#sorry this is a crack fic
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robylovi · 1 month ago
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tiny comic based off a scene I found hilarious from Boyfriend Material by winterkeep
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strange-birb · 9 months ago
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Jason and dick are helping Tim with his screaming :) ( part of my secret bad au)
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kittenscookie · 2 months ago
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Dear god Epic is slowly pulling me back into Percy Jackson so it's time for a mini crossover idea. (If I get some details wrong please forgive me, it's been a hot minute and I've got the memory of a walnut). Okay, let's say they've gotta get Odysseus's Bow for whatever reason. As the group's contemplating how they're gonna find this thing the gods all just slowly turn to Poseidon.
Poseidon: ...
Athena: You gonna give them her address or should I?
Poseidon: *Groans as he pulls out a pen and post-it note* Okay boys, you're gonna go to this address in Ithaca, knock on the door, ask for [Insert Name Here]. If she's not there go to this address in New Jersey.
Tyson: Who is she?
Poseidon: Your older sister
Percy: We have a sister? Why didn't you ever tell us about her?
Poseidon: ...
Athena: 🤨
Poseidon: .....Go visit your sister
So they do their adventure, escape a couple rough situations, slay a couple monsters. They eventually get to the address, knock on the door, and a young(in terms of appearance) woman with the bluest eyes known to man opens it. She's all smiles, offers them some snacks while she gets the bow.
Nico: Okay, just wondering, why do you have this thing?
Sister: ???
Sister: It's my dad's...Why wouldn't I have it???
Tyson: Huh?
Sister: Odysseus is my other dad
Silence for about a good fifteen seconds before a sly smirk spreads across her face.
Sister: You want the tea?
Percy: Hell yeah!
She pulls out her phone, sends someone a text and not even five minutes later Athena is bursting through the door.
Annabeth: Mom?
Athena: Hi honey. *Points to [Insert Name Here]* You, put the kettle on. *Points to the group* The rest of you, sit down and listen up because I'm still pissed about this shit.
Over the course of the next hour and a half she tells them the juiciest tea they've ever heard. By the end of it they're not surprised that shit never got written down because why would Poseidon and Zeus ever allow future generations know they were fighting that hard—caused a whole second war—for a damn mortal.
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boowritess · 9 months ago
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bonus part 2
simon can't cook-
okay no he CAN. okay? but it's very much- chop up whatever the fuck is in the fridge throw it in a pot, add as much meat he can find. then he's sorted. creating some sort of stew. but if not that. he thrives off 2 minute noodles.
listen, he's a working man. he can't be fucked thinking about what to make.
and if he needs to eat while not deployed and wants something, he'll get takeaways so he doesn't have to think about it.
and if ya'll are together - whatever you make... motherfucker eats that shit up like he's in a 5-star fucking reasturant.
you made scrambled eggs with bacon??? he's astounded. absolutely in love. has never been more satisfied in his life.
but oh lord. when he retires..
retired!simon fucking riley finds his fucking calling in cooking.
you no longer have to worry about cooking. nah-uh. not with this man who has all the time in the world to hone in on this new culinary world.
idk i just think it's so cute to think about simon going from beans on toast for breakfast to fluffy buttermilk pancakes or french toast with bacon a berry compote.
then for dinner; it's suddenly a whole line of sushi with all your favourites, dumplings to follow and a beef udon recipe dish. or maybe it's a simple roast - however, a perfectly seasoned meat has been sitting for a while in the oven for so long that when you cut into it, it's juicy and tender. and simon fucking beams at the faces you make.
dessert is a whole other game that simon fucking mastered. seriously. because he's placing down a skillet brownie, topped with ice cream and cream. And when you put a spoon into it, it fucking drips with chocolate ya'll.
just rahhhh retired!simon that turns into chef!simon. who just spoils you day and night with food. who gains the ability to make whatever dish you want, whenever you want. 3am and you want a grilled cheese? he can whip it up in seconds and it'll taste like the most gourmet grilled cheese you have EVER had.
btw, i'm torn between making him a gordon ramsay in the kitchen or him being the complete opposite and being so sweet and patient with you when you want to help him.
WAIT- speaks like gordon ramsay but treats you softly. like, you're not cutting with the knife correctly you fucking donkey. but instead of taking it off you, he presses up behind you, gently cups your hands with his and shows you how to do it safely. and he's speaking so sweetly and softly. a stark contrast to when he called you a fucking donkey - but hey you'll get your bite back. ;)
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a/n: i can't fucking breathe this was so funny to write. i'm sorry idk why he called u a donkey. i'm fucking hungry if it wasn't obvious with this post.
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emlovessid · 3 months ago
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september 29, 190 words @taylorswiftmicrofic confess // @wolfstarmicrofic magic
"Hey, Sirius?" Remus asks as they walk back to Sirius' flat after dinner one night, feeling so anxious he's worried he might actually be sick.
"Yeah?"
"I have something to confess," he blurts, the words coming out so fast they all merge into one.
Sirius stops walking, though doesn't untangle their fingers. "Okay. Is this where you tell me you're actually married and I'm your mistress?"
Remus can't help but laugh, "No, no. Definitely not married. I don't really know how to say this so I'm just going to be blunt and get it over with...I can do magic."
"Oh, neat! Me too."
Of all the scenarios that have gone through Remus' mind over the last few months – when he realised that he actually really liked the Muggle he'd hooked up with, and they were rapidly moving from 'just shacking up' into 'actually dating' territory – this was not one of them.
"Wait, what? You can?"
Nodding excitedly, Sirius starts walking again, pulling Remus along beside him as he says, "Yeah, I'll show you when we get back to mine. Wait 'til you see this card trick I can do."
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fuctacles · 3 months ago
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Just like Cinderella
happy bday to my Prince Charming @blasvemous M | 3.3k | crack treated seriously, meet cuteugly something, idiot4idiot, humiliation kink mentioned | Ao3
"Shit, fuck!" Steve lets himself have one last glance at his wristwatch, and of course, it instantly proves to be a mistake. 
He runs straight into someone's back, and it punches all the air out of his lungs. He's stunned for a second, and can barely hear a rushed apology. He thinks he mutters back 'No, it was my fault', and by the time he blinks back into reality and crouches to pick up his bag, the guy is gone. 
But not all of him. 
On the pavement, right under his bag, he finds a... something.
It's made of metal and intricate, and not his. He picks it up and straightens up quickly, in hopes of seeing the guy he ran into. There are a lot of people rushing about, though.
"Hey!" He picks up his pace again, hoping to spot the person he ran into. He remembers long hair and a mix of citrusy shampoo and cigarette smell. Not much else. Nobody turns their head as he runs through the morning crowd, so he stuffs the item deep into his bag and focuses on the initial goal of rushing to work. He can worry about this all later. 
On his break, he takes the thing out of his bag to take a better look. It looks well-made and could be expensive, but he has no idea what it could be. It reminds him of old egg beaters, but he doubts that's what it is. Maybe a toy? One of these educational puzzles for nerds, like a Rubik's cube? Or! It could be a replica of some sci-fi movie gadget. Like the sonic screwdriver that Dustin made.
He probably should just ask around. 
His usual go-to, the self-titled oracle and part-time scholar Robin Buckley, had no better ideas than him. She turned the thing in her fingers, cradling it delicately like an eggshell, while humming and hemming. 
"Looks like a tiny brace. Maybe for a york's paw? The guy could be a vet," she offers. 
"Maybe," Steve nods, not convinced at all. He doesn't want to think about a little dog with a broken paw somewhere out there, its bones unprotected. "I was thinking it could be a kitchen utensil?"
Robin puts it on the desk between them and stares at it intently. 
"Like what?"
"I don't know," Steve shrugs, embarrassed to share his idea. "Like an egg beater?"
Robin continues her loud thinking but in the end, leaves him with nothing. 
The thing weighs him down on his daily commute, waiting in the bottom of his bag for the day he finds its owner. Steve isn't even sure if he would recognize him. Them? After a week he wasn't even sure it was a guy. 
