#so if i ever answer your think with words and you meant it as a request just send another asking me to draw it lol i miss the tone sometime

[treatbuckywkisses]

OKKAAYYY SO BUCKYS POV SAVED ME IDC WHAT HAPPENS I WILL REMEMBER THIS MOMENT AND I WILL NOT BE SAD. so convinced this chapter was written with me in mind front and center. I just saw Bucky's pov and my brain got excited and skimmed everything so brb I'm about to ACTUALLY read it😅

There’s never been anyone whom he’s connected with enough to warrant a second date, let alone have him promising to call. He’s completely out of his depth, drowning in a sea of anxiety and no one has taught him how to swim.  - ok are you joking. this is my favorite line I found it don't worry. man's is PUSSY WHIPPED HAHA DAMN STRAIGHT PINKY PROMISE DATE 1 AND NOW HES LOCKED IN 

Perhaps he’ll find the courage to call tomorrow. oh he's in love:( he's a BABY:( GIVE HIM TO ME NOW WE

“I’m gonna need a little more information than that Buck, there’s been quite a few girls of yours, especially from the hospital.” Steve laughs, but Bucky’s chest tightens at the insinuation that you’re just another fling, even though Steve doesn’t know any better. the scream I Scrumpt :((((( he's so in it 

Though his experience screams at him to run in the opposite direction, that this would be a horrible decision leading to further pain, Bucky finds it hard to believe someone as sweet and good-natured as yourself would ever hurt him intentionally. Even if there is only a slim chance that he doesn’t completely fuck this up, given Bucky cannot stop thinking about you, he supposes it’s worth a shot calling you. -YESSSSSSSSSS Stevie is the bestest ❣️ 

You wonder if the notion of actually calling you, or simply messaging, has even crossed Bucky’s mind once since he left your place about 36 hours ago, or if he already knew it was an empty promise at the time he made it. NOOOOOOO this is soul crushing 😭 he's just anxious give him a xanax stat!

You hate how good he looks, long chestnut hair framing his face and those dazzling blue eyes you’ve dreamed about shine from all the way across the room. He’s unfairly attractive, and he walks into a room like he knows it too. -ooohhhh:( the show of confidence he has on the outside when he's having the same inside thoughts as me over a phone call is !!!!!!!!!! you are a genius I'm kissing you kissing you kissing you 

“Yep, that’s her.” Bucky says with a pride that if Steve didn’t know any better, would suggest that her meant his girl. Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you, the corners of mouth tugging into a smile. His best friend has it bad, and he doesn’t even realise.  - I'm sick YOU are sick this is SICKENING in the absolute best possible way:( 

The combination of your words and the fact that you punctuated the sentence with his true first name sends Bucky straight to heaven. Everything about you makes him completely weak in a way he has never experienced before. All of those walls Steve seems to think Bucky has built around himself don’t appear to exist with you, instead, you’ve come into his life as easily as walking through a front door with a welcome mat out front. - the use of his first name will never not be a personal attack against me, that makes me so eye twitchingly feral. Him sensing the surprise is CRIMINAL you have made a story in which people are literally made for each other how does that make you feel 🤬🤬🤬 

Withdrawal

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You wait for Bucky to call.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, some angst and self doubt, references to sex, references to Bucky having a traumatic past

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Will he call? Won’t he call? Let’s find out! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Bucky stares down at his phone and sighs.

He wants to call you, genuinely, so why is dialling your number so difficult?

Perhaps it’s too soon, is what he tells himself. It hasn’t even been a full day since the end of your date, calling now probably makes him look desperate.

Should he message you? Tell you that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you all day? Ugh, no… that seems extremely forward for someone he’s only been on a single date with, regardless of if it’s the truth.

There’s never been anyone whom he’s connected with enough to warrant a second date, let alone have him promising to call. He’s completely out of his depth, drowning in a sea of anxiety and no one has taught him how to swim.

Bucky knows he’s overthinking, but you make it hard to think clearly. You have his brain short circuiting, reforming synapses so that all his thoughts are rerouted to the same thing: you.

Turning his phone off, he sets it down beside him. Just because he isn’t calling straight away, doesn’t mean he won’t at all. It’s probably better to wait and not seem super eager.

Or is that counterintuitive? If you enjoy someone’s company, should you let them know so you can see them again as soon as possible?

Fuck, why is this such a daunting task? He’s never had an issue with talking or flirting with anyone before, it seems to come naturally to him. And yet the thought that he’ll say the wrong thing, and fuck up whatever it is between the two of you is making his stomach churn with prickling nerves he’s never experienced before.

Perhaps he’ll find the courage to call tomorrow.

* * *

“You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” The familiar voice from the driver's seat of the ambulance pulls Bucky from his daydream.

You, is what Bucky thinks. You are constantly on his mind. Him and his best friend Steve are half an hour into their shift and you have not left the forefront of his mind in that entire time.

It’s like he’s in a trance.

“There’s this girl from the hospital…” Bucky trails off, unsure how to articulate exactly how you’ve bewitched him since meeting not even a week ago.

The night before last wasn’t just another hookup. At least, not to him.

“I’m gonna need a little more information than that Buck, there’s been quite a few girls of yours, especially from the hospital.” Steve laughs, but Bucky’s chest tightens at the insinuation that you’re just another fling, even though Steve doesn’t know any better.

“Two nights ago we went on a date, it ended up back at her place.” This is probably not news to Steve - he’s heard many stories about Bucky’s one night stands which would have started exactly like this. But there is one huge difference this time around. “And then I told her I’d call.”

“You’re thinking about a second date with her? She must be something special.” Bucky chuckles under his breath. Yeah, you really are something special. So fucking special.

“She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny, witty. When she was treating that little girl from the train derailment she was so good with her, kind and patient. I don’t know how to describe it, we just click. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to feel more than physical attraction for someone but with her it just happens, I can’t stop myself.”

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but Bucky’s already addicted to you. He’s only had one fix, but he’s already showing symptoms of withdrawal. Every second apart feels like an hour, craving your company and the rapture firing in every neuron of his body when you’re in his presence.

“Look at you actually falling for someone.” Steve teases, without even knowing the full extent of how enthralled Bucky is with you. “So when are you seeing her again?”

Silence fills the front seat of the ambulance when Bucky can’t answer the question.

“Bucky, you have to see her again! Listen to how you’re talking about her, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you actually speak about wanting to see someone again. You need to call her.” Steve stops at a red light and looks over to Bucky in the passenger seat. His best friend knows him better than perhaps he knows himself but doesn’t have the same obstacle with letting people in as Bucky does.

