#shovel. what are YOU made of if not flesh?

[forcedhesitation]

the dialogue you get with shovel in the apothecary's cellar is so funny. I can't believe I've not seen this until now. enjoy your new murder bestie astarion <3

[tonycries]

WILD WILD WILD

Synopsis. No time like the first time, and his first time with you is enough to drive a man wild wild wild.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, first time fúcking you, PÚSSYDRUNK BOYS, BRÉEDING, pússy-slápping, creampíes, true form!Sukuna, dp, GOJO’S POWERS, mentions of having kíds, spítting, praise, cúmplay, vírginíty loss (Choso), proposals, slight chokíng, slightly mean Geto, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hoping you all have a lovely lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Oh baby, baby.

You’ve made it about five absolutely shattered condoms before Toji simply growls and flips you over with such a branding slap! to your cunt - as if it was your fault he hasn’t gotten to ravage his pretty girl already.

Running his tongue over that sinful scar on his upper lip, he’s spreading your puffy pussy lips open with a slow swipe of his thick thumb. Mouth just salivating at that easy, languid trickle of your sweet sweet juices glossing down his wrist. 

“Wouldn’t have even tried so hah- hard with those goddamn rubbers if I knew what ya were holdin’ out on me, doll.” Toji jeers from above, jostling your dangling legs even tighter around his slender waist. Before planting a drippingly wet smack! smack! smack! of his swollen, reddish tip right on the peak of your sensitive clit. “Just look at how drenched that makes ya.”

“Toji–” your honeyed, dragged-out whine makes him just twitch on top of you. Squirming at the way that has him gushing out a saturated puddle of sweltering hot precum onto your pre-soaked cunt. “Won’t you just put it in alre- ah!”

And Toji’s so fucking mean with the way he inches in just the very curve of his fat tip past your gummy entrance, shutting up those cute complaints on your tongue for the most delicious whine he’s ever heard.

“Heh, there we go. Finally- finally.” he gruffs out, moving over the grip of his long digits around his thickened base to wrap around your splayed-out thighs. Such an awful tease - making you do all the work shuffling down the silken sheets trying to milk his achy shaft. “Ohhh yeah- oh my god, there we fuckin- go-”

A particularly harsh clench of your velvety walls makes him throw his head back deliriously. Hoarse, baritone moans wrenching from his chest, “Yeah- you were so fuckin’ holding out. Heh, didn’t know it could feel so good. Feels like heaven, ma. Think I could fuck this cunt for forever-” He drags a hazy kiss down your lips, “Could fuck a baby into ya-”

“Hngh! I-if it-” you’re managing to mewl out, blinking back the big fat tears in your eyes to wrap your limp arms around his neck. “-if it feels so good then why aren’t you fucking me properly.”

Another heated smack! has the imprint of all five fingers of his raising on your flesh, and Toji just shoveling the rest of his long, solid inches into your clingy insides. And- shit, he’s so jaw-droppingly massive. No matter how many times you’ve seen him, taking him is a whole other feeling.

Fuck. This was heaven.

He grunts, “Might be the first time but yer suckin’ me up so- well.”

It’s like your poor pussy was gaping around him, being molded along every tiny crevice of his cock. That slight upwards curve was just spearing into the very spongy depths of your cervix head-on, drawing wet, glossy glides across your g-spot. 

You were finally, finally being fucked by him. 

And it was maddening. 

“Say that again, doll?” he quirks his head down at you after a few heaving breaths to try and stop that pathetic cracking of his words. “Because I think you were hah- s-saying something.” Each word is punctuated by a ruthless thrust, making a sloppy mess of your insides until you could feel the thundering throb of his pumping cock, the sticky thwack of his cum-filled balls on your ass. Toji leans down until his entire body weight was pinning you against the damp mattress, holding you hostage to the way he tugs on your ear lobes with his sharp canines. “Or are ya just too hngh- cockdrunk for it already?”

Smack! 

As if you could speak.

Jaw dangling open, hulking body hunched over, his big beefy arms cage you in. “Awww, come on now. Answer me. Don’t tell me you were ah- beggin’ for my cock so badly for weeks n’ won’t even gimme your pretty compliments?”

You’re barely even able to keep up with his syrupy sweet words, locking your ankles around his waist.

Toji hisses when that slight movement has him jolting even rougher against the bulbous bullseye of your sweet spots. “I-I didn’t-”

“I-I-I didn’t-” he snickers against your lips, swiveling his hips into slow sultry swirls until his fat girth was dragging his prominent veins along all your sweet spots. You’re just keening at that, making your back arch up sluttily into Toji’s muscled chest. “Honestly. If all it took was my ngh- d-dick to make you forget those good girl manners, I’d have done this- much- sooner-”

He’s babbling out just as deliriously as you no matter how much he’d like to pretend he isn’t. Because oh Toji Fushiguro was no match for your pretty pussy.

No match for the way each of his ramming thrusts had every shred of rationality flying out of his honeyed mind, puffs of breath coming out more feverish. Heavier. Words slurring and jumbling together at every fresh coat of your slippery slick down his raw length. 

“Shit.” His eyes lock on your utterly fucked-out expression, he can’t even bring himself to look downwards at how well you’re taking him. “Let’s see how much of a cockdrunk slut ya really are- open that mouth, ma.”

And Toji could almost laugh at how readily your spit-glossed lips sag open for him. Taking it all in one go when he spits out a hot, steady stream of spit right onto your pink taste buds. 

“Yeahh, heheh-” he’s grinning darkly, feeling his tight balls squeeze painfully. Gliding the soft pad of his thumb down that translucent trickle of drool along the corner of your mouth. “Now swallow.” Rock-hard tip mashing against your g-spot in a way that only makes you head his instructions without a second thought. 

“Good. Now you realize-” His rough hands wrangle your boneless legs on top of his broad shoulders, bending down, down, down into the meanest mating press possible. “-that I was serious about fuckin’ a baby into ya, right?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Marry m- take it.”

“Ken- Ken–” your sultry mewls only grow louder, batting those teary eyes up at where Nanami’s got you folded into the firmest little mating press he’d allow himself. “I want more.”

Oh, and he thinks he could pass out. He thinks he’s stopped breathing. Nanami thinks with all his bleary head and his achy, furious dick that he’s going to marry you right here, right now on these expensive silken sheets. 

He’s leaning in close enough to kiss his forehead against yours, sweat-slicked lips clashing into yours in a way that makes your knees weak. Hushing out, “Shhh, s’alright, my love.” And his tone is so sweet that you almost forget the absolutely mean way Nanami was splitting you apart. Your sopping pussy bulging out at the intrusion of his fat, hot girth. “Good girl, takin’ me so well for the first time. Tell me- hah- tell me where.”

And all you can do is dazedly guide his massive hand along your tummy, so warm and comforting. Pressing down where he gets to the lewd little nudge of his thick tip, sheathing in deeper and deeper and-

“H-here–” you’re mewling, big fat tears streaming down your eyes now. Ones that he wastes absolutely no time licking long, languid stripes to taste. He groans at the salty flavor. “Can feel you right here, Ken. Didn’t- hngh- didn’t think you’d be in so- deep-”

Those simple words have Nanami’s body shivering, sucking in a deep, shuddering inhale when his leaky tip just twitches. Convulsing in a jagged little line along the spongy crevice of your sweet spots, he huffs out an exasperated laugh. “What did ya expect, darling?” He purrs, tucking his face into the sensitive crook of your neck. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon y’know-”

And if you thought that he was already rummaging inside you brandingly, he was barely even halfway in yet. 

“Shhh you got this.” Feeding you inch after inch, it’s like it was never-ending. You’ve never been stretched out to this extent ever before, having your cunt all gaping and spread wide open for him. Nanami didn’t even have to crane his head to eye down at you glistening hole, winking up at him sluttily. Just filling you to the brim, the very tip of his drooling cock shoves against your g-spot in an addicted little kiss. Each collision has you slamming further and further up the bed, struggling. Because while Nanami Kento acted the part of a gentleman - his achy dick sure didn’t.

You hips jerk so prettily when he runs a calloused thumb over the very peak of your neglected clit. “You alright, my love? Need-”

“More!” you cut him off with such a cute whine. And it makes his cock act in a way he’d be almost embarrassed about, puncturing deeply into your plushy walls. Leaving a harsh sting of the very divot on his thick tip along your cervix. But it still wasn’t enough. “Please- Wan’ more more more- faster, Ken.”

By now, Nanami knew he was going to marry you. 

Oh, how he was going to fuck you exactly like this on your wedding night. And every night after that and after that and-

“Fuck, I love you-” he sputters out, stealing a few lingering kisses on your needy lips. Depraved. Filthy. Bruising with just how fast he was pistoning into you. “Love you love you- gonna marry you, y’know?” His eyes roll to the back of his head, head throwing backwards when you clench. “Gonna buy us a house, make y’my pretty wife- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

Whatever’s left of Nanami’s rationality knows how ridiculous he sounds - the first taste of his pretty wife- well, future wife’s pussy and he’s already babbling about marriage. Fuck. 

But you only kiss him back as drunkenly as ever, hungry. Bucking your hips up in a wild way for more. “Mhm- wan’ you to- ah- fuck–” Drool drips down the corner of your mouth, and your eyes are drooping such after every smashing kiss against your g-spot. It’s all you can do to whimper, “M’so close ah- think m’so–”

“Me too-” he grits out, jaw clenching. “Me too me too- hah-”

The raspy baritone of his voice shakes with the incessant smack! smack! smack! of his painfully heavy, cum-filled balls against your skin. Riotous and relentless. Only accompanied by your sweet ah! ah! ah! and those slurping noises from below. 

“Cum inside me, Ken-” you moan, voice shaking into a whine. “Don’ want you to waste a drop, p-please cum inside-”

“Then take it-” he gasps out. He’s clinging onto you so tight, so deep. Fingers moving before his useless mind when his thumb grows steadily sloppier on your clit. Tight circles patterning into a rapid M-A-R-R-Y-M-E-M-A-R-R-Y-M-E-M-A- “Take it like my ah! good lil’ wife.”

And you don’t know who’s cumming first, but it only takes a few more throbbing strokes before Nanami just fills you to the brim with all his warmth. It seeps out of you - thick, velvety ropes of his potent seed that can’t stop spewing from his furious, weepy tip. So red and jolting with each of your constricting squeezes. 

You gasp, waves of your own high crashing into you over and over with every piston of his hips. And leftovers of Nanami’s cum gushes out of you with each buck of your needy ips.

“O-oh my god-” you’re whimpering, dragging your nails down his flexingly broad back. Babbling away cockdrunkenly, “How am I so- full ah-”

Nanami heaves out ragged sighs, pulling out his twitchy tip ever-so-slightly to let his cum form a glossy sheen of milky white between your legs. And he’s so gone, so utterly fucked-out when he swipes his thumb across that creamy puddle. Bringing it up to plug it into your slack-jawed mouth, “Think I s-skipped a few steps into making you a pretty momma before I made you my pretty wife, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - KEEP UP!

“Is that-” Geto hisses, gritting his teeth ferociously, and it’s all he can do to not just throw his head back pussydrunkenly. To all but grip your trembly thighs in two of his rough hands, peering up at you through long, dark lashes. “Is that all you got, gorgeous?”

The only response he gets are your hips grinding down in sticky swivels to smack against his toned ones. Geto’s thighs come up behind you to just squeeze your glissading body, gyrating up even deeper. 

“W-well–” you whine at his mean smirk, your hands greedily dancing upwards to smooth and knead all over his pale, sculpted skin. “-you’re not doin’ any ah- better-”

Fuck, was that the understatement of the year.

It was only the first time Geto was sinking into your sweet, sweet pussy and he’s already so fucked-out. So hungry for more with the way his hips just up ravenously, heady scent making your head spin. Making his head spin - the only thing on his mind right now being why the fuck didn’t he fuck this pretty cunt of yours sooner?

“Heh, thought you said you weren’t all that affected, Sugu?” you’re giggling smugly, which only makes his rosy lips slack open. Wet, gurgling moans being wrenched out with each snap of his hips. It’s only then that you realize - he didn’t even mean to say that out loud. “Wait- You’re not serious, are you?”

“Shut up.”

That vice-like hold on the plush of your hips turns bruising, Geto’s entire body just wracking with a violent shudder until he’s sitting upwards. Hauling you along with him to be splayed out all prettily on his lap, mashing his lips in a simpering kiss. 

“Shut up shut up shut-” he spits against your glossy pout. The only thing he can do is thrust, letting his mouth foam with each rut into your sopping wet walls. Growing harder and harder with each jiggle of your ass against his tightly thwacking balls. “Shut up n’ just let hah- let this cunt speak for herself, m’kay?”

His words catch you by surprise, and the relentless squelch! squelch! squelch! of your slobbering cunt rings in your ears.

You lean down to kiss the very tips of Geto’s reddening ears, “So mean.” 

At your pouty huff, he bullies in two of his fingers into your drunkenly slacking mouth. Forcing you to suck. To shut up. “So mouthy.” he spits. “So so–”

Geto trails off with a guttural groan, big beefy arms wrapping around your convulsing body until he has you pinned to him like some perfect cocksleeve. He’s whining, “Oh, I can’t- I can’t I-”

And before you know it, he’s pulling out all at once, leaving you whimpering at the hasty drag of his thick cock down your clingy walls. Missing him already. 

“I can’t- I need to-” Snap! Geto’s rock-hard dick only engorges even bigger when he tugs on the thin rubber condom covering it, the slap of cool hair mixed with your syrupy sweet juices driving him wild. Rubbing his angrily raw length along your drenched slit, “Please- let me. I need to feel ya for real, please, gorgeous.”

“Yes.” you mewl. “Yes yes yes-”

He’s purposefully leaning backwards on the mattress to shove every inch of himself into your deepest, most sensitive depths. Rummaging his weepy erection inside you until he’s kissing wetly against your sweet spots. And even through his slender fingers hitting at the back of your throat, your whimpers get louder. Pitching up higher. More slutty.

“Hah- ya scream even with my fingers hah- inside your pretty mouth.” His nose breathes a slow, delicate trail down your thundering pulse. “And you say I’m the one fucked-out with jus’ one t-taste.”

He stutters. Geto Suguru stutters. 

The one always so sharp with his tongue, and quick with his words can’t stop his voice from cracking. From bearing you with the full brunt of his pussydrunken gaze, and immediately Geto bites down on his lower lip. Pathetically trying to stop any more of his pretty noises from reaching your ears.

“Hngh- Sugu-” you manage to mumble out around his digits. Dragging up one of your hands to pull roughly on his long, inky hair. “So mean.”

“You’re the hah- m-mean one, my girl.” Geto’s next words come out absolutely ruined. Disheveled strands falling all around your face and sticking to both of your sweat-sheened bodies. His dark brows scrunch together, mouth dry like he’s starved. “So mean- taunting me with such a-a perfect pussy. Holding it-” Those dripping wet fingers inside your mouth make their slow, sloppy trail down to toy with your puffed-up clit. Rolling over gently, and back again. “-back from me for so- hah- so fuckin’ long. Y’know how fuckin’ long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this-” His kiss is messy - salty, it hits you each each juttering slam that he’s tearing up. “-Oh, if you knew you’d be scared.”

He’s sounding desperate. Ruined. 

Each and every one of his sultry swipes into your g-spot making his head throw back, abs clenching with every blissful shiver. You were so hot. So soft. And Geto fucking cursed the days he spent not fucking you right then and there from the moment he first saw you.

“Y-you said that-” your greedy hips push downwards against his saturatedly cum-filled balls. Sparks of pleasure making something so hot coil at the very bottom of your stomach. “-out loud again. Sugu- ah-”

“And?” 

With a smugly smacking kiss against your lips, he’s plowing on, “Can feel how ah- badly ya wan’ me to fill you up. How wet how wet it hngh- gets you to see me s-so ruined like this-” Cold rings of his fingers swirling coolingly inside your mouth - deep. “-my little sadist.”

You moan uproariously, which only makes him chuckle. Low, and hoarse. Dangerous. “And you best believe that when I cum-” Patting your bulging cunt, “-m’gonna have another taste.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Too sweet…

“O-oh–”

Choso can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the pathetic way his deep voice cracks, the way his pretty pink lips fall into a lewd oh! Eyes rolling to the back of his head, thighs shivering after each shuddering little hump. 

You let out a drunken giggle, feeling the sloshing of his sopping wet precum splatter all along your inner thighs. “Something wrong, Cho?”

“No!” your dear boyfriend is gasping, dewy eyes just wrenching open in a panic. Long, jittery limbs so fearful of losing even an ounce of that hot drag of your puffed-up pussy lips against his swollen tip. “No no no-” His strong arms come around your body, pinning you against where he had you on all fours. “Please don’t take this heavenly pussy a-away from me, baby.”

The words are so hastily spat out, like it hurt to even say them.

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders, glassy eyes spying down at that ragged rouge blush all over Choso’s face, that pussydrunk trail of drool down his lips, the way his achy cock hung so angry and heavy between his legs. Between yours. 

So pretty. 

“Well then, Cho.” His bruised lips just wobble at your sweet, sweet nickname. “Why aren’t ya putting it in already, then?”

“B-because-” his breath comes out in a hot puff against the back of your neck, and Choso takes the languid time to leave such a wet stream of kisses up your arched back. “Because m’worried s’not gonna be all you want, my baby.”

And he sounded so desperate. So needy, holding himself back. 