The workload doesn't give him a break either, and once Friday finally arrives, he makes a detour on his route home to grab a drink or two. After his first drink, he checks for any loose change he could put in the tip jar and his hand finds the Thing. He pulls it out with a sigh and puts on the bartop with a small clunk. As he reaches out to put what he's found in the jar, he hears a very concerning and loud choking sound. 
To his right, a long-haired guy is wheezing his lungs out, fist-punching his own sternum. Steve immediately leans over the empty stool between them and starts smacking his back to help.
"Jesus, you alright? Went down the wrong pipe?" He looks around the man, but all he sees is a glass of beer, so hopefully he didn't get a peanut lodged in his windpipe. 
The man lets out a really gross phlegmy cough, clears his throat, and takes a shuddering breath.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he wheezes out. "Just, uh, you know. Didn't expect to just turn around and see, uh, that." He spares a tiny glance at the Thing in front of Steve. 
Steve immediately brightens up, hoping to finally get an answer to his predicament. He swiftly moves to the empty seat, drink and Thing sliding along the bar with him. He sees the man wince while he's still facing forward like he's afraid to take a proper look. He takes a drink of his beer, this time slow and cautious, and Steve can see the redness spreading from his cheeks down his throat.
"You know what it is?" Steve asks hopefully, leaning closer to him. 
The man freezes, and maybe it wasn't in his best manners to just sit down next to someone without asking, but it's already happened and Steve is kind of desperate. 
He gulps down the beer, no accidents this time, but his voice is still strained, when he asks incredulously:
"You don't?! No, you know, that actually explains it. Take them damn thing off the bar for the love of Merlin."
Steve, while taken aback by the sudden shift and being ordered around by a stranger, stuffs the Thing away from peering eyes. 
"Why? What is it? Something illegal?" Fuck, why didn't he think about that? 
But the man is shaking his head.
"No, but I'm pretty sure the bartender wouldn't appreciate it."
"What is it?" Steve presses on.
The guy finally turns to him and Steve can see him in all his glory. Black leather, long hair, and a pair of truly soft brown eyes that don't match his overall vibe at all. And they stare right at him like they are trying to look straight into his soul. He's searching for something for a long, drawn-out moment, before he deflates, eyes skirting away, but he keeps facing Steve. 
"Really?" he mutters, mostly to himself. "It's a fucking cock cage, man."
"A fucking cock what?" Steve asks once he gets his voice back.
"You heard me. I'm not repeating myself," he says with a scoff, eyes falling to Steve's bag. His knee starts jumping up and down restlessly. "Where did you find it?"
But Steve had questions of his own.
"Is it like, a medical thing?" he asks. 
The looks he gets back would make him believe an alien just popped out of his forehead and started dancing Macarena. He frowns defensively.
"What? I've never seen something like this!" 
"It's a sex thing," the man responds mercifully, watching him closely. 
Now it's Steve's turn to gauge his eyes at the man. He looks briefly down at his bag like the thing could just grow tentacles and have its way with him. 
"How? Why?" he asks, mouth twisting at the images flashing in his mind. "How do you know that?"
The knee never stops jumping. If anything, it becomes more erratic. 
"Uh, I know guys who are into it." The man looks away again. 
Steve rolls his eyes. Sure. He knows a guy.
"So since you know some guys," he plays along. "Maybe they know more guys and they could ask around if anyone has lost one of these?" he suggests. "Now I want it off my hands even more."
The man scoffs, almost amused. 
"Could imagine. I could take it from you and just hand it over to them, make things easier for you," he offers, glances at him, and then shrugs.
Steve recoils at the idea.
"That? No, It's my fault the guy lost it, I wasn't looking and ran into him. I need to make sure it goes back to the right hands."
The man hums, drumming his fingers against the bar. 
"I want to be there when you ask random people if they are missing their cock cage."
Steve presses his lips together. 
"Stop saying that."
"What?" He tilts his head, looking amused. "Cock cage? Like the cock cage you have in your bag?"
"Yes. That."
He raises his hands placatingly. 
"All I'm saying is I would be embarrassed as fuck if I was the idiot who lost it. Would be hard to come forward and admit it," he says, raising his shoulders. 
Steve huffs, slumping against the bar.
"Fuck, you're right."
"I know," the man murmurs back and they quietly sip their drinks. 
"There must be places where it isn't that weird to admit it," Steve thinks out loud. He looks to his bar companion for confirmation but he's frowning at the liquor display in front of him, lost in thoughts. Steve hopes they aren't about him. The guy had a good profile and a cute nose.
"Hey." He nudges him gently with an elbow. 
"Hm?" The man turns, his frown melting away so he can raise his eyebrows curiously.
"Do you know any fetish places where I could leave a poster or something?"
The man only stares at him blankly. 
"You're gonna make posters," he states more than he asks.
"If I have to." Steve shrugs. 
"You sure you don't want me to just take it off you?"
"Nope."
"We could exchange numbers and I'll let you know when I find the owner."
Steve thinks about that. 
"You could lie, though," he points out. 
He huffs, annoyed. 
"I totally absolutely could," he agrees with a resigned nod like using logic pains him. Then, he sighs. "I could buy it off you?" he finally offers. 
Steve's taken aback.
"Why do you want it so badly?" He frowns at him.
"I just want to do you a favor, man!" He rolls his eyes. He's almost angry and 100% done with this conversation, it seems, as he downs the rest of his drink and slides off the barstool. 
"Tomorrow at ten, in front of the bookstore on John Paul. Bring your silly posters and I'll show you some kink shops and bars."
Steve blinks at him.
"That okay?" the man asks, tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. 
Hesitantly, Steve nods. 
"I guess that's my best shot. Thanks, man."
The guy nods.
"Don't mention it."
Then he turns and leaves, hands buried deep into his pockets, and Steve realizes he hasn't even asked for his name. 
He regrets not taking the guy on his offer to take the thing off him when he had the chance. Because he wouldn't be stuttering his way through explanations while his temporary companion revels in his embarrassment like it's the gods' nectar. 
At least now he knows his name is Eddie. 
Eddie pretends to be interested in the little display of nipple rings while Steve tries to convince the shop owner to hang his little poster saying "fetish gear found". The man finally yields, as do two others, thus concluding the number of sex shops in the area. 
"The bars don't open until late but we can try the Hangover before we part."
"What's that?" Steve asks, following Eddie anyway.
"Also a bar, but they serve hangover food around noon. They have the best bacon and won't tell me where they buy it from." He frowns like it's some personal feud. 
"Perfect. I can buy you lunch for helping me." Steve grins at him.
Eddie seems surprised at first but then smiles widely. 
"I won't say no to free food. This way, my good man!"
The place is a hole in the wall but really cozy. It seems like the same guy who took their order is cooking it and there's only one other person, with a coffee refill in front of them and a plate of... something unrecognizable under every possible sweet topping. 
"I gotta show this place to Robin, she'll love it," Steve comments while looking around. The inside looks like It was never fully finished or whatever purpose it served previously didn't require it. The walls are rough bricks, the windows old and probably drafty, and the only part of the floor that isn't rough cement is the dancefloor. 
But the collection of LED signs, mismatched couches, and a sunflower mural softened the rough interior. Steve will definitely come here again.
They get their own jug of coffee and Eddie pours for both of them.
"Girlfriend?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. 
Steve rolls his eyes in a very tired way and Eddie almost chokes on his surprised laugh. 
"Geez okay, not a girlfriend then."
Steve chuckles dryly. 
"Nope, just my best friend. We play for different teams."
Eddie eyes him curiously but he doesn't elaborate on that. He clears his throat. 
"Well, in that case, I should tell you that all the places I've shown you today are queer-friendly."
"This included." The chef must have heard that last sentence. He places their food on the counter. "There you go, little gays, bone apéritif."
"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes," Eddie murmurs, immediately snatching a piece of bacon off his hash browns. 
"It is how it goes if you want more free coffee," says the chef as he turns around. 
"Your French is immaculate, Benjamine!" 
Steve makes an ugly snort at Eddie's terrible French accent. The man seems to be very proud of his little theatrics.
For a moment it's just the sound of forks against plates and the distant radio playing in the kitchen. Eddie finishes first, almost inhaling his food like he's a human vacuum, and pours himself more coffee. 
"You wanna go to the bars too? Later?"