“That’s easier said than done.” Bucky can’t mask the dejected tone in his voice, and Steve recognises the crestfallen hang of his head, knowing exactly what he means without voicing it aloud.

“I know you've been through a lot in your life Buck, you’ve built walls up to prevent any more heartbreak…” Steve starts, but Bucky doesn’t need yet another reminder of his tragic backstory.

“Alright Mr I minored in psychology, I get your point. I’m damaged goods and don’t let people get close to me.”

“It’s just a second date, Buck, you aren’t asking for her hand in marriage. Just see where it goes.” Steve makes it sound so easy. Most people wouldn’t get so stressed about something they would consider as minor as a second date, yet Bucky feels like he’s about to expose the most intimate parts of his soul to someone for the first time.

“But I don’t want to hurt her. I know nothing about dating or being in a relationship.” Bucky pauses - the fact that he’s even considering something as substantial as a relationship with you punches him in the gut. He’s never wanted that with someone before. “And I don’t want to get hurt myself.” Because all Bucky has known is relationships breaking down. To him romantic relationships are synonymous with pain and he’s had enough of that for a lifetime.

“You’ll never know if you never try. I know you think letting someone in will lead to heartbreak, but what if it’s the opposite? What if by letting this person into your heart you finally find love and contentment?” Bucky has never allowed himself to imagine a life where that is a possibility - opening himself up to that prospect sounds like a recipe for more suffering. Besides, he’s been damaged goods for a long time, he’s sure there’s no one who would want to put up with him anyway.

“You really are a hopeless romantic.” Bucky comments, trying to avoid the questions Steve is raising, and divert the topic of their conversation.

“I want you to be happy, Buck. You’ve never afforded yourself that courtesy.”

Though his experience screams at him to run in the opposite direction, that this would be a horrible decision leading to further pain, Bucky finds it hard to believe someone as sweet and good-natured as yourself would ever hurt him intentionally. Even if there is only a slim chance that he doesn’t completely fuck this up, given Bucky cannot stop thinking about you, he supposes it’s worth a shot calling you.

“Well, maybe it’s finally time I do.” Bucky mutters under his breath.

* * *

You’ve been checking your phone periodically throughout the day to se if you have any new notifications from Bucky, but each time your phone lights up, a new wave of disappointment floods your chest.

You wonder if the notion of actually calling you, or simply messaging, has even crossed Bucky’s mind once since he left your place about 36 hours ago, or if he already knew it was an empty promise at the time he made it.

“Heard anything yet?” Wanda asks hopefully, but you shake your head in response. The first thing Wanda asked during your next shift together was how your date went with Bucky - between treating patients you described the picnic Bucky set up on the riverbank and (in slightly less detail) the euphoric night you shared when you made it back to your place.

“I’m stupid for actually believing he’s going to call, aren’t I?”

“…No.” Wanda offers after a brief hesitation which tells you more than the single word does. Sensing your regret in asking, she continues on. “Sweetie, only you know the connection you share, I can’t speak to that. If you feel like there’s something special there and he promised to call, then you have every right to believe him.”

Perhaps you’re being foolish, you should know better than to hang your hopes on a man who is notorious for being a fuckboy, but you really thought Bucky was being genuine when he promised to contact you. That the blissful night you shared, and the waves of ecstasy which melded into a flood of pure pleasure, meant more than just a one night stand.

Or at least it did to you.

“Just because he’s never pursued more than a first date with other people in this hospital doesn’t mean he isn’t now, or isn’t with you. Sometimes it just takes the right person, that could be you.” You take some comfort in the sincerity of her tone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you of what Wanda alerted you to prior to your date: no one gets a second date with Bucky Barnes.

“You’ve changed from giving me no hope to giving me false hope, Wan.” You joke, trying to brush off the conversation and not reveal just how heartbroken you’ll be if Bucky ghosts you, even with Wanda warning about his ways.

Internally you remind yourself that it’s only been a day and a half and to not be too mad at him, yet. Perhaps he intends to call, but hasn’t gotten around to it, though you’re pretty sure you’re only telling yourself that to stop the perpetual ache in your chest rather than truly believing it.

“He promised he would call, that’s not false hope.” Wanda advises, shooting you a look of encouragement as you both complete paperwork for your respective patients.

At that moment, the doors to the ER swing open and none other than the paramedic you were just speaking about walks in wheeling a patient.

You hate how good he looks, long chestnut hair framing his face and those dazzling blue eyes you’ve dreamed about shine from all the way across the room. He’s unfairly attractive, and he walks into a room like he knows it too.

Him and his partner consult the head nurse of the ER, who, after examining her clipboard for a moment, points towards your direction, making your stomach flip.

Steel blue eyes meet yours and for a moment your entire world stands still. The sounds of the busy ER fade away and even the presence of Wanda beside you dissolves into non-existence when his eyes find you and a smile overtakes his features. That damn cheeky smile which makes your knees weak.

He truly is infuriatingly beautiful.

“Hey.” Is all you can think to say as they approach, a lump in your throat forming which would prevent you from voicing any more words if your brain could think of any other than how strapping and handsome he looks in his uniform.

“Hi.” Bucky responds softly with a dreamy smile, eyes lingering on yours for a long beat before turning away. How could someone who looks at you with such warmth not want to see you again?

You shake the thought from your mind as your focus on the patient, a young man with scared brown eyes. You can’t afford to be distracted right now, even if you desperately want to look back at him and revel in the fondness brimming in his eyes which was so apparent during your date.

After Bucky’s equally tall, broad and handsome paramedic partner gets you up to speed on the patient's history, you get to work on taking his vitals.

“Rogers, Barnes, give us some space to work, please.” Dr Strange requests and without the chance to say another word to each other, both paramedics disappear out the corner of your periphery.

What you don’t notice is Bucky’s soft gaze on you through the glass walls of the patient room as you start your work up, believing that he had simply got back in his ambulance and out into the field.

“That’s her?” Steve asks from beside Bucky. He knows full well it must be you, he’s never seen his best friend look so enamoured with a girl, nor lost for words as when he set eyes on you, but he wants Bucky to admit it aloud.

“Yep, that’s her.” Bucky says with a pride that if Steve didn’t know any better, would suggest that her meant his girl. Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you, the corners of mouth tugging into a smile. His best friend has it bad, and he doesn’t even realise.

Steve suspects if he doesn’t remind Bucky they have a shift to get back to, he’d happily watch you work for the rest of the day.

