#saw a bath bomb and thought of this

[spiderlovergirl]

Bath Bombs

Green Goblin: *staring into a bathtub full of sparkly pink water* Otto Octavius: What are you doing? Goblin: Waiting for the explosion. Otto: Bath bombs don't explode. They dissolve in water. Goblin: *realizing he just wasted ten minutes of his life* Oh.

[autumnrory]

sighhh looking at my bookmarks of present ideas for my mom and none of it sounds good rn

[joonie-beanie]

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh. 

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?” 

Now that piques their interest. 

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her. 

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend. 

4 days, to be exact. 

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job. 

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file. 

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck. 

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning. 

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen. 

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet. 

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again. 

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest. 

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak. 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.” 

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel. 

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace. 

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself. 

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace. 

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum. 

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his. 

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty. 

You’re getting close. 

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it. 

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words. 

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you. 

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving. 

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit. 

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again. 

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine. 

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago. 

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo. 

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck. 

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot. 

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last. 

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath. 

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him. 

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep! 

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

[visbacktatto]

pampering vi after a long day at work

summary: fluff, kissing, bathing together, no smut, sfw, just taking care of vi. i wrote thinking about fem!reader but it's pretty much gender neutral. enjoy!

you were a little worried about vi.

she called you to say she'd be home a little later than planned, things weren't going as it should at work and she'd need at least an hour to be done and back home to you.

her voice sounded so tired, so stressed, so done with it all. you know her, know every little vibration of her tone and exactly what they mean by instinct, result of the time you've spent together, of how many moons your relationship has seen. you instantly knew she needed some love today.

you were home already, it was just another regular day at the bakery you work at, you weren't too tired. so you thought, why not give your caring girlfriend a good care for herself? and that was the start of the plan.

the first thing you did was set up a bath for her, filling it up and dropping a cherry blossom bath bomb that would leave the water a light tone of pink, adding a few drops of essential and carrier oils, lighting up two candles to make the atmosphere and then you remember that flowers she gave you were still very much alive and you took two of them to remove the petals and put it in the bath too.

you also placed a wooden bath tray to put two faces masks, some strawberries, chocolate and two glasses of wine in case you're feeling like it when you both take the bath. this was looking pretty, your mind was both focused on the task and anxiously waiting for vi to be home already.

the second step of your plan was to cook dinner for the two of you, that shouldn't be hard, making food for just two would be a piece of cake. and it was, it just took a little longer then you thought so, just some minutes before everything was ready you heard the sound of your girlfriend's keys unlocking the front door and her voice, tired but ever so lovely, saying, “darling, i'm home”

“welcome home, love, i'm cooking” you told her from the kitchen, and it wasn't long before you could feel two strong arms hugging your waist, pulling you close, brushing her nose on your neck.

“smells really good.” vi murmured, kissing the side of your neck, “i missed you” she said with no ceremonies, she always missed you more when the day was tough, praying for the moment she would be back to you.

“missed you too, baby” you turn to smile at her, cradling her face to kiss her lips gently, a proper way of saying your welcomes, “would you mind setting the table for us, love? i'm almost done with the food, less than five minutes”

vi gave one last kiss to your cheek before heading to the table, placing the plates and everything the way she knows you'd do, mimicking the little details of the way you organize things, results of a long time sharing a home with you.

you dined and talked about work, vi explained exactly what and why went wrong today but she tried to not overload you with it, you also talked about what you've done at the bakery today, talking about a specific birthday cake order that was just so cute and probably tasted heavenly.

then, when you were done with the eating, you brought your plan to the table.

you were both standing, just done washing the dishes when you took vi's hand and said, “i have a surprise for you” and she let out a “oh?” and a smile, following you as you tug her upstairs into your shared bedroom.

before opening the door you covered her eyes with your hands, with that she chuckled, “oh you're very serious with the surprise factor, hm?” she teased.

“very much so” you murmured, carefully leading her to the bathroom and putting down your hands once you reached the few steps before the bathtub.

the moment she saw the carefully set bathtub she gasped, turning around to face you, “cupcake, oh my god! you're so sweet, you didn't need to do all that” she hugged you so tight, splaying kisses on your cheeks and your lips.

“yes i did, i know you had a long day. you're always taking care of me, let me return the favor for once, okay?” you answered, playing with the short hair at her nape.

“you're too good for me...” vi murmured, cupping your face, a look of endless love on her eyes, “but you'll bathe with me, right? you need some relaxing too”.

“i will, but again, it's supposed to be me taking care of you, you have to let me do so” you stated again, knowing how your girlfriend could be when it comes to letting someone else do the work for her.

“okay, okay, sweetheart, i swear i'll let you take care of me” she agreed with a smile, “but can i undress you?” while she asked her hands were already at the edge of your shirt, caressing the skin under.

“as much as i'd love it, today is all about you, so don't bother” you dismissed, gentle, moving your own hands to unbutton her shirt, pulling her close also to lightly kissing her neck to get her to not complain about your insistence.

and it worked, her eyes closed and her head tilted, “you're very persuasive when you want to, sweetie” she murmured with a light teasing undertone, her hands now busy holding your hips.

you discarded her clothes, slowly getting her naked and ready to go into the bathtub, you lead her, holding her hand and helping her settle down even if she clearly didn't need any help.

only then did you discard your own clothes and get inside too, “baby i want your back facing me, okay? so i can wash you” she quickly obeyed, turning and closing her eyes, leaning towards you, her back resting on your chest.

you kiss her shoulder, your hands going up her arms to massage the tension out of her shoulder blades, laying kisses down there that made vi sigh softly, before you reached for the soap to start washing her back. “you're so tense, love... hope i'll make you feel better”

“you always do” vi nearly whispered, “always. ever since i first laid eyes on you” then she finally noticed the tray, dipping one strawberry in the chocolate to give you a bite before eating the other half of it “you really went all out today”

you chuckled, “you deserve it” you continued washing her back, stopping to massage the flesh a bit before splaying water. then you moved to washing her hair, what elicited a delighted sound from her lips as your fingers caressed the pinkheaded scalp.

you tugged her to your lap, sitting her body on your thighs instead of just between them, what caused vi to reflexively relax against you, and you hugged her waist. “just letting the shampoo get into your hair a little bit” you murmur against her skin, kissing her neck, “have some wine, hm?”

vi took the two glasses, filling just one for both of you, as always, she would take a first sip and offer one to you, bringing it to your lips, and after you took your sip, she kissed you.

vi couldn't help it, she straddled your hips and tugged you closer, her hands finding your nape and your cheek, passing the taste of the wine around your tongues.

when the kiss broke, you chuckled, “you can never just sit down and let me pamper you, can you?”

“i'm feeling very pampered right now, kissing my sweetheart” vi retorted, pecking your lips again, and again.

you smiled, getting your hands back to work to rinse the shampoo from her hair, “fancy hair mask?” you asked and she nodded, so you applied it on her hair too while she was too busy kissing your neck.

“permission to mark?” vi half-joked, she started to ask after one day she was particularly eager and left a few hickeys on your neck that earned you curious looks and actual questions from your customers on the bakery.

“go on” you chuckled, and she was very gentle about it, the marks wouldn't last this time, the feeling of her lips sucking and her tongue soothing the skin right after so good you nearly got distracted.

eventually, you finished the routine with the hair mask and hair conditioner, and now the two of you were just resting, face masks on both of you and vi once again resting between your thighs, her back to your chest while you caressed her waist.

“i could sleep like that” vi murmured, and you knew it was true, you could feel her breathing getting slower, her body a little heavier.

so you just smiled and whispered “i know... want to go to bed, love?” and she hummed in agreement, you took the face masks off your faces, knowing vi wouldn't want to sleep with it.

and so, the two of you were back in your bedroom, both wearing robes and all clean, smelling like the scented candles you lit. you were rummaging through your, still on your task of doing everything for your girlfriend tonight, choosing the pajamas for both of you.

“too much if i dress you?” you asked, and vi did chuckle at the question but she nodded, still letting a teasing “you're babying me, cupcake” slip from her lips while you did dress her up, only for you to baby her even more, sitting her down on the edge of the bed to brush her hair.

and when you were done and ready to tuck yourselves in you held vi, her head resting on your shoulder, her leg thrown between yours, your hand caressing her scalp as you whispered sweet nothings to her.

“i love you so damn much” she murmured, “want every night for the rest of our lives to be this peaceful... this ours... just you and me until infinity” she always got so romantic when she was sleepy.

“so you just want to be pampered?” you teased, kissing the top of her head, adjusting the sheets to cover you two better.

“no, i want to pamper you too... you deserve every little good thing in the world, i swear” she murmured, her voice all sleepy and genuine.

“mhm... you are the only good thing i need in my life, actually. now sleep, love.” you whispered, caressing her cheek, coaxing her into giving into sleep.

and for the millionth time you realized: that's the love of your life right there. sleeping beside you, holding you, loving you. and you loved her too. that was magical enough.

[lilacrwses]

▸ their s/o is drunk and doesn't recognize 'em

summary: Partying all night, dancing and definitely drinking made you drunk enough to not recognize your sweet boyfriend.

ft: iwaizumi, bokuto

note: i hope you guys like this, it’s been a while

Iwaizumi

Iwa just came back from a training camp overseas, so he was really tired and just want to cuddle with you.

Might he be forgetting that you were partying out with your friends so he expects that you won't be coming home early?

He did quite everything while waiting for you, cleaning the apartment-which by the way he realized that it was already clean enough on its own.

He took a bath, and would probably get in trouble as he used your favorite bath bomb without permission, but nothing a kiss can't fix.

Well, what he had to do next was just wait for you. The moment his phone lights up and recognizes his ringtone only for your contact- he rushes swiftly and answered it only to be welcomed by your friends voice?

"Iwaizumi-chan, hello! Can you pick up Y/n at XXX-XXX-XXX. She's pretty tipsy at the momeng. Don't rush though! we'll be with her till you're here." He gets his car keys and locks the apartment door before going out. "I'll be there in 5." He quickly presses the red button which ends the call.

Numerous thoughts were clouding his brain right now. Mainly focused on you and how tipsy are you.

In just a couple of minutes, his phone had told him to turn and then he'll arrive at his destination. No doubt that you were right there sitting out at one of the chairs of the club with your friends.

To say that you were cute doing nothing makes him realize how badly he's down for you.

"Iwaizumi-chan! Thank god you're here. She's been telling us how much she misses you, please take care of her from her." Iwa nods and gave a wave to your friends and then focuses his vision on your body.

He walked closer to your figure and helped you stand, but he was just pushed away. Dumbfounded he cooed you and tried again.

"If you lay your hand on me one. more. time, I promise my boyfriend will beat you into a pulp." he smirks and leans in closer to your face.

"Oh yeah? I bet you must love your boyfriend to reject someone like me huh." He plays along with the drunken act. "I love him so much that it hurts." He panics when tears came out of his eyes.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" Iwaizumi cups your cheeks and wiped the stray tears away. You looked into his eyes and you noticed a familiar warm loving gaze that you'd been missing for a while.