A deft hand of yours tangles its way into his dark hair, pulling until your pretty boyfriend just keens. Dragging the sweltering hot tip of his swollen cock along your dripping wet slit. It mixes your honeyed juices together with an obscene squelch! 

You steady yourself to just push - ever-so-slightly - down the plush mattress to take a mere inch of him. 

And oh that turns him into such a babbling mess, moans hitching in his rumbling chest. Gasping and stuttering out sultry curses while Choso grabs his hands onto the curve of your waist. Hips reeling - forwards.

It only takes a mere moment before Choso slouches over, pinning you into him until you couldn’t move your filthy hips anymore. But the damage was already done. 

And before you know it, he’s cumming - before he knows it, he’s cumming. Plugging in your tight hole with just his fat tip, he’s sobbing out thick, potent ribbon after ribbon of cum into your overstuffed pussy. So much of his slippery slick seed, hitting your spongy cervix, knocking on your womb. The sheer volume of it that sticks all around his cock in a creamy ring.

“Wait- oh-” he whimpers, voice shot. There was just something about the way your soaked, gummy walls were closing in on him, trying to just suck something delicious out of him that made it unable to stop himself. “Wait- I can’t oh-”

Muscled thighs spreading out even farther on the plush bed, he gives absolutely no warning before just pounding into you ruthlessly. No rhythm or reason at all. Just reveling in the way your slobbering cunt molds all around him, that jiggling smack! of your ass as he fucks you from behind.

“Is this…” he breathes out unsteadily, chest heaving. Hiking up one of his legs to drive his fat tip against the very bottom of your pussy even deeper. To drill across in thorough, wet glides of splashing cum. In wonderment, “So is this what you f-feel like, y baby- hngh! Is this ah- what- what sex feels like?”

He’s so sloppy, and he’s not even trying to be. Having that glossy puddle of cum spread wider and wider underneath your fervently ramming bodies.

“Mhmmm–” you’re batting your lashes at him. 

Choso mashes his lips into yours, groaning out with each sharp hit of his hip bones against the curve of your ass. Whining, “Does- does it feel as good for you?” The hefty swell of his balls grind up greedily into your pussy, getting messier and wetter with every cascade of your juices down his eager length. His long fingers dip down to rub the very tip of your clit. Languidly. “T-tell me, baby.”

And just one swipe of his trembly thumb against your sensitive nub is all it takes for you to just clench, to throw your head back and arch into him even more sluttily. 

“Hngh! Feels so good, Cho-” you mewl, big fat tears of stimulation welling up behind your eyelids. “K-keep going-” 

“Oh.” he sucks in a shaky breath. And you feel the rotund curve of his cock expand even girthier, stretching out the already-taut channel of your pussy. Roughly, Choso’s grabbing a handful of your ass, kneading. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have said his moans were almost pained. “Wait don’t squeeze me like that- fuck fuck fuck- feels too good don’t-”

And when have you ever listened to your poor boyfriend?

It only takes a long, hard clamp around his heated cock before Choso sees stars behind his eyes again, throat run raw with moans of your name. And then he’s cumming - again. At least, whatever sense is left in him thinks he’s cumming.

“Baby, you’re- you’re so mean-” Choso lolls out his tongue deliriously, sucking on your own. Steady tears of his splash onto your skin with each sticky leftover dredge cum shooting out, and you’re left taking each of Choso’s jackhammering thrusts. Leaving you whimpering, being held back to paint your entrance even messier. Until he’s shooting out blanks. “S’only m’first time n’ already so mean.” He swipes a hand over your now-bloated tummy, coating his fingers all over with the absolute sin oozing out of you.

Seconds later, those syrupy fingers bully between your lips. And in a hoarse, husky whisper Choso continues, “You hafta t-take responsibility, y’know?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Twin b*tches, twin b*tches

“Both.”

“Brat-”

“Both.”

And while the infamous King of Curses can do nothing but stare down at you with one of his dangerously quirked eyebrows, you take it upon your stubborn self to bite down on Sukuna’s lower lip. Tugging, “Did I stutt- hngh!”

Whatever bratty sentence on the tip of your tongue is being fully overtaken by such one of the most cockdrunken moans that Sukuna has ever heard. Forcing from your syrupy lips as soon as he’s ramming his angry cockhead upwards into your melty insides. 

“Heh, I think ya did stutter.” he’s leering down at you, feeding your drooling cunt with inch after hefty inch of his cock. “First time actually takin’ my cock and you want both? Ya wanna die, woman?”

“N-no–” you’re whining out. “I j-just want all of you-”

In milliseconds, he’s flipping the two of you over - having you thoroughly and deliriously straddled on one of his swollen cocks. You feel Sukuna’s other erection stacked behind twitch at the curve of your ass, gushing out such voluminous amounts of steaming hot precum seeping into your skin. Skin that absolutely thrills when he plants a harsh smack! 

“Don’ say things outta ya slutty pussy, lil’ human.” he growls. Shutting you up with pound after pound, engorged shaft stretching every nook and cranny of your gummy cunt open. “S’gonna end up with me havin’ ta take care of your cockdrunk self and you-” You squeal when one of his four large hands wrap snugly around your throat, hauling you to his snarling lips. “-very, very pregnant with my heir.”

If that was meant to be a threat, Sukuna already knows that it didn’t work.

Because it only made your dripping pussy more drenched, more swelteringly tight around his girth.

“Ohhh ya liked that, didn’t ya?” he grins such a feral grin that shows off those sharp canines. And Sukuna’s taking his lazy, blissful time thumbing your bulging pussy open. “Might jus’ be the first to ever want to take both, greedy lil’ thing.”

“K-una–” you push up your ass against his other matchingly rock-hard cock. “Don’t care. Just wan’ you so bad.” 

“Aww, jealous are ya?” Throat hoarse, chest heaving now, the bulbous tip of his other cock kisses insistently and wetly at your puckering cunt. He laughs, “Heh- No need, brat. Because- here-”

In true Sukuna fashion, he barely even gives you any warning before just hammering up with both cocks into the very bottom of your heated pussy with a pressurized thrust. Twin heads twinging so harshly that they knock against each other, nudging against your g-spot twice. 

He knew what you wanted.

And you were finally getting it.

“Oh.” Sukuna’s red, devilish eyes roll to the back of his head at the way your dripping wet walls were so welcoming. Rubbing up against himself with each shuddering thrust, he’s gripping your chin with another hand, pressing wet kiss after kiss. “Oh you realize that- that m’gonna be filling this cute cunt up hah- twice as much now, hm? S’not too much for yer t-tight pussy the first time takin’ your king?”

He sounded almost…concerned. Benevolent 

And all you can do is nod, taking the sloppy staccato of both cocks spearheading you like no other. Feeling stuffed so full, it was like he was knocking up into your lungs. 

“Lungs, huh?” he’s tittering, and it barely even registers that you’re speaking out loud. “Didn’t think you’d be this cockdrunk.” He babbles away, feet planting flat on the mattress to fuck up even impossibly deeper. “Gonna give ya my heir- two heirs. Hah-”

Just the very thought of it has you stumbling through the very filthiest of bounces on Sukuna’s cock, pathetically trying to meet his feral pace. 

“C’mon now, look at me.” he spits out, leaving harsh bites down your lips, your jaw, your neck. Anywhere and everywhere he could reach without stopping that incessant mashing up against your g-spot with his thickening, throbbing cocks. You’re forced to peer into his greedy gaze. “Look at while I breed you- yeahh–”

“M’so close- Kuna-” you’re mewling, lolling your bleary head down on Sukuna’s push pecs. “M’gonna- hngh- cum-”

For this, you’re rewarded with another stinging smack! onto your ass, before Sukuna easily grabs a handful to drag your drooling cunt up and down his length. “Heh, what a brat. Begged for both my- hah- cocks n’ you’re gonna cum already?” Fucking into you so hard now that you were sure he’d left two matchingly circular bruises on your cervix. “Whatever, cum for me then- but-” His cocks hit the back of your g-spot, making you painfully light-headed, “-ya better give me twins after this, my queen.”

And when you cum, oh it was like you couldn’t stop. Not with Sukuna still dragging you through your high, achy cocks so hard it was like they were about to burst. 

Smoothing against your sweetest spots once, twice before he himself cums from one of his lengths such a throaty moan of your name. And for each white-hot jolt of pleasure, Sukuna was painting you all white inside. 

“Sh-shit-” you whine, pulling him into the messiest types of kisses that you knew he loved. “M’so full- so- so full-”

Not enough, apparently.

Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that his second, equally as filthy cock was streaming out thick spurts of cum. Staggeringly steamy hot inside you, those sticky sloshes reach your very womb, just slamming up into you mind-numbingly so that Sukuna can be sure it reaches each of your buried depths.

“Would ya look at that.” Sukuna whispers, reverant, almost. Sounding for all the world like he’s so utterly fucked. You follow his line of sight to the creamy sheen of seed drooling from between your thighs, glossy puddle forming underneath you two. 

Still-hard cocks jutting up into you without warning. Hard.“One more. I wan’ both of ‘em to cum at the same time.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 360°

“It’ll be just hah- just the tip.” Gojo puffs out hotly against your ear, powerful hips jittering up in a way that made him feel like such an animal. Rubbing his leaky tip rawly between your swollen folds, “Promise- promise ah-”

Your dazed, blinking eyes stare right up at the absolutely ruined strongest. His cerulean eyes all watery and drooping shut with every tentative swipe up those puffed-up pussy lips of ours. And your head throws back with each pretty peck of Gojo’s rotund head against your clit. Sticky. Depraved. Oozing with precum and the lust to fuck into your cute cunt exactly the way he’s been dreaming of for so long. 

“What are best friends for, r-right?” he whines against your neck, snickering delightedly at the way your squirming hips buck up mindlessly into his. No matter how much you tried to huff and puff your way into pretending that you don’t want it as much as he’s dying for just a taste right now.

“Toru…” you start, in a scolding tone that already makes him twitch. Entire body jolting with excitement, and you feel his heavy balls rested against your thighs squeeze almost-painfully. “We stopped being just ‘best friends’ about twenty make-outs ago.”

And Gojo only rubs his head along your skin like some overgrown cat, sighing out. “Exactly.”

Biting your lip, you can only watch when he shoves apart your thighs even wider roughly. That thick, red tip positioned precariously between your lips weeping and weeping angrily.

You’re rolling your eyes, “Toru just fuck me-”

And then he’s sinking in - pushing past that first ring of resistance, stretching out your elastic cunt so mind-numbingly wide. You can feel him thrust in sticky, filthy little pushes and pulls of his hips - but you can’t see it, no.

Because just a single inch sunken inside your hot cunt was enough to drive Gojo mad. Eyes blowing wide, breath being just heaved in, and the last thing you caught was the briefest little flicker of blue lightning in his eyes before those seductive bedroom lights just burst.

It wasn’t going to be just the tip - and both of you knew it.

“Hah- Woah.” Gojo’s mouth felt dry, heart thundering when he blindly grips your body with a bruising hold. He sounded almost angry, “I didn’t know it could feel so fuckin’ good.” Voice higher pitched and unstable, he winces when it cracks ever-so-slightly at the end. “Hahaha- ohhh fuck, sweetheart. Remind me why we didn’t hngh! do this sooner?”

Oh, the intensity of it was too much. 

Six eyes was rushing at him in full force, and Gojo just hiccups being able to see that outline of his swollen cock enter and split your pussy open. He couldn’t stop. The way that fat, rounded curve was jostling and invading your insides, having your walls melting pliantly around him so good- “Takin’ me so well, especially for the first time. Greedy girl.”

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re chanting, and you feel his cock thicken with each whimper. Blood rushing forwards to mold your walls even wider after each one, gushing out wet honeyed wet precum that sticks to you like a second skin. 

“Jus’ Toru s’fine.” he titters, sinking his sharp canines into the side of your neck. It was like a claim. A little message, because after that Gojo was well into rummaging all around you gripping walls. “Though- I don’t mind if ya call me ‘baby’ or-” Smoothing his rosy lips over in a kiss against your forehead, “-your ‘husband’.”

You smack his sculpted chest, with only half as much strength you’d put into it than usual. “Gettin’ s-so ahead of yourself- hah.”

This makes him glide a greedy thumb along the outer edges of your bulging cunt, your pre-soaked slit- all the way up, up, up to where he could see himself knocking up against your g-spot. 

“Oh, my girl.” he whimpers into your mouth. Those electric sparks of purple and blue lighting up that drunken look in his eyes, the way his abs flex and contort with each ravaging push fucking you into the bed. “With a pussy this sweet m’never lettin’ ya go.”

One of his greedy thumbs come up to nudge at that curving head of his cock, head throwing back deliriously at the lewd little massage. 

You’re just whimpering tearily when his other long, slender fingers dance upwards to tease your sensitive clit, soft pads of his digits unapologetically pinching it. Hard. 

“Wait- are you-” you gasping, sitting up on your two elbows at the sudden jolts of electricity. That tiny humming vibration of jujutsu that sparks all the way from your pre-soaked clit - from those big hands toying with it. It makes you just gush, airy and light-headed when you’re coating him in all your saturated juices.

He was fucking you like he was out of control - just long, animalistic drags of his fat cock down your plushy walls. Massaging himself on each and every one of those gooey crevices at your insides, you were so goddamn addictive. And Gojo was hypnotized.

But he wants more. He needs more.

“Shit- shit shit shit-” Gojo already sounded so utterly wrecked, body bowed on top of yours. His face was unabashed - feral, looking at you like he wanted to positively devour you. “Hope y’know I can u-use Six Eyes to tell whether this pretty pussy’s gonna ah- take- to my seed, pretty girl. Whether yer gonna- ah be bred properly like you should be.” He’s nuzzling at your neck, “So get ready for a mess-”

Cutting himself off with a moan, another sloppy stroke that meshes messily with your g-spot. Gojo grins oh he grins, and you’re suddenly reminded why so many fear him. Why he’s the strongest. In the bleary distance, you think you hear another light just explode. Whispering raggedly, “Because I intend to use it.”

A/N. I feel like every time I write for Sukuna I just HAVE to make a reference to that song.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mayasaurusss]

"You like that?"

Inspired by Lottie getting chocked in the new teaser...don't judge me.

Contains: transfem Lottie, gn reader

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes inside the cabin's attic, muffled sounds and moans coming from both of you as you move against your lover. Lottie, underneath you, skin darkening around the cheeks and sweat trailing down her temple moans, sighs and whimpers as you ride her to her well deserved little death.

Ever since the crash, hell, maybe even before it, Lottie has been very open and lovely with you. At first you though that she was just begin nice to you, since you were new on the team, but after a while, you two became friends. As much as you could be friends with her anyways. You found out she was a very busy woman, and even if she did sometimes asked you to join her and the rest of the team -you were too shy at the time to fully loose up- you never found the time to develop your friendship more than the three hours a day during practice.

But something changed after the crash. Whether it was her need to be close to someone or a sincere interest over you, you and Lottie became close. Closer than ever, actually, sometimes attracting the envious eyes of your other teammates.

Both of you bonded over your hobbies, music and movies, trivia -a thing that you found Lottie liked to talk about,a lot- and books. And through the wilderness you had started to rely on each other so much, that with time, your affections turned into lingering touches and shy looks. You two became lovers into the chaos that was the aftermath of the crash, two pillars for one another. It was a cold November evening when you two kissed for the first time. The wind was strong against the cabin's outer walls, snow pressing against the window and ice forming at it's base. You had spent that afternoon in Lottie's embrace, fighting the cold biting at your skin. Everyone was asleep by the fire, cuddled up together, but neither you not Lottie slept. She had her body pressed against yours, gently lulling you to sleep by warming you. When your eyes begun to close, she snuggled her nose near yours, without even thinking about it, and before long, you threw your arms at her neck and kissed her tenderly.

When the air between you two finally grew thick with need, you couldn't keep you hands to yourself anymore, and neither could she.

You had noticed for a while how she looked at you with a different light in her eyes. How she lingered on your curves for a bit too long, how the flesh of her cheeks darkned when you were near her, how she became all fidgety and shy when you talked to her. It has always been clear -at least to everyone else beside you two- that there was something between you and Lottie.

"Hey..." she came to you one afternoon, when the heat of sunrays melted the snow on the window. "Lottie? What is it?" you were shoveling the snow off of the door at the best of your abilities, teeth pressed tightly. Lottie on the other hand didn't seem too affected by the cold, but that maybe was because she had been inside up until this point. "I wanted to tell you... that I really enjoy your company" she seemed fidgety and uncharacteristically shy, a side of her character that only surfaced while she was with you. "Oh...I really like your company too, Lot". You got back to shoveling away, but she remained at your side. "I meaan... I really like your company. I like you. And we kissed. So..." the way those words were pronounced and the faint red on her cheeks made you realize what the subtex really was.

She rubbed her thighs over and over again, trying to make her bulge less noticeable but failing miserably to do so.

"So...could we, you know..." her voice dropped in the last syllable, vocal chords barely holding on the sound in her throat. She looked so cute, so beautiful with the reflection of the snow in her eyes. And how could you say no to her?

So here you are: in the attic, with your hands on Lottie's throat while bouncing on her dick. The cold is seeping in from the outside and affecting your lovemaking, but the heat your bodies produce is enough to warm both of you. Lottie sits naked under you, a blanket between her and the floor. She had the thoughtfulness of making a little "nest" for you two to be comfortable. The others have her a weird look when she asked for more blankets and pillows, but ignore what they would be needed for. The sound of humping above their heads is enough to make them guess, you think.