He allows Bucky a couple more minutes of that luxury before heading back to the ambulance, knowing his best friend well enough to realise before either Bucky or yourself do, just how significant Bucky’s feelings for you are.

* * *

Bucky steps out of the shower, the warm water having rinsed the hard days work off himself.

He knows he needs to call you. Waiting any longer, especially after seeing you today, even if it were only for a brief moment, would surely only indicate disinterest. That’s so far from how he feels about you, so he decides needs to take matters into his own hands and fulfil the promise he made two nights ago.

A fresh swarm of butterflies fills his stomach. He’s actually going to do this.

He just hopes you’re after more than just another hookup. Bucky’s used to being the one only interested in sex, but if the roles are reversed this time, it’ll be his exposed heart being ripped from his chest.

No, he can’t think like that. He’s finally giving himself a chance at happiness.

Bucky reminds himself that you asked him to promise to call after your date. It’s not just him that wants this, you want him to call.

With that thought, he pulls out his phone and quickly presses on your contact, so he doesn’t chicken out, and with a shaky hand holds his phone to his ear. Bucky’s heart beats in his throat as the first ring sounds, and then skips a beat altogether when the click of you answering fills his ears.

“Bucky, you called.” He can hear the smile in your voice through the line, but what makes his heart clench is the trace of surprise he can perceive, as if you truly hadn’t expected him to call.

“I did promise to.” He reminds you, but it doesn’t entirely eliminate the bitter shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach that even though he did in fact promise, you didn’t fully believe him.

“I’m happy you did. I had a really great time the other night.”

“So did I.” Those three simple words don’t sum up just how much Bucky wholeheartedly enjoyed every second he spent with you, regardless of if that were naked in your bed or getting to know you on a picnic blanket as the sun set across the horizon, but in his anxious state he can’t find words more poetic to express it. “And I’d love to do it again if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm, I’m gonna have to think about it.” He can tell by the light tone of your voice you’re joking, but he supposes he deserves waiting for an answer considering he made you wait for his call. “Of course I’d love to go on a second date with you James.”

The combination of your words and the fact that you punctuated the sentence with his true first name sends Bucky straight to heaven. Everything about you makes him completely weak in a way he has never experienced before. All of those walls Steve seems to think Bucky has built around himself don’t appear to exist with you, instead, you’ve come into his life as easily as walking through a front door with a welcome mat out front.

“I guess I’m going to have to outdo a picnic at sunset then.” He chuckles to himself, knowing that he’s never had this problem before, but realising it’s a good problem to have.

You continue to talk well into the night, forgetting what time it is, and that you both have early shifts in the morning. None of that matters when you’re so caught up in each other.

Bucky simply enjoys the sound of your voice, and how it soothes the remaining anxiety which was swirling in his chest before calling you. He certainly isn’t hanging up first, not when talking with you has been the best part of his day.

He’s chasing happiness. And he might just find it with you.

Part 4 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @roschele @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @fallenlilangel99 @princezzjasmine @mdrovert @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @netflixxgoddess @pop-rocks-818 @dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @marvelhoeland @thesadcatto-queen @kayden666 @amiimar @razor-blayde @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @Vickie5446 @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @moonymagician @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @unaxv @aya-fay

[marauder-misprint]

Friends

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.4k words

cw: fluff

When Regulus enters the common room, you emerge from your dorm, books and other study materials in hand. Now that you had your nap, you were ready to get all the homework you had been putting off done. Regulus debates telling you about Sirius now. But as he watches you spread out across a table with a determined look on your face, he decides against it. Instead, he stands at your side and leans over the table to see which subjects you’re working on.

“Divination?” he asks.

You nod. “Professor Traumine is checking our dream journals this week and I haven’t had any I actually remember… Care to help?”

“Help?” he asks hesitantly, not really sure what you’re asking of him.

“Making stuff up. What seems like something I’d dream about and then we figure out what it means using the book.” You give him a pleading look. “Please, I’m horrible at making the dreams up. I’ll figure out what they mean on my own.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Regulus pulls up a chair and reaches for the journal you have open.

“Just seeing what you’ve written before. Maybe you can have a repeat dream or something,” he explains.

Between the two of you and the occasional passing friend, you finish the dream portion of the homework fairly quickly. You laugh as you interpret the fake dreams.

“Apparently, there are several family deaths in my future. That’s what, an excuse to miss school or something?”

“Anything about relationships?” Regulus asks, testing the water. 

You give him a sideways glance. “Relationships?”

“Particularly with my brother?” 

“Regulus, I don’t want to talk about him,” you groan. 

He leans forward. “I think you should.”

“Why? What do you need to know?”

“The same question as always. What’s going on between you two?” Instead of sounding accusatory as he had in the past, Regulus sounds arrogant, like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You shrug. “Some kind of friendship, I guess?”

Regulus doesn’t mean to, but he laughs. Loudly and uncontrollably. You stare at him with wide eyes. You can feel the eyes of other Slytherins on the two of you. You had gone from peacefully working on homework and chatting with those who stopped by your table. Now, he was making a scene.

“What the fuck, Reggie?” you hiss.

“Some kind of friendship?” he repeats back to you in between laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No?” 

“Love, darling, dearest friend of mine,” Regulus starts to say, ever so slightly calming himself. “Sirius came looking for you. Pacing the dungeons, hoping to run into you. Friends?”

“Right. Friends,” you say naturally, as if you were simply confirming that there was a giant octopus in the Black Lake.

Your mind, however, starts to spin. Sirius was looking for you? After you called him attractive again, with many synonyms, to his face, in the purest tone of genuinity, without any sense of tease. After telling him he was a good time. After saying that you maybe should write to him… You curse yourself for having said so much.

“Friends,” you echo yourself despite Regulus not saying anything.

He cocks an eyebrow. “So you said.” Then he smiles wickedly. “Or are you trying to convince yourself that’s all it is?”

“Regulus,” you warn, your voice dropping low. 

“I wasn’t so sure about it before, but I think I’ve played matchmaker,” he says with a smile.

“If anyone has the right to claim matchmaker, it’s Dorcas. Or… or Lupin and Potter. Certainly not you!”

“Aha! So there is a match!”

Your face grows hot. That wasn’t how you meant for it to come out. There wasn’t a match. It was just you realizing that Sirius wasn’t too bad and you liked being around him and he was fun and attractive and he smelled nice and there was something about the way he always had cigarettes with him that he was willing to share and the way he carried himself and… Shit. 

You gather your things in a panic.

“I will, uh, erm, see you tomorrow? I… I gotta go…”

You return to your dorm and hide within the curtains of your bed. Regulus was right: someone had played matchmaker.