Steve chews on his bite thoughtfully. 
"I think if you give me the addresses I'll be good to go on my own. You've already done so much, man."
Eddie is stunned into silence. This is not the answer he wanted. He licks his rapidly drying lips, looking for a good excuse to keep tagging along. 
"Uh, are you sure?" 
"Yeah, don't worry about it. You've wasted so much time on me today. I don't want to completely ruin your weekend." Steve smiles at him. 
"It's not a problem, really—"
"No, man, I wouldn't feel okay dragging you around." Steve shakes his head. 
"First of all, I'm dragging you around," Eddie huffs. "Second of all, it's the first time a man this pretty spent so much time with me and hasn't run for the hills. Let me have this."
Steve frowns at that information.
"You must have shit luck with men." 
"Tell me about it," Eddie murmurs into his coffee. 
"So it would be a date?" 
Eddie turns to him, eyes wide. But Steve holds his gaze.
"I mean, it would be nice." Eddie tugs on his hair nervously. "We can do the posters thing and then just have fun for the rest of the night, no?" he offers. 
"Absolutely." Steve smiles reassuringly. 
"Awesome." Eddie grins.
Steve spends hours figuring out his outfit. It's his first official date with a man, he has to look good. He therefore makes the mistake of calling his best friend. He nods along as she tells him what exactly to put on (How she has memorized his wardrobe is a question he doesn't want answered.) and then clears his throat when she takes a breath. 
"What if I don't want to attract women?"
There's a pause and then—
"My my, Steven, finally going for it?"
"You could say that."
"Where are you going? A bar? What's the vibe?"
He sighs. 
'We're kind of bar hopping, he's showing me around the area."
"Back up, back up!" she yells in his ear. "We?! You're not just going out? You have a date?"
"Yeah," Steve more breathes than says. He has a date. It's slowly dawning on him.
"Who is he?" Robin asks impatiently and he can easily imagine her curling up in her armchair for gossip. 
"His name is Eddie—"
"Okay, sounds normal."
"—he has this long, wild hair, and tattoos—"
"Okay, less normal."
"—but he is normal. A bit awkward, kind of dorky, not at all how you'd expect a guy in a leather jacket to be."
"Huh. Okay, maybe I won't find you in a ditch somewhere. I want a call when you get back, no later than tomorrow morning. At noon, I'm calling the police."
Steve rolls his eyes fondly. 
"Of course, Robbie. But can we focus on the matter at hand?"
In the end, he goes the Freddie Mercury route, with a tank top that shows off his chest hair, and tight jeans. He throws a colorful shirt over it to fight off the night chill. Eddie looks pretty much the same as earlier, though his band t-shirt looks a bit tighter. 
"Steve," he sighs instead of a proper greeting and Steve's face falls. He looks down at himself. 
"What? Is it that bad?"
"Darling, you're gonna get eaten alive. How am I supposed to fight off all of the bargoers?"
Steve laughs in surprise, feeling himself blush.
"I guess you'll just have to hold on to me."
Eddie's eyes sparkle under the setting sun. 
"Don't have to tell me twice," he says, pulling Steve inside their first location. "I saved my favorite place for last. But we can stay wherever you feel like."
Eddie stays true to his word, parading Steve around like an arm candy, their elbows hooked together. Only on their second bar does he realize something is amiss. 
"You didn't bring your posters?" he asks curiously, cocking his head. 
Steve hums next to him, sipping on the colorful drink the bartender recommended.
"Do I need them?"
Eddie's visibly taken aback by the question. He frowns at Steve. 
"Didn't you want to find the owner?"
Steve nods, unfazed. 
"Yeah, and I did."
Eddie's face blanches. He opens his mouth before closing it abruptly, his frown deepening. 
"What? When?" he asks, barely containing his panic and immensely confused. 
"Earlier today." Steve shrugs. "Haven't given it back yet, though."
"Oh, thank gods." Eddie visibly deflates. Steve raises his eyebrows at that, so he rushes to add: "It's great that you found him so fast." He forces out a smile. "Who is it? Did he know what it was?" The poster was purposefully vague so the person calling in would have to say what they'd lost. 
Steve shakes his head, raising the drink to his lips to prolong the suspense just a bit more. 
"It's you."
Eddie's brain short circuits. He's stunned for too long for his forced laugh to work. 
"Hahah, what?" 
Steve smiles at him and since he's feeling extra merciless tonight, reaches out for the man's neck. Eddie looks close to fainting but Steve doesn't relent and rubs a thumb across his jugular, observing him shiver before he pulls him in by his nape. He leans in to press his nose to Eddie's skin, fingers digging into the roots of his hair, where lingers the smell of his shampoo. Artificial lemon and cigarettes. He must have taken a shower before going out. 
"You smell just like the guy I ran into that day," Steve explains close to his skin as he traces it with the tip of his nose. Slowly, he moves away. He's a bit worried he moved too fast, but Eddie's cheeks are red and his eyes are fixed on his mouth, so he relaxes back into his seat. "And if I had any doubts, your reaction just now dispelled them all," he finishes with a smirk. 
Eddie groans, hiding in his hands.
"This is the most embarrassing date in my life and once I wore my shirt inside out."
Steve laughs but reaches out to put his hand on Eddie's knee to weaken the blow. 
"Don't worry, it's working on me."
Eddie pushes his fingers apart to peek at him. 
"Really?"
"Surprisingly, yes." Steve nods. "I hope it works out, preferably long enough so I can tell about our first meeting at the engagement party." His smile turns wide and teasing. "We'll put Cinderella to shame."
Eddie groans, but it sounds more pained this time. 
"Careful," he says heatedly. "My humiliation kink is flaring up," he says, aiming for humor, but something new wakes up in Steve and he cocks his head with a fake pout.
"Poor baby. You wanna go hide your shame somewhere more private?"
Eddie presses his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose. 
"Can we?"
Steve finishes quickly his drink and slides off his bar stool. He feels the pleasant buzz of alcohol and Eddie Eddie Eddie. He leans in for a quick, impulsive peck against his pink lips.
"Of course." He grins. "Let's go."
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leelarots · 6 months ago
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is this anything
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blkkizzat · 1 year ago
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ꨄ︎『Sneaky Links』ꨄ︎ (PART 1)
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Sukuna x Reader (Mentions of Yuji x Reader)
18+ Minors - DNI
PART 1 of 2
Summary: Y/N is a dickmatized manipulative brat. Sukuna is Sukuna. Poor sweet Yuji is collateral damage. CW: cheating, rough play, unprotected sex, spit play, brat taming, spanking, pussy slapping, manipulation, fingering, anal play, edging, tit job, blow job, slight dubcon, sukuna being toxic, y/n thinking with her pussy not her brain (but it’s hard not to when you got that wet wet). WK: 3.1k of 8.5k Slightly Black female coded but no descriptors.
A/N: All I do is eat hot chip and bump Spotify so nearly everything I write has song(s) that goes with it.
Sukuna POV: I Mean It - G-Eazy (this mv is so unsrs but I'm criiiine imagining Sukuna as G-Eazy in this video lmfao) Reader POV: You Right - Doja Cat (not like Sukuna couldn't be The Weeknd POV here but he's so much more of an asshole than that)
Enjoy!
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‘2:37 AM’. Fuck.
You had to stop looking at the clock, it was only making you more restless. Usually sleep came to you easily as the peaceful dark of your room and light snores coming from your boyfriend Yuji would lull you into a comforting slumber each night.
You sighed.
Your head lay on Yuji’s chest and his arm was loosely draped around your waist. This has become your typical sleeping position since moving in with each other. You have only been living together for over a little over a month now. But living with Yuji was great, even if your apartment was smaller than you would have liked. 
Despite the both of you being full fledged sorcerers and risking your lives constantly, exorcizing curses didn’t pay the best salary. You wanted something bigger but it was cheap enough to allow the both of you to save for something much better down the line. 
It was Yuji who had mentioned that fact to you, to both console your protests and to hint at more promises for the future. That had been enough to make you giddy and you would have agreed to live in a closet if it meant you could be together.