"Are you my hajime? B-but he wasn’t supposed to come home till….tonight" You hiccup.

“You’re my haji!”

"Yes, baby. Now, will you let me touch you now?" You nodded and jumped into his arms right now.

"Ooof- Careful right there." He didn't hear anything but your cute little snores, he might be tired right now but having that little talk with you just gave him a bit-- a lot of energy in return.

Bokuto

This big ball of fluff was with his teammates for an after-party game.

You, on the other hand, are with your friends and are bar hopping. Expectantly Bokuto wandered his eyes searching for a familiar person, but none to be found.

He just thought that you are still probably having fun with your friends.

He reassured himself that a little bit over twelve is still early so here he is patiently waiting for you (even though there's a slight chance you'll never come) while still enjoying his time with his very own friends.

From the perspective of his teammates, it was odd to see Bokuto sitting in one place and not moving so much. Is it because of his drink?

The loud music of the bar made communication a tad difficult. However, Bokuto did not fail to hear his phone ring with the help of the ringing vibration, of course.

His face did lit up when he saw your nickname on his screen and almost took no time to answer the phone.

"My pretty baby! I miss you so much, What took you so long to call, I was waiting." Bokuto is now in his baby voice pouting, much to his joy it was actually your friend who called him and told him you guys were sitting from a distance to where he and his teammates were.

"Oh, thanks! I'll be right there in a minute." It might seem that Bokuto was drinking beer the whole time but it was actually just an orange juice. He didn't plan on getting drunk before he could pick you up.

Akaashi had told him it was not a gentlemanly move to be drunk and be taken care of his s/o. But to be completely honest, Akaashi just told him that so he could spare you handling Bokuto's weakness #12.

He finally saw where you were when he noticed one of your friends waved their hands to get Bokuto's attention. "Bokuto-kun, we're really sorry. She got pretty enthusiastic and got carried away." your friend scratched her nape.

"It's ok, I'll take her from here. Thanks for dropping by though."

Your friends bid goodbyes to Bokuto before leaving. Your boyfriend helped you stand up, you were blinking your eyes trying to see the person that's in front of you. The moment Bokuto landed his hands to your waist you pushed him enough to collide with another person.

Bokuto apologized repeatedly before directing his attention to you again. His thoughts start to bother him. Couldn't you recognize him? How many drinks did you take?

But He tried again, "Y/n baby, it's Kou. You're boyfriend." It seemed that his puppy eyes were enough for you to recognize him.

"Kou?" He nodded

"Yes! Yes, baby!"

You immediately jumped your way to Bokuto, and kissed him."You're my Kou!" He laughed catching you in his arms. "Now let's get you home." He kisses your lips before dropping a text to his team's group chat.

Akaashi was right! He should be taking care of you when you're drunk. Only because he gets to see this new side of you.

[churipu]

WHAT REMINDS THEM OF YOU 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, megumi fushiguro, itadori yuuji

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. just pure fluff :D

note. i was going to write some hurt comfort — but then i figured that i wanted to keep myself sane for today :>

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

anything strawberry. scent, taste — anything strawberry.

gojo remembered when the first time he brought you home some honeoye strawberries after a mission since it was in season. the way your eyes just lit up at the sight of strawberries made him happy, and from then on — gojo looks at a picture of a strawberry or even smelled strawberry from god knows where.

he just thinks of you.

one time gojo saw a rabbit eating a strawberry while scrolling through his social media, and he wasted no time sending the video to you with a small message: "you <33"

or the other time gojo sees a bucket cap with strawberry motives and he just had to get it for you. the male waited in line for half an hour for that hat (and he had to "fight" a kid for it, he won in the end because the kid moved on to a duck motive hat instead).

"baby, look what i got you — strawberry scented bath bomb. it was the last one on stock, and i had to argue with a lady over it," he happily bursts through the door, boasting while raising what seemed to be a bath bomb.

gojo just knows when you change your usual brand of strawberry lip balm. it took him a peck and he asks you, "did you change your brand? this one tastes weird," he wipes his lips.

"they were out of stock, 'toru."

"why didn't you say so?" he cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose, "i'd go to the other side of the earth to get you one, y'know?"

you chuckled, "or, i could just wait for it to stock back . . ."

"nonsense!"

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

the smiths.

he finds it amusing when you start quoting that one scene from 500 days of summer, "i love the smiths . . ." and he just unexpectedly replied with, "sorry?"

but that time — he didn't know that he was "unknowingly" going along with it. confused, he had to question you about it, and when you told him it was from a movie. megumi finally understood and thought that maybe you really liked the movie.

he was wrong. it wasn't the movie, it was the smiths. so now, every time he sees anything or hears anything about the band, he finds himself thinking about you — but he'd never actually say that. megumi often listens to their songs just so he could understand when you talked to him about it.

also, quoting the movie was now a habit for you two. you just go, "i love the smiths," out of the blue and megumi will continue it (even if he says that it's pretty corny).

megumi loves it when you listen to the smiths out loud, singing softly to the tune. the male tries really hard to get you unofficial merchandise, official merchandise for the smiths are actually so hard to find today — so he just had to go and make it custom for you.

"and when the double decker bus, crashes into us . . ." he heard you sing, both of your ears jammed with earbuds from the earphones, "to die by your side."

that, was your favorite song. and megumi made it into a custom painting of you and him as if the two of you were in that one scene in 500 days of summer. i'm not kidding.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

mochi skin. the texture, the flesh. it just reminded him of your cheeks — it's so squishy and soft. every single time he buys a mochi, he makes sure to do something that he calls a squish test.

where he squishes the mochi, and then squishes your cheeks. if they don't feel the same, yuuji gets rid of the mochi and gets another one (he eats them).

"it doesn't feel the same y/n, i don't like it," he whines out softly, tossing the mochi into his mouth — he angrily takes out another bill of cash to buy another mochi.

"yuuji, why does it have to be the same again?" you asked him, hands inside your pockets.

"because . . ." good point. why?

the male prompts to ignore you and buy another one (three others) to make sure they are the same texture as your cheeks. it's something he does — if a mochi he buys doesn't feel the same way like your cheeks does.

he eats them or lets you have them.

if it does.

he also eats them or lets you have them.

it's just something he does for fun, so he could always remember you. and when you're not there with him — yuuji makes sure to buy at least five before coming over to visit you so he could do the test.

when he's not feeling like it but he misses you, he takes a video and sends it to you with a caption: "i miss you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[mortiskiller]

Pignapped

Content warning: Contains violent language, physical harm, non-consensual feedism and other acts. This is just a story, don't be weird.

A commission for @collegefatty10

He was on the way back to the car after grabbing a pizza. It was routine at this point in his life. Eating all day without regard to his ever-increasing weight had led to some interesting eating habits. A breakfast sandwich in the morning had become three sandwiches with hash browns and two doughnuts. Lunch steadily grew into a multi-hour affair with trips to multiple drive-thru visits, door dash orders, desk drawers filled with snacks, and not to mention a new habit of pre-gaming before dinner. Driving to get his pizza led to stopping for fries, or nuggets, or a combo meal, or all of that, before he picked up his next greasy calorie bomb. This routine made his day predictable, pigs are simple after all. The same places and employees watched him fatten from the low 300s to his heaving 430 pounds. Day after day, pound after pound he kept ordering more. As his waddle slowed, his gut hung lower and lower, his face getting red and sweaty from the 20-foot walk from the car to the pizzeria, he was an easy target.

I had seen him months before on a lunch break. My eyes shot open as saw a hanging lard pile of a man puff his way into McDonald’s. It was a passing horny thought that I would see him again, maybe add it to my mental bank of images and memories to jerk off to later. Yet, he kept coming to the same places again, and again, and again till it was too much to resist. I mapped out his route, timed him as ordered, and ate his feasts. Noted how he favored his right leg as he waddled, his arms struggling to carry the ever-increasing amount of food he ordered. As I watched him, I couldn't help but notice the way his right leg bore the brunt of his weight, the limp a constant reminder of his indulgent lifestyle. I wondered how long he had been living like this, how many times he had ordered a pizza and not once thought about the consequences. I knew he would be easy to take. Easy to keep docile, dumb, and growing.

I waited till the moon was just a sliver in the night sky outside his favorite pizzeria. Checking my watch, as it ticked over to 8:40 pm, his sedan pulled into the parking lot, the front driver’s side sitting low as my soon-to-be pet pig drove. I watched from my hiding spot as he struggled to haul his massive frame out of the driver's seat, grunting and wheezing with the effort. The scent of greasy pizza wafted through the air as he waddled towards the entrance, his heavy footfalls reverberating on the pavement.

Once he was safely inside i made my move, slipping silently into the shadows and following him at a distance. Inside, he placed his usual order - a large meat lover's pizza with extra cheese and a side of garlic knots. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he paid for his meal, oblivious to the predator lurking in the darkness behind him.

As he turned to leave, I struck swiftly and silently, wrapping a thick cloth bag over his head. He struggled weakly for a moment before I pushed him back to the car. With ease, I kicked his right knee from the back and watched as he tumbled into the truck. His muffled moans of confusion and fear barely registering over the hum of the engine. He was mine now, another victim added to my collection.

I paused for a moment, considering my next move. He was a strange yet fascinating addition to my collection, and I relished the thought of having him under my control. I could see him squirming in the back, his heavy breathing and muffled cries a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

I parked the car in a secluded spot, away from any prying eyes. The moon now a hazy glow, bathing everything in a sickly light. I approached the car, opened the rear door, and lifted my newest prize out of the vehicle.

He was heavier than he looked, his bulk making it difficult for me to handle him. But I had experience, and I was patient. I carried him to a nearby abandoned warehouse, the cold metal of the hinges echoing as I pushed open the door.

Once inside, I placed him on a table, still wearing the cloth bag over his head.

"Hey, buddy," I cooed to the pig, my voice low and sinister. "You know, you're not going to like what's going to happen to you. I've got some pretty wicked plans for you. I'm going to fatten you up, relentlessly, until there's barely anything left of your dignity or self-esteem. You see, we're going to use you, and we're going to pleasure you in ways you can't even imagine."

The pig let out a soft grunt, the sounds muffled by the cloth bag still securing his head. I chuckle, a dark and twisted sound that reverberates through the cold, empty warehouse. Taking a step closer, my shoes scraped against the rough concrete floor.

"I've been collecting things like you for years," I whispered, running his hands over his captive's plump body. "I've come across so many of your kind, just like you, loving your comfort and your food. And I've had my way with them all. Oh, I've had so much fun, and you're next on my list."

As I approach the pig, who is still covered in the bag, he lets out a soft whimper and shakes his head, trying to free himself. His body wobbles with each attempt as he struggles against his bonds. Belly aching with his last meal the movement causes an unintended blech from beneath the bag. Swiftly, I remove the bag from the pig's head, revealing a face red, sweating, and fearful. The pig's eyes are wide and terrified as he stares up at me, taking in his new surroundings - cold concrete walls bare of any decoration, a king-sized bed next to a small bathroom, and a large full-body mirror.