"Fuck...oh baby, fuck..." Lottie's eyes roll back, her hands gripping at your hips and shaking. She feels weak underneath you, strenght leaving her everytime she sinks back inside. "Please...please, slow down a moment, or I am going to..." her pleas fall on deaf ears when your hips fall back repeatedly on her own's, even doubling your efforts and moving faster and faster, making her exhale every breath from her lungs. She can't help but be estatich when you take her faster, almost delirious; maybe she did hope you were not going to listen to her.

She can already feel herself bursting, skin tingling and brain empty. Her please and whimpers get erratic, exhaling so loudly you're sure someone knows what you two are up to.

"Lottie! Shut up!" you say, kneeling over her body so that you are face to face with her. Without even thinking about it, you place your hands at either side of her neck, lightly pressing on her throat. "Just-! Be quiet! The others might-" you quickly shut up when you see the look on Lottie's face: her blush has spreaded on her shoulders, her eyes are humid and she looks at you with such adoration and eagerness that your heart hurts.

Something inside of you suggests what that look means, and just to try, or maybe to tease and torture her, you clench down on her cock while tightening your grip on her neck. You watch as a long and loud whine escapes her throat, eyes rolling back and hips chasing you upwards, impaling you on her length and making you fall over her, loosening your grip over her.

"So...you like that..." Lottie just whines and shudders, protesting the lack of movement on your part. "Yeah? Don't worry baby..." you roll your hips downward, making Lottie moan loudly, a bead of precum falling from your entrance on her crotch, "I am going to give you the time of your life".

[belovedivies]

syndrome ft. thaddeus

cw: minor spoiler, pining.

Thaddeus eluded you.

The same way people did him, honestly.

But then there was you again, and you had just kind of been there; standing by Raphael’s side like a loyal dog since day one. Never frowning, never raising your voice. And he didn’t think he minded it, not really. He liked that your serenity balanced out the semi-man-child whom Thaddeus now called his new boss. You were soft, gentle, benevolent. Maybe only at times. Greeting him whenever he passed by you in the hallway. Laughing at his stupid jokes. Humming a foreign song under your breath that the Apostle didn’t recognize.

One less eggshell to walk on, yet two ticking bombs remained.

He liked your eyes too. Shining, dazzling, so unlike Raphael’s. The redhead only felt that familiar twinge of annoyance when you gazed up at the man you called your little brother with so much love and care. Like you were willing to hang the moon and stars for him. And Thaddeus wasn’t jealous, not really. Raphael was your flesh and blood; it’s only natural that devotion would dig deeper than any shovel or sword could.

But you only had that impenetrable smile on these days. Moving with grace and gold. Keeping your distance. He couldn’t even hold a conversation for longer than one minute before you excused yourself out of the room, not sparing him another glance.

—

Your indifference bothered him.

Made him feel like he was a snot-nosed brat all over again, struggling to survive in that dog-eat-dog shithole he reluctantly called a family. Years ago, when you took the knife out of Raphael’s hands and dug the blade into Father Gabriel’s heart for him, Thaddeus was stuck kicking his legs somewhere far away until his limbs were bent at an inhuman angle, his lungs burning for air. But he pushed through the pain, the tears, the blood early on. He had to become the strongest.

For what, a six-year-old him once pondered.

Sitting by the pond in the garden and swinging his legs in a pair of dojo shoes he had soon outgrown. Martial Arts is about the body and the mind. Integrity, courage, respect. He never intended to frighten others and should have never been considered a weapon of destruction either. But then came the power. The control. The entire continent soon bowed to the King of Kowloon, and Thaddeus was nothing short of elastic.

As much as he hated to admit it, the fight with your little brother knocked some sense into his thick skull. The Apostle didn’t even have time to process his defeat before Raphael wrapped him up in a white body suit that made him look like a goddamn psych ward patient, heavy chains bidding his legs together and keeping him suspended in the air. Thaddeus refused to yield then, gritting his teeth and cursing out strings of profanity that he wasn’t taught before. He fussed, yet Raphael was barely fazed. The punishment didn’t come right away.

It was the days after that.

Days when he was all alone in the base with nothing but his thoughts for company. Thaddeus kept his head hung low and just stared blankly. He felt like a slab of meat. Static noises played on repeat inside his head; and he was okay with that, really. He didn’t want to think anymore.

The hours were so long that he stopped counting. Only then did sleep eventually claim him—a stuffy, dreamless slumber.

—

The redhead didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. But when he woke up, he found himself on the ground; the chains and ridiculous costume miraculously all gone. He was resting his head on something soft too. Thaddeus’ mind tutted its alarm late, but when it did, his body shot up as if struck by lightning and muttered up whatever little strength was left to put some space between him and this unfamiliar presence. Yet the second he attempted to move, his vision started spinning. A stabbing discomfort gnawed on his nape, and Thaddeus realized he was hit with the worst neck pain ever.

He was going to fall at this point. Crashing face-down on the ground like a pathetic loser. The Apostle’s legs wobbled like overcooked noodles as he braced himself for the fall that never came. Instead, he found himself on his back once more, wondering if his body had even moved an inch in the first place.

But there was you, staring down at Thaddeus with a smile.

“Welcome back,” he hadn’t heard any voice in days, much less one as pleasant as yours. The way your hands cradle his face felt like a hug on a winter day. When you shifted, Thaddeus’ stomach did a weird twist.

You didn’t seem to mind him gaping at you like a dead fish, tilting forward with that same mysterious quirk on your lips. Your hair falls around him in soft curtains, blocking the flicking lightbulb ahead that was starting to hurt his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Your fingers weaved through Thaddeus’ hair. And it felt good, so good he thought he could fall asleep again right here, with his head on your lap. The stinging pain at the back of his nape went away almost instantly when the tips of your digits grazed through the spot.

He opened his mouth, trying to get the words out. It’s useless; his throat was so parched. Thaddeus guzzled the bottled water you handed him in less than two seconds, not caring if his whole face was drenched too in the process. He heard a giggle from you, sounding like mist drops on leaf dripping down a pond.

You came here by yourself.

That much he collected when you pat his face dry with a handkerchief, the silver cross embroidery at the edge tickling his jawline. The movement was still nothing but gentle, yet Thaddeus noticed the corner of your smile turning icy. You came alone, but not without purpose.

“What do you want?”

It might be a little too late, but his inquiry came out nonetheless. Thaddeus tried propping himself up with his elbows but soon realized they were shaking.

At the question, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly. Legs tucked under your thighs in a too-expensive dress. Not a single wrinkle or hair out of the place. Unfeeling. Unmoving. Pupils blown wide like a doll’s.

“I came to check up on you!” You sing-song, beaming too bright, too superficial he had to stop himself from cringing outwardly. “Sit up.”

The command barely registered in his weary mind when Thaddeus felt his body moving on its own, and he was sitting face-to-face with you.

The smile you gave him was nothing short of satisfactory. Eyes glinting with mirth. Like he was a puppy and just did something endearing.

“Here,” something warm slipped down his throat; soup? Thaddeus blinked in awe, feeling the herb soothing his deserted taste bud. He hadn’t eaten anything for a whole week, “how does it taste?”

“G-Good.” His response came immediately this time, albeit rasped and still shaky. But you didn’t mind, feeding him another spoonful of dumpling that he eagerly bit into. Thaddeus was left starved, and he was gonna rot here to death if you didn’t come.

You were technically his savior.

And you looked pleased too, letting him have the rest of the bowl until it was empty. Wiping his mouth clean. Guiding him to lie back on your lap. You were warm, so perfect. Thaddeus wondered why he wanted to get away in the first place.

“It will get better,” you hum, running your hands through his hair, “once you move in with us.”

Thaddeus perked up at the last part, meeting your eyes. Your gentle smile remained as your fingers slipped underneath his bangs, resting on his forehead. “Have you thought about what he said?”

He did.

More than he begrudged to relent. Between the endless hours hooked up to the ceiling and nasty bug bites bruising his skin, Thaddeus didn’t have much of a choice. If he somehow walked out of here alive, he would be dragging his feet until the friction scoured the heel of his shoes. Bitter. Humiliated. He didn’t want to be reduced back to the disappointment he was back then.

He needed to be strong.

“Good boy.”

Taking his silence as an answer, you giggled and ruffled his hair. For once, he was sure he had made the right choice.

—

Thaddeus was all over you. In the hallway, in the garden, in between those meetings he rarely ever showed up. Always saying your name with an ear-splitting grin. Always have something to say. A stupid joke to tell.

You never seemed to mind it. You never even liked him to begin with. But he felt comforted when you were there, passing him by like an invisible wall. Thaddeus remembered the way your hands felt on his skin that day. He wondered just what he had to do to have you close again, looking at him like he was precious. Like he meant something.

Raphael was so gonna kill him.

♡dividers credit: @strangergraphics-archive♡ ♡masterlist♡

[targaryenluvs]

- NOT YOURS

pairing: prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - miles seemingly can’t let you go, but you know your miles needs to get home. maybe if you play along you’ll be able to get back home. PART TWO!!! part 1 here

word count: 1,305 words

warnings - not much really, profanity, lil bit of violence and non-con touchy touch

notes - well i didnt expect to do a part two lmao but holy shit you lot r crazy thank u for the love - sorry if this isn’t at anyone’s standards but yeaaahh here you go 🤍

TAGLIST: @pifuyue @afternoon-evening @myspacewhore1comz @ashleebooksblog @sophiaj650 @colossaltitannnn @the-rogue-robin @zaddyskye69 @loonalockley

he’s not moving.

you’d been trying to shake your miles awake ever since the other miles left the room but to no avail.

“miles please, i don’t know how long we have. you have to work with me here.” you whispered as you shook his shoulders again. he was icy to the touch, the hard floor did not help.

you didn’t know where he was but you prayed he wouldn’t come back any time soon, as unlikely it was for him not to return.

he was crazy, indefinitely.

how the hell can someone be so delusional to think that their girlfriend who passed away, infront of them, whom they buried in the ground over a year ago, is back and with them in the flesh? you had no clue, but all you cared about right now was getting miles up and awake.

you’d managed to get rid of the chains after what felt like an eternal tug of war and you were sure he’d wake with countless bruises.

“fuck it.” you sighed as you raised your fist as it is collided with his chest. you couldn’t hit his face, he was to pretty for that.

miles was struggling.

he was dreaming. he knew that.

but for some reason he felt much more comfortable with staying in his dream then facing whatever was happening around his body at the time. maybe he was already dead. this other miles killed him, took his girlfriend, his y/n.

the one who he had loved since they were kids and he was too stubborn to get off the swings since he thought he should have extra time after being away visiting relatives.

the one who was also as stubborn as he was and decided that getting a plastic shovel from the sandpit and digging it into his sides was a more effective way of getting him off rather than asking politely or asking a teacher for aid.

the one who helped him up afterwards and apologised before running to the swings and hopping on.

the one who he saw everyday afterwards, the one who sat in his spot and made friends with his. the one who he knew he should’ve been mad at but he couldn’t help but admire.

her cute pigtails, her cute dresses and smile.

the one he grew up with, his first true friend, his first crush, his first kiss, his first girlfriend.

the one who helped him through his uncles passing and to come to terms with his new abilities. the one who always gave him the strength to get back up and fight.

he couldn’t stay here.

his father was waiting for his help whether he knew it or not and his other half was waiting for him to get back up.

get up.

Get Up.

GET UP

“get up! oh my god is one punch not enough idiot?” y/n whisper-yelled in his face as his eyes shot open.

you’d never felt more relieved at seeing miles’s wide eyes. “shit are you okay? i didn’t punch you too hard right?” you interrogated him as you looked over his face with concern.

“no, no i’m okay. are you? shit i should’ve gotten up earlier i’m so sorry. he didn’t hurt you did he? i’m so sorry, so sorry i-“ you cut off his rambling with a kiss.

as you pulled back you couldn’t help but smile, he was quite literally knocked out cold and the first thing he asked was if you were okay. “i’m fine miles. i’m okay, just breathe okay? you need to have your head on straight if we’re to get the fuck outta here okay?” you murmured as you nestled your face in his neck.

“come on up, we need to get out of here before that psycho comes b-“ you were cut off as you felt something buzz in your jacket.

you saw miles’s bewildered expression as you slowly reached for it, “i swear to god if this is a bomb.” miles whispered as you groaned, “seriously?”

as your hand grazed the object your eyes lit up as you recognised it. you pulled out one of the watches you’d managed to acquire through violent methods at HQ.

“yes! oh my god you are incredible you know that?” miles grinned as he asked for it. “i totally forgot i had it, god thank you!” you joked as you clasped your hands together whilst looking upwards.

“earth 1610, i know that much.” you smiled as he worked through it.

the two of you were so engrossed within the find of the watch you forgot to focus on the door behind you two as it slowly opened. miles’s head shot up as his senses went off. he shoved the watch into your jacket as the two of you turned around.

“see you got out of the chains.” miles spoke as he walked in slowly. miles stood infront of you swiftly, fighting stance slowly crawling through as his fists balled.

“and what about it? you needa move aside. no one has to get hurt.” miles threatened as he slowly walked backwards.

other miles looked at you before smirking. “i ain’t goin nowhere. neither is she.” he pointed your way as you couldn’t help but frown.

why couldn’t he let you go?

why wouldn’t he let you go?

“i’m not staying here miles. i’m going home, you need to let her go. i’m not her.” you spoke up as you lowered miles’s extended arm in-front of you to talk to him clearly.

“i can’t let you leave ma, ion want to, and ion have to. he ain’t gonna stop me.” miles grinned as his mask came forwards to cover his face, his claws on too as he rushed forwards at miles.

“run!”

and you were off.

you couldn’t think about anything else. you couldn’t look backwards it would slow you down. you decided to run upwards, hoping that your miles would fight the prowler off long enough to make it up to you on the roof.

you pulled out the watch and jammed numbers in as you continued upwards.

how many fucking levels were there?

you saw the door come into view just as you pressed enter. you slammed through the door to see the portal open.

your chance was here.

you looked back to the door, willing him to come.

you saw a flash of black and red and the door slammed in-front of you just as you moved forwards to try and find him. and it scared the shit out of you and resulted in something slipping from your pocket.

miles hugged you straight away. “you okay mi vida?” you hugged him tightly and kissed him. “yes, yes i’m okay, you? he didn’t hurt you did he?” miles shook his head as he looked towards the portal home.

“come on let’s go before he decides he wants a round two.” you said as you grabbed his hand and jogged towards the portal just as he barrelled through.

the two of you flew through as the portal closed on miles.

“shit! fuck!” he yelled as he stood in-front of where you’d left just seconds ago. he was too slow. too fucking slow again. he let you slip through his hands once and vowed it would never happen again the second he saw you and you were taken from him again.

after spending so long working, training to be the best version of himself to keep the person and people he loved safe.

as he sat down his eye was caught by something glimmering in the moonlight. as he picked it up he couldn’t believe it.

a watch. the one he saw you shove into your jacket. the one which most likely controlled the portal. the one which had the multiverse contained within.

the luminescent letters spelling out,

EARTH 1610

[s4mu-k41d3n]

mdni, pls be careful :< dazi x f!reader idk O - O

Crack, baby. Related to my other Dazai fic.

meowwww whiny ‘zai yippie wuhuhuhuhu wuh luh wuh :O wuh wuh wuh kuku weeeee :3 veri bad writing.. i want a man to hug me against his chest while i nuzzle my head into his neck and he’s very very warm [ u O _ O ] how r u guys ? :D i want ada!dazai to cuddle me:( but can u cuddle me [ - O U O ] weeeee (im not okay !!) cuddle fucing, self-harm, gentle n’ needy ‘samu (O /// U /// O) fluffy n’ smutty! (and angsty, idk if its gory but its up to u)

A jaundiced scape of light burrows itself into your window sills, blubbering around its own waltz. You dip into your sheets as it fairly crinkles against your body, gently wallowing you into its embrace. You graze your eyes against the ceiling. A warm figure swivels into the room, slithering deliberately into your little space as a pair of hands happily squish your waist, a soft squeak bubbling up your lips. “ ‘samu!” you whine while he giggles, creases of cold fanning out of his breath. “Aww! But bella!” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him.

He was oddly cold, the snow is falling, the clouds’ tears have dried up. He acts so warm, but he feels like the cold. Why is he such a liar? Why is he lying to you if he trusts you so much? Does he trust you enough to lie to you?

It’s snowing.

It’s almost December.

The fireworks will begin soon.

It’s creeping.

You glance to him as he quaintly pulls your lacy panties down, tipping your legs up to shove it down. Tossing it blatantly to the side. He is weary.

Circles, he is surrounded by circuses, in circles.

He was hugging you, why are you scared? What do you know?

“Why are you sparing your bones if you can’t spare your flesh?” You said.

But he sighs in relief, his hand snaking to dap the wetness forming in your pussy. It’s very wet, it is clinging to his hands. You made him cry. He is crying, he is circling your nub. A whimper escapes you, his thumb presses your clit causing you to cry out in sensitivity. He grounds himself against you, you feel that he is hard. “Fuck.” He keeps rubbing your folds, his fingers finally shovel deep inside of you as his hands bawl into fist whilst you wail into pain.

Pain.

Your kaleidoscopic tears stream down your face, kissing your cheeks as he starts at a ruthless pace. His hands are aggressive, he is catching something. You yell out for him to stop, he doesn’t. He shoves his hands deeper, you cry louder. This isn’t him. Your walls clench him so tightly, it makes you cry even more. He is so mean, so so mean.

“Wahhh! ‘samu! Stop!” You shout, you chant, you’re already stuffed. Your cum pools a river, dripping to his wrist.