Sure, Yuji could be a little clueless at times but he always tried his best to make you happy. The two of you rarely had any disagreements even when you were being a stubborn brat. His easy going nature took your faults in stride, meeting your needs without complaint. 
Yuji was always doing sweet things for you like waking up a bit earlier so you could drink your coffee (that he always burnt) in bed. He would shower you with soft kisses to coax you awake with a wide grin and a whispered ‘good morning’ that made you feel warm just remembering it.
You really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.
You were happy with Yuji.
You love him and are very happy with Yuji. 
Sigh.
So then why exactly is your mind torturing you with thoughts of the cursed object inside your boyfriend taking control of his body and fucking you dumb into the mattress?  
You caught yourself unconsciously chewing your lip in nervous anticipation. 
Your mind couldn’t allow you to sleep because it was filled with Sukuna, The King of Curses and every jujutsu sorcerer’s sworn enemy. 
Your enemy.
How could you let it come to this? 
You felt guilty but it’s not like you had asked for this to start happening. That said, you made no real attempts to stop Sukuna thus far from showing up to fuck you before disappearing again like a thief in the night. 
Rode hard and put away wet, he used you on his whims and it had been happening more frequently ever since the first week after you and Yuji moved-in together. 
The fateful night it started was the night of your housewarming party, ironically enough.
You honestly didn't even want a damned housewarming, you recalled looking back. You thought it was impractical and a bit embarrassing to throw a housewarming for such a small flat. 
Everyone would be on top of each other the entire night. 
But Gojo had insisted, promising to supply the drinks and food which automatically had Yuji on board, so you just gave in. Anything to get Gojo out of your hair and seeing Yuji so excited made you smile.
The housewarming itself went well until the six eyed sorcerer had suggested a ‘friendly’ drinking game. All which would have been fine if Gojo hadn’t brought over what he called Reggae Punch.
However, it wasn’t the standard recipe of peach liqueur and oolong tea you could find in any Tokyo bar. The dark orange drink Gojo concocted was a heavy mixture of actual punch and different liquors that you couldn’t identify until you were already 2 cups in.
The son of a bitch. He had literally tricked y’all into drinking Jungle Juice.
You were already faded as hell by the time the game started so you eliminated yourself early on purpose. 
Yuji, who was a good boy and never even took a sip of alcohol until he was legal earlier this year, actually thought he stood a chance at winning against his seniors. He foolishly joined-in with earnestness.
Rolling your eyes at the memory, the night ended as expected. Yuji was beyond shitfaced. 
His head hung heavy and was barely still on the low chabudai table by the time Nanami (the winner) had dragged a drunken Gojo out of your apartment, who was still singing songs from the pricey digital karaoke machine he had gifted the both of you earlier in the night. 
Maki and Yuta, sensible enough to stop drinking early like you, had already left.
Meaning Nobara, Inumaki and Megumi, all pretty lit themselves, had the near impossible task of dragging Panda home which you did not envy. 
With everyone gone, getting Yuji into bed proved a far easier feat than expected. 
You had left him some ibuprofen and pedialyte on the nightstand and a small bin next to the bed just in case he woke up and felt sick. You really didn’t mind taking care of your boyfriend who always took such good care of you. 
You just wished it didn’t have to be this night. This night when you realized for the first time that mixing that much alcohol in large quantities just went straight to your pussy.  
Pleasing yourself usually wasn’t an issue but after you pulled the second yet still unsatisfying orgasm from yourself is when Sukuna had made his appearance chuckling at your failed attempts. 
Admittedly, you were terrified at first.
You had been dating Yuji for two years but Sukuna didn’t often show himself and he had never even addressed you directly before. It was dangerously easy to forget the most powerful evil sorcerer in existence was residing rent free inside your bf’s soul. 
Nevertheless, you were hard up for a real release at that moment. A cloud of lust fogged your brain and it didn’t take much goading at all for your legs to spread like a warm jelly for The Curse King.
And he did not disappoint. 
Sukuna’s sharp tongue flooded your ears with degrading praises sending electricity through your body that settled in your core where the even sharper strokes of his hips corrupted you from the inside out. 
All your senses utterly stupefied, you came hard. You made a mess on him, yourself and your sheets.
And that was only round one.
Sukuna had near limitless stamina. 
The next morning, achy and sore, you could barely look Yuji in the eye. You were preparing to beg for his forgiveness but you quickly realized he barely remembered the party, let alone what happened after. 
In fact, it made you feel even more guilty that Yuji apologized to you. He was mad at himself for being so rough with you when he noticed the bites, bruises and marks that decorated your body thinking you both actually had sex the previous night. 
You were the worst. 
You really were the worst as truthfully, if you told him in that moment, he likely would have forgiven you then without question. 
It’s not like you alone could stop Sukuna from doing anything he wanted to you while Yuji was unaware. You were a semi-grade 1 sorcerer, strong enough for most curses, but you would be kidding yourself to think you could take on Sukuna in a fight. 
In fact wouldn’t the issue of Sukuna being able to take over Yuji’s body freely while he was unconscious be a much more pressing concern rather than how many times the curse king had made you squirt? 
Yet in spite of the danger, the logic and your better judgment, you were too ashamed to tell Yuji what really happened. 
That was because subconsciously a part of you knew it could happen again.
And it did. 
Many times.
Except for tonight. 
Sukuna had yet to make his appearance tonight. 
In fact, he hadn’t shown up in the last 5 nights in a row. The longest you had gone without his dick since he started toying with you. 
You recalled you had snapped at him after his last visit when his insults had started swaying from you to Yuji and his inability to please you. You told him never to visit you again and threatened to tell Yuji if he did. 
Honestly you didn’t expect your threats to do much. They hadn’t previously. 
As much as you wanted to be relieved that maybe Sukuna had finally grown sick of dealing with ‘Yuji’s bratty pillow princess’, a name he often called you while digging deep in your guts, you weren’t relieved at all. 
If anything it annoyed you. 
He hadn’t listened when you told him to leave you alone the first, second or third time so why now?
Why now after your cunt has started craving the burn of being stretched out by Sukuna? 
You shiver, thinking of his heavy grip on the fat of your hips. His claws would be so dangerously close to breaking your delicate skin. 
He constantly reminded you how easily he could rip you apart if he wanted to while he relentlessly clapped your cheeks from behind. 
Near salivating, you snapped your head up a little too eagerly for your own liking when you felt Yuji stir beneath you thinking it was Sukuna and more than a little disappointed when it wasn’t.  
You knew Yuji’s tender caresses should have made you melt, and it still did in a way. You were still in love with him. 
But it wasn’t until Sukuna tainted you did you realize you didn’t want to be treated like a delicate princess. 
You wanted to be manhandled. 
You wanted to be made a mess of. 
You wanted to be called names like the filthy cheating whore you were currently proving yourself to be. But Yuji was too tenderhearted to ever fuck you like you needed.
Squeezing your eyes shut as if you could block out all thoughts, you knew the reason you couldn't get to sleep was because you were horny for Sukuna. 
The higher the heat in your belly rises the more sleep becomes impossible. Your clit burned in response to the heat in your belly which made your pussy flutter as it desperately clenched around nothing and pushed some of Yuji’s cum from earlier in the night out onto your thighs.
In that moment, all your resolve was lost.
Yuji was simply the appetizer and you were a famished woman. Still left starving for the main course.
Sukuna. 
You swallow, unsure of yourself as you attempt to steel your resolve. You had already resigned yourself to the hell Sukuna put you in.
You turn your head deeper into Yuji’s chest and whisper softly against his pectorals, fingers lightly tracing his lower abs under the blankets.
“Yo…um.. Hey…Hey Sukuna… c-can you hear me?” 
Silence. 
You tried again. Nothing.
You huff, your patience waning. 
“Damnit, Sukuna!” you whisper harshly, your voice rising slightly with irritation. 
You waited more. 
The only reply you received was the rise and fall of Yuji’s chest. 
You were seeing red. 
This lame ass motherfucker. 
Was that it? Was he really done with you now after all this? 
Slowly rising off of Yuji’s chest you glare down at your boyfriend as if you could somehow scowl past his body and into his soul at Sukuna.