---

You avoid Regulus in the morning. If anyone mentions either Black or Gryffindor, you change the topic or leave the conversation. You’re more skittish than usual. You’re more flighty than usual. You can’t seem to focus on anything besides your current crisis. 

Yes, you’re calling it a crisis. 

You manage to survive the day and you’re feeling a little better. You think you’ll be able to hide in your dorm again until you completely sort out your thoughts. 

But then his voice rings down the hallway. Sirius calls out your name. 

“Hey!” he says, running up to you.

“Hi?” you reply cautiously. You didn’t know if you were ready for a conversation with him.

“I-uh, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Yeah… good. You?”

The air between you feels thick with things unspoken. You certainly aren’t going to acknowledge it though. You’d rather this be a quick conversation so you can keep your wits about you.

“Going a bit crazy, if I’m honest,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Is that so? What for?”

You start to walk and Sirius immediately falls in step with you. You aren’t sure where you are going, but it feels more natural to be moving than loitering outside a classroom. Depending on where you went, it would also be easier to shake Sirius if you felt like you were actually going to lose your cool. 

“Been meaning to, wanting to talk to you.”

“Well,” you chuckle, “here I am.”

“Right. Here you are. And here I am,” he says, laughing at himself. 

You wait for him to continue.

“I… I… I’m just going to come out and say it. Yes. That’s what I’m going to do.” He swallows thickly. “I like spending time with you. A lot. And I’d like to go on another date with you. To Hogsmeade, to a quidditch game, to the kitchens, hell, I don’t care. I didn’t think I’d need to talk to Regulus again and I really want to, if you want to.”

You stop walking. You clutch your things tightly to your chest. Sirius took a few steps beyond you before realizing that you weren’t next to him anymore. He turns back to you with worry etched into his face. 

“You don’t want to, do you?” he mumbles, looking down at the ground. “I thought after what you said last weekend…”

You take a shaky breath. “No… Shit, no. I do. I mean, I’m not against it.”

SIrius looks up, his eyes sparkling with emotion. He moves closer to you as his worry slowly melts away. 

“You do?”

You nod, not trusting your words. He gently puts a hand on the side of your shoulder.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to faint?”

You take another breath. “Because… I meant what I said. After the party… And I was so hellbent on not caring for you, but, ah, here we are?” You let out a nervous chuckle and tighten your grip on your books.

“Here we are,” he repeats, his lips curling into a smile. 

“But you want to take me to a quidditch game, you’ll be waiting until next term…”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not waiting that long. So, sneak to Hogsmeade? Picnic? Visit the kitchens? I’ll do whatever you want to. I just… I want to spend time with you.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you think. 

“How about a walk? Just like around the grounds or something. And we can stop by the kitchens after?”

He nods vigorously. His excitement is so palpable that you can’t help but smile at him.

“I’d love that.”

“Too bad Padfoot isn’t here to enjoy it though,” you tease. 

“D’you miss him?” Sirius asks with a smirk.

“I miss dogs in general. You do have a cute one though,” you say thoughtfully. 

Sirius chuckles and throws an arm around your shoulder. “I mean, if all goes well, maybe you can visit the Potters and hang out with Padfoot over break.”

“That’s… that’s some kind of wishful thinking, Black. Dunno if we’ll be there after a second date.” 

“Worth a shot,” he says. “As long as you write me.”

“With that quill you bought me? Let’s see how this walk goes first.”

“This walk? Are we doing it now?” He sounds flustered. 

“No. Salazar, no. I have assignments to do.” You pause and bite the inside of your lip. “Tomorrow after class?” 

“Tomorrow.”

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife, @azure-drag0ness, @sunowee, @mysteriouslyperfecttiger

Just a warning for all of you lovely people: I think we are nearing the end of this series. I'm feeling like a max of two more chapters. Thank you for all the love y'all have shown this series - every comment/like/reblog means the world to me

[peachy-panic]

Shared Sessions: Week 1, Part 2

< PREVIOUS

WARNINGS: Past captivity, therapy setting, attempted suicide reference, difficulty talking about feelings, discussions of insomnia and nightmares

The longer the silence drew out, the more Elijah feared that it would be mistaken for his own unwillingness. He had little investment in Dr. Collins’s opinion of him, but the last thing he wanted was for Grayson to think Elijah didn’t take this chance at reconciliation seriously. He did. 

He did. 

But…

“It’s hard to know where to start,” Grayson finished the thought out loud. “I mean, what do you…? How do you…?

Elijah cut his eyes to him and saw his slumped posture, the way he hugged one knee to his chest. Most of the time he had spent with Grayson in his life had been in various states of distress. If there was one thing about his body language that Elijah knew well, it was what Grayson looked like when he was upset. It was a double-edged sword, to know that he shared in Elijah’s discomfort now.

“I think that’s more than understandable,” Dr. Collins assured them, making sure to include Elijah in the path of his smile. “What you both went through was no small event. It altered the course of your lives in a very real way. It can be difficult to put something so significant into words. Sometimes, the best we can do is to attack it in pieces. There is no expectation to unpack months worth of trauma in a single session.”

The words were meant to be disarming, he could tell, but it ruffled some defensive part of Elijah. The way this man spoke of their ‘trauma’ as if he took on cases like theirs every day. As if he had even a clue just how difficult it was to put this into words. 

Grayson, however, seemed to find comfort in the platitudes. He nodded in Elijah’s periphery. “Okay,” he said, and he sounded so earnestly relieved that Elijah could do nothing but agree with a nod of his own. 

And then they were silent again. 

At least Dr. Collins had the good grace not to look frustrated. He was, Elijah supposed, getting paid either way.

“As I understand it,” Dr. Collins tried again, “the two of you haven’t been in touch much since returning to The States—not until these past few weeks, is that right?”

So, that was his idea of easy beginnings. A sucker punch to the mass of guilt that lived in Elijah’s stomach. The starting point of their reunion. The midnight phone call that had brought Grayson Dawning barrelling back into his life. 

(As if he had ever really left).

“That’s correct,” Grayson said when it was clear that Elijah wasn’t going to (or able to) respond. 

Elijah was holding his breath, but Dr. Collins took a left turn, redirecting them toward safer territory.

“What if you started by catching each other up on what your lives have looked like since coming home,” he suggested. “We can establish ourselves in the present instead of diving straight into the past. What has the adjustment period been like for you?

It was an open question, directed at both of them, but Elijah’s mind was screaming at him to speak. Say something. Don’t make him carry this whole thing on his shoulders alone. 