It isn’t blood. It is his flesh, it is not his bones.

“ ‘samu! You’ve gone i-insaaanee!” You wail, you’re wailing. He isn’t stopping, he goes deeper. Your choking, his hands are in your organs. Almost. Almost.

You couldn’t handle it anymore, you attempt to flail from his grip. He is unbearable, you cum again, there’s blood. He lowers his gaze as he pulls out, causing you to cough out. He places his arm to the side, looking at nowhere. His shadow isn’t there.

Is he really human?

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#3 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology | 800 words

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22nd May, 1996

You’re probably one of the worst customers Toji’s ever had. 

Perfect Princes Escort Services placed their escorts hierarchically. At the top of the food chain were the Gojo-Geto pair, so high in demand they could pick their own customers and set their own prices. Perhaps Nanami could’ve asked for the same benefits if he hadn’t demanded that 401 (k) instead. 

Newcomer runts like Toji sat snug on the bottom rung. You were actually his first high-paying customer, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s really worth it. 

“So, tell me about your family back home, Toji-kun.” The candlelight from the romantic dinner table reflects the burning curiosity in your eyes. “Got any siblings?”

Like hell I’d tell ya. 

“Don’t have either, miss.” Toji forks a mussel open and dumps it all over his spaghetti. He doesn’t bother plastering a polite smile on. He has no incentive to: you’ve already made the mistake of pre-paying for 10 days, and he highly doubts that you’ll extend the contract with him any longer. Nanami once told him– when moderate efforts do the job, moderate efforts are all you should put in– and Toji decided to brand it into his heart. 

He’s very invested in spiral-mixing his shellfish into his spaghetti when the sound of you scoffing cuts into him. 

You scoffed at him. You scoffed. At him. 

Red-hot rage flashes to his skull before reason has a chance to. Triggered instinct– white knuckle grip bending the fork– shoulder tightened in anticipation of an arm drawn to sma–

“Like I’d believe that.” Unaware of the danger you’re in, you’re smiling so sweetly at him. No condescension, no ill meaning. “You know your forks, you weren’t raised in a barn.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your tastes are dogshit, who mixes oysters and pasta? But even when you’re not trying, your dinner table etiquette is so proper. You leave your dinner fork on your plate and pick your oyster with the oyster fork, you keep your wine glass diagonally to your left, you know the difference between a bib and a lap-napkin. I bet you’ll eat the dessert with the tiny spoon too, O Prince Toji.” 

No longer a weapon, the fork returns to its duty of gingerly shovelling food to Toji’s mouth while you add, “And we don’t even use forks that much. You were raised into money then. Let me guess, a runaway second son of a renowned clan who fell into debt or drugs?”

For a long time, the only sounds are of the cutlery scraping the china. A habitually thoughtless speaker, you slowly sink into a mortified guilt of touching a nerve not meant to be exposed to the air. I was only joking around (that’s quite a horrible apology) or maybe Geez, I didn’t think you'd be so sensitive (even worse). After all these years, apologies are still so hard for you to manage. So you just slip this one word out: “Sorry.”

Toji doesn’t look at you. “Think you’re so smart, knowing so much about me, huh? I know about you too.” 

“Like what?”

“No,” he shakes his head glumly. He’s not angry exactly, more like the topic provokes like a popped blister. “You’ll complain to my boss.”

“I won’t, I promise.” 

“Fine, then.” And he sets his stoneheavy eyes on yours. They're deep green, you notice, the colour of an old lake. “These aren’t oysters.” 

“Huh?”

“It’s a fucking mussel. I don’t know how you can confuse the two.” He picks an unopened one up and pries it open with a nail. “See? It’s so much smaller and thinner than an oyster. Oysters taste like strong salty boogers, but mussels–” He scoops the flesh out, drops a bit of marinara on it and hands you the fork. It’s good, you realise, the gentle flavour of the mussel carrying the pasta sauce well. “–Mussels taste like the ocean.” 

A minute passes as you chew, apology taking shape on the tip of your tongue: “I’m sorry I got too much.” 

“Apologise for shitting on my taste in food too.” 

“Fine, Toji-kun, I’m sorry I called your tastes dogshit. Maybe shellfish and pasta do go together.” 

“That’s right, miss.” He cocks his head to the side, grinning like a troublemaker. “I wouldn’t expect you new money to know about delicate tastes that much.” 

And you can’t help smiling as well. “That easy to read?”

“I’m just observant.” He taps his temple. “Your family wasn’t poor but you struggled sometimes, you’re actually left handed but you trained your right hard to work too, so now you’re ambidextrous, you had two younger siblings possibly sisters, you don’t actually like either spaghetti or mussels, you over-steep your tea, your watch is 19 seconds late, you have a rash on your left thigh, you need to moisturise your hands more and learn to blend your foundation into your neck, and your family died recently.” He leans back against the chair and burps. “There, we’re even now.” 

You’re left gaping at him. 

“... Anything else, Toji-kun?”

“You have pasta in your teeth.” 

Toji left the second session with a distinct sense of victory.

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a/n: pancakes are the bane of my existence. they taste just fine without putting things on top (not too sweet is the best compliment) but noooo you just have to ruin it with syrup or butter. and then u have to cut it with a fork and knife. its useless, its wasting fucking time. my hands could just hold it like a burger and finish the whole ordeal quick, even chopsticks maybe if they're not too heavy. fork and knife is decidedly the worst way to eat pancakes.

[l0serloki]

Trick or Treat

How OW Characters would react to their partner saying trick or treat

(Ashe, Junkrat, Moira, Kiriko, Cassidy)

CW : SMUT, begging (Ashe/Moira), a bit of exhibitionism (Cass/Kiriko)

Ashe : Treat

“What’re you asking for doll? You want me to treat you?” Ashe raised an eyebrow. You couldn’t help but giggle as her cheeks went a bit red and she pushed her chair back.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap? Let me treat you.” Ashe patted against her lap and you made your way over. It wasn’t uncommon for Ashe to treat you but she was usually the one letting you take the reins, so this would be different.

Her fingers traced against your chest a few times before moving down to unbutton your pants. She was slow and methodical, inching lower and lower allowing your need to build.

“Ashe..” You whispered out, getting tired of her fingers trailing around where you needed her most.

“Beg for me sweet thing, I’ll give you what you want.” 

Junkrat : Treat

You and Junk had been spending a day off as everyone Trick or Treated. He was bouncing around the living room going on about some gears when you had murmured the words ‘Trick or Treat’. It was more so a random thought that escaped but Junk’s face turned to a grin.

“I love treats. And a few tricks. But I think you deserve a treat.” He moved closer grabbing at your jaw and bringing his lips against yours. His hands moved swiftly over your garnements.

“Jeez baby, desperate much?” You moaned as he threw your clothes to the ground.

“I gotta be when I have such a fine work of art in front of me!”

Moira : “Treat” (It’s Moira we never know)

“Oh pet, you want a treat, hmm? Or should I give you a trick?” Moira’s nails scratched at your cheek, a wicked smile growing on her face. You knew Moira would get a tickle out of the comment but you didn’t expect her to go this far. She peeled back her lab coat and placed it against the table, inching her face down level with yours.

“Tell me, do you want a treat dear?” Moira whispered, her hands trailing the inside of your thighs. Her smirk only grew as you squirmed with need and she hummed.

“Use your words pet or I won’t help you.” Her fingers pinched against your flesh and you gasped at the sensation. You nodded your head and pulled at her wrist. 

“Yes. I want a treat.” 

She seemed to accept your comment as she worked to shimmy down your pants. Her eyes watched intently as she roamed down, finally meeting your core. 

“O-oh Moira..” Your eyes rolled back as she moved your panties to the side.

“Feels good doesn’t it? I suppose I should treat you in my lab more often. Make you my labrat.. hmm?” 

Kiriko : Trick

The moment the words ‘Trick or Treat’ left your mouth Kiriko’s face grew ecstatic.

“Trick or treat? Oh I’ll give you a trick alright.” She yanked at your arm, pulling you both away from the commotion of the Halloween party.

You were abruptly shoveled into the broom closet, Kiriko’s hands already working at undressing you. Her eyes looked into yours and she grinned.

“I’m going to make you cum four times and let’s see if we can not get caught by the others. Try to be quiet.. or don’t.” 

Cassidy : Trick

You had sat down against Cassidy’s leg, everyone at the party already filling the spaces on the couch. He was lost in conversation with Tracer talking about old friends and her girlfriend when he started to bounce his leg. At first you thought it was just coincidental until his empty hand roamed a little too close to your core.

“Cassidy..” You growled into his ear, your body jolting everytime he moved his thick thigh up and down. He looked away from Tracer for a moment and raised an eyebrow with a shit-eating grin.

“Something wrong darlin?” He pressed a bit further, acting coy and then continuing to talk to Tracer. It lasted like that for a few minutes before he adjusted his drink, whispering a little ‘Trick or Treat’ in your ear before pinching your thigh.

You knew you were in for it that night.

[chuuyrr]

GORGEOUS — NAKAHARA CHUUYA

⊹ CW(s): f! reader, famous! singer! reader, strangers to lovers, crushing (you fall first but he falls harder), heavy references to taylor swift and her reputation album, 3.9k words

⊹ SYNOPSIS: in which you write your crush a song, and he finds out

inspired by: gorgeous by taylor swift !

applause and cheers flood your ears as you stand before the stage, a smile on your red-painted lips, albeit a little breathless as you bring the microphone to your lips, ready to deliver your speech and express thanks for the award bestowed upon you.

what began as a passion for music and songwriting has grown into stardom, as evidenced by the best female musician award you were now receiving on stage, surrounded by other artists in the business and, most importantly, your fans.

just as you were ready to begin when another music artist, much older than you, interrupted you. you stood there perplexed, but then the much older and taller artist grins at you, almost darkly and mockingly.

"yo, [name]!" he exclaims into your microphone, stealing as he addresses you with such familiarity, "i'm really happy for you. i'mma let you finish, but, she has won the best video award of all times!" he exclaims, gesturing at the other female music artist sitting on the sides, but she looks just as perplexed as you.

"one of the best videos of all time, i tell you!" he says into the microphone again, facing the crowd as if rubbing salt in your open wound, then shoveling the microphone back to you as if nothing happened.

in any case, the sudden interruption of the said male performer stunned the entire stage and audience. as you move about the stage, you find yourself uncomfortably laughing and unsure what to do.

the audience suddenly begins to yell "boos!" instead of clapping and cheers, and your hands shake so much that you nearly drop the trophy in your grasp. the shame seeps deep into your flesh, and the fact that cameras were flashing everywhere and this awarding was also being done live didn't help.

you couldn't find your voice, and the stage appears to be tilting as your eyesight blurs.

your great moment, your glory, vanished in an instant.

your reputation.

as you hold the glass in your hand, you sigh and tap the rim before giving it a quick, delicate spin, allowing the ice to clink against the glass before you drink the burgundy liquid, letting the addictive yet mild taste of fermented grapes strike your tongue and throat.

you twirl the glass in your palm one more as you recall the incident that occurred during your awarding. you recall the dazzling lights of cameras, the gasps and shouts from the audience, and what's more, that very artist who humiliated even stated that you owed him something sensual for making you famous.

a smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head and look at the music playing in the pub. it served as a gentle reminder that this was your current situation.

even if you remember it like it was yesterday, it has been a while since then. customers at the bar are singing along to the fairly spiteful yet powerful tune and lyrics of your song, enjoying the piano and beat.

"but i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of time. honey, i rose up from the dead, i do it all the time. i got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined—i check it once, then i check it twice, oh!" the crowd of the bar sings, jumping up and about with their drinks in hand.

"look what you made do! look what you just made me do!" they continue to sing the lyrics, some even dancing to the choreography while others were just cheering and such.

your little revenge song appears to have polarized music critics, with some praising your new direction and hailing it as a fierce comeback, while others were disappointed with your change of style from your usual romance-esque and heartbreak songs to a dark electroclash and dance-pop, as well as the hidden message that underpins it.

"huh, that was a nice build-up to a crescendo build in the pre-chorus from the sparse verses," a voice next to you comments.

you blink, your eyes widening and your heart trembling slightly.

shit. did you got recognized already?

you slowly turn your head, and there stands a red-brunet with his hair framing his face and a black fedora on top of his head. he's dressed in a white button-up shirt underneath a gray vest, a black choker, a black ribbon bolo tie kept together with a little silver clasp, an open black cropped jacket with sleeves pulled up at the elbows, black slacks, a black belt dropping off his right hip, and black low-arch shoes.

you can feel your heart pounding. this man appears to be a big deal, possibly like you? was he a music critic, perhaps? you thought you heard him say something about your song, “look what you made me do”, playing in the background, but you couldn't be sure.

but there was something oddly appealing about this man, and you found yourself glancing at his face rather than his suit, and…

ba.. dump..

you feel the blood rush into your cheeks and your heart skip a beat when you notice he has beautiful blue eyes that remind you of the ocean.

your gaze ultimately settles on the creases of his face, from his brows to his nose and all the way to his lips. he is so gorgeous that you find it difficult to swallow the lump growing in your throat, your words becoming tangled in your tangle of thoughts and feelings.

for a brief moment, you've forgotten what you were drinking and thinking about because he—this stranger—has taken over everything in your mind.

when he finally turns to you, allowing you to be face-to-face with him as he sits on the cushioned stool next to you, you shift in your seat, becoming nervous once more.

"are you okay?" he says, and you notice him watching at you carefully, but with some concern, as he notices your flushed cheeks and how you appeared to be a little shaken in your seat.

"wha—?" you murmur out, blinking in confusion.

he blinks back before narrowing his eyes slightly, a look of uncertainty on his face, yet the way he does it is igniting feelings inside your chest right now.

"i asked if you were okay. is everything okay, miss?" he asks again, and this time a chuckle escapes his lips.

"o-oh, yeah. i’m fine, no worries," you exhale, a sheepish smile on your face as you manage a brief fit of laughter. you were still in awe of this man.

you assumed he was a music critic or a businessman wanting to interview you or get you into a deal for collaborations, but from the way he speaks and addresses you, he appears to be neither.

what's more unexpected is that he doesn't seem to even recognize you.

you were already expecting him to start bombarding you the instant he laid eyes on you and sat next to you, but it was something you didn't mind at all. it was a strange feeling for you, yet it was reassuring in some ways.

being famous always meant having eyes and cameras trained on you at all times, which you acknowledge was a touch stifling. you couldn't really blame yourself because you've made quite a name and reputation for yourself with the songs you've composed since you were a child.

you gently sit back, more calm now that he doesn't appear to recognize you, and order another glass of wine from the bartender, who kindly pours you some from the bottle.

"hey, is that a pinot noir?" you hear him speak again, commenting on the beverage you got.

you turn back to face him, "yeah, it is. why?"

"that's a great wine to have by itself," he explains, chuckling softly.

"you seem to know a lot about wine," you smile at him before taking a sip of your drink, welcoming the taste of the wine in your taste buds once more.

"and you seem to have a good eye," he says, smiling. at least, that's how you perceive it. the sort that you'd see from your fans, not the ones that reminded you of bad music critiques and certain people in your life.

he turns to the bartender to order himself a drink, which you see sends a little surprise from the bartender as you hear the bartender fumbling over when he orders a wine called petrus, oblivious of how ridiculously pricey it was.

"you have a problem with me ordering petrus? hah?" he asks, arching his brow at the bartender, and you find yourself giggling at the sound of his tone.

something about the way he spoke when he was agitated, the subtle growl in his voice, was sending you.

"oi, what's so funny?" huffs the red-brunet, staring at you with a little but not necessarily mean glare.

"nothing," you remark between laughter as you sipped your pinot noir, "you just sound like a cute but angry puppy."

"EXCUSE ME?!"

maybe you did drink a little too much that night.

the next thing you know, you're seeing the same man you saw about a week before, and strangely enough, you discovered him in the club doing who knows what.

it was bizarre, truly, but you felt drawn to this man you had no known about. you didn't even know his name when you met him in the bar, so you did what any normal person would have done.

you simply stay far from the crowd admist the blasting lights and music in the dimly lit room because you don't dare to approach him, but little did you know, he was here for a reason, and one thing he wasn't expecting was to see you again the moment he does.

"you again?" he asks as he purposely bumps into you when he walks across the crowd.

"i think i should be saying that to you, mister fancyhat," you say back with a smile tugging on your lips.

his eyes widen a bit at the nickname and for a second he scoffs, "the hell?"

"well, you never gave me your name," you playfully roll your eyes at his reaction, giggling and immediately saying, "i mean it though. your hat is pretty fancy."

"well, thanks," he shrugs his shoulders before asking, "so, would you like a drink?"

"you bet i do," you smile softly with a wink. how could you not accept this man's offer?

"well then," he says, a small grin tugging on his lips, "how does whisky on ice sound this time?”

"sounds good," you remark, shrugging your shoulders, but what he says next takes you by surprise.

"but do me a favor and get behind me real quick, sweetheart," he urges sternly, forcing you to move instinctively to do what he says.

small gasps fill the club at the unexpected ruckus, some even afraid by the red-brunet's sudden cruelty to this stranger, but all settles down when he states that the guy was snapping pictures of you without your permission.

for some reason, even though he was yelling and threatening the paparazzi, the manner he protected and guarded you from them was not alarming to you. it even made your heart skip a beat for some strange reason.

you never imagined that stranger you met could be that interesting. he definitely had a reputation, possibly as big as yours, if not bigger—and you were enamored like a schoolgirl with a big crush.

could he possibly be a spy? or even a mafioso? the possibilities were endless. you had no idea what it could be, but it gave you a rush of thrill and excitement. he was so cool.