"Look at you," I say with a hint of disgust mixed with fascination, "just look at what you've become."

"You know what you are now?" I ask quietly, “You are my plaything, a toy, a fat weak blubbery toy!” my digs deep into his belly hang, bringing a painful whine from the pig’s mouth.

"You are mine, completely and entirely," I continue, my voice growing menacing, "and I'm going to do whatever I want with you at my command." The pig tries to struggle again, but his movements are weak and pathetic. "Oh, but first things first," I say, walking over to the bed where I had left a set of handcuffs.

I restrained the pig on the bed, at once reluctant and terrified to yield to such volition.

"You'll get used to it, trust me," I say, my fingers tracing curious paths over his bulging form. "Maybe then you'll even enjoy it."

With the pig cuffed to the headboard and footboard, I began to study him, taking in every last curve and fold of his form. He looked so helpless and vulnerable like a lost child in desperate need of a firm hand to guide him.

Noticing the glaze that had settled over his eyes, I thought, 'Now we're getting somewhere.'

Methodically, I began to examine him as if he were an exotic creature, taking note of each flaw that had been revealed by my rough handling.

He would be my plaything, my plump and innocent pig. And I would use him, treat him, and abuse him in ways that would break him completely. I would fatten him up and weaken him until his body could no longer bear the weight of his own flesh. I would use every inch of this vulnerable creature, making him my own personal toy.

As I stood over him, watching him squirm pathetically on the bed, my mind raced with all the ways in which I could degrade him. My hands moved over his flesh, feeling him shake beneath my touch. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the softness of his fur, the weight of the fat that filled his body. It was all so delicious, so intoxicating, that I found myself growing hard at the thought of what I could do with him.

My fingers brushing feather-light against his skin, teasing him with every passing second. It was then that I decided upon the next part of his degradation. With a smirk playing on my lips, I retrieved a bucket from the floor, its contents sloshing against the sides with every move I made. It was filled to the brim with a half-gallon of lard-filled slop, designed to both fuel his growing hunger and make him feel even more vulnerable in his restraints.

As I drew closer, the pig let out a small whine, his eyes widening in fear and anticipation. He knew what was coming. I brought the bucket towards his mouth, and with a practiced hand, I tilted it so that the contents would flow easily. A funnel was inserted into his mouth, and with a cruel smirk, I watched as the slop began to pour down his throat, filling him to the brim.

End of Part 1.

[minminyoonjii]

Hii, i would like to request a stray kids aftercare types or smth like that 🥲🥲 (srry im really bland i struggle with words 😭😭)

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Fem! Reader|Cry Baby! Couple|Smut Fluff|Body Worship|Crying|Heavy Teasing And Mocking|Condesending Tone|Dom Drop|Marking and Hickeys|Degrading Praise Kink|Act Of Service|Confessions|L-Bomb|Foodie Moments|Pussy Worship

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.1K

Bang Chan

"You feeling alright, pretty?" he asked, holding you tight. You nodded, running your fingers through his hair, "Ahm. More than alright," you said, kissing his cheek. Chan chuckled, easing your legs off his shoulder, "I know, baby. I know you're sore," he cooed, rubbing your calves when you hissed. "Don't talk to me like that, Chris," you whined, mind barely off the clouds. Chan smiled, "Okay, okay," he said, massaging your legs. You groaned into the pillow, melting at the firm pressure. Chan hummed, "How about a warm bath, yeah? I'll let you drop in a bath bomb," he said, wiping down your inner thighs. You lifted your head, "Thought you didn't like the glitter ones," you said, looking at him. He chuckled, "Yeah, but I'd do anything to make you feel loved little one," he reassured, kissing your forehead.

Lee Minho

Minho gulped, catching his breath, "Good kitten. Fuck, you did so good for me," he mumbled, nosing your hair. You shuddered, rubbing his back, "Did good?" you whispered, avoiding eye contact. He held your jaw, "Yes kitty. You did amazing," Minho praised, stroking your cheek in his palm. You sighed, nuzzling into it. Minho chuckled, "That's my good kitty. So precious and perfect," he whispered, holding you close to his chest. "You've never been this vocal before," you said, kissing his collarbones. Minho smirked, "Well, I can't go and cut fruits all of a sudden can I?" he teased, knowing he already did. You held his face, licking his lips, "I already saw the bunnies (bunny apples)," you said, kissing him deeply. Minho chuckled into the kiss, easing his tongue against yours.

Seo Changbin

"Deep breaths, bun. Take deep breaths," Changbin coaxed, easing out his girthy cock from your cunt. You shuddered from the sensation, "Bin," you whined, stretching out your arms. Changbin cooed, pulling you onto his lap, "Binnie's got you, hm? My baby bunny," he chuckled, pampering kisses on your face. You squirmed at the kisses, "No," you whined with a smile etched on your lips. Changbin smirked, pressing his kiss against yours, "No? Bunny is denying Binnie?" he gasped, pecking your lips a few more times. You giggled, laying your head comfortably on his chest. Changbin hummed, rocking your aching body, "What do you feel like eating, bun?" he asked, feeling his tummy grumble. You smiled, scrolling through his phone, "Can we order this?" you asked, showing him the dish. Changbin chuckled, "Go ahead," he said, hooking his chin over your head.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin kissed down your arm, "Shh. Relax, love," he hummed, nosing your skin. You shivered, staring at him with half-lidded eyes, "Hyune," you moaned. Hyunjin chuckled, shifting to kiss down your sternum, "Melt into it, lovely. I have you, hm?" he smirked, kissing your chest. You whined, bucking your hips as he blew on your sensitive nipples. "My lovely muse," he sighed, kissing your tummy, paying attention to the pouch where your womb would be. "Hyunjin," you gasped, brushing his hair. Hyunjin nuzzled inner thighs, "Can't believe you took me so well, love. Your pretty pussy was just meant for my cock," he praised, wiping your swollen cunt with careful and precise hands. You sank into the warmth, letting him take care of you fully.

Han Jisung

"Aww, my precious crybaby. Did it feel too good again, sweetheart?" Jisung asked, wiping the stray tears streaming down your cheeks. You hiccuped, burying your face into his palms. Jisung chuckled, tucking your body against his, "I know, sweetie. My cock made you feel all vulnerable, hm?" he asked, hearing your soft babbles in return. "Yes, yes. My cock pleased you very well, I know," he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. You jutted your bottom lip, looking up at him. Your eyes were glossy with tears, and your nose was red from sniffling. Jisung cooed, tucking your hair behind your ears, "Gorgeous. So stunning," he whispered, leaning forward to sync your lips. You melted into the kiss, hands brushing his waist. Jisung pulled away, "Time to bathe, sweetheart. Maybe afterwards we could binge a show or two," he chuckled, lifting you.

Lee Felix

Felix sniffled, emotions running high after an intense session. You held his face, "Lix, are you alright?" you asked, brushing away the tears threatening to drop. Felix shook his head, "You know I didn't mean those words right? You know it was just a scene, right sunbeam?" he asked, lips wobbling with each word. You pulled him close, "Of course, I know that sunshine. You treat me with the utmost respect daily," you reassured, rubbing his back. Tears soaked your bare skin, "I got scared. Scared of unintentionally hurting you, sunbeam. I would never forgive myself for that," Felix whimpered, holding you firm against him. Tears pooled in your eyes, "Don't cry, sunshine. You know if you cry, I'll cry," you sniffled, rocking each other's sensitive bodies until you both relaxed.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin tossed his head back, chest rising and falling, "Fuck," he sighed, groping your plump ass. You whined, "Min," you said, shifting forward. Seungmin hissed as the chill air grazed his slicked cock, "Come on, pup. Let's wash up," he chuckled, lifting you. "We look like a mess," you grumbled, looking at the blooming bruises and hickeys coating your skin. Seungmin winced, turning around only to see nail marks down his back, "We did quite a number, didn't we?" he smirked, turning on the shower. You rolled your eyes with a smile, "You were the one who wanted to switch positions midway," you teased, melting under the water. Seungmin chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, "If I remember correctly, who was the one that kept begging to feel me deeper, hm?" he whispered, nipping your earlobe. You leaned back into him, "Hah, hah. Fine," you whined, lathering his body with soap.

Yang Jeongin

"Angel. My angel. All mine," Jeongin rambled, nuzzling your chest. You gulped, catching your breath, "Yours, all yours," you slurred, patting his head. Jeongin chuckled, rubbing your sides, "Was I too rough at any point?" he asked, tracing circles on your tummy. You shook your head, "Nope. Loved it all," you said, rubbing his ears. Jeongin sighed, pulling you by the waist, "Sit up, angel," he said, handing you a glass of water. You gulped it down, not realising you were that thirsty. He smiled, "Give me a minute," Jeongin said, bringing in cup noodles. "By the time we're done washing up the noodles would be ready," he said, pouring hot water into them. You giggled, taking his hand after he finished preparing, "I love you," you said, kissing his cheek. Jeongin twirled your waist, hips pressed against each other, "I love you more," he said, kissing your lips.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Basket Full of Fall

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader, ft. jack

Summary: Toto and Jack surprise Y/n with an extravagant boo basket filled with autumnal treats and heartfelt touches

______________________________________________________________

Y/n sat comfortably on the couch, a throw blanket draped over her legs as the soft light of the autumn sun filtered through the windows. Her tea was still warm in her hands, and she was scrolling absentmindedly through her phone, reminiscing about the boo baskets she had fallen in love with last year. It had become something of a joke between her and Toto—how she had shown him TikTok after TikTok of couples exchanging adorable, cozy, fall-themed gift baskets.

She had teased Toto at the time, jokingly asking, "So, where’s my boo basket, hmm?" He had just smirked, pulling her close, and promised that maybe one day she’d get a surprise. But Y/n knew her husband wasn’t the type to jump on trendy gift ideas, so she hadn’t pushed it further. Little did she know, Toto had remembered every detail she mentioned.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Toto and Jack were busy at work, their task much bigger than the average boo basket. What started as a simple idea had spiraled into something much grander. The giant basket they’d chosen was practically overflowing, and Jack was already planning what to tell Y/n once she saw it.

“Papa, what about these fluffy socks? Should we put them in the front?” Jack asked, holding up a pair of soft orange socks with little pumpkin faces embroidered on them.

Toto crouched down, examining the basket. “I think that’s a good idea, Jack. She’ll see them right away.”

Carefully, Jack placed the socks right on top, making sure they peeked out over the rest of the items. The basket was already brimming with a mix of cozy fall essentials and thoughtful gifts. There was a cinnamon-scented candle in a beautiful glass jar, a soft knitted blanket in a warm rust color, and a variety of pumpkin spice-flavored snacks—everything from chocolates to cookies.