“Well,” Grayson said first, rubbing his palms over his pants. “I guess we all know how well I coped.” 

There was a heavy beat of silence. Elijah turned to look at Grayson. There was a wry tug at the corner of Grayson’s mouth, but it flattened quickly. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, turning away from Elijah. “I know I shouldn’t make light of it.”

Finally, Elijah managed to dislodge his voice, clearing his throat before addressing Grayson directly. 

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk about it like that,” he offered quietly. “Like it’s a story we’re telling about someone else. It’s not funny, but it’s… Yeah. I get it.”

The look of relief on Grayson’s face almost hurt to look at.

“I think, maybe, that was too broad a question on my part,” Dr. Collins apologized. “Four months of recovery is a lot of ground to cover in a single answer. Maybe we start with something more specific?”

So, they did. 

They began with the first day home. 

For Elijah, that first day had blurred into the next several. In his shaky memory he had been asleep for the vast majority of the whole first week. His body hadn’t been able to get enough of it. He would wake up from a sixteen hour nap exhausted and barely last long enough to eat a few bites his mom prepared for him before he was crawling back to bed. 

Grayson, as it turned out, had experienced nearly the exact opposite. After a single night of a full, twelve-hour sleep in his own bed, he’d suffered through extreme bouts of insomnia for the next several weeks. A couple of times, he’d gone over 48 hours without so much as dozing, until his parents had finally persuaded (forced) him to take sleeping pills. 

That was when the nightmares had gotten bad. On this point, at least, the two of them could relate. 

They didn’t get into the specifics of what the nightmares were about, though it seemed for a moment that Dr. Collins was going to nudge them down that path. Instead, they tentatively moved onto the topic of school. 

Elijah learned that Grayson had decided to take a semester off college—and possibly the full year—in the wake of his incident. He knew, from the various conversations they’d shared in their cell in desperate search for normalcy, that Grayson was already halfway through his degree. School seemed to have been something he cared about—or, at least, something he cared about succeeding in. 

Elijah had already planned to take his own sophomore year off, even before the… before. He had just come off of a lackluster first attempt at community college, feeling directionless, unmotivated, and just as lonely as he had been in high school. He didn’t know what he’d wanted to do with his life, and he didn’t feel comfortable racking up a ton of student debt on a degree that wasn’t going anywhere. 

And after? There was no chance he could handle school in the state he was in now. He tried to explain that out loud, and was horrified to hear how pathetic it sounded inside the small room.

“In the compound,” Grayson spoke up hesitantly. “When we were… you talked a little bit about that. You said you thought about trying to apply to a state school if… when… we came home.”

“I guess it was a little easier to lie to myself then,” Elijah replied. “Maybe I was always convinced we wouldn’t be getting out of there, so I could say whatever I wanted about a future that wouldn’t exist.”

There was, understandably, another pause after that. Elijah began to think that the main benefit to Dr. Collins’s presence in these sessions was to help the two of them recover from the uncomfortable pits of silence they kept falling into.

Dr. Collins asked if Elijah was working currently. Grayson had given him a somewhat startled look, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that someone could consider balancing a job on top of the full time task of staying afloat in the aftermath of what happened.

Elijah always knew Grayson came from privilege. He didn’t always think that Grayson himself knew just how well-off he was, and Elijah supposed that made sense when you grew up knowing nothing different. So that was a little bit of an uncomfortable bridge to cross, but Elijah admitted to not being able to bring himself to work again since returning home. 

He didn’t quite dive into the guilt he felt about not being able to pull his weight with the household finances, as he had previously done since turning fifteen. But he thought that maybe the sentiment came through anyway. 

As the session went on, Elijah could admit to feeling a little proud of himself for keeping his shit together. On the surface, anyway. His voice was almost steady as he answered questions, but his internal panic was another story. Because he knew his time was running out. 

Dr. Collins was feeding them softballs to break the ice, but Elijah knew the real reason they were there went much deeper than “catching up” on the last few months. Each time there was a pause in conversion, Elijah felt his whole body tense, bracing for impact. Now would be the moment. Now, Dr. Collins would cut the pleasantries, look Elijah in the eye, and say, Why don’t we talk about the time you tried to run while Grayson was still locked in the basement cellar?

What happened after that? 

No, let me rephrase: What happened because of that?

Why don’t we talk about what you did that made Grayson hate himself so much that he would try to take his own life?

Elijah jumped out of his skin at the sudden soft chime of music. He blinked back into the moment to see Dr. Collins reach for a small alarm clock on his desk. He tapped a button and the music stopped.

“That’s our five minute warning,” he explained. 

Elijah’s eyes snapped to the clock on the wall. He had to do a double take. How could a full hour really have passed already? They hadn’t even scratched the surface. 

Anytime the conversation veered too close to the topic of those fifty-eight days of shared captivity, one or both of them clammed up, and Dr. Collins led them gently back into safer territory. How their families were doing, if they had any success with certain coping mechanisms that they felt like sharing, what their daily routines looked like since returning home.

And that… was it?

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He didn’t realize he had until Dr. Collins met him with a small smile. 

“For today, yes. I think,” Dr. Collins said, “that today was an excellent starting point for some very productive conversations. Would the two of you like to continue this talk next week? I left the time slot open, just in case.”

Grayson looked at Elijah at the same time Elijah looked at him. It was one of the few moments of eye contact they’d held the whole session. 

There was something like hope there.

“I think it could be good?” Grayson phrased it like a question, tossing the ball transparently into Elijah’s court to make the final decision. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I think so, too.”

****

In the waiting room, Grayson’s mother stood to greet him as soon as they came out. Elijah shrank back, trying to stay out of her direct line of sight. He left the two of them to their quiet reunion and tried to slip out the front door of the office without fanfare. 

Except he didn’t quite make it. 

“Elijah, wait.” It was Grayson’s voice that made him pause, turning back. There was an uncertainty in Grayson’s expression that made Elijah nervous. “Sorry, I just… you mentioned you took the bus in?”

Elijah dropped his gaze somewhere in the direction of Grayson’s shoulder, avoiding whatever judgment—real or imagined—might be in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. And then, feeling the need to defend his position, added, “The stop is just down the road. So, you know, it’s fine.”

“Can we…?” Grayson glanced at his mother, but didn’t wait for her input before asking, “Would you let us drop you off at home instead?”

Elijah felt his cheeks heat and resented it. There was nothing shameful about using public transportation—even in a city like theirs. “Don’t you live in the opposite direction?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s that far,” Grayson insisted, which was factually untrue. “We don’t mind, right Mom?”