"hey, um," you manage to say, blinking out of your sight as chuuya scoffs at the person taking pictures without your permission—you didn't know how to explain to him that the guy he had just nearly beaten up was your paparazzi, but you were grateful.

"what? you okay? that guy was following you, ever since i saw you in here, actually," chuuya adds, pulling you by the wrist to take you somewhere secure in the club, unaware that he was also there for another reason involving his line of work.

"yeah, i'm fine," you admit with a sheepish smile, "more than fine, actually. let's just drink.”

chuuya sighs and scoffs a little, but smiles at you, "just try not to get drunk and make fun of me like last time, okay?"

you can't help but quietly giggle as you recall getting drunk on your wine the last time you met in person at the pub. to be honest, the growl of his voice and the way he says his r's as he becomes irritated at the bartender's answer to his request for a petrus tickles your brain in a hilarious manner.

"i'll try not to then, but no promises~"

"you better not damn it."

from the moment you met chuuya a spark ignited in your very heart. as you spent more time together in secret, the ember grew into a flame, fueled by shared laughter and late-night conversations.

it was in those moments that you discovered the layers beneath chuuya's tough exterior, the vulnerabilities that made him undeniably human.

one evening, inspired by the depth of your emotions, you found yourself sitting with a guitar in hand, fingers strumming gently. the lyrics flowed like a river. each word echoed with sincerity, a testament to the connection you had forged. you wove a tapestry of emotions into the song, from the subtle nuances of his laughter to the way his eyes held the oceans of stories.

lyrics always came to you naturally the minute you felt inspired to write a song, but this time was different.

instead of simply focusing on your reputation, past painful experiences, those who had wronged you, and even past lovers who now serve only as heartbreak and lessons, this time it was all about him.

you found the sweet whisperings of love gently tugging at the strings of you heart. as you navigated the complexities of your emotions, you stumble upon a connection that felt like destiny—a love story in the making.

with pen in hand and heart wide open, you pour your emotions onto the blank pages, each word a declaration of the feelings blossoming within. the verses were a canvas painted with shared moments, laughter echoing in the lyrics, and the subtle nuances of chuuya's essence woven into the melody.

as the melody and chords resonated with the rhythm of your emotions, you realize that in writing a love song for chuuya, you were not just creating another song; you were navigating the path to love once more.

and each lyric became a stepping stone, leading you towards a renewed understanding of affection and the beauty of opening one's heart to another, and it was a celebration of the love that had rekindled within you after everything.

late into the night, you penned the final verses, pouring my feelings onto paper. the melody became a vessel for the unspoken, a silent confession wrapped in the chords of a heartfelt song of bubblegum pop.

it was a labor of love mirroring the evolution of your feelings for chuuya, and as the last notes faded away, you knew you had given voice to the emotions that had taken root in your heart.

chuuya was in his office at the port mafia headquarters, having completed his report for the boss.

he was merely looking out his office window with a glass of wine in hand, a neutral and albeit weary expression on his face, letting out a tired sigh as the radio playing from his desk said the following words just before a new song came on,

"here we have next is a new single from the one and only, [surname] [name], entitled gorgeous!"

chuuya's eyes widen as he hears your very name on the radio. he may have only recently learned your name, but he remembers it vividly, as the song begins.

there was no doubt that was you and your voice singing on the radio, and this song doesn't simply tell about someone who is in love with a new love interest in a promiscuous manner in an attempt to attract the attention of a prospective lover.

“ocean blue eyes, looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die—you're so gorgeous! i can't say anything to your face.”

chuuya stands in stunned silence as the melody filled the atmosphere when the bridge comes in. the song was a heartfelt composition, capturing every nuance of his personality and the shared moments between you two.

“you make me so happy, it turns back to sad, there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have. you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad. you make me so happy, it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and, guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone.. unless you wanna come along?”

the drum beats, synthesizers, and the gentle cadence of your voice resonated with emotion filled the air. it took chuuya a moment to register that the words were meant for him, a love letter crafted in the form of a song.

as more of the lyrics unfolded, he felt the weight of your affection settle in his chest, each note a testament to the depth of your feelings. it was a revelation that left him breathless, realizing that someone had taken the time to compose a symphony of emotions just for him.

the lyrics danced between vulnerability and strength, capturing the essence of your connection. in that moment, chuuya understood the magnitude of your love, and a warmth enveloped him.

chuuya feels his face grow hot, only because of he was too oblivious for a mafioso to not recognize you, to not realize he had been speaking to a famous artist like you out in the open just like that, thinking you were just some beautiful girl in the bar and club he'd go to. no, you were more than that.

and now, going back to it, it makes sense as to why he would constantly find people trying to take pictures of you, as to why you would seem quite tense at times, or even why you would keep staring at him.

"fuck," chuuya curses to himself, "oh, fuck."

the final chords of the song lingered in the air, not long after, and without hesitation, he reached for his phone, fingers tapping with urgency as he dialed your number.

the phone rang, each tone echoing his anticipation. when you answered, he could hear the warmth in your voice, a familiar timbre that matched the melody he had just experienced.

"was that... you?" he asks, his voice a mixture of awe and genuine curiosity.

there was silence for a moment, before you answer, "so you heard it on the radio." you says softly in the call.

as you confirmed it was indeed your creation, chuuya couldn't help but smile, a rare and genuine expression breaking across his face. the connection between you two deepened with every word, the song serving as a bridge that brought your emotions to the forefront.

in that moment, over the phone lines, chuuya felt a profound connection, grateful for the beautiful revelation you had shared with him.

the warmth in his voice betrayed a mix of emotions as he spoke, "it was... incredible. you wrote that for me, sweetheart?"

there was a brief pause, filled only by the static hum of the phone line, before he continued, "i never knew. i... i don't know what to say, but i had to hear your voice, to tell you that it meant everything."

a playful chuckle escaped your lips as you tease him, "took you long enough to connect the dots, didn't it? turns out you've been with a famous artist all along." there was even a lighthearted tone to your words, a mixture of amusement and affection.

chuuya's response was a hearty laugh on the other end, a sound that resonated with genuine delight.

"well, i guess i’m not the fastest at catching on," he admits, the hint of self-awareness in his voice. but then, a sincerity washed over his words as he continued, "but damn, you just made me fall harder for you, sweetheart."

the exchange of laughter and genuine emotions continued, bridging the gap between the revelation of your identity and the newfound depth of your connection. the melody of your shared feelings played on, a harmony that echoed between two hearts that had finally found each other.

excitement radiated through the phone as chuuya declares, "enough of phone calls, i need to see you right now."

there was now a newfound sense of urgency in his voice, a genuine desire to bridge the physical distance that remained between you two at this moment, "where are you right now?"

you share your location without any hesitation, without waiting for another response, he swiftly made his way.

as chuuya reaches the familiar spot, his eyes scanned the surroundings eagerly, searching for the person behind the melody that had woven its way into his heart.

and then, there you were, standing under the soft glow of a streetlamp, a smile playing on your lips as you locked eyes with chuuya.

the world seemed to fade away as he closed the distance between you, the anticipation building with each step. without a word, chuuya pulls you into a tight embrace, savoring the reality of your presence after the emotional journey of hearing your song on the radio in his office.

in that moment, the bustling world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a shared understanding and newfound depth of affection.

chuuya whispers in your ear, "i needed to see you, to feel this. no more hiding behind melodies and phone calls, damn it. just you and me, together."

his arms held you in a comforting embrace as the world around you embraced the quietude of the night. the streetlamp cast a gentle glow on both of you, and the soft hum of the city formed a distant backdrop to the shared moment.

breaking the silence, chuuya gazes into your eyes, a mixture of gratitude and genuine emotion reflected in his intense gaze. "i can't believe i've been so blind to what was right in front of me. how could i have not known who you were, and that song.."

you smile softly, a tender acknowledgment of the connection that had finally blossomed between you two, "i meant every word, chuuya. you have no idea how much i want you."

he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch a gentle reassurance. "well, i'm done letting things slip through my fingers. i want this, with you," his breathy words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a promise.

and so, beneath the canvas of the night sky, chuuya's lips met yours in a gentle, yet fervent kiss. it was a collision of emotions, a fusion of longing and realization.

as you melt into the kiss, the embrace held a promise of a beginning, a tender affirmation that echoed louder than any song you've written before, and the melody of your hearts played the sweetest tune, and the night whispered secrets of a love that had finally found its voice.

⊹ a.n.: thank god my finals is finally over because i finally got to finish writing this !! *literally cries* i also think i went all out for this one too because it ended up reaching 3.9k words, which is crazy. oh, and to the anon that requested this, i hope you enjoyed reading this one, in fact, all of you who made it this far—i love you and thanks for reading (honestly felt like i wrote a bit too much for this fic but oh well lol) <3

[octuscle]

A biker decides to throw a party at his house but only invite one guy to turn him into his dream house boy.

(Rest in DMS xxx)

I'm convinced that I'm a fucking jackpot. I'm clever, I'm damn successful professionally with my biotechnology start-up. And thanks to my genes, hard work in the gym and some of my own inventions, I can't say I'm anything other than a wank template made flesh.

My mother, who sadly passed away at an early age, always said that envy is the most honest form of appreciation. My fucking neighbor must appreciate me enormously. Envy literally oozes from every pore of his big drunkard nose. An incredibly unpleasant guy. He's hated me ever since I offered him USD 5 million for his apartment to enlarge my dressing room and add a spa to my bathroom. Luckily, I have a range of products to help me with my plans. And I want to be rid of this pain in the ass by New Year.

The flyer with "Dear neighbor, it may get a little noisy today, but just come to my party. There'll be caviar and champagne, as much as you like" I just dropped it in my neighbor's letterbox. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist this offer. So at 7 p.m., my doorbell rings. I smile at him and say that he's quite early. He's already at the caviar bowls, shoveling Beluga Severol onto his blinis. Well… What can I say… It's not beluga… But I'm proud of the effect.

With his mouth full, my unkempt, disgusting neighbor asks when the other guests are coming. He'd like to be back in his apartment by then. Too bad, I reply, you would have hoped to settle your dispute today. I open a bottle of Dom Perignon and pour two glasses. I grin. I grin very broadly. I can see that the "caviar" is already starting to take effect. My neighbor burps. And farts. Phew! It stinks of fermented herring! But I can see his fat melting away. He looks younger and younger. And he has to fart again. Holy shit, my invention is obviously not free of side effects. My neighbor starts giggling silly. He lisps so that his pants slip down. He starts calling me "Daddy". He asks if his daddy wants to dance with him. He starts shaking his increasingly grotesque-looking ass. Somehow, unlike the rest of his body, it's not getting any slimmer. His pants slide to the floor. He strips naked, still dancing. And asks if Daddy has anything to wear. I have something prepared…

The advantage of the motorcycle suit is that when I'm not fucking the Dainese drone, it holds my houseboy's farts. In a week's time, just after the New Year, the workmen will arrive and combine his and my apartment. He'll get a room next to the laundry room. And a special ventilation system will be installed in the darkroom. Otherwise, it's really no fun fucking my houseboy's otherwise damn delicious big ass.

That was all a few months ago now. Yes, I've gotten used to my boi's flatulence. I've decorated him a bit. With his teenage fuzz on his upper lip, he looks even dumber than he's actually become. But he blows like a devil. And I love it when he's happy as a puppy when I come home in the evening.

First two pics found @elbe-lad, home of hot leather studs.

[itsabouttimex2]

Here's a challenge: platonic x reader who hates monkeys with a passion (you could do it with phobia or irrational hatred). With Wukong, Macaque, and Mk.

Pithecophobia

Yandere MK, Sun Wukong, Macaque

(Fun fact 1- prunes are not their own fruit! They’re just dried plums.)

“I’m just saying,” he starts with a scoff, “it’s really silly that you’re expecting me to play along with this. Especially when I don’t get anything out of it.”

MK turns around to face the demon monkey, frowning. He folds his arms and walks backwards to keep eye contact, hoping that his mentor would watch his steps for him.

“Uh, you are getting something out of it, though? Y/N spent all day cooking for us so we could celebrate the new year together! They even made extra in case we wanted to bring someone else! That’s like… super nice of them!”

“Oh, I might get some maybe decent food, is that it? And all I’ve got to do is pretend to be a powerless mortal all the way through a probably mediocre dinner, huh? Just because this weird friend of yours is scared of monkeys?”

Sun Wukong; who had eyeing the sky for early fireworks more than he had been looking out for his student’s safety, finally chimed in. “To be fair, I think that mug of yours would scare anyone away!” A second later, he ducks down to avoid Macaque’s incoming tail, leaving MK to take the brunt of the relatively harmless blow.

MK stumbles backwards and almost into the street, only stopped when his mentor’s tail wraps around his waist and pulls him back onto the sidewalk. “Whoa,” the Great Sage mocks, setting MK safely back down, “someone’s in a bad mood today! Maybe… you’re just mad cause no one except us wanted you over for the new year?”

Macaque snarls and lunges at Wukong, ready to brawl. It’s only when MK swiftly moves to stand between them that the near fight is averted. “Guys, come on! Can’t you get along for just one day?!”

The “NO!” that they shout in perfect unison is just about what he was expecting, but he’s still a little disappointed about it. They both try to move past him to grab at one another, barely impeded by his physical position.

A thunderous bang echoes across the sky, a brilliant bloom of sparkling red painting the blue horizon. Macaque hisses and recoils, his arms quaking as he moves to clap his hands over his ears. At the exact same time, Wukong jumps up in delight, cheering and hollering at the sight. MK takes his chance to separate them, hooking his arm around Macaque’s, pulling the pained monkey demon along much quicker than he was moving before.

“Come on, come on! The food is gonna get cold if you two don’t hurry up! And! Y/N told me that there’s something special just for the two of you! Cause, y’know… when I asked if I could invite you both, they asked me what sort of stuff you liked, and I told ‘em about the whole ‘peaches and plums’ thing…”

Bringing up food seems to have been a decent enough distraction, as both of them choose to start moving along instead of fighting. Your house is already on the horizon. Now he just has to hope that another fight doesn’t break out between the rival demons.

As usual, life dashes his hopes of peace being anything more than a temporary lull.

“Yeah? Like how peaches are just about the best thing ever? And how everyone that isn’t crazy likes ‘em one way or another?”

“About how sweet-toothed meatheads can’t help but shovel them down whole? Those sort of people don’t have the brain to enjoy plums. Peaches are just sweet. Plums have a subtle astringent skin that mixes well with the flesh’s mellow sweetness.”

“Sure thing, old man. Go home and eat your prunes if ya like ‘em so much.”

“They are NOT-“

“Guys! We’re here!” Before they can argue any further, MK releases Macaque’s arm and rushes up to the door of your house. “Hurry up and come inside!”

He takes a moment to consider knocking, then grabs the doorknob and impatiently starts rattling it instead. To his delight, it’s already unlocked. A quick glance over his shoulder shows that both of his companions remain in their transformed state, tails safely tucked into their clothing.

He throws the door open and races inside, leaving the monkeys in the dust.

Just barely remembering to take off his shoes before he tears through the halls of your house without hesitation, he throws them aside near the door in a still-tied heap.

He follows a practiced path straight into the kitchen, finding you just as you remove a plate of pork-stuffed spring rolls from the oven. You set them down on the countertop to cool, then turn to face the very-expected intruder. You might’ve been surprised, if it wasn’t for his excited footsteps echoing through the house.

MK runs into your arms before you can even pull the oven mitts off, wrapping you up in a warm hug. For just a moment, it gives you the same feeling as coming home after a long day, cozy and inviting.

Then, his grip grows tight.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice quiet and low. “Invite me over more often. Or come to Pigsy’s and visit me, at least. Please.”

His grip tightens further.

And then he lets go of you, turning to face his two companions, neither of which you recognize. He waves them into the kitchen and moves to set the table.

Politely, you offer the first one your hand. He’s decked out in shining gold and exuberant red, like a brighter and flashier MK. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m glad you came to celebrate with me. Come and take a seat!”

He snags your hand between both of his own, giving it a firm pump. “It’s great to meet ya, bud! Thanks for having us!” He heads to the table and bounces on his heels, snatching up a seat for himself before anyone else gets the chance.

You smile and turn to MK’s other friend, the one dressed in a billowing black and red shroud that concealed most of his face and body. You offer him your hand as well.

He shrugs and walks right past you, sitting down at the opposite side of the table- probably to keep away from his colorful and loud companion.

MK frowns at his friend’s behavior, but turns back to you with a wide and rather forced smile. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just… not used to this.” His voice drops to a low whisper as he adds: “And his ears have been hurting all day. I think he’s getting grumpy.”

“I can hear you, kid,” the irritated man says from beneath his shroud. “There’s a reason that I’m called the S-”

“The SUPER SENSITIVE hearing guy, I know! The thing that all of your friends call you,” MK clumsily tries to lie, his ears and cheeks darkening to red with his poor attempt at deceiving you.

But before you can question him on it, his golden-clad friend pipes in with a snide: “He’s certainly sensitive, I’ll give him that.”

Outright chaos is only abated by the sharp click that sounds when you set a porcelain tray on the polished quartz surface of the table.

“MK told me about your favorite fruits, actually! So I stayed up late to make these for all of you,” you cheerily announce to the trio, lifting the delicate lid to reveal three plates of sticky-rice pudding. Each one is delicately drizzled with syrup sugar and studded in tiers with sweet fruits.