Toto had also picked up some more personal items for Y/n. He knew how much she loved curling up with a good book on chilly afternoons, so he added a new novel from one of her favorite authors. There was also a set of bath bombs scented with lavender and chamomile, perfect for the relaxing baths he knew she adored after long days.

“Do you think we have enough chocolate in here, Jack?” Toto asked, eyeing the assortment of treats.

Jack giggled. “There’s never enough chocolate, Papa.”

Toto smiled and shook his head, placing another small box of chocolates into the basket. He then reached for the special pumpkin centerpiece they had bought—an intricately carved ceramic pumpkin that glowed when you placed a small candle inside. It would be the perfect touch for their living room, adding to the cozy atmosphere Y/n loved so much during the fall.

Jack tugged at his father’s sleeve. “Don’t forget the card, Papa!”

Toto smiled softly. “Of course, how could I forget?”

He pulled out a small, carefully folded card from his pocket, the cover decorated with autumn leaves and pumpkins. Inside, he had written a heartfelt note:

To my love, Y/n. Last year, you showed me all those TikToks, and I pretended not to understand why they were important. But I knew how much these little things make you happy. So this is for you—your very own boo basket, from Jack and me, to the best mama and wife we could ever ask for. I love you.

Satisfied with the card, he slipped it into the basket, tucking it beside the candle.

"All done, Jack," Toto said, standing back to admire their handiwork. The basket looked massive, filled with all the warm, comforting items that made fall so special. He was sure Y/n would be surprised—maybe even speechless.

Jack was practically vibrating with excitement. "Can we show her now, Papa?"

Toto chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. "Yes, let’s surprise her."

Together, they carefully lifted the basket, with Toto handling most of the weight while Jack guided them through the house. As they approached the living room, Jack darted ahead, his excitement barely contained.

“Mama! Close your eyes!” Jack called out, bounding toward Y/n, who looked up from her phone with a puzzled smile.

“What are you up to?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just close them!” Jack insisted, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as she set her tea aside and covered her eyes with her hands.

“Alright, eyes closed!” she said, indulging him.

Toto followed quietly behind, the basket in his arms, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew Y/n would love it, but seeing her reaction was what he was most excited about.

He set the basket down in front of her and glanced at Jack. "Okay, Jack. Tell her she can open them."

Jack practically jumped. “Mama, open your eyes!”

Y/n slowly uncovered her eyes, and the moment she saw what was in front of her, she froze. Her mouth fell open in shock. There, sitting before her, was the most extravagant, oversized boo basket she had ever seen. It was almost comically large, brimming with every fall-themed item she could have imagined—and more. The beautiful autumn colors of the blankets and candles, the smell of cinnamon, and the sight of the chocolate treats filled her senses all at once.

"Toto… Jack… what is all this?" she asked, her voice soft, her hands going to her mouth in disbelief.

Jack, beaming with pride, clapped his hands. "It’s a boo basket! For you!"

Toto stood behind Jack, his eyes soft with love and a small, proud smile on his lips. "You kept showing me those TikToks last year, and I figured it was time to make one for you—our way."

Y/n's heart swelled as she took in every detail. The thoughtful gifts, the little touches that she knew had Toto’s and Jack’s fingerprints all over them. She reached for the card and read Toto's note, her eyes misting as she smiled.

“You two…” she whispered, overcome with emotion. “This is… this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Jack jumped into her arms. "Do you like it, Mama?"

“I love it,” Y/n said, pulling Jack into a tight hug before reaching out for Toto’s hand, pulling him close as well. She wrapped her arms around both of them, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the basket itself. It was the love and care behind it—the way Toto remembered every little thing, the way Jack had helped with so much excitement.

Toto kissed her forehead softly, his hand resting on her back. "You deserve it, my love. Every bit of it."

Y/n, smiling through happy tears, looked back at the basket. “Well, I guess this officially makes you the king of boo baskets,” she teased, playfully nudging Toto.

He chuckled. “I’ll take that title.”

As they settled back onto the couch, Y/n surrounded by her new autumn treasures, Jack crawled into her lap, holding one of the stuffed pumpkins.

“I can’t believe you remembered all those TikToks,” she said, leaning against Toto as he wrapped his arm around her.

Toto smirked, his voice low and teasing. “How could I forget? You showed me at least fifty of them.”

Y/n laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Well, it was worth it. This is perfect.”

[ferrstappen]

aren't we supposed to surprise you? l Charles Leclerc blurb

pairing: dad!Charles Leclerc x female reader.

you can find more of my version of dad Charles' here <3

summary: you somehow manage to overshadow Charles and Jo's gift.

Charles was an anxious man. Even more so since Josephine was born two years ago.

Yes, people laughed at him but he didn't care, he was going to sprint towards his daughter every time she took a wrong step and fell down, or his system would shut down whenever her lower lip trembled. Charles could communicate with his daughter through her eyes, they told him everything he needed to know in the meantime before she learned how to properly express herself.

They were an unstoppable duo, everybody knew that, but Charles was aware the reason both him and Jo could feel at ease and safe was you, and maybe he didn't remind you enough of that.

His mother and younger brother accompanied him to the various shops around Monaco, Pascale having to fight Charles to let her carry the stroll on the street, Arthur shaking his head at Charles' antics, playfully pitying his niece.

"I am going to make sure to take her to the worst tattoo parlors and pubs when she's older and then I'm showing you the images so you can die of a heart attack," Arthur teased his brother, earning a glare from Charles while being chastised by his mother, but the youngest Leclerc saw a smile on his mom's face.

Arthur winked at his niece and she giggled. Lorenzo had no chance of ever being the favorite uncle.

They entered different shops, not wanting to go for the typical jewelry and overly expensive designer clothing and accessories. No, Charles wanted to give you something you'd truly appreciate, something for you to relax and show yourself some love and distraction. Now it was turn for Arthur to carry Josephine while teasing his brother for being a simp.

A couple of books he thought you'd enjoy, different colored bath bombs, luxurious soaps and candles were some of the goods you were going to receive for Mother's Day.

Dad and baby Leclerc arrived got home greeted by the smell of coffee and some kind of pastry. It smelled like Charles' dream life; his life.

You smiled at Charles and gave him a quick peck on the lips before taking Josephine from his arms, your daughter babbling about papa and maman.

It was past midnight, Josephine sound asleep on her room after both you and Charles read her a short book in Italian, trying to accustom her to the language, all while you marveled at how Charles did the different voices and intonations.

Now it was just you and him in bed, his naked chest against your own skin, while his familiar hand found its place on your thigh, drawing shapeless figures, enjoying the peace of having you with him.

"I have to tell you something," You made sure to not make eye contact with Charles, hiding your face against his neck.

Charles chuckled with your reaction, "What is it and why are you hiding, bebé?" He tried to get you to face him.

"I know this wasn't planned or anything," you began talking but know Charles felt tears on his chest, it got him worried and helped you sit on the bed while assuring you whatever it was, you'd be able to find a solution.

"Babe, I'm two months pregnant," you announced and Charles placed his hand on his mouth in astonishment.

"No, in Bahrein?" Charles blurted out and a smile appeared on your face, of course that would be his first reaction as his brain processed the news.

You didn't know what you were expecting, maybe it was a problem because Josephine was still too young, maybe Charles didn't want another baby, you never really discussed it after Jo was born, but even in the dark his glossy green eyes were shining as his hand found its known place on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek before lovingly kissing you.

those one of a kind kisses, the ones that were special and held so many emotions. neither of you could hide the smile appearing, only smiling at each other, Charles still caressing your cheek.

but suddenly he dropped his hand to your thigh, an unreadable expression on his face.

"But it's mother day and you're surprising me? No, I have this whole thing planned!" Charles protested and this made your eyes tear up, now it was your time to find his lips.

God, maybe it was time for a boy to mimic his dad.

[pokechbi]

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

WHEWWIEEE this one’s a bit different than my usual ones. Hope you all enjoy! 💗

As always, EVERY single interaction is so so greatly appreciated!!

- (Obsessive/Psychotic) König x fem reader

- 18+ MDNI !!!

- CW: blood, SH

- Not my usual smut, pt 2 with more smut is otw!

💗💗

Maybe it was your eyes. Everyone always told you that your eyes were the most expressive part of you. Or maybe it was your hair. The way it hung loosely around your shoulders, sinuously curly and sticking to your forehead when you sweat. Or was it your body? The way your clothes fit snugly against your curves, accentuating the parts of yourself you tried hiding the most. You didn’t know what it was about you that captivated him so badly. That made him like you. That made him utterly infatuated with you. 

His failed attempts at subtlety rang through your mind at the end of your work days, your brain swirling with possibilities and hopeless, endless cycles of painful obsessions. His behavior was unhealthy. Obsessive. One of a stalker. But you found yourself thinking of him at night, your mind being your worst enemy. You knew he wasn’t right in the head. He wasn’t right at all. No one in his line of work could be. His hands were bathed in the blood of more men than you could ever comprehend. His mind was filled with constant thoughts of death, battle, fighting, killing. He was a beast of a man, physically and mentally incapable of compassion. In no way was he made for any kind of lasting relationship. And you knew that. Yet, as your fingers made their way between your legs at night, thoughts of him on the battlefield slashing, stabbing, shooting, strangling, penetrated your mind like a train in a tunnel too small. 

You’d see him at least twice a week in the infirmary. You’d stitched his mysterious wounds countless times, your flesh burning with every feathery brush of your hands against his skin. Like a snail to salt. You knew it was wrong. You knew as a mandated reporter, you were legally required to report any suspicion of self harm. But you didn’t. And you felt as if you were betraying your very existence to cater to the psychotic needs of the man who you knew had a few screws missing for your own selfish desires. He never spoke much. Just sat there, looming over your small frame, causing your breathing to heave and your hands to tremor. He made you tense. You made him tense. The palpable tension between you just a ticking time bomb, ready to impale any passersby with the sharp shrapnel of his infatuation with you. 

It seemed that every time he came to you, his wounds got worse. But they started small. Harmless. A gash in his porcelain flesh, just a few gauzes needed to stop the bleeding in order for it to heal itself. And as many times as you lied to yourself, thinking: maybe it was from training. Maybe he’d lost control of his knife, accidentally cutting himself or mishandling it. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew he had been purposely hurting himself. Just to see you. To you, it was charming. Fascinating. And it shouldn’t have been. Every cell in your body screamed for it not to get to you. But you saw his harming himself a certain kind of devotion to you. A showing of his ultimate loyalty to you, even though you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to each other outside of medical talk. 

He’d been acting this way for months now. Too afraid to approach you with his feelings directly, but not afraid to leave you with constant, subtle reminders of his existence. The smell of him left on the sheet of the hospital bed. The boot scuffs on the floor, yet to be mopped up by housekeeping.  The idea of him hurting himself just to come sit on the hard, too-small bed just to see you, conjured a feeling in you that made you nauseous. His behavior was sickening. It truly was. And you knew, with every visit how his wounds got worse, bloodier, deeper…it was only a matter of time. 