You quietly mutter to yourself about ‘the headass lord king of body snatching curses who gots more dick in his personality than pants’ while you shuffle over to the night stand on the side of the bed. 
You turn on the small light and dig deep into the drawers to pull out a toy you saved for nights you were particularly hard up and Yuji was out on a mission. 
Sukuna may have been ignoring you but you could no longer ignore the throbbing screaming at you between your legs. 
Maybe if you rubbed one out you could calm yourself down enough just enough to cease your anger at least. 
You needed to make an attempt to relieve yourself before you really lost your mind and did something insane like knocking the mario coins out of your sweet unsuspecting boyfriend in frustration at the curse inside of him. 
He didn’t deserve that. 
Not like he deserved any of this, the curse inside of him nor a girlfriend like you who would spread her legs so easily for a cocky smirk and a big dick.
You closed your eyes and pushed that thought aside for now. You were sweating and near shaking in need of release. 
Making yourself comfortable on the bed, you turn your vibrator on its lowest setting, so as not to disturb Yuji. 
Dragging it across your skin, you snake a path for it down past your breasts, across your belly and lower still relishing the sensations across your body. 
Licking your lips you barely ghosted your vibrator across your clit before a hand grabbed your wrist and another flung your toy across the room instantly smashing it into pieces.
“You really are a bratty fucking whore, you know that?”
The voice you immediately recognized as belonging to Sukuna. 
And how could it not be? 
It was more sultry than Yuji’s. The deep bass in his voice both teased and admonished you causing your aching clit pulsate to the rhythm of every syllable.
“As your King, I don’t recall giving you permission to touch that nasty little cunt, bitch.” 
You whined in protest and attempted to pull away but it was futile in Sukuna's grip. You could feel the fire from his touch on your wrist alone beginning to spread and torch your entire body. 
Exceeding the levels of any sexual frustration you ever knew in your life, his further denial to let you touch yourself threatened to spill the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. 
“I don’t recall asking you, my lord,” you spat his words back at him without thinking, “I’d ask you if you knew you were a trifling asshole but we-”
And in an instant he was on top of you.
His tattooed hands now hold both of your wrists, placing them up over your head effectively caging you in and shutting you up before you could even finish your sentence. 
Your eyes widen in response to the hot snarl of his breath and the red of his glowing eyes burrowing into you. 
The reality of who exactly you just decided to sass sunk in.
Sukuna on the other hand revels in your dismay.
“‘Eh? Triflin’” he said, mocking your tone and slang. “Me? Not the filthy slut who is begging me to use her boyfriend’s body to dick her down while he is sleeping? Then you have the fucking nerve to throw temper tantrums when I don’t.”
Fuck, he had heard your insults from earlier after all.
“You think a bratty bitch like you can summon me on your whims and so address me so casually at that? I’ve killed many for far less.”
He was close now, too close. 
However, although hovering over you Sukuna still wasn’t touching you with the exception of the bruising grip on your wrists. 
Despite the lack of contact your body still responded to the suffocating amount of heat and cursed energy radiating off his own. The intense primal instincts of your fear and arousal brewing together in your body was creating a toxic reaction, one which threatened to tear you apart if Sukuna didn’t first. 
Your lip was quivering and your body was squirming beneath him. 
You are completely at his mercy once again.
“And Yuji?” Sukuna continued mockingly. 
His face dipped closer to yours and you let out the shaky breath you weren’t even aware you were holding.
“You’re so needy after he already gave you this dick tonight too? Tsk tsk, you really are a brazen n’ greedy whore.” 
He was wrong. 
Not about you being a whore, of course.  You couldn’t deny that fact even if you wanted to at the moment. 
But he was wrong by implying it was the same as if you were with Yuji.
When Sukuna took over, except for facial similarities, he was all but a different person. 
Sukuna was taller, more muscular and thicker in all areas, his cock not being excluded from that. The tattoos that decorated his body and bound his dangerous muscles caused him to look more intimidating than Yuji ever could. 
Even his scent was different. It was almost as threatening as his presence and was intoxicatingly masculine, more alpha.  
You knew fighting him further was a losing battle. But you were still mad at him for ignoring you.
Nevertheless, he was here in front of you now. 
You were so close to getting what you wanted. If you had to give up more of your dignity at this point then so be it, you didn’t have much left to covet anyway. 
Completely surrendering yourself to him like the little bitch in heat that you were, you appeal to his ego in hopes he would fuck you.
“If you know I’m a whore then just fuck me like one already Sukuna. My King… please? Pretty please? I-I need you. Make me cum please.”, your saccharine tone contrasted with your depraved pleas coming out like a twisted prayer. 
You humbled yourself and hated it. It broke the tears of frustration that had built in your eyes. 
Moisture spilled down the sides of your face, yet you blinked through them in order to maintain eye contact with him. 
The desperation that called to him from every fiber of your being was apparent to Sukuna, his smirk widening at your distress. 
Releasing your hands in favor of your neck, a hand enclosed it applying pressure as he licked a tear trail down the side of your face.
“Tch, Even when desperate and begging you still can’t help but to be an insolent brat”, he whispered, blowing warm air into you that made you tingle.
That’s when you felt his tongue salaciously lick into your ear before pulling back to bite and suck at your lobe and neck, leaving more marks for you to try to cover in the morning.
The full weight of Sukuna’s naked body was now pressed upon yours. You whimpered as he had finally granted you the contact you craved for.  
You could feel his heavy cock begin to twitch on your belly. You panted as you arched up into him, rubbing against his form creating beautiful friction between you both sending you into euphoria. 
But as quickly as the contact was given, it was taken away.
“You should know by now, Y/N.... Disobedient brats need to be punished.”
Part 2
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This was originally supposed to be a one-shot but it got a little out of control with writing the lewd scenes. Part 2 is almost done and is FILTHY omg. I will try to post by tomorrow night or Saturday. (updated as of 9/12).
Lol also for anyone who doesn't know Reggae Punch is actually a popular drink in Japan. I did not make that up. It really doesn't have much alcohol content in it at all. But I LOL'd at Gojo tricking them into drinking Jungle Juice cause its literally night and day.
Also imo, Nanami and his salaryman vibe you know would win a drinking contest out of any JJK man so thats canon to me (excluding Toji as according to official fanbook alcohol has zero effect on him so he doesn't even drink it).
Any mistakes please DM, no rude or criticizing comments please.
P.S. I promise I don't hate Yuji.
Reblogs, likes, comments appreciated!!
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© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.
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v88sy · 10 days ago
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I just had a dumb crack fic idea where one night Buck is sad and lonely and wants to text Tommy (what else is new) but doesn't know what to say, so in an effort to strike up a conversation about what's been going on in his life, he just sends Tommy a picture of one of Maddie's ultrasounds without any context.
Tommy is sitting at home alone, also sad, depressed and more than slightly drunk. He just looks at the message and his brain blue screens. He texts back "Evan! Why didn't you tell me sooner that you were pregnant!"
And Buck doesn't know if he's kidding or if maybe he should call in a wellness check, but it got Tommy to call him Evan again, so he isn't entirely mad.
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teecupangel · 11 months ago
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[Desmond Miles has successfully saved a Levantine village during the Third Crusaders after waking up in the past.]
Grateful civilian: Thank you, stranger! You have saved our village from the cruelty of war. May we ask who you are so we may know the name of our savior?
[Desmond Miles believes he cannot say ‘Desmond Miles’ because that might accidentally create a ripple effect in the future.]
[Desmond Miles believes he cannot use any of the names of the ancestors who haven’t been born yet especially the Kenways because of how important they are to his history.]
[Desmond Miles has not yet processed the shock of dying a painful death and waking up in the past and his brain is blanking.]
Desmond: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.
[The people Desmond Miles have saved now believed their savior’s name is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.]
[Desmond Miles has committed identity fraud.]
[… and he will continue to commit identity fraud.]
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bekolxeram · 6 days ago
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I was reading a lot of fics about Tommy discovering Buck's new found stress baking habit post reunion, then this cringy idea popped into my mind. Now you get to suffer with me.