Your friend jumps forward, his palms hitting the table as he stares at you with wide-eyes. “Y/N! You made Eight Treasures Rice for us?!”

“Well, it’s more like ‘One Treasure Rice’, haha. It’s really only got the fruit in it, actually. I didn’t wanna put anything you guys didn’t like in there, so I decided to play it safe. I hope that’s not disappointing!”

“Not at all, bud! Not at all!” Several of his aureate accessories glint in the light as the man reaches eagerly for the peach-filled rice pudding.

You pass it to him with a smile, then give MK his own, stuffed full of tangerine slices. With only one left, you push the plum-packed dessert to the shrouded stranger, who seems to slightly brighten up at the sight of it.

Before anyone can say anything, you remove yourself from the table and hurry around the kitchen, gathering plates and utensils for the trio. You put them out quickly, then pile all the dishes you made in the morning onto the table.

“Good kid,” Wukong whispers to Macaque, picking bits of peach from the pudding as you arrange two plates of dumplings on the table. “And good food. Still regret coming, ‘Super Sensitive’?”

“…the kid’s alright. Jury’s still out on the food, though.” He pauses, taking a quick moment to think of something to criticize Wukong for. “And keep your tail under control. I can see the tip flicking back and forth in your pant leg.”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

A tray with a whole braised chicken is set between them, and a platter of steamed rice flour cakes after it. Finally, you take your own seat, next to the shrouded man and across from MK.

It strikes you then that you haven’t even learned the names of your guests.

“I’m Y/N, by the way! I’m sorry for not asking your names earlier! What should I call you?”

“The name’s Sun, bud! And that’s Mac, sitting in the edgy robe.”

“I like the robe,” you compliment politely, looking at the concealing garment. “The cloud embroidery is a nice touch.”

“It’s a cloak… and thanks.”

MK jumps forward in excitement and strikes his palms against the table, rattling the bowls and dishes.

“C‘mon! Let’s eat, everyone!

———————————————————————

“I think everything went well, today. You think so too, right?”

You set the knife down, turning to face ‘Sun’. As you cut up the leftovers, he’s sorting them into separate containers for everyone to take home. (And giving himself larger portions when you weren’t looking.)

“Definitely! I think my, uh… friend was pretty impressed. I hope we can do this again, Y/N! I don’t really have anything scheduled this time of year…like, ever.”

Except for watching fireworks from the top of his mountain, far away from company and civilization. Again and again, over and over, thinking only of his long-passed friends and companions.

“…we are going to do it again, right?”

“Oh, um, sure. I don’t see why not. My family doesn’t really come and visit, so I’ll probably have the house empty again next year. So, um… yes! I’d be happy to have you over!

He hums softly, nodding his head to your words.

“Sounds good, bud. I’ll be there. And… I’ll see if I can wrangle Mac into coming, too. Maybe just to see him jump at fireworks again, though.”

“He seemed interesting,” you graciously offer of the cloaked man, in spite of his admittedly poor behavior through dinner. “I enjoyed his stories.”

“Pfft! I could’ve told them better- I was there for most of them!”

“Well, the two of you should come again- MK seemed happy- more than usual, even. Honestly? I think he’s been stressed out lately… I’m glad he could have a day to relax. I really do need to visit him more often.”

“Huh. Guess it must be a little hard living so far from the city, bud. Any reason you’re this far out?”

“Oh, that’s… I inherited this house- and the orchard outside- from my parents, actually! I take a lot of pride in it, really. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if the work is a little lonely.”

“…I think I will come visit, then. And I might sample a few of your fruits, too,” he teases, lightly elbowing your side. “You think you can handle that, bud?”

“…you know what, Sun?” Sun, what he had informed you his name was. It fits him well. He’s bright and exuberant, and never stops smiling. He seems like he’d be a good friend.

“That- that sounds really nice. Come by anytime you’d like.”

Your words sound kind right now. They feel right to say. The Great Sage thinks so too.

And he’s certainly not going to forget about them. Neither will Macaque, listening in from the shadows beside your tangerine trees.

Why would they ever let go of this kindness?

[ichore]

HIGH BY THE BEACH | TOJI FUSHIGURO

synopsis: toji takes you to the beach, and you both get high and horny (x)

tags, warnings: MINORS DNI, afab!reader x toji fushiguro, fwb, usage of drugs (edible), reader is most likely depressed or in a melanchonic state of mind, dry humping, cunnilingus, girl you got him pussy drunk, not proofread

a/n: pussy from a depressed sis just hits diff 🫡

The chill of the late afternoon wind tickled your naked nipples, the orange hue of the low Sun caressed your skin as the sound of the waves crashing was the only thing that disturbed the tranquility of the moment. One of your hands held your book high, your eyes tiredly reading through the pages while your other hand mindlessly played with Toji's raven black hair. The back of his head rested in between your thighs, your heat oozing against his sweaty nape as he every so often gingerly traced the calloused pad of his fingers against the soft flesh of your legs.

One could assume you two were a couple. You were not; the thing was that you were always too busy with work to find a decent relationship, and when one day your hot one night stand called you back if he could crash at your place for another night, you did not see why you couldn't have a little bit more fun. Your intention was just sex, yet you allowed this huge hunk of a man to sometimes stay the night, eat your food, use your toothpaste, never replacing the toilet paper. When his bloody clothes ended up in between your laundry, you did not ask. You didn't care, you never did, and it confused him to the fullest.

"Sure, why not?" a shrug was all your answer when he told you to go get some edibles with him before he showed you a secluded, hidden part of the beach. The muffin melted on your tongue, your eyes fixated on the shells scattered across the sand while you tried to ignore Toji who was staring at you. It didn't take much time to understand the intensity of his watch; soon enough, your mind began to go numb and you had to lay down.

"How do you feel?" he asked finally.

"Like you care," your voice was monotone. Your strokes upon his head didn't stop, and yet, your words told him that you knew he was using you. And you were right, at first, but somehow, your weird stoicism towards anything in life intrigued him, it made him want to open your little head and take a peak at your thoughts. What are you thinking about? How are you really feeling? How was your day? Talk to me. His thoughts were racing and the end line was nowhere to be found in the drugged haze of his mind. Meanwhile, his gray eyes watched the waves glisten and your heat escaped your clothed pussy, blood began to gather in his cock at the idea of making you feel good.

"Right, like I care." The broadness of his shoulders pushed your thighs wide open as he turned around to run his index finger across the line where you pussy folds swallowed your bikini. The material began to get darker with your wetness which made his scarred lips perk into a wolfish grin - a thing you could not see because your eyes were still fixated on your book, your lips lazily ajar. To him, you looked like a goddess with the golden sunlight kissing your sandy, nearly naked body as your hair was still wet from the ocean. To you, he was just a handsome face tugging your bikini aside while his teeth sank into your inner thigh as he sucked in your soft flesh to leave a new mark where the previous one began to fade.

You irritated him, he realized as his tongue shoveled the first dose of your nectar into his mouth and a high pitched sigh escaped your lips. The only time you showed genuine joy was when your carnal desires were tended to; only then, you held him close and could he make you beg for more as your orgasm distorted face laid ahead of him - and this little chagrin of his made his cock painfully hard, but perhaps because of the drugs, he wanted this time to be only about you.

The drug kicked in for him even stronger as he got himself on all fours before his unstable hand grabbed your book, and slowly took it out of your hand to place it next to your head. His thoughts and his feelings buzzed in his brain, he almost felt ashamed of how high he was. But his body never betrayed him; he wanted you and he told you this on his own way with his fingers holding at your iliac crests, his thighs sliding under yours to angle his clothed, raging boner against your wet entrance.

"Let's make a mess of you, dollface." The tip of his nose touched your cheek as his lips clashed against yours, his tongue immediately forced his way in to massage yours. He wanted to fuck you so bad, the movement of his hips were shaky and messy, but you could taste his painful yearning at his lips and feel the desperation when his free fingers cupped your breast while the other grinded your hips against his.

Your wetness and his leaking precum mixed, the friction creating a white cream on his shorts by the time your breathy moans and half lidded eyes told him that you were close to the edge. Like an apology, his thumb caressed your cheek while he placed a peck on your lips before the body of his warmth left you to nearly tear your bikini off you.

The last rays of sunshine felt warm as Toji opened your legs wider, his gray gaze curiously watching a drop of wetness leave your pussy and roll down to your ass. Yet, before the drop could disappear, his hands lift your ass high enough that he's able to catch it with his tongue. Your desperate moan, your taste, the sight of you, the smell of ocean and warm afternoon light made him nearly feel dizzy as the edible reached its peak hour.

Your own stupor was more of a numbness in your head whereas the rest of your body was keen for every touch of Toji's hand as his tongue was sheated deep into your gummy walls. One of your hand gripped at the towel under you while the other used his hair to hold his pretty face in place when his tongue was just at the right angle to be ridden for your first orgasm.

"Here, have a taste," he murmured, his feet kicking at the sand to help himself crawl on top of you as his hand hurriedly clasp at your cheeks to force your lips open before spitting your slimy taste into your mouth. It was you who then sat up halfway to kiss him; your touch against his nape let him know that he got a bad case of sunburn already, but the way your legs wrapped around his waist grind your still trembling hole against him made him want to fuck you under the stars until the Sun chased them away once more.

[archangeldyke-all]

imagine sevika finding all the drawings reader has made of her in their sketchbook. Drawings of her face, body, nose, back, everything. 🙃🙃

wahhhh now i'm crying

men and minors dni

she's rifling through your drawers looking for a clean tank top to borrow when she finds a manila folder hidden under your socks.

she hums, opening it, expecting to find your birth certificate or tax documents. she freezes when the first thing she sees is her own face.

sevika knows you like to draw. she's always laughing at the little doodles and sketches she finds around the house, on the back of old receipts or napkins.

one of her favorite pastimes is reading in bed while you doodle away in your sketchbook beside her.

but she's never seen you draw her before.

she gazes down at the sketch, soaking in every scratch of your pencil, a lump forming in her throat at the loving way you've captured her sleeping face.

she moves the first sketch to the side. the next one is a bit messier, clearly done in a rush. black ink smudged in some spaces where your hand smeared it on the back of an old receipt in your attempt to quickly capture the rare sight of sevika's toothy grin. she chuckles at the little hearts you've drawn around her smiling face, then moves onto the next.

it's her whole body from head to toe, naked and asleep on your bed. she's got one hand above her head, the other resting across her stomach. she looks... soft. you've drawn each and every scar on her body with loving reverence. you've captured the hickeys you'd sucked into her neck earlier that night with a gentle smudge of your graphite. a gentle smile creeps up sevika's lips as a tear falls from her eyes.

there's hundreds of sketches in the folder. sevika gives up on her search for a shirt and situates herself on the bed, rifling through all the papers in the folder.

some of her hands, some of her back, some of her lounging on the couch with a cigarette between her lips.

her favorite is a quick doodle you'd obviously done when she'd pissed you off, a caricature of her flexing, captioned with 'all these muscles and she still makes me shovel the driveway.'

she loves the little studies she finds on various parts of her face. one page is just full of her nose from different angles. another is of her hands, both flesh and prosthetic.

you find her while she's admiring a particularly saucy sketch of what she assumes must be your view of when she's fucking you missionary.

"sevika?" you ask. she jumps off the bed, scrambling to stack the papers and slam the folder closed. you chuckle. there's a lovely little blush on her cheeks, and she's still clutching the folder to her chest like it's her prized possession. "you found your folder." you say. she blinks at you.

"why didn't you show me these before?" she asks. you shrug.

"'s kinda embarrassing. i'm, like, obsessed with you." you say. sevika chuckles.

"'m your muse." she says. you roll your eyes.

"i didn't say that--"

"these are beautiful." she says. you blink at her. "i've-- fuck, i spent like an hour and a half lookin' at 'em. you made me beautiful." she says.

you blink back tears. sevika's always saying stuff that takes your breath away, then acting like she's said nothing.

"you are beautiful sevika." you say. she gulps, and then in a flash she's kissing you.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Wordcount- 3.9k

Notes- okay so this has taken a lot longer than I thought it would but it’s here now finally. And I have changed my url so I’m sorry if you thought this was some random person tagging you

Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning sprawled across my bed and tangled in the sheets. I stumbled up and made my way into the dining area, only bothering to wrap a dressing gown around myself so as to not expose my arms. Unfortunately Lysander greeted me much too cheerfully the second I stepped foot in the room, with a wide grin and loud words.

“Good morning!” He trilled. “Sit, sit and eat. You have an important day ahead of you.” I slumped down into a seat and grabbed an apple, biting into the crisp red skin and sinking my teeth deep into its flesh.

“So what did you get up to with the lovely Megara last night?” He inquired as an avox served him a plate of toast piled with eggs and cheese and ham. I judged his choice in food for a moment and then almost snorted as his words registered in my mind. He certainly wasn't being subtle at all I thought as Finnick and Mags entered and seated themselves. I took another bite out of my apple and grinned.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of silk pyjama shorts and a loose top. Megara was sprawled across my bed, shovelling ice cream into her mouth as fast as physically possible. She noticed me and smacked the bed.

“Sit.” I sat. “Now spill. You and Finnick flipping Odair.” I sighed.

“Pass me a cupcake. No, not that one. No, no, yes. Thanks.” I peeled the case off and bit into it, the rich chocolate and caramel spreading across my tongue. “I found out when I first got it.” I showed her my wrist and she inspected it closely. “We were, well we were friends I suppose. After I won that is. I saw his once, it was an accident. I don’t think anyone else really knows he even had one.” I took another bite of my cupcake. “We kinda stuck together for a couple of years. He helped me through the aftermath and the nightmares and everything.” She looked at me curiously.

“So what happened?”

“Annie Cresta happened. When she won everything changed. You know how the boy she went in with that year was decapitated and she lost it?”

“Everyone knows, though the Capitol tries to brush over it.” I laughed quietly.

“Well when she came back she was absolutely broken. She couldn’t function by herself. So Finnick helped her. At first I knew it was necessary, she probably would have offed herself otherwise, but the days passed to weeks and weeks to months. He had just,” I breathed, “He had just left me and gone to her.”

Megara's mouth opened in a shocked expression.

“You would’ve been fifteen?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“And he just, what, abandoned you?” I shrugged.

“Love is weird. It comes and goes at the most unexpected of times and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” She placed a hand on her forehead.

“Okay, sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“The nightmares came back, I spiralled, I spent I think two months here. Doing shows, staying as far away from them as I could. I mainly talked to Effie and Haymitch.” I smiled fondly. “They were really something. Always bickering and picking at each other like an old married couple. They made me laugh a lot, the only thing I laughed at really. Then it all changed again. But that’s not relevant.” I ignored her look and powered ahead. “I stopped talking to anyone, unless I had to, I wouldn’t say a word. I sang at shows but nothing more. And that was my life I guess. Not happy, not sad. It just was.”

Megara unexpectedly leapt across the bed and engulfed me in a hug.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that.” She pulled away. “I can't imagine if I met my soulmate and then had to pretend like they meant nothing to me.” I smiled back at her sadly.

“Like I said, love is weird. And why would he want me when he has her.” With that I flopped down in bed and curled up in a ball. “Goodnight.”

“We didn't do anything interesting. I ate a bit then fell asleep. I was tired.” I smiled tightly at Lysander, a glint of challenge in my eyes before my gaze slipped to my plate and I took a second bite out of my apple. It tasted like ash in my mouth. “What's on the agenda today?” With that his eyes lit up and he beamed.

“Training.”

As it turned out, training was in fact the only thing on the agenda. I walked into the room and was greeted by the sight of the majority of the other tributes already showing off. My eyes flicked around the room for a second, Finnick was already bothering Katniss, the girl looked extremely unimpressed at him showing her how to tie a knot in the rope and didn't even try to hide her disgusted expression as he pretended to hang himself. I made my own way over to the survival skills section, I immediately picked up two pieces of wood and began to rub them together to little effect. Just as I was about to give up a shadow appeared above me.

“You have to rub quicker, and lower down.” Katniss took the sticks from me and demonstrated. “See.” I nodded slowly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” With that she turned and made her way to one of the compartmentalised training rooms, grabbing a bow and a sheaf of arrows along the way. I watched from a distance as she put an arrow through each glowing hologram that appeared. I started as I saw one holding an axe and it immediately disintegrated, a small bolt of fear shooting through me. Were they supposed to represent us? My question was answered as another showed up holding a trident and resulted in the same fate. The closer I watched, I could see more similarities between the holograms and all the people stood watching. Johanna and Finnick were obvious, two appearing next to each other and reacting in sync, Cashmere and Gloss, one with long, sharp nails that none of the others had, Enobaria. A really burly one, Brutus and a couple of spindly ones, the morphlings.

Bile rose in my throat as Katniss annihilated them all. Then just as everyone thought the simulation had ended, a final hologram appeared. Smaller and thinner than all the others and it threw a golden blaze at her which she ducked and suddenly an arrow was lodged in it and it dissolved like all the others. It was clear that it was supposed to be. All the movements of the other holograms had been techniques the corresponding victors used in their games, the weapons they were most famed for using. And the Capitol had simply taken those moves and projected them into the simulation. But for me, the only moves I had back then were throwing that one knife and then my shoes. So that was what they had to use. I stayed frozen in my spot as the others stared at Katniss, contemplating looks in their eyes. I could see the cogs turning in their brains, they wanted her as their ally, who wouldn't to be honest. She was the favourite to win at the moment- perhaps also Finnick- and she would get sponsors upon sponsors. I watched her gaze pass over all of them to settle on me; I stared back at her blankly for a moment before she looked over to Peeta who stood watching her from the camouflage station, his arm covered in detailed paintings of rocks and tree bark. He smiled slightly and turned back to his work.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see a grinning Finnick.