He sat on the bed, staring down at you through his sniper hood with his arms limp at his sides as you worked on them. His gaze burned a hole through your head, searing any incoming distracting thoughts with thoughts of him. What he must have looked like under that mask. What his skin felt like. What kind of sounds he would make when he fucked. How dangerously big his cock was. And no matter how hard you fought those thoughts with every fiber of your being, the wetness between your legs was a telltale sign. He had you. He needed you. And like a moth to a lamp, you found yourself secretly chasing that high that plagued your senses every time he was near. 

Your mind was hyper aware of his every move, every breath. The tension in the room constricts you, making you feel as if the air thickened with his very presence. Your skin burned with every graze of his, the hairs on your arms standing to attention. Before you even made it into the room, you knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking your every step until you made it into the room with him. And before you entered, the fuzz on your neck stood erect. Your gut sensing danger, a predator with nothing but sexually malicious intent awaiting your arrival. 

This was your last straw. There had to be a way for this to end. For the never ending silent fight, the vicious cycle of wanting him, hating him, being disgusted by him, being turned on by his very stance. You were almost done stitching him, your gloves bathed in his dark, thick blood. He never so much as winced as you secured the sutures, dabbing the wound with disinfectant. You rolled back in your chair, tossing your gloves onto the rolling metal tray beside you. And as always, he hopped off the bed, looming over you with a steady foot and a half above you as you briefed him on how to clean his wound. But before he could hastily make his way back to his quarters to do God knows what, you absentmindedly grabbed his bicep. He tensed under your touch, never turning to meet your face. Your throat dries painfully as you try to speak, your delicate hands and freshly done nails begging to dig themselves into his scarred skin as he fucked you in a frenzy of predatory sexual hunger. 

“König.” You manage to release. Your voice was practically a squeak, making you feel smaller under him than you already were. As if you needed to feed into his nauseating predatorial instinct even more. You cleared your throat, approaching him. With every step you took, his presence sucked away each and every atom of oxygen from you. A pitiless, dangerous black hole that threatened to drain the life from you with its bare hands. 

“What are you doing to yourself?” You ask, your voice breaking and cracking. You hated showing him that you were weak. That you were ready to be pounced at, mercilessly eviscerated. And in all honesty, you liked that you were. It was shameful. The way he stood, unspeaking and nauseatingly smug at your worry made you want to drop to your knees and get yourself off on his boots while he watched you shamefully. You wanted him to humiliate you. To degrade every ounce of dignity in you and then more. 

“I know this isn’t from training, sir.” You say, running your thumb gently over his fresh sutures. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth and tongue suddenly dry and coarse. You pressed into the matter further, just wanting to beat at his chest until he spoke. Hating him for forcing you to care about him. You were done with this game. The cat and mouse facade that masked the filthy desires swirling between the two of you. He turned to face you slowly, craning your neck to look at his eyes. The egoistic smile in his eyes, the one he made no effort to hide behind his mask. 

“Little maus…” Although his voice was gentle, it still boomed through your eardrums. His German accent wet and thick on his tongue. You keep your grip on his arm, as if the feeling of your skin against his would keep your feet on the ground. “Can’t you see? I do it for you.” He lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to graze your cheek. “I bleed for you, schatz.” He stepped closer to you, speaking as if it were completely obvious that he sliced himself, made himself gush impossible amounts, just for you. And a part of you always knew. You were always aware, always aware how it turned you on that such a man would do such things for a woman like you. 

He looked down at his arm, your grip tightening and fingertips pressing into his stitches. He lets out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as you absentmindedly dug your fingers into his gash. You stared at him, dumbfounded. You feel warmth pool under your fingertips, glancing down at his now bleeding flesh. 

“Fuck! I-I’m so sorry. Let me get some-”

“Harder.” He reaches forward hastily, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your lips hang agape, your face growing hot and your breathing growing heavier. He pulls at your arm, bringing you towards him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, threatening to crush you in its walls. The concept of what he wanted you to do made you woozy, your stomach queasy with disgust. But a deep part of you was fascinated by it, a sleeping beauty kissed awake by the nauseatingly beautiful devotion he showed to you. To want to please you. To show you how ready he was to drop dead. Just for you. Even if it were by the woman he loved most. 

You stare between his eyes, noticing how his gaze grew softer as you pressed your fingers into his bleeding flesh. He cried out, a disgusting mixture of pain and pleasure lacing his moans. You stepped closer to him, ignoring the feeling of his hot blood trickling down your wrist. You move your thumb around his stitches as you approach his chest, slowly running your hands up his muscles. You stopped below the hem of his mask, twirling it in your fingers. His hand shot up to your wrist, squeezing it with a force you could only describe as starved. Without words, he moves your hand to his stomach. You feel the muscles under his shirt flex as he guides your hand down his abdomen. You don’t think before you do it, but nothing in that moment could’ve stopped you from giving him exactly what he needed. He bled for you. Sliced himself wide open for you. He showed his devotion for you the only way he knew how. By shedding his own blood. Just for you. 

You work on his belt buckle, the warm blood weeping from his arm now trickling down to your elbow. As you got his pants open, you noticed it. He was already hard. Practically throbbing for your touch. His breathing grew strained, his head dipping down. You felt a smile twitch on your lips. The world around you seemed to be gone, and it was only you and him in this distasteful moment. You, him, his twitching cock and his bleeding arm.  As you took the tip of him into your hand, the warmth of his blood grew hotter as you pressed your thumb deeper into the gash. You stroke him, while simultaneously pushing your thumb forward, eliciting the pained and pleasured moans from the gigantic man before you. 

You see him look down, your small hands seeming smaller in comparison to the length and thickness of his dick. He reaches an ungloved hand towards yours, wrapping his large hand over yours. He guides your strokes, the combined warmth of his length and blood traveling through your body and settling in your core. He continued using your hand to jerk himself as his body twitched and slumped, knees bending slightly. You smile, no longer trying to fight the disgusting feelings that plagued your mind. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. But you did. The nausea that rose from your stomach only fueled you more, squeezing his cock harder as he continued stroking himself with your hand. 

“Harder, my love. Bitte, ich mache alles. Mach es härter.” (Please, I’ll do anything. Do it harder.) He breathed, his body jerking with painful bliss. You do as he asked, pressing your thumb into his weeping flesh harder. You weren’t concerned how much he was bleeding now, only getting him to come. This was an irreversible, irresponsible decision. You crossed a line with him, and a deep part of you knew. You fought the looming dread that threatened to ruin the moment. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And in some twisted, cruel way, you didn’t mind. It was dangerous. It was far beyond recovery. There was no way in hell he was letting you go without dying first. And your newfound sick, twisted desires catered to his very agenda. 

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…” His hand painfully squeezed yours, your fingers incapable of moving under his grip. You felt his cock twitch as you continued digging your thumb into his wound, the warmth of his blood bathing one hand, while the heat of his hot cum wetly coated the other. He lets out a string of moans and whines, his grip weakening over your hand. He breathes heavily into the air, your thumb releasing from his flesh. You let go of his cock, both your hands coated in the liquids that came from his soul. In some gruesome, macabre way, you enjoyed it. Loved it, even. The newfound feelings swirled through your mind and made your lips curl into absentminded grin. 

The sound of his belt buckle seemed to bring you back down to earth, causing you to rush to the sink and throw the faucet on. You washed your hands, looking down at your arm, now coated in blood. All of your feelings hit you all at once, feeling a strong nausea bubble in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were heaving into the sink, your knees wobbly and threatening to give out under you. You didn’t know why you threw up. You’d seen all kinds of gore, been covered in blood countless times. But this was something else. Something damaging. The looming dread growing darker over your head. You hear König shuffle, approaching you from behind. You feel his large hand caress your back, a soft gesture that did nothing to comfort you from the cold, dark things you’d just done. 

“I’m afraid I’ll need some new stitches, dear.” He says, a smile evident in his voice. You nodded your head, feeling airy as you stood up from the sink. You didn’t know what you would do now, the clarity hitting you like a truck. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. You sat him down again, resuturing his wound. 

“This cannot happen again, König.” You say sternly, hastily finishing his stitches and cleaning his arm with disinfectant. You stand from your chair, hands on your hips as you pace the room. He stood from the bed, walking over to you. Before you could squeak another word out, his hands were cupping both of your cheeks, your neck craning up to meet his gaze. 

“It can…and it will, schatz.” He says, a soft tremor in his voice. And in an effort to combat your fears of him, he swiftly throws the mask off of his head, hishelmet clattering to the floor. You look at him, lips parted. His strong jaw was lined with a dirty blonde stubble, his lips perfectly shaped balanced with the rest of his face. His nose sat crookedly between his eyes, permanently misshapen from breaking it so many times. His eyes, strong and grey, bored into your soul as if he was looking into every possible detail there was to know about you. He dipped his head down, pulling your face towards his as he crashed his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as he forces you to keep your lips stuck to his. 

He parts from the kiss, looking between your eyes with a deceivingly soft gaze. He leaves you in a stupor as he bends to pick his mask up off the floor, slipping his helmet on over his head. You stand dumbfounded, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to handle your newfound feelings. 

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

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[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 16 "Destroyer of Worlds"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: We're really getting there now 🥹🥹🥹 I'm so excited. And I'm very pleased with this chapter 🤭 I can't wait to hear what you think!

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 100

No guards frame the door that is tall and glinting back, just like Feyd had assured her. When she had approached it and passed through it several weeks prior, she thought it may as well lead to hell, but today she is certain of it. Except it won't be Feyd's hell or hers, it will be his.

And he will have no time for tricks.

With her gun of clear, shiny plastic raised in front of her chest, the relic enters Baron Vladimir Harkonnen's bath chambers.

The scented, herbal fog hasn't grown as dense and thick yet and the white, fleshy heap at the center of the tub fills out her sight at once. And unexpectedly, there is movement to the right, not a guard or a servant but Glugo who quivers in a damp basket near the wall.

While the woman's eyes are briefly averted, the Baron's shield flares up around his misshapen form at a flick against the massive, silver band at his middle finger. The smallest and priciest model on the market, Ixian technology.

"I expected my nephew," he drones, voice amplified by the vaulted ceiling but distorted by the shield.

"Hands on the pool edge," the woman demands, voice as cold as cryogenic vapor. Vladimir acquiesces, unable to reach for the transponder behind his ear. An invisible muscle ticks at his fleshy jaw.

"I hold audiences every Freitak," he attempts to jest, arms spread out in mockery as he adjusts them on the slippery edge. "No need to assault me in my own bath chambers."

A blunder, he realizes quickly as her face hardens with rancor. Not a molecule would fit between her clenched teeth.

"You're troubled because of what you saw," he concludes. "It was a mistake." Vladimir concedes all too quickly. His finesse seems to have evaporated along with the curling steam and he realizes he knows nothing substantial about the woman.

"Quite," she confirms curtly, closing in with slow, deliberate steps. The crosshair projected by her interface, only for her eyes to see, dances over the Baron's face, but she won't take any risks. At the center of the vaulted chamber, a generous distance separates them still, but she feels more confident in her aim.