NSFW-ish
Lukewarm water, 360 grams. Honey, 10 grams. Dry yeast, 7 grams. Mix. Flour, 5… wait, no, wrong flour. Where’s my god damn bread flour? When was the last time I made bread? Oh yes, last month, right before Tommy and I got back together, it should be around… Ah, there, found it! No...
No!
Don’t get sentimental now, there’s no place for melancholy tonight.
“Sexy thoughts. Sexy thoughts.” Buck mutters to himself, desperately trying to stop his wandering mind from ruining his mood.
Think of Tommy. Hot, sexy, pilot.
The cyclic looks so small in his big yet surgically precise hand. It almost seems like he’s telepathically flying the chopper with his mind, not with his strong, steady arm. His fingers are long enough to engulf the control stick completely and more, sometimes he has to twist his wrist around just to flick the top… uh… the button on top.
He can feel the fabric of his sweatpants straining against his hip. The tight cotton shirt he picked out especially for the night feels extra tight around his rapidly warming skin. Good, it seems like his tactic is working.
And his pecs… that time when he wore nothing but his flight suit, umm... They’re so fun to play with, squeeze them, bite them, lick them, sleep on them, make them bounce. I don’t need to “explore” to be sure how much I love them. It’s not even about gender, I know a good pair when I see one.
Stop. No. He’s apologized. I’ve apologized. We’re all good.
It feels like all we do these days is to apologize, then have make up sex. Not saying it’s not good sex, but I want that light, fun sex we used to have, before we…
Don’t, don’t go there.
Anyway, oh, his beautiful face. The one stubborn strand of hair on his forehead that always refuses to comply with any hair product. The constellation of freckles scattered across his perfectly shaped nose. The sensual curve of his lips. The creases around his eyes and his cheeks when his whole face is lit up by that classic scrunchy smile. I swear they look even more prominent now… Oh! How could I forget, that delicious cleft on his chin. If there’s one saving grace coming out of the breakup, it’s his decision to double, no, triple his effort at the gym. His facial features look that much more striking on his now leaner body. Who gets over a heartbreak by becoming a Greek statue anyway? Pick up baking like a normal person, please.
Wait, I’m thinking about the breakup, aren’t I? Don’t. Don’t! Ugh… too late.
Buck lightly bangs his head against the counter in frustration. Deciding to focus on the task at hand instead, he promptly weighs out his flour, sprinkles in a pinch of salt, then pours the bubbly yeast mixture into the dry ingredients.
Just as he’s about to put his hands to work, he’s interrupted by a familiar rhythm at the door. Quickly wiping his hands on his apron, then pushing the waistband of his pants down by half an inch for Tommy’s viewing pleasure, he goes on to greet the man he’s been waiting for.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Tommy apologizes as he’s entering the loft. “I believe the infamous LA traffic still hasn’t recovered from the emergency freeway landing last year.”
“No, no, it’s alright,” Buck shoots him a reassuring smile, clearly delighted by having his beloved in his space again. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right with you. I need to finish this dough first.”
“But I thought you said you wanted to relax tonight? Aren’t we just gonna order takeout?” Tommy’s visibly confused by Buck’s ongoing culinary endeavor.
“Oh, this? This is not for tonight. It has to proof until at least tomorrow morning,” Buck replies absentmindedly, his hands continue kneading the dough without pause.
“You don’t have to, Evan. I’m okay with no breakfast at all,” Tommy walks around the kitchen counter to give the hardworking baker a kiss on the temple. “As long as I’m with you.”
“Um… no, I’m making these because my parents are coming to town.”
“Tomorrow morning?!”
“In a month. They’re coming to see Maddie in a month. I’m just stress baking because they…” Buck lets out a sarcastic laugh, “they stress me out.”
“Ahhh… is that so? Well, I’m happy to have learned this about you. I never knew you could bake.”
“I couldn’t. I picked it up recently, after you…” Those dreaded words have already slipped out of his mouth before Buck realizes. He’s been trying his damnedest to steer the night away from this particular direction, but as it turns out, he’s utterly powerless against the freight train of emotions he’s been keeping deep inside. He briefly considers changing the subject, but Tommy’s heard him already. He perks up his eyebrows, signaling Buck to finish his sentence.
It’s better to rip off the band aid now, than to let it snowball into something unstoppable.
“...after you dumped me,” Buck comes clean reluctantly.
Tommy drops his eyes and sighs in understanding, before gently wrapping his arms around Buck from behind. “I’m sorry, baby,” he presses his lips onto the golden curls in front of him.
“Chimney told me, you have a tendency to run away if you’re being pushed too hard. I should wait for you to reach out instead of… the other way around.” Buck keeps working on his dough, intentionally averting his gaze from the man behind him.
“Mmhmm.”
“It was… agonizing. I saw you everywhere. I saw you at home, I saw you at the fire house. I saw you at the coffee shop. I saw you when a helicopter passed by in the sky. You were like… a ghost, haunting me, every waking moment of my life. You know what? Not even just waking, you were haunting my dreams, too. The only thing that managed to stop me from texting you was baking. I had all the supplies at home because I was planning to surprise you with a cake for your birthday but…”
Tommy abruptly lets go and backs off. While Buck fully expects the night to be ruined after his long winded ramble, he mourns the sudden loss of contact nonetheless.
Still not looking up from the increasingly elastic mass on the counter, Buck continues, “I just have to knead it for… um… 5 more minutes, then I’m all yours. Let’s start over, yeah? I’m over it, I’m okay now. Let’s forget about it and just… chill. There’s this movie I…” He’s cut off by Tommy’s return, arms secured around his waist once again, chest pressed firmly against his back, the only difference being that Buck can feel Tommy’s body heat radiating this time.
“Ghost, you said?” Tommy whispers, lips barely grazing the hair standing on Buck’s nape.
“Yeah…” Buck shivers. He turns his head slightly to take a peek at the man behind him.
Yes, Tommy’s shirtless.
“Mmm, keep going,” Tommy demands, hands sliding under the hem of Buck’s shirt to roam around his midsection, lips softly connected to the side of his neck.
So Buck keeps going. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate.
He feels two big hands caressing his shoulders, along his arms, then all the way down to his own busy hands.
“What are you making?”
“Ba — Bagels.”
“Umm… I love bagels,” Tommy lazily drags his mouth from Buck’s neck to his shoulder, leaving a trail of delicate kisses behind, “do you know how I like to take it?”
“How…?”
Tommy props his head back up, chin resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “Plain, with cream cheese,” he breathes straight into Buck’s ear. “So much cream cheese that it… oozes out everywhere. Leaking from the side, through the middle…” his tongue darts out to give that spot right underneath the earlobe an inquisitive lick. “I love it when it gets all over my face, painting my mouth white.”
Buck’s previously regular cadence starts faltering. He doesn’t know when to press or when to rotate the dough anymore.
“Hey, let me help you with that,” Tommy grabs a hand full of the dough, and squeezes, hard. Yet, the dough barely budges. “Oh, am I doing it wrong?”
Buck can’t help but giggle. “You have to knead with your palms, not your fingers. Here, let me show you,” he covers Tommy’s right hand with his own, and pushes the heel of his palm into Tommy’s wrist. “You want to fold the dough onto itself, then roll your palm out while pressing down. A bagel dough is supposed to be pretty stiff, so feel free to put your whole body weight into it.”
“Like this?” Tommy mimics exactly what Buck just showed him.
“I’ll give you an A,” Buck turns his head around, meeting Tommy’s gaze. Their faces are so close together, they can feel each other breathing. “You’re a fast learner.”
“I have the best teacher,” Tommy murmurs.
They naturally gravitate towards each other, like two stars on a collision course, until their lips clash together into a sloppy, filthy open-mouthed kiss.
Pulling back slightly to gasp for air, Buck’s pupils are completely blown out, leaving merely a thin icy ring around his dark pool of arousal. “You can use both hands if you want…”
“Let me try that,” Tommy surrounds Buck in his arms, pinning him against the kitchen surface. Then, he starts working on the dough, using his entire body, making sure to time every pressing motion with a thrust from the hip, rocking the younger man into the edge of the counter.