“Quite the spectacle she's put on wouldn't you say?” He asked and I hummed in response. “She'd be a good ally.” I shrugged.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” He scoffed. “With an aim like that she could take out all of us in a matter of seconds.” My lip quirked upwards at his words. He didn't know just how true they were.

“I suppose, but if she was your ally, one wrong move and you'd be six feet under. But by all means, ally with the girl on fire; when she decides to kill you- don't say I didn't warn you.” I spun on my heel and strode away from him, my shoulder tingled where he had touched me and I felt a tug in my chest at the growing distance. It was as if the more time we spent around each other the more the- well I suppose the word that the Capitol used to describe it was a bond- the more the bond seemed to recognise us as soulmates and tried to drag us together. It was the only reasonable explanation for why he was talking to me.

I walked with my head down, stepping to the side to avoid bumping into other people. I made my way to a station where the two from district 3 had settled themselves at after struggling to light a fire and were fiddling around with wires and bolts. I sat myself down and picked up a few thin pieces of bronze metal. I twisted them together, intricately weaving them in a complicated pattern so they formed a pin of sorts. I twisted my hair up and stuck it through, the metal scraping along my scalp as I shook my head to make sure it was secure.

“The gamemakers won't be too impressed with that.” Beetee spoke quietly from beside me and I made a face.

“I don't really care. They're the ones hiding behind a forcefield.” His gaze sharpened.

“How do you know that?” I shrugged in response.

“The shimmer in the corners. Makes it look a bit like glass but they don't want us to know they're afraid of us and glass is too noticeable. Next best thing is a forcefield, I mean it uses a lot of the energy in this place. Zaps it like,” I snapped my fingers, “that, but most people won't know how to recognise it at all so they can keep up their pretences without worrying about one of us trying to murder them where they stand.”

Beetee stared at you for a second before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“A scholar I see.”

“Just curious.”

“Not even some adults back home would be able to tell me that.” Beetee murmured. “You've done your research.” I looked up to the gamemakers.

“Well,” I spoke softly, scratching at my wrist absently,”you never know what they'll throw at you and it's always good to be prepared.” He hummed in assent as Wiress tugged on a loose strand of my hair, babbling nonsense under her breath. I gently extracted myself from her fingers and wished them a pleasant day, a hint of sarcasm in my voice, before I left them to fiddle with their little toys.

I found myself wandering through the huge building, mindlessly gazing around. My eyes flitting over the white surfaces, shining brightly in the even whiter light from the ceilings. All of a sudden I heard voices. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, was that Finnick and Haymitch? Talking to Plutarch Heavensbee? I listened intently, pressing myself against the wall next to the tiny crack in the door to hear better. My eyes gradually widened with each sentence that left their mouths, I couldn't believe it myself, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been hearing it directly from the source. They stopped talking and I ran. I sprinted down the corridors and to the lifts, frantically pressing the buttons as I entered and running out just as quickly. I didn't slow down until I slammed the door to my room shut and launched myself onto my bed, clutching a pillow so hard my knuckles started to turn white. They were planning to get Katniss out of the games and start a revolution. A revolution. My mind repeated those words for minutes, my mouth moving to spell it out in disbelief. Slowly the disbelief I felt faded into determination. They clearly hadn’t been about to tell me anything about it, I wouldn’t be included in their alliance. But I could sure as hell help.

Throughout the next couple of days, I woke up as early as possible to train without anyone watching me. I would take my ballet shoes down with me and wear them as I threw knives at the holograms, rise onto my toes and dance around them in circles until my feet were bleeding and bruised. The pain only made me work harder, if I could fight with my feet broken beneath me then I could run forever and wouldn’t feel a thing. On the last day before the games would begin I did the same as I had been. But when I had destroyed the holograms a hundred times over I didn’t stop, I dropped the daggers in my hands and closed my eyes as I spun and leapt. For the first time in years no one was watching me and I could just dance. Even on the train there had been cameras pointed at me but in the interest of not wanting anyone to get mad and try to kill them the gamemakers had left the training room cameraless. So I danced as if I was a child again and my mother was watching me from the door of the house cheering me on. And then I fell. My ankle gave out beneath me and I crashed to the floor. I landed on my side, my arms crossed to hold my head off the floor. I pushed myself up and undid my shoes; pulled them off my feet and stood up. When I fell I had accidentally pressed a button and holograms had appeared again. I reached down to grab the daggers again as they advanced towards me.

“You wanna play?” One of them threw the knife they were holding at me. It skimmed my cheek; I lifted a hand up to touch it. My fingers came away red and I laughed quietly. “Fine, I’ll play.” With that something inside me cracked and I leapt forward. I was like a hurricane as they all rushed at me and I weaved through the gaps leaving bloody footprints wherever I stepped. I rained down blow after blow on them, if holograms could bleed I would have been covered. But they couldn’t bleed and they couldn’t die, they just disintegrated into orange sparks whenever my blade hit home in their rib cages only for more to take their place. I dodged and threw and stabbed until I thought the simulation ended and I stood in the centre of the room. The air moved and in the blink of an eye I spun and struck, the last thing I saw of the hologram was the trident in it's hand. Then I heard the clapping.

I turned around quickly to see Johanna watching me. I quickly stepped outside.

“What do you want?” She grinned.

“Who knew you could fight princess. I’d actually be quite impressed if I didn’t think you’d payed for some poor Capitol bastard to teach you.” A hysterical giggle forced itself out of my throat and for a second an unreadable expression passed over her face like a cloud. I picked up my shoes by the ribbons and let them dangle by my legs as her eyes went to my feet. “Aww did standing up by herself for a moment make the princesses feet hurt?” I swallowed.

“You don’t know me Johanna Mason.” I spat. “You don’t know anything about me so do not make assumptions about things that you do not understand.” She watched me walk away, yelling after me.

“See you later princess.” I ignored her, focusing on not leaving a trail of blood back to the room.

A few hours later, after I had bandaged up my feet, I headed back down for the evaluations. The others were already there and I sat down at the end of a bench. Feeling eyes on me I looked up and locked eyes with Katniss, she stood up and made her way over to me. She sat down silently and I looked at the pin she had on her top.

“A mockingjay.” She looked up at me surprised.

“Yeah. How did you know?” I laughed.

“Some members of the Capitol have them as pets. Ones they managed to catch after the jabberjays bred with mockingbirds. They domesticated them and have them sing all day every day.” My voice turned sharp. “They don’t like being reminded of their failures so they turn them into spectacles.” My head turned as the robotic voice spoke ‘Y/N L/N report for evaluation.’ I stood up slowly and walked past Finnick who was exiting and into the training room. I was greeted by the sight of the gamemakers laughing and talking with each other, completely ignoring my presence as I made my way over to the weapons stand. One of them spared me a glance before dismissing me. They knew who I was and they didn’t think I was a threat. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes and realised something. The force field was strong if it was concentrated, but it was only being held together by four balls that it was projected out of, one in each corner creating a screen. So it was strong at the outside but where it all met in the centre would be weaker. I grinned at my revelation and practically skipped back to the table with the knives on. I picked one up and balanced it on my finger, I quickly looked around and grabbed a long piece of rope, tying it around the handle. I twisted the end of the rope around one hand and pirouetted, as my head whipped to the front I let the knife fly through the air, right through the centre of the forcefield. It embedded itself in a piece of watermelon and then the wall. I gripped the rope harder and yanked towards me, I caught the knife and raised the dripping red fruit up to my mouth to take a bite as I curtseyed deeply, dipping my head and letting my foot slide as far behind as possible. I smiled sweetly at their horrified expressions. You can almost see the thoughts running through their heads I mused as I walked calmly out of the room, head held high.

I was waylaid by Lysander who dragged me back to the room and made Finnick and I sit until the scoring was announced hours later, I was almost falling asleep in my chair. Yawning widely and eyes drooping until the music sounded and I bolted up. The second Gloss’ photo appeared on screen with a score of 10 flashing under him my heart sank. My little outburst would probably not have gained me anything other than a low score. The rest of the careers had predicatably high scores, Brutus an 11 and Finnick the same. Lysander screeched happily at his score, patting him on the back furiously and I murmured my congratulations. Then it was my turn. My face appeared on the screen and a bright bold number 12 flashed underneath it. I spat out my water in shock and blinked rapidly as Lysander gaped at the screen. Mags patted me gently on the shoulder, giving me a small smile; Finnick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Congratulations angel.” The nickname shook me out of my trance.

“Angel?” He shrugged and gave me an easy smile.

“Yeah, you looked like an angel on the chariots and you certainly act like an angel, especially with that little girl.” His voice turned serious. “But something tells me you aren’t such an angel as everyone thinks you are.” My lip twitched and I forced it to stay in a straight line.

“Maybe you’re right.” I turned around, my back to him, his eyes searing into my skin as I whispered. “But some things cannot be determined with a passing glance.”

The next day was the day of the interviews. I was slumped in a chair, clad in a silk robe, as my prep team scoured my body. They perfected every imperfection they could find until my skin was like a blank canvas. All the while they chattered, asking me not so subtly about my evaluation score and even less subtly if I had a soulmate- thankfully they didn’t question my insistency that I covered my wrist while they ‘cleaned me up’. I ignored them for the most part until Priscilla began to waffle on about Finnick. I clenched my fists and tried to block her out, waiting for her to finish. But she wouldn't stop, she went on and on about him, his… relationships with Capitol women and then what a shame it was that he might die. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms until I felt pinpricks of pain and saw tiny specks of blood beading on my skin. I settled for fiddling with the robe until they left. The girls walked through the door giggling with each other as Quintus turned around to me.

“I understand how you feel.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You have a soulmate yes?” I nodded slowly. “But he either doesn’t want you or doesn’t know about you.” I nodded again.

“The second.”

“I had a soulmate once.”

“You did?” I mumbled.

“It was about 15 years ago. I had just started working here for the games and she was a tribute.” He laughed slightly and ran his hand through his hair. “She hated me, I tried to get her to run away with me before the games could start but she wouldn’t let the kid from her district die even if it meant she lived. They only lasted 5 days in the arena.” He smiled sadly. “But those last couple of days she was alive and I got to see her were the best couple of days in my life.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

“Don’t waste time. Every second with the ones we love is precious.” Just as suddenly as he had begun the conversation he left the doorway, leaving me in silence.

Soon enough Megara came in, laden with bags upon bags containing god knows what. She dragged a chair over and sat down opposite me. She pulled out a teapot and two cups before setting them down on the table ignoring my incredulous look. She poured tea into the two cups added a splash of milk and sugar to one and gave me an inquisitive look. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I poured milk into the cup and spooned 3 teaspoons of sugar into the cup.

“So honey, how are you feeling about the interviews?”

“Honey? Aren’t you younger than me.”

“Nope,” she popped the p,” I’m 24.” I sighed.

“They can only go so badly right.” She grinned; took a sip of her tea, placed it down, stood up and walked over to a huge bag hung up on the door.

“I suppose we’ll see then.” She unzipped the bag and I gasped.

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[shipstorms]

stalag arrival

The cart has been hobbling along for eons. 

Sometimes they hit a rock or other debris hard enough that Bucky's head bounces against the wood. He lets it happen, attempts to imitate the sounds of the other bodies he's been lumped in with. Pretty soon a sharp ringing takes up residence somewhere behind his left ear, clanging anew every so often like a tuning fork. 

He's waterlogged, barely conscious. A bloated, drowned doll dredged up from the bottom of a lake. But he's alive.

-

Back in Wisconsin, before flight school and this whole damn war, Bucky helped slaughter pigs on two occasions. The first time, the money he earned went straight to the dog track before it even had a chance to settle in his wallet, which is what led to the second and last time, wherein either the pig did something herky-jerky or maybe the angle was off, but in any case the spray of gore was truly godawful and he never went back.

The memory flickers to life in his mind without effort. Moreso triggered by the smell, or maybe the cold rubbery weight on his wrist that used to be someone's leg. A sourness has pooled into the back of his throat, threatening to overflow when the wagon jolts to a stop. He tries to breathe through it while the men speak.

Then the shovel whistles downward before coming to a sickening and sudden stop. 

He runs. Falls down. Runs again. Falls down again, this time into a hole that tunnels him into a neverending blackness until an insistent prodding lifts him out of the dark and a boot lodges underneath his chest to turn him over like an animal on a spit. 

He opens his eyes -- attempts to, anyway, but there's a fiery ball radiating behind his cheekbone, a universe of pain so shocking in intensity that he gags from it. 

Still alive, then.

-

They get him walking. He stumbles twice but claws himself back up, fingers curling through dead pine needles and soil, because fuck having their hands on him. Once he blacks out, though, he doesn't have much choice in the matter, and then he's being shoved into a car. Every time he comes to, he's in a different place, barely able to get situated before they're hauling him off somewhere else. 

The old Bucky would've made a bad joke here, probably. The imaginary POW Bucky sure would have; the one he conjured up after they sat through interrogation resistance training. Fellas, why don't you buy a guy dinner first before all this jerking around, huh? Clear-headed and wise-cracking, waggish even in the face of doom. 

This Bucky can hardly even string a thought together. This Bucky plods along in whatever direction he's pointed in, which is a miracle in and of itself, that his legs are still working. This Bucky only stays conscious long enough to arrive at a next place, and a next place, and a next place. 

Until Haussmann says Buck Cleven, and suddenly, just like that, the haze disappears. Clear as anything, Bucky imagines lunging over the desk and smashing Haussmann's face into the desk over and over. He could do some damage before any guards came in. He's sure of it.

Instead he states his own name. His serial number. Smokes a cigarette and repeats the information like he's supposed to.

They allow him to use the head. Some officer's, by the looks of it. There's even a sheet of metal tacked up on the wall through which Bucky is able to see himself somewhat clearly for the first time in a week. The reflection is unfamiliar enough that he actually touches his fingers to it. He looks beat to hell, obviously. Like flesh turned inside out. Even the whites of his eyes are crackled through with red. 

Fuck you, he mouths. Tries to remember that he's a man, not just a vessel of adrenaline and the barest threads of whatever billion-year-old life-sustaining processes evolved to ensure survival.

Even though he watches his mouth move, the brain-body connection fails to spark. He repeats himself once, twice, three times, each utterance stoking a bone-deep, impotent rage until he grabs the edges of the sink and squeezes until he sees stars. Getting there doesn't take much. All the blood loss, he realizes.

The world eventually sharpens again. He prods at his chapped lips for a brief second, then pulls the edge of his shirtsleeve down and leans in close to swipe his face clean.

-

Men are shuttled onto the trucks in masses. Next thing he knows, daylight is streaming into the car like a Broadway spotlight. He moves outside dumbly, processing the barbed wire fences and guard towers, the faces peering at them from behind the barrier.

Then he sees them. He sees him, resting his arms through the fence like it's a bartop a million miles away from any war, restrained and calm amidst the rest of the screaming faces around him. Strangely, Bucky had also imagined this part for his imaginary POW self: this exact moment of reunification, the way Gale's eyes never leave him for the entire welcome parade in. 

An illusion, Bucky's convinced, until Gale calls out, "What took you so long?"

Bucky smiles. His face, still in the nascent stages of healing, feels like it's ripping apart again but he can't stop smiling. The indelible relief in Gale's posture is only recognizable because he feels it himself, too, blooming through his body in an overwhelming brushfire. Everything within him seems to catch flame alongside it. He's kismet, he's fate, he's a ball of goddamn light as he walks through the high-wired gates.

-

He tells Gale -- Gale! Here! In this hellhole, waiting for him! -- the pig story after the second time he asks about Bucky's "travels", in lieu of the actual events. There was what seemed to be a carefully considered number of days between asks, like he wanted to give Bucky time to settle into stalag life and come up with a neatly packaged interim history for his own sake. 

Joke's on Gale, though, seeing as Bucky wasted that time mostly staring at Gale's profile and the back of his head when no one else was looking. At night, he listened to Gale breathing for hours. That misfiring brain-body connection was evidently a general brain-reality affliction and even now, after a week, after the hustle and bustle of his arrival has settled, he finds himself doubtful about his or Gale's existence in this place at all. 

"It was like a horror show, Buck, I swear," Bucky says. "Wish you could've seen that pig."

Gale makes an agreeable noise, then pats Bucky's shoulder. Bucky is still laid up in bed for the most part, groggy in the mornings and sacked out by 2000, only to float in a purgatory between sleep and waking all night.

Gale pats him once more. "I'll bring you some food." 

"Nah," Bucky dismisses. "Crank already brought me some."

"Doc said it'll take a few weeks to feel right again," Gale goes on, as if Bucky hadn't even spoken. "Don't fight me on this, now," he adds in a softer voice. 

That ugly rage crests through Bucky. He swallows it down and says, "Get a good dessert this time then, will you? Something with fudge."

"Fudge," Gale echoes. "I'll see what I can do about that."

"Thanks." Gale's taken his hand back and Bucky rolls onto his side, trying to emulate the pressure. "Helluva place to have ended up, huh?"

"Helluva place," Gale repeats again, seemingly only half-there.

He blinks, hard, while looking at Bucky the whole time. Bucky wants to shake him by the collar, ask, What? What is it? Wants to ask all kinds of other things too -- is Gale hiding any injuries, does he think Bucky's face is gonna heal well, how did it feel to bail out, did he even like potatoes back home, is this the beginning of the end?