Pulling a trigger is as easy as dropping a bomb. She should have it in her. Her kin have dropped bombs like rainfall back in the slaughterhouse warfare for oil and soil and rare earths.

The Baron gawks at the muzzle, an unassuming hole among glossy, alien plastic. His old eyes might be deceiving him, but he thinks he can see the inner cogs and channels shimmering through the surface, and a metallic component that doesn't belong.

A lasgun! She's either a maniac or an idiot! Or truly a relic of long-forgotten ages, like the sisterhood had said.

He could either deactivate his shield and die certainly, saving the palace and the capital from nuclear fallout, or he could take them down with him, his nephew included.

"You don't want to fire a lasgun at me, kid."

His voice booms and the Tleilaxu creature leaps out of its basket, hand-feet splatting across the damp tiles. Thank God, it flees out the door, the relic thinks. That tiny moment of inattentiveness is enough for Vladimir to flick the switch at the ring on his pointer, a special gift that was given to him just a few days ago, and just in time. Already, he feels safer.

"That's not a normal lasgun." Her attention is back on the Baron and she smiles knowingly. Vladimir despises the self-assured look of it.

"We can find a civilized solution for this," he declares with renewed confidence. Pretending to think, he sways his fatty neck from side to side. "I know my nephew has plenty to offer, so I don't see why we shouldn't be able to share."

She laughs out brightly, a sound like a whiplash across the Baron's heaving chest. "Where I'm from, there's the death penalty for abusers like you. I couldn't build an electric chair, so I brought something else."

"And what have you got there?" Get her talking, he thinks, beady eyes greedily darting for the door.

"Feyd's wedding gift."

"Feyd's wedding—?"

Thumb slipping over the back of the gun, she cocks the hammer.

"Did I understand that correctly? If you miscalculated, this test will cause an atomic explosion?" The memory of a few days prior fills out her mind, easing the terrible anxiety that now dampens her palms. "Yes, but I did not miscalculate." "Then why test it?" Feyd-Rautha had paced anxiously behind her and sized up the heap of towels stacked in the corner of her room, their outline blue and blurred by a softly humming Holtzman shield. "Better to be safe than sorry." "I'd feel sorry if you blew up my planet." "I wouldn't," she had responded with hardness and pulled the trigger. Doing so fires the bullet first, then a fine tuned laser beam from a smaller second muzzle, as light travels faster than matter and the bullet needs more time to reach its target. The double muzzle is calibrated to take the bullet's weight and distance from the target into consideration. Light may have no inherent mass, but photons do transmit impulse. And so the photons that comprise the laser beam collide with the Holtzman shield's nuclei and propel them into motion towards the body they are meant to protect. The beam's impact isn't hard enough to trigger a nuclear chain reaction, but just right to accelerate the nuclei. And by the time the bullet arrives at the crime scene too, its relative velocity to the shield is that of a slow blade. With a thump, the bullet had sunken into the stack of towels.

The door moves at her back and the only reason why she doesn't jump in fright is because she recognizes his footsteps.

"Wait, my darling."

The Baron could weep with joy at the sight of his dear nephew. Not who he had called, but an even more welcome sight. It was he who had given the boy everything; schooling for his cunning mind, planets to govern, blades to play with, toys to warm his heart and his cock with. Everything in exchange for a measly bit of affection!

Feyd-Rautha, dressed from neck to toe with not an inch of skin showing aside from his face and hands, loops his arms around his betrothed's waist, chin tilted and leaning against her temple.

"Let me do it." 

Vladimir pales, shuffling in the sloshing bath water as his nephew gently takes the gun from the cursed woman's hand and closes in like a starved viper. His chest rises beneath the full coverage of his suit.

Desperately, the Baron looks at the door.

"My dear nephew, you're falling for a hoax! Do you want to blow up the city?"

Feyd-Rautha stops, still several meters away from the tub. Vladimir seethes.

Anxiously, the relic observes the jittering path of the digital crosshair, weapon out of her hands and out of her control. As Feyd halts, the red mark settles on the Baron's pasty forehead. His aim is perfect.

"You want me dead, then come closer, at least! Look me in the eyes when you do it, my boy." The Baron's tongue flicks out, grey-pinkish flesh, to wet his bottom lip. He wants him so close that he can see the whites in his nephew's eyes before the city blows up. Stripped naked and unarmed aside from the poison needle in the signet ring on his pinkie, he feels more than ever like a heap of flesh, defenseless and abandoned and to his own surprise, it is the latter that hurts most.

Feyd-Rautha doesn't speak.

"Say something, boy! You've had more than enough chances to do this, but you didn't, and I'll tell you why." The Baron raises himself slightly, bulging chest emerging from the inky water. "You don't want to kill your own un—"

The echo of a bang ricochets off the vaulted ceiling and the Baron finds his head knocked back, vision filled with fractured red, his shield dissolved.

With his head rolled on the tub's edge, he can only see the ceiling, and something wet slips over his brow, into his blurry eye. Vladimir had always thought, when Feyd finally manages to kill him, he would ravage his body with blades, take him apart to the last organ, gorge on his flesh while it is still warm. It had almost aroused him.

But his nephew's final touch — denied. 

How cruel.

"You did it!" His betrothed's arms loop around his waist from behind, the embrace hard and stormy, her face against his spine. Feyd still stares in awe at the corpse of his uncle, massive, white flesh afloat obscenely in the tub.

"I did," he confirms, his voice hard, with tremors around the edges.

Feyd feels like he should perhaps burst into tears or yell, but none of the like wants to come out of his heart. The accomplishment might take a few days to feel real. What is entirely real, however, is the face of his darling as she slides to his front and cups his cheeks, overjoyed. The tears that his eyes are missing in his, shimmer distinctly in hers and before he knows it, she has tilted his face down to hers and pressed her lips on his, comforting and needy.

Anxiety melts under soft kisses and tears track down her cheeks, coloring their lips with salt.

"I see you've done us all a favor."

Feyd and his woman snap apart, staring in horror to the ajar door. A few steps into the chamber stands a figure swathed in black like a bad omen on the battlefield. The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam looks appreciatively at the corpse of Baron Harkonnen.

Even through the mesh of her veil, her sharp eyes perceive the wicked twitch of the na-Baron's hands around the gun.

"Hold still!" She commands and Feyd-Rautha's finger freezes at the trigger.

A pop-up blinks in the corner of the relic's interface, signaling the detection of the soundwave pattern she had picked apart a few weeks ago.

"What are you doing here?" The relic hisses, fingers screwed around Feyd's dangling wrist. She looks a tad haggard compared to when the Reverend Mother had last seen her, with a touch of madness in the eyes.

"My presence was requested by the late Baron and he was right to do so."

"Your presence?" Feyd's voice rings out in distaste, aiming for mockery but rage oozes from every strained muscle. The Reverend Mother sees in him a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

"I wasn't any less surprised than you are, Baron Feyd-Rautha." She tilts her head and with her moves the crass shadow thrown by her oblong headpiece. "That's how I knew the gravity of the situation. Your uncle was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. He had a feeling you were plotting something, so he requested my help, thinking I was the only one who could."

"But you are too late," Feyd barks, fingers clenching helplessly around the gun. "He's dead!"

"He is. And yet, I arrived perfectly on time." The Reverend Mother calmly crosses her hands in front of her body.

"You could have intervened and didn't?" Horror much bigger than when she had the Baron at gunpoint rises to the relic's chest.

"I must confess, I was… curious." Gaius Helen Mohiam waits but the younger woman remains silent. "How did you do it?"

The engineer laughs out, a sound that's shrill and unpleasant from her clamoring heartbeat. "Sure, I'll tell you and give away the single most valuable piece of information in the universe."

The Reverend Mother purses her lips. The truth is, she had made her decision the second the bullet had passed through the Baron's shield. That knowledge must die and not even reach the ears of her own sisters. Temptation brings out the worst in humans and careful plans are traded all too easily for short-lived power.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha knows too, but he is a force they can control. The wildcard however has no place among them.

"This must not come out," the Reverend Mother declares, her tone a whiplash.

The glint in the wayward woman's eyes tells her everything she needs to know. The terrible relic is not horrified by the idea of throwing the world off balance. She embraces the potential of destruction like a tumor the flesh it feasts on. Thousands of years of selective breeding are at risk at the whims of one wicked catalyst.

"I think maybe it should," the relic snarks. 

"You're an abomination!" Mother Mohiam snaps. "You should have stayed in the ice like the fossil you are."

"You shouldn't have thawed me then. This is your doing!"

And this is why the Reverend Mother must undo it. "There is no place for you here," she coldly proclaims.

"Then watch me make one! I'll carve, dig and shoot a mold for myself and if I end up destroying something on the way, I'm not sorry."

"That I can see, and that is precisely why there is no place for you in this world."

Feyd-Rautha stands at his betrothed's side, a shackled guard dog watching the heated exchange between witch and scientist, between the present and the past which might become the future once more.

"It is a pity," the Reverend Mother continues. "But there will be more opportunities to continue this bloodline." She tilts her head, sharp eyes locked onto the relic through the shroud of her veil. "Kill yourself."

Her interface flashes red, a warning at the center of her vision. For a brief moment, all joy fades from her eyes, all hope, and to end her own life seems to be the only logical consequence — until the code sequence she had programmed weeks prior is triggered into action, playing an opposing sound pattern directly into her skull.

Sound waves meet in destructive interference and only a dull, sad ache behind her sternum remains.

Mother Mohiam grows cold with terror when the abomination remains unmoving and smiles.

"You're full of surprises." The Reverend Mother's tone carries a hint of begrudging admiration. Underestimating her is a mistake she won't make again. The woman whose only ability of notable importance seemed to have been prescient dreams had somehow bested her command. But it doesn't matter. There is never only one way to the goal.

Feyd-Rautha realizes that too, but a second too late.

"Kill her."

The na-Baron slackens and turns, soulless eyes holding no recognition. She releases his wrist. Terror devours her when Feyd-Rautha points the gun at her forehead. And just like before, his aim is perfect. A red glow, visible only to her, bleeds into her vision from between her eyes and she remembers.

He aims with the gun that is linked to her brain. The trigger clicks only half a second after she jams it via remote control.

No bullet breaches her skull and the relic stumbles away from her love who stares at the handgun in confusion, pulling the trigger three more times before discarding the weapon with a dissonant clatter. A muscle tics at his jaw, cat like eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his belt. Glinting steel emerges from its sheath, a hissing purr. Her betrothed prowls.

"Feyd, don't—" She pleads, backing away with quickening steps. There is nowhere to go, only the tub where she could hide herself behind the Baron's floating corpse. "It's me, you don't want to kill me. You love me!"

"He doesn't know that," Mother Mohiam coldly reminds her and the relic glares hatefully.

"You're destroying his life!" She sobs, stumbling over the steps that lead up to the bathtub and falling on her bum. "How can you live like this? You're the abomination! He will kill you in revenge, he'll blow up your whole planet!"