Elijah didn’t need to look at Mrs. Dawning to feel the cool judgment behind her polite facade. “Of course not,” she said anyway. 

Trust that Midwest to overshadow any feelings of resentment. 

Elijah didn’t know how to argue. He was too emotionally raw to push back against the unexpected onslaught, and frankly, remembering that it was nearing rush hour and that the busses would be shoulder-to-shoulder with commuters for the hour-long ride weakened his defenses. 

That was how he found himself in the backseat of the Dawnings’ black Escalade, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap as they drew nearer to his side of town.

Having lived there his whole life, Elijah was never consciously aware of the surroundings he saw everyday: the auto shop with broken down cars parked half-off the sidewalk, the empty strip mall that hadn’t been able to host a store for more than a few months at a time, the houses with plywood boards over the windows. 

Now, he was forced to look at his neighborhood through the Dawnings’ eyes, and it was like finding wriggling bacteria under a microscope. 

“You can let me out here,” Elijah said, a bit too hastily, as they approached the arch over the entry to his trailer park. 

“Here?” Mrs. Dawning said, not quite hiding the judgment in her tone (or was it his imagination? He never knew for sure).

“Are you sure?” Grayson asked. “We can drop you at your… um, unit.”

“It’s okay,” Elijah said quickly. “I can walk.” Without giving them time to insist (again), he reached for his door handle and swung it open before the car had even rolled to a stop. “Thank you for the ride,” he muttered as he climbed out.

Before he could close the door behind him, Grayson leaned back and caught his eye. “Hey,” he said, and Elijah found himself momentarily frozen under his soft gaze. “Thank you for coming today.”

Elijah couldn’t quite find the right words to respond, so he had to settle for a stiff nod and hope that Grayson read his sincerity. 

“See you next week?” Grayson asked. 

Elijah swallowed. “Yeah. See you then.”

***

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[joaosnovia]

kenan yildiz fic?🫶🏼 part 2 of the recent mbyy

❦ - cut my hair.

summary:: your boyfriend is so distant to the point you’re convinced he doesn’t care

warnings:: NO HAPPY ENDING.

writers note:: i’m sorry for disappearing but mocks are the death of me! anyways sorry this took so long 😔😔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added!

You wish he would just say it.

That he doesn’t care. That this never meant anything. That you could leave and he wouldn’t even blink.

Because maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Instead, Kenan just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you with that same unreadable expression. Like he knows what you’re thinking. Like he knows you’re trying to convince yourself that walking away is the right thing to do.

Maybe it is.

‘I can’t keep doing this,’ you say, voice quieter than you want it to be.

Kenan exhales, running a hand through his hair. ‘So don’t.’

Your stomach twists. That’s it? No argument, no apologies, just those two words, thrown out like they don’t matter. Like you don’t matter.

You shake your head, forcing a bitter laugh. ‘You make it look so easy.’

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.

And maybe that’s the real problem.

Because you’ve spent so much time trying to read between the lines, waiting for something, anything, to prove that he feels this the way you do. But all you ever get is silence.

You take a shaky breath. ‘I changed for you, you know. Cut off pieces of myself just to fit into whatever space you had left.’

Kenan flinches. It’s subtle, barely there, but you catch it.

For the first time, you wonder if maybe he does care. If maybe this is hard for him, too. But even if it is, it’s not enough.

It never is.

So you force yourself to step back, ignoring the way your chest aches. ‘I won’t do it anymore.’

He stays quiet.

And this time, you don’t wait for an answer. You turn and leave, without looking back.

[f4ggydog]

dark!lottie matthews manipulating the reader into worshipping her and servicing her sexually however she wants.

“the wilderness wants us to,” “you don’t want to upset it, do you?”

we’re back to writing bitches go woo woo if u missed me answering asks

DARK WILDERNESS LOTTIE (with dubcon and girldick!lottie)

it wasn’t easy to be tied to a god. it was 100 times worse to be tied to a god that wasn’t merciful. lottie never let you express refusal or deny yourself submission. you were her pet and if she had commands lined up for you, she expected you to drop everything and be a good servant for her.

it was always the threat of the wilderness. she knew how much you feared the wilderness’ power, how much you didn’t understand and how willing you were to learn all about it. unfortunately, all of your teaching were coming from a queen who loved using her power to her advantage. you were cornered every time, left to do nothing but drop to your knees and serve. remember your place or the wilderness wouldn’t be so kind with you.

“open,” lottie orders, referring to your mouth.

you’re reluctant to even part your lips. lottie doesn’t like that.

“didn’t I tell you what would happen if I didn’t see that mouth open?” lottie reminds. “i don’t make the decisions around here, contrary to your beliefs. the wilderness does. i’m not in charge. i know you think i am, but it’s the forest that leads.”

bullshit. you want to call bullshit but you listen anyways. your mouth opens and lottie immediately jams her cock inside.

you gag and nearly choke on the thick flesh. you feel like you have to unhinge your jaw like a snake to be able to take her. but, you comply and try to relax your throat.

“enjoy it,” lottie moans. “this is the best thing you’re ever gonna taste, baby. i swear on it.”

you nod, letting lottie’s cock fill your small mouth. tears sting your eyes as your throat becomes more sore. but the threat of what will come from disobedience leaves you sucking continuously.

“your mouth’s actually good for something now, my little pet. instead of just saying no when i want something. oh, you’re bold at times, aren’t you?”

lottie leaves you gasping for air when she finally retracts her dick from your mouth. she slaps you across the face, expecting an answer instead of pants.

“come on, my little whore. tell me what that sweet mouth is good for.” lottie’s voice is a coo, but the words that come out are anything but gentle.

“w-worship,” you squeal. “j-just worship.”

“so you understand.” lottie smiles with deep satisfaction and pries your mouth open again. ���back down the hatch.”

“fuck you,” you murmur against her dick, but your words are muffled by cock. her balls slap against your chin as she pumps her dick inside of your mouth, desperate to have you swallow every drop of her essence.