“Mmm — Ah…” the friction generated by Tommy’s movement alone is enough to make Buck moan. He never thought baking could be this erotic. “That — That works…”
He allows himself to enjoy Tommy’s sweet show of strength for a few moments before firmly gripping Tommy’s wrists, stilling him. “It’s — It’s done. Now we put it back into the mixing bowl,” he hastily drops the dough into the metal container, causing a loud thud, “and leave it in the fridge overnight.”
Tommy gives him one more kiss on the cheek, and a pat on his lower back, “go,” then steps aside.
Buck nearly trips over his own feet walking towards the fridge. He hears water running in the background, probably over Tommy’s talented hands. Wrapping up the stainless steel bowl with more than enough plastic wrap, then shoving the whole thing into an empty corner of his fridge, Buck is all too eager to return to Tommy’s touch.
Slamming the fridge door close, Buck whips his head around in a millisecond to catch an eye full of Tommy in his shirtless glory for the first time in the night. He’s drying his hands with a kitchen towel, finger by finger, his biceps flex every time he rubs a digit clean.
Buck walks straight up to the object of his desire, waiting no time to close their distance. Hooking an elbow around Tommy’s neck, he pulls him into a deep, urgent kiss, while his free hand travels down from Tommy’s clavicle towards his nipple.
“Wait,” Tommy stops the exploring hand on its track, “wash your hands first.”
Buck groans in frustration. He unties the knot in his back, takes off his apron, then swiftly treks towards the kitchen sink to prepare himself for the ensuing nighttime activities.
Tommy follows him, settling snugly behind Buck while he’s cleaning his hands. Tommy slowly dips his mischievous fingers into Buck’s waistband, pleasantly surprised to find bare skin underneath.
“Oh, no underwear? Someone’s eager tonight,” Tommy says in a seductive tone.
Roughly drying his hands on his own shirt, Buck spins around to face Tommy, “I’ve been waiting for you to notice…” Feeling Tommy’s fingers tapping the hem of his top, Buck peels it off right away, letting those enormous hands roam free across his body.
“Bed?” Tommy asks in between kisses.
“Couch.” Buck pants.
Just when Buck’s calculating in his head the logistics of moving to the couch without breaking contact with his man, Tommy withdraws his hand from Buck’s bare skin.
“Hold on tight,” Tommy suddenly grabs onto the back of Buck’s thighs and lifts him clear off the ground, carrying him towards the underside of the loft.
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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago
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If I Should Stay
Part 1 | . . . | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
After sandwiches, Nancy turns to El. “Could you look for Barb again?”
El sets her mouth and nods. She glances at Steve, who also nods and moves to set up the living room again.
Eddie follows him in and picks up the blindfold. Steve doesn’t try to hide his smirk. “You’ve got questions, I’m guessing?”
Eddie shrugs, leans against the couch. Watches the fabric as he pulls it through his fingers. Right hand, left hand. Right, left. “Mostly thinking I was wrong about you. Even more than I initially thought.”
Steve smiles. “We never got to have this conversation in the future, but I do know what your bandana means.” He stops for a second, watches Eddie’s hands. Right, left. “I’m offering… not an olive branch, per se, but…”
“An invitation?” Right, left.
“Exactly.” He shrugs. “If there’s anything you want to know…” he trails off, lets it hang in the air.
Eddie smiles. “Just one thing.” He holds it up in his left hand. “Who d’you use it on?”
Steve grins and turns away, looking for the remote. “Myself.” His smile falls. “Or- I did. You heard about the Russians, right?”
Eddie steps up beside him. Offers him the blindfold. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
Steve shrugs. “I’d say if I could go back in time, but…” he gestures around with a grin, letting it widen when Eddie chuckles. “Turns out going back in time does nothing for the memories I already have.”
Eddie frowns. “Kinda fucked up, isn’t it? Your body reverted back to its sixteen-year-old self, but your brain is still twenty.”
“I mean, imagine me coming to school one day looking like this, and the next I come in with scars, looking half a decade older. People would talk.”
Eddie hums. “You’re probably right. Still, it can’t be easy, having those mental reminders with none of the physical.”
Steve grins at him. “Did you miss the part where I don’t have concussions?”
Eddie snorts. “Fair enough. Still, I bet the scars looked badass.”
“Very metal,” Steve agrees. “Y’know, if you’d survived? We woulda had matching scars.” He trails a hand down his side. “The bats ripped us both open. Woulda gotten me if you, Robin and Nance hadn’t gotten there when you did. You took on a bat with nothing but an oar from a rowboat.” He turns to look at Eddie. “You told me once, how you’re a coward. How you run.” He shakes his head, looks away. “You didn’t. Not when it mattered. And you won’t this time.”
“Maybe this time we’ll have matching not-scars,” Eddie says, then points at Steve. “And no concussions.”
“And no concussions,” Steve parrots, laughing. “If we have to deal with the Russians again, though? I’m definitely doing something different.”
“We,” Eddie murmurs, shrugging when Steve looks at him. “We’ll do something different. You think any of these kids are gonna leave you alone after this? You think Eleven will leave you alone?”
“I hope not,” Steve answers honestly. “And you? You’re staying?”
Eddie shrugs again. “You said I didn’t run when it mattered. Who’s to say this doesn’t matter just as much? I’m not running.”
Steve smiles softly at him. “You’re a good man, Eddie Munson.”
Eddie levels him with a look. “I sell weed, Steve.”
Steve snorts. “I’m well aware, dude, I’ve bought from you before. If all goes well, I’m planning on buying another.”
Eddie laughs. “Hell, man, if it all goes well, I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”
Steve winks. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says, then leaves Eddie to process while he goes to get El.
Of course wherever El goes, Mike’s not far behind, which means he, Dustin and Lucas follow, and of course Nancy follows, and since everyone else is already in there, Jonathan and Robin follow too, so they all end up crammed in the living room again, with bated breaths and tightly-held hands, as El settles in front of the TV and puts the blindfold on.
Finally, she speaks. “I see her. She is alive.”
Nancy slumps into the couch and lets out a breath.
Then El speaks again. “She does not have very long.”
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punktactical · 10 months ago
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OLDER , ace + ?
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summary ; ace finds out you like him. time to make his move! things don't seem to go as planned . . . (highschool au)
warnings ; cussing , older man - younger woman , crackfic-ish? , fluff.
a/n ; requests r open, that's all i've got to say
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everyone knew you had a thing for ace, it was no secret.
you always asked to be partners in projects, always coming over to his house, and always finding excuses to be close to each other. so when ace finally found out, he was ecstatic.
"holy shit, [y/n] likes me?" sabo rolled his eyes, frowning. "didn't you know? it's obvious as hell." ace shakes his head, slightly flustered. he always thought you were cute but he never thought you'd fall for someone like him. luffy chewed on his granola bar, smacking loudly. "so are you guys getting married?" ace screeched, glowing red. "no, what the hell? that's for grown ups, luffy!" sabo snapped his fingers, bringing ace's attention back to him. "so what're you going to do now with this information?" ace shrugs, rubbing the back of his head. "ask her out, i guess." luffy raises his hand, grinning.
"there's a dance this friday after school, how about you ask her to the dance!"
so that's how ace got here, standing in the middle of the hallway with a bouquet of roses in his hand and a teddy bear in the other. sabo looked around the corner, before turning back around with a whisper-shout. "here she comes! get ready!" sabo and luffy rush to hide, while ace gulps down his nervousness. he can hear your sweet giggles down the hallway, chatting with your friends. he could listen to you all day.
you finally turn the corner, stopping in your tracks. there stood portgas d. ace, your close friend, holding a bouquet of flowers for god knows who. your group whispered amongst themselves, before nudging you forward. ace grins sheepishly at you, before holding the items out to you. quirking an eyebrow up, you question him. "what's this all about?" with a shaky breath, he answers -
"do you wanna go to the dance with me this friday?"
your friends squeal, obviously taking videos capturing the cute moment. you smile, cheeks warming a shade of red. "of course, ace." you grab the items and wrap your arms around him. he smiled into your shoulder, arms snaking around your back. he felt like he had finally won at life.
the day of the dance had finally come around, leaving ace anxious. does he look good? does he look stupid? why wasn't his hair cooperating, damn it! as he continued to fuss over his appearance, a looming figure crosses over him.