Her beloved towers right over her, head crowned by a corona of glowglobe shine, his chiseled features entirely calm, innocent.

"Do it!"

"I'm sorry," she cries. "I love you."

Feyd grabs her by the front of her shirt as she tries to roll away. She squirms and sobs pathetically, helpless with no further tricks up her sleeve, no hidden blade or gun, no voice of her own to wield against him or her.

The Reverend Mother raises her chin in triumph, but all of a sudden, there is movement at the door, at the unsuspecting witch's back.

Mikhail Kyelug comes flying through the door, sword flung out in a wide arch. Right after him sprints Lilia, with Glugo clutching her hand.

The Reverend Mother spins in surprise, lips open, but her words are severed along with her head, terrible voice silenced forever as Mikhail's blade cleaves through her neck and spine with an awful crack. The world spins together with her head. The headpiece comes off, giving away thinning, grey hair. Voicelessly, she curses that her last ever sight is Baron Vladimir's Harkonnen's bloated face, dead eyes locked with dead eyes.

Feyd-Rautha whips around from the racket, blade quivering in his clenched fist. The relic's nails have dug inky crescents into his wrist. For a moment, no one moves and three humans and one humanoid wait with bated breath for Feyd to drop the blade.

But the voice is no link to be severed by the wielder's death, it is a temporary alteration of the brain, and so Feyd's face remains empty, shark eyes glaring at the intruders. Mikhail sees it too.

"Back! Back I say!" He roars and barges like a bull. Feyd-Rautha releases the woman's shirt, facing the threat that is bound to crash into him with hissing metal.

Blades collide.

Lilia jumps over the Reverend Mother's corpse and dashes past the fighting pair to  collect her weeping Lady from the steps. Glugo's hand-feet splatter after her with haste and it picks up the discarded gun, cradling the devious, shiny thing protectively against its misshapen chest.

Glugo had known right away, when it scuttled past the tall, old witch in the hallway and she had commanded it in that terrible voice to leave, that she meant harm. So, it had ran as fast as it could and pulled at Lilia's hands and skirt, because Lilia would know what to do. 

The three of them huddle down in the corner, the relic crying into Lilia's chest. Glugo slips a quivering hand-foot into her palm but its milky eyes are aimed at the center of the room where its friend and Mikhail are grappling and grunting.

By the Sun, the na-Baron fights like a demon! His pupils are shrunken into pinpricks and his mouth is pulled apart into a gashing grin. Mikhail's armor is torn at the shoulder and black blood weeps down his armpit. Every next parry burns as if his muscles were about to tear apart and with the rush of pain comes a rush of clarity.

Fists, not blades. 

Mikhail drops his blood-slick sword and catches the na-Baron's wrist, stopping the tip of the blade centimeters away from his neck. Roaring, he shoves the na-Baron backwards until he collides into the wall and slams the taller man's wrist against the tiles, once, twice. Feyd's blade slips out of his twitching fingers and clatters to the ground as his lips skin back from glinting, black teeth in anger.

Mikhail doesn't hesitate. He drives his thick-knuckled fist into the na-Baron's guts like a battering ram. Wearing no armor, Feyd doubles up, spitting saliva across his own chest. Ringed hands grasp at Mikhail's chest plate, attempting to hurl the guard to the ground, but Mikhail's boot crashes into Feyd's pelvis and scarred knuckles find Feyd's soft cheek. Skin splits open and his molars sink into the soft flesh inside his mouth.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Feyd blurts out, choking on spit and blood, hands raised in the air as Mikhail's final blow cracks across his jaw. He lurches to the ground and rolls on his back in defeat, his eyes clear and wide in terror.

"My Lord," Mikhail pants, raising his bloodied fists in a shaky salute.

"I— I didn't—" Feyd's head turns to the corner where both women are huddled up, Glugo in front of them, clutching the handgun in one of its oily-black hands.

"My darling," Feyd rasps, spluttering blood. "I nearly killed you."

"It's not your fault," she sobs immediately and frees herself from Lilia's embrace. The pair meet in the middle and her arms whip around his neck, his around her waist and he squeezes her until he feels her very heartbeat against his own, convincing himself that she's still alive.

Their foreheads fall against each other and she gently cradles his aching jaw, thumb stroking under the bleeding cut on his cheek. Feyd-Rautha's long, lowered lashes cast shadows across his eyes and something dark and bitter flashes in them.

"No," she insists immediately and her tone forces his eyes back on hers. She won't allow him to hate himself for something he almost did. "We're alive and they're dead. This is our victory."

Next to Feyd-Rautha and his Lady, Lilia has rushed over to her husband, making an endearing fuss over the wound on his shoulder and his bruised hands. Deft fingers have unclipped the shoulder piece and tugged the cut fabric apart to inspect length and depth of the laceration.

"S'fine, my darlin'," Mikhail rasps with exhaustion and slings his good arm around her middle, pulling her into him to place mindless kisses atop of her head.

The relic peeks over Feyd's shoulder and unlatches one hand from her beloved, beckoning for the pair to come closer. "Thank you," she sighs with tear-thick voice.

Lilia confidently seizes the offered hand, thumb brushing comfortingly over her Lady's knuckles. Mikhail stands awkwardly behind her, one hand on Lilia's waist, not daring to touch the woman of higher standing so affectionately. "My Lady."

Feyd-Rautha releases his woman after all and turns to face his saviors. At once, the guard and the handmaid drop to one knee before him and lower their heads in devotion.

"Baron Harkonnen," they mumble in unison and a muscle twitches across Feyd-Rautha's cheek.

"No," he interrupts with grating tone. "Stand up!"

The pair obey, glancing up with confusion as they raise themselves. Feyd-Rautha regards them with a long glance and exhales deeply, then slowly kneels in front of them, pale head rolling forwards until his eyes are trained on the ground.

"Thank you," he says. "You saved her life, and mine."

"My Lord," Mikhail mutters, overwhelmed and looks to the Lady for help while squeezing Lilia's waist. "It was only our duty, eh?" He insists but that is hardly true. Not duty but friendship had hastened their steps and fueled his fists when they barged into the room.

Glugo can no longer contain itself and scuttles over on hasty hand-feet, mewling with worry as it flings four of its eight limbs at Feyd's chest, tugging on the thick fabric while pressing its misshapen pug face against his sternum.

Feyd winces when shiny plastic is waved about right next to his face and he tries to capture the gun out of Glugo's innocent, little hand-foot while cradling the creature's head with one big, pale hand.

"It's jammed," his betrothed reassures him. "Come here, give that to me, hm?" Gently, she grasps the weapon and places it back in its holster.

"Hush, hush," Feyd mumbles and allows himself in a moment of vulnerability to rest his bruised cheek atop Glugo's head while his darling softly squeezes his shoulder.

"It is actually Glugo who deserves your gratitude, my Lord," Lilia reveals and Feyd holds the glugging creature a bit tighter. "It came to me crying and begging and I knew you needed us."

Glugo doesn't know exactly why everyone smells so much of tears and joy, but it knows it did something right and that it is surrounded by the kindest beings it has ever known.

"I wouldn't go near," the relic remarks, stopping Feyd whose prowling footsteps have carried him closer to the round tub in which the fleshy, white mountain of his uncle's corpse still floats, unmoving. "He's radioactive."

"I won't," Feyd grates out, plush lips skinned back from his teeth in distaste. He feels none of the morbid fascination he had always assumed he would feel when his uncle is finally dead by his hands, only a grim, long-awaited sense of accomplishment. Turning his head, he finds Glugo tugging curiously on the dead Reverend Mother's dress. The poor thing does have a penchant for liver after all. Feyd clicks his tongue. "Don't touch that!" 

Glugo scuttles away and back to Lilia's outstretched hand. It will receive a proper victor's feast later, something more worthy of its bravery than an old witch's, rotting corpse.

"I want the bodies completely eradicated, both of them," Feyd demands. Lest they return as Gholas, a voice of paranoia whispers to him, but he is all too happy to listen.

"How?" His woman curls her arm around his middle and Feyd pulls her to his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair before he makes a decision.

"Burn it down," he rasps. "Burn down the whole wing."

In the afternoon hours, the citizens, guards and slaves of Barony are left gawking and gasping, faces turned in shock towards the colossal palace pyramid where vicious smoke curls from the very top, black claws against the crass, white sky. At the na-Baron's behest, no one is to extinguish the wrathful flames. 

Proudly, he watches it burn, the place that holds two decades worth of abuse. The biting smoke soars towards the stars, like the herald of a new age.

I am Time (Death), cause of destruction of the worlds, matured And set out to gather in the worlds here. Even without thee (thy action), all shall cease to exist, The warriors that are drawn up in the opposing ranks.

- Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita

A/N: Killed the baddies with the power of friendship and science 🥹 (2 more chapter to come)

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I am back with the KatTac asks

The day comes when CatMom and Horangi and König are outside together in the garden. And the unspeakable happens, a bird swoops not at mom but at the smaller sun bathing cat, Horangi. How does that play out???

I need my cat boy kick gimme the goods 💖

You lean over your garden to check in on the tomatoes. There's some browning on the edges of the leaves. Your frown. It looks like it might be fungal. You sigh and put your gloved hands on your knees and hang your head. Everyone told you gardening would be easy, but it looked like this season would be a rough one.

Behind you, your cats lay splayed out on the patio deck. König is curled up in a garden chair while Horangi happily splayed out over the wood in a glowing patch of sun. He looks almost reverent with how the sun made his fur glow against his dark stripes. His eyes, normally bright with wicked mischief, are blissfully closed as he naps peacefully.

You turn around to give them a small smile.

König briefly glances up at you to give you a tiny mew. You can't help but smile a bit more at the sight.

You get up and stretch your hands way up high above your head. It looks like the cats were happy, at least. Since putting bells on their collars you'd trusted them more outside. You didn't like decimating the local wildlife, after all. You had grown fond of the family of finches outside your bedroom window.

You look up into the sky. It's a bright, beautiful day. The endless blue sky above smiles down upon you while you work. You take a moment to breath in the fresh air and relax. Nothing could ever ruin this day.

You walk towards the door, ready for another glass of lemonade from the fridge. You're not thinking really when you walk, there's no need to. Why should you concern yourself with thoughts of work or life? It's just a beautiful day. Nothing could go wrong.

You take one step when a dark shape bombs down from the sky. Before your very eyes, a large hawk swoops down and grabs Horangi right before your very eyes.

König looks just as shocked as you are.

Where Horangi once lay is an empty spot. You fall to your knees in the grass. A cicada buzzes in the distance as you blink and try to comprehend what you just saw. Another sound joins the mix of the summer din. You don't know what it is until König is bounding to your side. It's you. You're screaming. You're screaming and you can't stop.

You bundle König into your side and sob heavily. You want to die. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? All your moments with Horangi flash before your eyes, but he's gone. Horangi is gone and there's no bringing him back.