"Some pilots we are," Bucky says instead. He huffs a laugh, since Gale is apparently on copycat mode, and sure enough there's an answering smile from Gale, who's still making no move to actually leave. The longer he stands there, the more restless Bucky feels.

"Chow time's gonna be over if you don't get a move on," he points out. 

Gale nods and finally makes for the door. "I'll be right back," he says, tapping the doorframe on the way out. 

-

When Bucky is well enough to explore the world outside the barracks, Gale asks for a third time. They stand under the eave of their combine, Gale watching Bucky smoke like he's finding it deeply educational. 

"Did I ever tell you about that pig?" Bucky says in response.

In the distance the sun is setting, turning the horizon into a thrumming blood vessel. He squints at it and imagines a shovel hacking through the atmosphere, spilling all that light into the sky like a broken yolk.

"Bucky," Gale says in that low, sorrowful voice, the frequency of which cuts straight into Bucky and makes him want to put his fist through the fucking wall.

He ashes his cigarette instead and forces himself to look at Gale, just as Gale is placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. It sits there for only a second before moving up to cup around the bare skin on the side of his neck, gentle and yielding, skin to skin. Before he can stop himself, Bucky turns into it, under the guise of politely blowing smoke in the other direction. 

Gale scritches at the hair sloping behind his ear. Bucky coughs, swallows. Clears his throat. Gale can still feel him shaking, probably. 

Thing is, Bucky wants to give him an answer. But when he looks back now, the memory keeps skittering away before he can catch hold of it. The only part he truly remembers is being blessed with his own personal holy trinity during interrogation: smokes, booze, and Buck Cleven. 

He wonders how Gale would respond, if he were to say this out loud. 

"You're alright now," Gale asks -- reassures -- something. In any case it makes Bucky want to laugh and laugh. 

"Yeah, I am," he lies. "I'll be even better once we find a way out of here."

"We're working on that part," promises Gale.

Gale's hand is still on Bucky's neck and Bucky is still turned into it, now watching his cigarette burn down to the filter between his fingers. He holds onto it for as long as he can, even as the cherry threatens to blister.

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader (The Living Kill Too) Ch6

Here is the next chapter. Warnings: Nightmares, Physical Assault, Torture and Fluff.

Simon was a man that always got up on time even before his alarms would go off. After people started turning into those flesh eating things he still kept his schedule of waking before his watch alarmed, but this time it was different. The warmth against him was welcome and then his eyes fluttered open. You were sleeping peacefully against him as he had slept you must have turned into him. Your head tucked under his chin, your soft breath hitting his chest. 

You were still wearing the makeshift blindfold as some hair had fallen into your face. He slowly pushed the hair behind your ear making you sigh. His breath caught in his throat when you nuzzled closer into his chest. His alarm went off at that moment and you stirred awake and when you realized how close you were to Ghost you pulled back. “I’m sorry”, you whispered. “It’s alright”, he gruffed. 

Ghost noticed you didn’t even try to take the makeshift blindfold off and so he got up to grab his mask. Once he tugged it on he informed you that you could take off the blindfold. You sat there and realized it was still dark out. “Still on military time huh”, you smiled. Ghost seemed to smirk at that, but you couldn’t tell by the small lamp that illuminated a small part of the room, and his mask. “You can go back to sleep. I have duties to attend to”, he tells you.

“It’s alright. I’m up now best to earn my keep anyway”, you reply. Ghost watched you for another few minutes before motioning you to follow him. He took you to the infirmary and doc found some things for you to do. Ghost ducked out as soon as he could to do whatever it was he had to tend to. The crutches were a hindrance, but your wounded leg would protest when you tried to walk on it. Soap came by for a checkup from his wound and doc commented about how well done the sutures had been done.

You explained it was the heat of the moment and it would have been prettier had it not been a rushed job. Soap only laughed and talked about how the scar was just to add to his charm which you rolled your eyes at. The only break you received was for lunch and Soap came back to get you. Soap led you to a table in the back where Gaz and Ghost were sitting. “How you settlin’ in?”, Gaz asked. “Pretty well, have a new job and everything”, you reply.

Ghost watches you from the corner of his eye and listens intently to you. “Ghost any more information from that man you brought back?”, Gaz questions. You freeze knowing that the only reason that bastard is here is because of what he did to you and Josie. “Nothin’ yet”, Ghost replies. He is looking at you as you stop eating and starting to get nauseous. You will it away as Ghost seems to stare you down. “Ye arigh’ lass? Ye look like yer about to heave”, Soap says.

“Yeah, just pain in my leg”, you say. Soap and Gaz drop the conversation about the man you had Ghost torture, and start asking if your going to be okay. You force yourself to eat because you never know when you're going to eat again in this hellscape. Ghost had his mask up to eat and you focused on his mouth. Full lips with a scar on the top lip closer to the corner of his mouth. Strong jawline with small scars that look like they go up his cheek, and you can’t help but stare as he shovels food into his mouth only pulling it down while chewing. 

His eyes meet yours and you automatically place your gaze down to your food. “(Y/N)”, Ghost says. You look up to acknowledge him as he tells you to meet him after you're done with your work. The food was good as you cleaned up your spot and took your plate back to the woman working the line. The rest of the day went smoothly and when you were finished with the infirmary you made your way to meet Ghost. He stands against the wall as darkness is falling over the base. 

He looks ominous leaning against the wall as he meets your gaze. He pushes off the wall and you start to follow him. “So the guys don’t know what happened”, you state. “No, none of their business”, Ghost replies. You continued to follow him on your crutches as you recognized the path you were taking. The prisoner woke when you both entered the room and started yelling and cursing. Same as before you called out objects as Ghost inflicted the torture. 

This session lasted an hour before the prisoner passed out from pain. “Pitty”, Ghost mumbled. Ghost once again led you to his room, but then said something about a shower. You followed along and grabbed a cloth to clean around the sutures in your leg. The soap was going to dry out your skin, but you were clean for the first time in a couple of weeks. When you got finished you dried your hair and skin as Ghost waited for you.

Ghost led you back through the maze of the base and back to his room. You had snagged a small rag earlier in the infirmary just in case you needed it. You sat down as he took your crutches to place against the wall. When he turned around he was surprised to see that you had placed a rag over your eyes and tied it in the back. “What’re ya doin’ luv?”, he asked. “This way you can be comfortable in your own room. That mask has to get uncomfortable at some point”, you say.

He feels intrigued that you’re still willing to blindfold yourself after what you know he is capable of doing to you. “Why do you trust me?”, he blurts out. You sit frozen for a few moments as you think of how to respond to his outburst. “Because you helped me when I was at my lowest point, and never made me feel unsafe”, you whisper. He breaks a little at that and sits beside you as he realizes you’re shaking as you recall what happened to you. You startle a little when he pulls you into his lap, but you soon relax within his arms. 

He doesn’t speak, just holds you as you nuzzle into him. “Thank you for saving me”, you mumble into his chest. “Always luv”, he responds. You smile at that as you feel him pull off his mask. Without thinking he places his lips to the top of your head for a quick peck even though you don’t register it at first. Without thinking you bring your hand up to place on his face, but he grabs your wrist as you jolt a little. “I’m sorry”, you whisper. He is tense as a bowstring as you sit and wait for him to make a move. He brings your hand close to his face and with the palm open he set’s it against his cheek.

You just rest there cupping his cheek and rub your thumb back and forth across a slight stubble. He relaxes more and more as you let him get used to it. He reminds you of a skittish cat that would spook at the slightest wrong move. When he leaned into your touch you felt somewhat accomplished as you continued then squeaked when he pulled you back with him as he lay on his back. You stayed like that until you rolled off him and fell asleep as he sat staring at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing letting you get this close to him. He always kept people at a distance before to keep them from getting hurt. 

He remembered one woman back in England near his old flat that tried several times to get to know him. He kept her at a distance only seeing her as a neighbor because of not only his past, but the job he had. If anyone then had found out about a girlfriend or acquaintance they could become a target, but now what would it matter in the ruins of old civilizations? Maybe the only reason he felt this way is because of what happened to him because of Roba, and how he was also at the mercy of sick people. 

Maybe he was drawn to you because of basic instincts starting to take over. Yeah that had to be it; he was drawn to you because biologically it made sense. That’s what he continued to tell himself before sleep claimed him. Later that night you woke to Ghost muttering and the bed moving slightly. You listened for a moment then realized he was still asleep when he gasped then let out a strangled cry. You sat up realizing it was a nightmare and with your blindfold still on patted the bed until you met his shoulder. 

You gently pushed him and that’s all it took for him to startle awake and lash out. He threw you hard onto the floor and before you could scramble to your feet fully he hit you with the strength of a bull. Your back and head hit the wall behind you causing a cry to slip from your lips. Then a fist collided with your face. Pain erupted along your cheek as you tried to steady yourself again, but he slipped behind you as one arm went around your neck.

“Ghost”, you gasped. His hold only tightened as you scratched at his arm to try and pry it off. You panicked in that moment and jabbed your elbow several times into his ribs. He grunted but nothing helped and you could feel consciousness slipping away. You decided in a split second to go limp and it seemed to work as his grip loosened. You took that moment to slip under his arms causing the blindfold to slip off. It was dark but you could make out his silhouette and the door behind him. 

You knew there was no way you were going to get past him so you grabbed the lamp from the table and threw it. It made contact stunning him enough for you to slip past him and grab the door handle, but you were yanked back by your hair and fell to the floor. He was over top of you and his hands wrapped around your neck squeezing hard enough that you were sure your windpipe would collapse. He slammed your head a couple of times as you clawed at his arms again.

You tried to talk but no sound would come out, but you stopped fighting and lifted your hand to his cheek. You felt him flinch but continued to keep your hand there and used your thumb to stroke his cheek. His grip suddenly loosened as you gasped for breath and his breath became erratic. You knew what PTSD looked like and knew this episode was coming to an end. He was shaking when you made your way to your knees coughing. “Ghost”, you rasped. 

He flinched when you spoke to him and you slowly inched your way to him as he collapsed. His back resting on the wall as he tried to regain his composure. You didn’t speak as you settled to sit beside him with your back against the same wall. You slowly put your hand over his and he flinches again, but doesn’t pull away as you use your thumb to slowly stroke his knuckles. You both sit in silence for a few minutes until his door opens. 

You close your eyes when you hear Soap’s voice, “Ghost ya’ alright ma… Holy hell (Y/N) what the hell happened here?!”. “Bad dream, he’s alright now”, you rasp. Still keeping your eyes closed as you know the light is streaming in from the hallway. “I didn’t mean to”, Ghost whispers. You can feel he is trembling again as you squeeze his hand. You feel someone kneel in front of you and you can tell it’s Soap as he touches your cheek. You wince as pain radiates from it and Soap apologizes.

“Steamin’ Jesus (Y/N) your face and neck”, Soap says. “It’s alright Soap”, you croak. “You need to be checked out”, Soap announces. “I’m not leaving”, you whisper. “I’m going to get doc”, Soap relays. “Fine”, you reply. You hear Soap leaving and you look away from Ghost knowing that his face is still on display. You look away from him and spot a balaclava next to you on a table. You reached up, grabbing it and handing it to Ghost with your free hand. He pulled his hand away from yours to put it on, but his hand came right back to yours to squeeze for reassurance.

“It’s okay”, you grate out. You turned to look at him and you could see the anguish in his eyes. You smile at him as you wince a little at the already swelling cheek. He continues to watch you as you put your head on his shoulder. When Doc comes bustling into the room he kneels down in front of you. “(Y/N) how are you feeling?”, doc asked. “I’m fine, really just hit my head a couple of times”, you explain. “Then what happened to your cheek and neck?”, Doc grilled. “It was nothing”, you replied. 

“It was my fault”, Ghost spoke up. Doc looked appalled as he continued to check you over. “He was suffering a PTSD attack. It was my fault for triggering him”, you explain. “Well you have a concussion, bruised cheek and your neck will be sore for the next couple of days”, Doc tells you. You nod as Doc turns to Soap ordering him to go get some water for you. Soap doesn’t hesitate as Ghost has been rigid since Doc came into the room. Soap comes back as you take sips of water and Doc finishes up with his instructions.

Once Doc leaves Soap waits to see what you want him to do. “It’s okay Soap I’ll be alright”, you rasp. “You good Lt.?”, he asked. “I’ll be alright Johnny”, Ghost responds. Soap lingers for a moment longer then leaves as you hear him go back into his room. Ghost doesn’t move a muscle as you turn to look at him. He flinches when you place your hand on his shoulder. “Ghost it’s alright. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were obviously having a night terror”, you whisper.

He looks at you just staring into your eyes. “I never should have put my hands on you”, he says. “Well I technically put my hands on you first, and if it wasn’t for almost dying it was very impressive how quickly you move”, you respond. He relaxes a little more as you both sit in silence for a while holding his hand. “Teach me”, you say. “What?”, he grunts. “Teach me how to defend myself. I want to be able to know how to get out of holds and fight back if I ever needed to”, you explain. 

“Alright once you're healthy we’ll start trainin”, He gruffs. You lean your head on his shoulder as he watches you. You can feel all the adrenaline leaving you and you close your eyes for a while. “Wake up luv”, Ghost says. “I was just resting my eyes”, you respond. “Can’t have you fallin’ asleep yet. Don’t want ya’ to have any complications”, he tells you. You could tell that even though Ghost had relaxed some he was still tense. You got up slowly as Ghost watched you grab your crutch. 

“Come on”, you say. He looks at you in slight bewilderment as you hold your hand out for him to take. He takes hold of your hand and you pull him up with what little strength you had left. He followed you as you made your way towards the cafeteria. When you entered the kitchen you pulled a teapot and scavenged until you found some tea bags. You made him sit down on a stool while you fixed the tea as he silently watched you. Once the tea was done you grabbed a cup and poured some out for him.

“It probably isn’t tea like you’re used to, but it’s at least tea”, you joke. You could see the small tug at the corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin. He pulled his balaclava up to expose his mouth and lower part of his nose. Same as last time you took note of the small scar through the corner of his lips and the ones on his opposite cheek. “Take a picture luv it’ll last longer”, he gruffed. His comment made you look away as your face heated up. 

You hadn’t seen his whole face or any other part of him, but that didn't mean you couldn’t imagine what he was like underneath that mask. “Seems like you have seen a lot of action”, you say trying to make small talk. He hums at that as you turn to make yourself a cup of tea. “I’m sorry for earlier”, he mumbled. When you turned around he wouldn’t look you in the eye. “Ghost it was an accident and I shouldn’t have woken you up like that”, you respond. 

Ghost then looks you in the eyes and you can see he is trying to work through things in his mind. “Why do you do that?”, he asked. “Do what?”, you reply. “Why are you forgiving me? I'm no better than that man I have been torturing”, he says. “No Ghost, you are nothing like that man”, you say. “I put my hands on you. I tried to kill you”, he raised his voice and started to stomp toward you. “You didn’t and wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t woken you up”, you huff.

He comes to stand in front of you looming over you in an intimidating manner. His mask is still up from where he was sipping his tea and his eyes are boring into yours. It clicks in that moment for you that this is his defensive mechanism. He pushes people away so that way he doesn’t have to deal with his emotions. It angers you a little that this man would do that to you after all you had been through since meeting him and Soap in that house.

His breath hit your face as he stared into your eyes with a gaze that people would cower from. “You’re an idiot”, he growls. You scoff at that as you have already deduced what his game is. “Oh I’m an idiot huh. What about when I helped save your ass when we were being shot at”, you huff. “I had everything under control”, he seethes. “Oh yeah sure you did”, you hissed. The anger in his eyes and his words should have made you want to wither, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the beautiful fury behind those brown eyes.

You watched as his eyes flitted to your mouth a few times and if you hadn’t been paying close attention you would have missed it. Without thinking you pushed onto your toes and smashed your lips to his. He pulled back in shock and you could tell you had taken him off guard. You watched as the shock faded, but then he lunged forward pinning you against the counter. His lips were on yours and he was being as gentle as he could be. You were panting in between kisses and the anger and tension in his body slowly faded. 

In the heat of the moment you rolled your hips as he pulled away with a grunt. “No we can’t”, he breathed. You couldn’t understand what you did wrong as he seemed to be enjoying it just moments ago. “Come on we should get back to bed”, he says. You help put away the cups then follow Ghost back to his room. You lay down on the bed while Ghost lies down on the floor. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor”, you say.

“I’m fine down here”, he gruffed. You didn’t respond as you rolled over onto your side turned away from him. You fell asleep not long after, but when you woke up the next morning it was late. Ghost was gone from the room, and it angered you a little that he hadn’t woken you up for your duties. You went to medical to help doc and he gave you some small tasks to do. When you were finished for the day you went to go eat. When you got to the mess hall Soap and Gaz were at their table. 

You grabbed your food and went to sit down with them looking around for Ghost. “If yer lookin’ fer Ghost you won’t find ‘im lass”, Soap said around a mouthful of food. “What do you mean?”, you questioned. “He left early this morning”, Gaz replied. “What for?”, you asked. “Said something about scoutin’ the nearest town”, Soap replies. You think about it for a minute and wonder if you're the reason he left this morning. 

Ghost trudged along in the small town watching to see how many dead there were. A lot of times it was helpful to know if large herds of dead were moving through. So far there were small pockets of dead, but nothing to be concerned about, but he was concerned about what had happened with you last night. How he could have killed you, but how you had kissed him even after what he had done. He wondered if he should have stopped you last night, but of course he should have. Getting attached to someone could cause people to die so he continued with his internal war as he scouted more of the area.