“you make me cum too fast,” lottie groans, tangling her fingers in your hair. “oh, you’re so fucking filthy. I should’ve had you giving me blowjobs before we even crashed out here. take you to the locker room, force you on your knees and brutally fuck your throat. o-oh fuckkk.”

the fantasy lottie planted in her head brings her closer to the edge. soon, she’s destroying your throat and cumming balls deep inside of your mouth. her hot, thick cum doesn’t slide down easily and you nearly sob at the salty taste.

lottie pulls out of your mouth, watching as you attempt to swallow her cum. when you nearly spit out the goo, she warns you again of potential consequences. “the wilderness wants it. this is your meal, your reward for taking care of me.”

maybe you’d rather not have a reward.

lottie encourages you with some head pats and a kiss to your temple. “come on, now. you can do it. if you weren’t meant to swallow me whole, i wouldn’t have fucked your mouth in the first place. i’m doing this cause this will make the wilderness pleased.”

yeah, right. still you neglect your comfort and finally manage to choke her cum all down. and when you’re finished, you want to throw up in a bucket.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Do you think you could write a piece where Rook is comforting his S/O about the future? Please and thank you

🌑oh boy haven't written him... Ever I think let's see how I do :)

[18:49] Rook is a hunter who uses his skills on people and animals alike, so really, it’d be silly to think he wouldn't notice your upset state – especially with you being the one he takes the most joy in observing. 

“Chérie?” Rook’s head pokes around the corner, staring down at the bench where you sit, gazing out the window in a place nobody visits, “everything alright?”

He knows the answer already, sharp as he is – if he thought you truly just needed space, he’d give it to you, but to his astute mind it’s clear you shouldn't be alone right now.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, “Yeah… Yeah, everything’s fine.” it doesn't take a huntsman to see through such an unconvincing lie. You’d stepped away from the more crowded areas of NRC the moment your breath started quickening, hoping that some time alone would help ease your mind. You thought wrong – the empty silence around you only served to make your thoughts even louder.

“Now, now, chérie. We both know that’s not true.” Rook chides gently, moving to take a seat beside you. You turn your head away so he won't see the tears building at your waterline, but he’s quick to lightly grasp your chin to turn your gaze onto his. “Can you tell me what has you feeling this way?”

“It’s just–” you gesture vaguely, “everything? I don't know,” a shaky sigh wheezes past your lips against your will, trembling with the effort of keeping the floodgates closed. It’s as if his mere presence is enough to turn you into a crying mess, perhaps because that is exactly what you need but won't allow yourself to do.

“Surely it mustn’t be everything…” he gently suggests, laying your head against his broad chest and petting it fondly, “Is it me?”

“No…”

“Is it any class in particular?”

“Not exactly… no.”

“Then, it can't be everything. If you could be more specific, I’d be able to help you, my dear.” He drips honey over your ears with his words, patient and loving as he always is, calming you down enough to gather your thoughts.

“It’s just… the future? What comes next? I just… I don't know what comes next and it worries me…” You admit sheepishly, wondering if that made any sense but Rook is quick to reassure you, humming patiently in understanding. Something in your heart makes you think that he might’ve already known that – very little gets past him, after all.

“It’s totally normal to worry about the future. Even I get a little stressed thinking about it sometimes; what I’ll do after NRC… what a strange thought.” He muses to himself thoughtfully, looking on at the campus gardens as you flounder once more to express yourself.

“I-I know it’s not special but it just– it’s been getting to me, for some reason.” You murmur – perhaps you shouldn't have told him… will he think less of you now, for letting the worries he so easily brushes aside take you over?

“Well, I suppose it’s good that you won't be going through it alone.” He replies as if stating the obvious, as if you stepping beyond the present and into the future alone was never even an option in his mind – to him, you were always meant to go forward together.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

It's easy to accept his words now that the panic of the moment is gone, breaths even and heart rate stable. It brings you all the comfort you need, to know that he will always be here just as he has been in the past.

[bullet-prooflove]

A White Picket Fence: Mike McLusky x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mqdhvtter @buckysteveloki-me @elenavampire21 @noorbindi

Companion piece to:

Hell or Highwater - You and Mike always find your way back to each other.

Everything You Need (NSFW) - You and Mike get a little rough because you both won't commit.

Battle Scars - Mike tells you how he feels after a near miss.

Insomnia - Mike can't sleep without you.

Dreams - Mike experiances a panic attack in the middle of the night.

You’re drinking a cocktail when Mike finds you at The Wardrobe, an expensive hipster bar he wouldn’t normally be caught dead in. You’re sipping from A Sex on the Beach and he thinks it’s wishful thinking on your part because the coastline around here is filthy and rocky, a casualty of the industrial complex that fuels Kingstown’s economy.

“Not tonight.” You say, shaking your head as Mike takes up residence on the stool alongside of you. “I don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Stella…” He begins but the words they just won’t come because he doesn’t have any that will make this right.

Your relationship has always been complicated. He had never meant to sleep with his FBI handler and you had never meant to fall in love with an ex-con. The two of you are at an impasse because you’d asked him to leave with you last night, to start a new life somewhere else, somewhere you could both be happy, be free.

“I have responsibilities.” He’d told you and you’d left after that. He hadn’t followed, he figured you needed to take some time to recalibrate before he returns to the issue.

“If I leave this town.” He says finally as the bartender sets a glass of bourbon down in front of him. “I might as well be putting a match to a powder keg. You know that, I know you know that so why…”

He looks at you then, sees the glossiness of your eyes as you purse your lips together. His gaze lowers to your second drink, the one he’s just watched  the bartender make for you and he realises he didn’t see any peach schnapps or vodka. That Sex on the Beach, it’s a virgin which means…

“Oh.” He says, his grasp on the crystal tumbler tightening. “How far along?”

“Two months.” You tell him, poking at the ice in your glass with straw, the savagery of each strike sending a shiver up his spine. “I took the test a few days ago.”

He backtracks over the timeframe, the two of you were still using condoms at that point but the sex was vigorous. It wasn’t implausible that there had been an accident, that one could have torn without either of you knowing.

“And you were hoping…”

“Yea, but I guess now I got my answer.” You push away from the bar, snatching up your purse before you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care it.”

It’s as you start to walk away, he catches your arm. You tilt your head towards him and he sees that devastation in you, he feels it acutely in his own chest because there is nothing else he wants more than to be that guy, the one that gets the white picket fence and a happy ending. But that’s not him, it will never be him.

“I’ll go with you.” He says quietly. “To the appointment. I’ll…”

You’re already shaking your head, cutting him off and something inside him dies because he won’t get to say goodbye to that baby. It’ll just disappear into the ether, the same way everything good always seems to in Mike’s life.

“It’ll just raise questions if someone sees you at the clinic.” You say, your voice entirely devoid of emotion and he understands in that moment that this has broken you, that the relationship between the two of you, it won’t ever be the same again.

“Take care Mike.” You say before pulling away. “I’ll text you when it’s done.”

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[igcarol11]

classmates (part 1)

This is my first fic pls be nice but when you and Paige go from seeing each other twice a week to almost every day.