---

You hear the cat flap open in the middle of the night. You were only awake because you couldn't stop sobbing. You hadn't been able to stop since Horangi was snatched.

Despite yourself, you sit up in bed. You think it must be König, but... You look down at your side, where König is shaking against you.

You blink and stumble out of bed.

There's a twinkle of a bell outside your bedroom door.

It can't be. It's impossible.

You look down at König and then back at the door.

No. He couldn't.

You step closer to the door. You look back at the bed, where König has slowly woken up. He blinks sleepily until he hears the bell, and then his eyes shoot wide open.

Could it be? You open the door and look out into the dark.

There are your feet is your precious little toyger.

Horangi chirps at you and quickly pads to your side. You gasp as he weaves between your legs, perfectly unharmed. You can't believe it, but he doesn't look like he's so much as been scratched. He's fine. How is he fine?

You pick him up and look into his emerald eyes.

"Horangi?" you ask with a thick throat.

Horangi chirps.

You pull him into a crushing hug. He grumbles a bit and tries to get down but just this once, you don't let him go. You hold him and you cry. You shake with your sobs and Horangi stills. For just this moment, he lets you hold him.

When you go to bed, you hold him close the whole night. And just this once, Horangi lets you.

[rorywritesjunk]

Pampering Buggy

A fic of you pampering Buggy after he has a frustrating day.

Rating: I'd say PG-13 for swearing and some innuendos. Pairing: Buggy x You (no y/n, etc like that) Warnings: Again, some innuendos. Insecure!Buggy. One brief mention of being afraid of your partner. Mostly this is just Insecure!Buggy. More OPLA inspired since Buggy has them eyes that pop like firecrackers. Word Count: 2,300. A/N: Enjoy! This is my first posted fic in a long time, and my first time posting it in this kind of POV. It's not really edited either.

You knew something was up when you saw Cabaji first, the pirate locking eyes with you as he jerked his head in the direction of Buggy and dragged his finger across his throat in a gruesome motion. You winced and nodded, understanding that you were about to get a moody boyfriend in a few minutes. 

Sure enough, the captain came storming up to you a few minutes later. You remained calm, crossing your arms over your chest but staying relaxed as he stood in front of you, mimicking your stance. 

“Hey.” You spoke calmly, like you would to a wild animal. He could still sometimes be a bit unpredictable. “Seems like maybe you’ve had a rough day.”

“Rough day?” He shot back. “I work with a bunch of idiots who can’t seem to do anything right! It’s not like we haven’t pillaged a town before, but you wouldn’t know that by how every one of them fucked something up!”

You were used to these outbursts by now. Sure, the first time he had one it terrified you. You thought he was going to hurt you or something, but after a point you learned how to handle him. Some days required his favorite meal, some days a few drinks, and some days sex. Today, though, you knew it was something different that he needed. It rarely happened, but you knew what to do.

“Well, let’s go wash the day off then.” You replied softly with a smile, holding your hand out to him. The crew was already gone, leaving the two of you alone. You knew they didn’t want to potentially face Buggy’s wrath. “I have one of those fizzy bombs for the bath that you like, and a new mask for your face.”

It was adorable how he perked up at the word ‘bomb’, even if it was just a scented fizzy bath experience, but you knew he enjoyed relaxing in them. He insisted his crew never learn about this because he didn’t want them to think he was getting soft or something with having you around, and you never told the crew, but how else would you get these things? You didn’t leave the tent that often, and really, you asked Cabaji once and surprisingly he listened to your request to get you the things you needed. 

Buggy looked at your hand and took it, grumbling softly as you led him back to his quarters. This kind of day required pampering. You had suggested this to him once after he refused food, alcohol, and sex. In a moment of frustration you asked if he just wanted to drown in the damn bathtub and he perked up. As long as you didn’t use sea water everything was fine. You had never seen him so relaxed and you gradually incorporated face masks, the fizzy bombs, and even brushing his hair for him while he relaxed. 

Once you were both in your shared room, you shut and locked the door. The crew knew better than to barge in, but you knew Buggy would feel humiliated if his crew saw him in the tub with a pink face mask on and a crown braid while he soaked in lavender scented water. You didn’t want that for him so the door always remained locked. If the crew needed something then they would knock.

Buggy moved to the end of the bed and sat down to remove his boots. He was still upset, you knew because he wasn’t even trying to unlace his boots as he tried to force his boots off. You went to start the bath water, letting the tub fill up with hot water. Once it started filling up, you went over to rescue him from his clothes. Without a word you knelt in front of him and started unlacing his boots for him. He looked ready to protest, he didn’t need this kind of help, but one look from you and he kept his mouth shut. 

You took his boots off and set them aside before pulling off his socks. You noted they were getting holes in them, so you set them aside to add them to your mend pile. He stood up to and undid his pants, winking at you while you remained on your knees in front of him. You patted his knee before getting back up. 

“Bath first.” You told him; he pouted. You didn’t give in and helped slide his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms before he let his pants drop to the floor. He stepped out of them while you set the jacket on the bed. You helped unbutton his front. He was perfectly capable of undressing himself, you both knew this, but you wanted him to do as little as possible. You wanted to take care of him, to let him know you were there for him, and that you loved him. The little gestures like removing his shoes, helping him with his jacket, even mending his socks showed him how much you cared for him.

It definitely took him a while to get used to that kind of love language. 

Once he was finally naked, you grabbed his hand and led him over to the tub. Before you could say anything, he wrapped his arms around you, letting his chin rest on the top of your head. You looked up at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek with the back of your hand slowly.

“Get in the tub, Buggy.” You told him gently. “The water should be ready.” 

He nodded and stepped into the tub while you reached over to turn the faucet off. He sank into the water, letting his head rest along the edge while he bent his knees to accommodate his height better. You wished you had a bigger tub. You handed him the fizzy bomb, knowing he’d get more joy out of it if he was the one to drop it in the tub. He held it up high before letting it drop down, a smirk on his face as water splashed out at you. 

“Better take that top off, babe.” He said as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. It was a peppermint scented fizzy bomb this time. It felt soothing already. “I can see through your shirt already.”

You just shook your head as you went to his vanity to retrieve a washcloth, cleanser, and the face mask. He didn’t really like having the face paint removed, but you insisted the facemask would feel better on a clean face, so he allowed you to do it. You dipped the water in the tub as the water turned blue and sparkly and gently ran it over Buggy’s face. He winced at first and you waited. You never asked why he did that when you did this, you knew he’d tell you if he wanted. He took a deep breath and exhaled, nodding for you to continue. 

You never rushed this. You took your time removing as much of the face paint as possible with the washcloth, running it along his cheeks, lips, and his eyes while always being careful around his nose.  He sighed deeply as he opened his eyes to look at you. You smiled at him as you squirted some of the cleanser onto your fingers and massaged it onto his face. This stuff always took the makeup off, no matter how thick or old it was. He leaned into your touch, humming contently as you worked the cleanser around his eyes carefully. You used the washcloth to wipe it away, smiling when you saw his bare face. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at you. You swallowed heavily as you looked into his eyes. Damn, they always caught you off guard with how beautiful they were. You wanted to kiss him, to get in the tub with him right then and just stare into his eyes for the rest of the night, but this wasn’t about you, this was about him. Instead, you caressed his cheek gently before grabbing the container for the new face mask.

“You want this, right?” You asked as you held it up. He nodded and closed his eyes once again. You opened it and scooped your fingers into the bright green mixture. He liked it thick on his face, which you were happy to do. He kept his eyes closed as you started on his cheeks, rubbing the mixture thick onto his skin. Buggy leaned into your touch, following the movements of your hand. You smiled, finding him to be very cat-like in that moment, wanting to be touched. You’d never tell him you’d compare him to a cat, however. 

“How are you holding up, Buggy?” You asked as you caked the mask onto his forehead and chin. He could only sigh in response. “Okay, good, now… do you want me to rub some of this stuff on your nose?”

He opened his eyes once again and looked at you. He was thinking it over for a moment before nodding. You were gentle, using your fingertips to massage it all over his bright red nose. You made the mistake of touching his nose without asking the first time you used a face mask on him, and the way he had reacted made you ask every time. He didn’t want to think of his nose or of you acknowledging it, ever, but it was something he had to live with.

You didn’t rush. You didn’t want him to think you were disgusted by it and not want to touch it. You weren’t at all. You found it endearing, and while it caught you off guard the first time you saw him, it definitely was one of your favorite things about him.

You finally finished with his face and dipped your fingers into the water above his shoulders to clean them off. “Hair next?”

“Please.” He mumbled as he started to sink into the tub. You reached in and pulled him back up. You needed to be able to read his head better, and you really didn’t want him to detach it from his body while in the tub. He did it once and it freaked you out.

You removed the bandana and ran your fingers through the bright blue locks, humming in appreciation as you admired the color. Absolutely gorgeous. You made sure to get any tangles or snarls out with your fingers first before running the brush through it. Once you were certain all was well, you picked up the hairbrush and began to run it through his hair in sections. This was your favorite part of the whole pampering. You loved tending to his hair, and he trusted you to do it. You often tried different braid styles on him, from three strand, five strand, fish tail, and his favorite, which was a crown braid. He liked having his hair up like that while he was in bed with you as it kept his hair out of his face and your face. You didn’t ask what style he wanted, you would just do the crown braid again. 

The brush went right through his hair with no issue. He tilted his head back, allowing just a bit more access to the top of his head. You raised yourself up on your knees and held his head in your hands while you kissed his hairline above his forehead, not wanting a mouthful of the face mask. He smirked and cracked an eye open to look at you.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” He teased. You laughed softly and kissed him again.

“I’ve had my hands on you since you came home, Buggy.” You reminded him with a smile. “And no doubt I’ll have my hands on you again after you get out of that bath.”

He smirked and settled back into the tub once more. He was plotting something, that much you could tell. It would either end with you fully clothed in the bathtub or being thrown onto the bed once he got out of the tub. You needed to be ready for either scenario.

You sectioned his hair once again and began working on the braid. It didn’t take long to get his hair wrapped around his head and tucked into place. He didn’t want bobby pins or clips, insisting they poked him too much, so you did your best to keep it tucked into his hair on its own. By the time you wake up tomorrow, no doubt half of it will be undone and he’ll whine about needing his hair fixed. You would fix it in a heartbeat.

This was when you had to be wary of him as you stood up. His Devil Fruit ability always caught you off guard when he knew you were done. He didn’t want it to end, so you kept your eyes on him as you began to remove your own clothes. You knew either way you were going to end up naked tonight, and you really didn’t want your clothes soaked.

You set your clothes away from the tub before coming up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder. He looked up at you and sat up, scooting closer to the other end of the tub to allow you to climb in behind him. Once you were settled, you pulled him back to let his head rest against your chest. He crossed his arms over his own chest and you grabbed hold of his hands, locking your fingers together as you pressed your lips to his earlobe.

“I love you, Buggy.”

“I know.” He mumbled. And, though you almost missed him saying it, he replied with, “I love you too.”