at the meat of his skin hard enough to leave a bruise.

"I didn't—! Shizun—"

Shen Yuan falls to his knees, terror and grief and heartache and everything else that twists his insides until it feels like his ribs are trying to claw their way out of his chest leaving him unable to stand.

He grabs on his Shizun's robes, dirtied at the bottom where Luo Binghe's been scouring the forest for disciples in trouble.

Disciples he thinks I hurt, Shen Yuan thinks, and he shakes and shakes and shakes apart.

"I wouldn't," Shen Yuan chokes out, even as the System's alarms grow louder. He feels like a five year old again, hiding in his room while his parents fought, just a line of heat pressed against his sister. "I wouldn't, I wouldn't, please."

"You've been so nervous lately," Luo Binghe says quietly, even as his hand lands on top of Shen Yuan's head in a well-practiced motion. He's so numb that he can barely feel it, Shen Yuan only hearing the accusation as he scrambles back, terror pushing adrenaline into his system in a blink.

"Shizun, please, I would never—No, you don't understand—" He pleads, and everything falls apart.

"Shen Yuan," Luo Binghe cuts him off, and Shen Yuan falls silent immediately. As though he's still a fifteen-year-old, star-struck with bright eyes, not nineteen and facing a death sentence. "What is there to explain?"

He asks, and it's not angry. It's so simple that it knocks all the righteous desperation out of Shen Yuan, lightning bolt through the chest.

He knows his role here—get pushed into the abyss or die—and the System has never once yielded in its strict composure.

Shen Yuan looks behind him, and sees fire and hatred spat from the crevice in the Earth. He looks forward and sees Luo Binghe's stepped closer, sword in hand and pointed toward Shen Yuan. And he has to take a breath to remind himself that this is the plot, this is how things need to be so he doesn't die.

"This disciple only ever wanted to help you," Shen Yuan croaks, even as the winds pick up and threaten to swallow his words. He closes his eyes and wipes violently at the space under them with his sleeves, replaced immediately with more tears, unending in their sorrow. "For Shizun, I would've done anything."

"Even bring danger to the sect?" Luo Binghe asks, before blinking in surprise, as if he hadn't meant to say it. Shen Yuan falls silent. Faltering and slow.

He takes a step back, and Luo Binghe's eyes widen.

"Shen Yuan—"

"Shizun," Shen Yuan interrupts this time. "This one is sorry. Shizun can stay angry with this filthy one as long as he desires but—but. Let me leave. Let me leave, and I'll never come back, I'll never bother Cang Qiong. I'll live far away, locked away in my room so Shizun doesn't have to risk seeing this one, just—Please forgive me one day, just let me leave, please let me—"

"You can't leave," Luo Binghe snaps, angriest he's been since the abyss cracked alongside Shen Yuan's seal. Fear tastes like blood in the back of his throat and a cheek bitten raw, and he finally lets himself sob.

A moment later, the edge of the abyss crumbles under Shen Yuan's feet, and he plummets into darkness.

masterpost