"ace?"
the raven-haired boy shrieks, spinning around. it was that damn old man, garp. he laughs at the younger boy, arms crossed over his chest. ace grumbles, pouting slightly. "can you not sneak up on me? i'm busy right now, grandpa." the older man shakes his head. "what's got you so worked up?" ace brushes through his hair, a soft blush collecting on his face. should he tell him? nah, he'll embarrass him even more -
"ace is going to the dance with his girlfriend." luffy speaks between chewing, a piece of chicken in his hand. "fuck you!" ace barks, stomping away to his room. he can hear garp's boisterous laugh from downstairs, taunting him.
"do you really need to drive me to the dance?" ace was currently sitting in the back of garp's car, arms crossed pathetically. garp shakes his head. "no, but i just wanna see yer little girlfriend." he grins, flashing his teeth in the rear view mirror. ace sneers at him. "why? you've met her before, it's [y/n]." garp's eyes widen, grin deepening. "her? that sweet girl? why'd she go as low as you?" ace is about to go off on him, before feeling a buzz in his pocket. snatching his phone out of his pocket, his face lights up at the text displayed.
' meet u there <3 cant wait to see u in ur fit xx '
he melted at your text, responding with a heart. garp looks at the boy through the mirror, smirking. "she textin' you?" ace nods, eyes never leaving his screen.
ace hops out of the car, waving goodbye to garp. "bye? i still need to take picture of you two, you're growing up real fast, ace!" grumbling, ace rubs his face. why did he need to keep embarrassing him? "ace, over here!" there it was, that sweet voice. the one he could listen to all day. his head snapped in the other direction, catching you in your dress, jaw dropping. you looked gorgeous.
"ace, go pose with your girlfriend!" garp smacks him on the back, sending him forward. "s-she's not my girlfriend, grandpa!" ace growls, standing next to you reluctantly. garp waltz over, a grin plastered on his bearded face. "you look lovely, [y/n]." you smile, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "thank you, sir." he chuckles.
"just call me garp, sweetheart."
you blush, watching him position his phone before taking the picture. "you both look great, less ace though."
"whatever, you can go now!" ace ushers him back to the car. "i'll be back to pick you up, see you kids later." he winks at you before finally driving off. ace sighs, relieved, turning back to you. "[y/n]? you okay?" you have a dazed look on your face, a bright red dusting your cheeks. "ace."
"your grandpa is so fucking hot."
his face dropped, eyes widening in horror.
maybe that's why you always wanted to go to ace's house, to see garp, not him.
who knew?
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scarlet-sam-chaos · 5 months ago
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poseidon would like to know where the mortal repellent is ✨
“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?”
He squinted again. No he didn’t but- Ithaca? Oh, that's where he wanted to go, wasn't it? Home. Thats where Penelope was-
Odysseus, eyes barely focusing, staggered forward. "Penelope?" he croaked, his voice cracking. "Is it really you?"
His crew were all kneeling. Well, Penelope deserved no less.
Or, Odysseus, exhausted and delirious after 9 days of being awake, mistakes Poseidon for Penelope. This changes everything and nothing.
or, i wrote another crack fic. yall seemed to like the ody/zeus one anyway 😂
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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 5 months ago
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Cheeto, do you think Wild is chaotic enough to try getting a bokoblin into people clothes? If so, what do you think he would try putting them in?
Hi, taddy <3. this was not a writing prompt. My brain took it as one. By Hylia this WILL be a oneshot. I... ya'll can check it out on Ao3 if you want here. No warnings for this fic other than my own stupidity.
“Wild.”
“Twilight.”
“Wild.” Twilight pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did you manage this? Why would you even...” He let out a frustrated sound, unable to put the situation in front of them into words. He said at last, defeated, “Why?”
“Be-cause, Twi-light,” Wild sang back happily. A huge grin split his face. “It wasn't hard. Bokoblins aren't that vicious, you just gotta be fast. And look, now it's harmless as a puppy.”
The unlucky bokoblin that had become Wild's latest victim stood, stiff and startled, in the center of the abandoned monster camp. Like a shivering dog wearing oversized shoes, it very, very carefully raised a knobby leg to inspect the colorful fabric that poofed out around its waist. When the stiff fabric flared up with the movement, fluttering at the edges, the bokoblin yelped and skittered away. The fabric, of course, followed, and the monster screamed out a horrible, frightened shriek that rang in Twilight's ears. Wild cackled. Behind them, the heroes chuckled and murmured at the sight. They’d planned to take out the straggler as they passed through the monster camp before they settled a little way away for the night. Wild, however, had motioned for them to stay back with his signature “I am up to trouble” expression plastered across his face, and he'd even managed to argue Time down with the assurance that this idea was “super tame, just a little fun, I promise no one gets hurt, and I'll deal with the bokoblin myself.” Twilight just wanted to know why his “tame” ideas somehow included a pink tutu shoved over an unsuspecting monster's head. He didn't even know where Wild could have gotten the article of clothing. “Wild...” Twilight began. “Wild, I don't think that no—”
At that moment, the bokoblin tripped over itself and sprawled into the grass. It paid the heroes and their renewed roaring laughter no mind as it crawled away frantically, beating at the puffed tutu around its waist with its fists. With every hit, the fabric sprung back up into its former shape, frightening the monster further. Finally, the bokoblin went limp on the ground, resigned to its fate. Twilight felt something in his heart twist at the sight of its big, wet pleading eyes turned his way. Even if those eyes belonged to a monster. “Wild,” Twilight said more firmly, over the rest of the heroes' laughter. “This’s cruel. Either kill the poor thing, or let it go. You know better than to torment your enemies. You're a hero—behave like one.”
Some of the heroes stifled their laughter or hid it behind their hands, but Wild didn't even try to act ashamed. He delightedly cackled in Twilight's face and flung his hands out in challenge. “You're welcome to try to take it off yourself, Mr. Hero.”
Twilight stared Wild down, willing him with all of his being to back off before they got into a fight in front of the whole Chain. Wild's smirk didn't waver, nor would it, not now that Wind was whispering excitedly to Warrior, and Legend was murmuring in displeasure to Four and Sky, and money was exchanging hands in the group. Even Twilight's glance to Time for aid was met with an amused shrug and a tip of the head that meant your kid, your problem. From the ground, the bokoblin let out a warbling, miserable little plea.
Twilight, gritting his teeth, was the first to blink. “We are going to talk about this later,” he promised Wild. That finally got a reaction out of Wild—his face paled, and his smile dropped just a little—but Twilight ignored it as he turned to the bokoblin on the ground. It was kicking lamely in an attempt to dislodge the tutu, which was muddy and torn now, no longer a bright fluffy pink, from its legs. At Twilight's approach, however, it turned its attention to him, baring its fanged teeth.
“Alla’ya’ll stand back,” Twilight ordered. He rolled up his sleeves. “Wild, we will be having that talk ‘bout your behavior later. I am very disappointed in you.”
The heroes shouted and the bokoblin squalled as Twilight pounced upon it. When he came away a few minutes later with the tutu clutched in his fist—torn directly in half, since the bokoblin wouldn't cooperate with his efforts to pull the offending piece of clothing over its head—the heroes all hooted and hollered triumphantly. The bokoblin, back in its customary loincloth, scrambled away without a backwards glance into the undergrowth.
Twilight was in no mood to celebrate. Wild, at least, now had the decency to wince at the sight of the sluggishly bleeding scratches on Twilight's arms, even as the rest of the heroes cheered. Twilight flung the ruined tutu into Wild's face, then grumpily stomped off towards the nearest river to clean up. 
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yappingcollege · 1 month ago
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Crack Fic Idea
we enter. the scene is a therapists office with a therapist (obviously) sitting in a chair. across from this therapist is a familiar dream demon laying down on a couch while hugging a pillow.
its Meng Mo and he's detailing the most recent dream Binghe had about Shen Qingqiu. however, Meng Mo is so traumatized when he gets to the end/climax of the dream he just breaks out into sobs.
so essentially the fic is a collection of like 'therapist logs' and notes on Meng Mo and what he deals with on a semi-nightly basis because he is inhabiting the dreams of a fucked up 14-17 year old.
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