If there was one thing about Paige Bueckers, it was that basketball was her life. She didn’t really give a shit about school or homework. Her mind was filled with basketball, basketball, and more basketball. It was… admirable in a way but not for you. For you, it was hell.

Biology was hard enough as it is, especially with your douchebag professor, but what was worse was that your partner was her. It was Paige and she didn’t care about anything except basketball. “Hey, can you send me photos of the notes again? And can I copy your homework?” She asked, leaning on her elbow and looking at you. “Uh- have you ever considered… I dunno, doing it yourself?” You asked back, raising an eyebrow. She was so hot but god, she was insufferable. “Well, I’ve thought about it but you’re smart and don’t need my help.” She smiled proudly at her answer, not knowing it would tick you off.

The problem wasn’t that she didn’t do anything. It was annoying but what got you was the fact that the projects were so hard. That’s why everyone had partners; the work was meant for two, not for one. As if you didn’t have enough on your plate, you had to do two people’s work and all because you got paired with a basketball celebrity. “I’d appreciate it if you actually helped on this month’s project.” You mumbled, staring ahead at your professor. Paige pouted, huffing quietly, “But why? I’m kinda busy with basketball.” You rolled your eyes, thanking god that the class was over. You gave her a quick glare before leaving class without saying a word.

Paige was oblivious to how you felt. In her other classes, most people were understanding and even offered to do work for her. She wasn’t used to someone being upset with her for not doing anything in class. “Hey- ma, wait!” She tried to call out for you but you were gone. “Fuck…” she mumbled to herself, running a hand over her face in an exasperated manner.

“Bro, I don’t get it. Just like- pay her or somethin.” Jana suggested. They were taking a break from practice and Paige ended up going on a rant about her annoying lab partner. “Nah, I’ve tried that but she won’t budge. That girl isn’t playin around. She means business but she just wants me to do stuff too I guess. Ion even know what the big deal is.” She sighed again. “Maybe it’s the fact that you act like you’re the master of the universe.” She heard a familiar voice from behind her. ‘Shit’ she thought silently when she saw you with your arms crossed. “Yo, wassup ma. Whatchu doin here?” She asked nervously. She never had trouble talking to girls so why was it different with you? “I’m your new social media handler I guess.” You shrug, looking way too casual about it. Paige scoffed, silently wondering why you didn’t tell her during class until she remembered how you mentioned it a few days ago but she had forgotten. You both lock eyes for a bit, thinking the same thing: ‘Great. Now I have to spend more time with her.’

Ps I wrote this whilst high so if it sucks that’s why!

[ask-postcrash-curly]

I could have been happy. I used to be happy once.

“I’ve thought many times. Is this what peace feels like? And is it good enough? If I’m being real, it certainly isn’t the best.”

What did you want? How much of those wants were yours? You’ve admitted that having a family turned out to be someone else’s expectation for you: what else have you deluded yourself into agreeing to?

And it’s natural too, for creatures like you, to delude yourself of many things: like thinking yourself as anything more than a glorified yes-man to enforce Pony Express’ quotas. Like believing people liking you meant they liked you and not the scraps you tacked onto yourself to trick them into thinking you’re somebody to welcome. That staying buoyant, above the reality of things, would keep you within comfortable status quo: just as you turned your eyes away from Jimmy, just as you looked away from self-inspection—was it nice up there in dreamland? Did you feel peace, up there?

You don’t have a favorite color. You don’t have your own dreams. You scored just off-center on psych exams using someone else’s perfect answers. “Good money, just a trip or two”; Someone else’s words in your mouth, remember? You were always some malleable piece of meat for corporate to use, and used you were. You didn’t even mind. It was the most fulfillment a hollow thing like you could ever ask for.

You’re not a captain. From cradle to coffin, I couldn’t even call you human.

Would you leave me alone?!

I—I have wants. I wanted to be happy, whatever that meant. Does lacking a specific plan stop that from mattering?

No. No, no, no. They—some of it was real. Some of it must have been real. You’re not—you don’t know me. I wasn’t so stupid as to think—I hated it, I wanted out, it was the furthest thing from peaceful!

Stop it. Stop! That’s not, no, no, oh God, I didn’t—I thought it would be good for him! I thought it was—I thought maybe if we did it together it would feel like how it used to be—and then maybe we would too—no, no no no, don’t call me that! Of course I minded, it wasn’t fulfilling at all, none of it was! I’m not—

Don’t, don’t say that, please. I’m a person. I am.

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

I want in on fem Pete, can I be the lap he lays his head in and I shove my fingers in his mouth?

the thought of him leaned back into your lap just opening wide for you jlafjklsahflsa

[lexalovesbooks]

Soulmate AUs are the number one way to make me insufferable ngl

[unproduciblesmackdown]

that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine

[webism]

shiu kong + ‘watch yourself take me’.

“Ah,” Shius voice is muffled a little by the still-smoking cigarette that hangs from between his lips. One hand props himself up above you on his now-stained sheets while the other grabs your chin and redirects your gaze back down. “What’d I tell you?”

You can barely see properly let alone attentively. You’re so full of his cock, more stretched out than you think you’ve ever been, and he’s still finding a way to chide you. He expects an answer, despite all of your sounds for the past hour having been cut short by gasped moans and pleas for more more more.

“You said-fuck-you told me to watch…” you manage, eyelids heavy as Shiu forces your gaze down to where he pistons inside of you.

When he speaks, you can taste smoke on his breath. “Thaaats right, baby,” his words are lazy. “Watch yourself take me. Don’t look away: watch my cock disappear inside of you, okay?”

“Okay,” you gasp as his hips snap into yours.

“Good, perfect. You feel so fuckin’ good squeezing me tight, baby. You know that? Fuckin’ obsessed with you.”

Your sight is stuck on the way your body sucks Shiu in as if he’s meant to be seated so deep inside of you that you feel him in your stomach. He’s an extension of you, and as you watch his cock stretch you out with each thrust, over and over again, you can’t help but believe it.

Smoke mixes with the stars that start to blur your vision when your climax approaches. Your eyes start to roll back as you let yourself give in to the overwhelming pleasure only Shiu can manage to give you, but he’s quick to take your face in his hand again.

“Told you to watch,” he bites, and you’re only just seeing straight enough to watch Shiu’s hips twitch and stutter and his stomach clench as he shoots his load inside of you.

Your own orgasm shakes you. Sweaty and fucked out and gasping for your next breath just for it to taste like smoke as Shiu leans down to kiss you better.

17 days of disco prompt list

[kurooh]

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”