#that pain that drains you to the bone

[ssreality]

In another life. In another life...

Why can't it be in this one?

[medicinemane]

Seriously, it would be a mercy to kill me. I'm begging for help dying. Do you not see why it's fucking torture to keep my alive while living with her? I'll never escape her, like there's just no practical way to make it happen

And yet, till I get my act together and find a way to die already, show must go on

[girlkisser13]

diet mountain dew

"you’re no good for me" "but baby, i want you, i want you, i want you"

pairings: klaus mikaelson x human fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), blood kink, blood sharing, unprotected sex (practice safe sex guys), creampie, needy klaus.

summary: you let klaus feed on you.

you'd expected him to be hungry. you just hadn't realized how ravenous he was, nor what drinking blood did to him.

"f-fuck, ah— c-careful," you gasped.

your voice echoed in the empty room, and his pleasurable grunts echoed with it. it was so dark that you could barely see a thing. you winced, again, from the strange new sensations surging through your body.

"ah— c-careful, klaus, please" you squeaked, it was the only sound that could escape your throat as he clamped your shoulder in his jaw. your neck was soaked, smeared in spit and blood, a leftover gift from when he had searched for the safest spot to drink.

he'd settled on the spot between your collarbone and neck, and there his teeth had sunk in.

with his fangs pierced right down to the bone and his lips bruising your skin, he continued to carefully suck your blood out and into his mouth. it felt like heaven, warm and wet sliding down his throat. to you it was a confusing mix of pleasure and pain.

"a-ah... is—is it, okay?" you whimpered.

klaus let out a low moan in response.

you couldn't move. you were clamped in his jaw, the jaw of a predator designed to keep its prey still, and his body was pinning yours to the cold wood of the floor.

to any passerby you would have looked terrifying. his body was obscured in the dark, appearing as just a hulking, bloody shadow, merging and distorting the outline of your own form; the visage of a monster in the night, consuming the body of a frightened human.

but that wasn't how you saw it. no, you were in the thralls of absolute delight.

one of his hands were on your waist, his fingers carefully drawing you up until you were held taut beneath his body, and the other hand was feverishly groping your tits.

he had torn your dress to feed and then tore a little further, leaving your skin bare right down to your ribs. he was squeezing, stroking, his thumb desperately massaging your nipple. he wanted to hear your whimpers, your soft jolts when he overstimulated that sensitive spot.

you felt him sink down between your legs, his hardened bulge thick and round as it nudged at your bare thigh. he was softly grinding it up against your panties.

you'd never do this, never. this wasn't like you at all. but you were doing it now.

you were mewled as he dry-humped your little body.

your breath was ragged, the soft puffs of condensation from your lips turned a ghostly white by the pale light.

feeding had always been a euphoric experience for him. but now, with you, it had become a full body orgasmic experience, feeding every positive stimulus in his brain and body.

every nerve in his body was on fire in the best way. his body was pulsing, pumping. his arms were covered in goosebumps, his dark hair standing on end, and his cock was painfully erect beneath his pants.

he needed relief. he needed more.

"mmm... mmm," his muffled groans got louder as he continued to feed.

his conscious brain was fighting those deep, vampiric urges, the need to indulge in pleasure no matter the consequences, but his subconcious was primal.

if he had his way he'd drain everything, slowly, all while pumping between your legs into your pretty little cunt, but he couldn't allow that.

you were a sweet, naïve thing, you'd just let him take you up here. your whimpers were heaven, but your softness was too pure for him to fully ruin.

so he forced himself to break a part from you.

he withdrew his fangs and pulled back, revealing the purple, bruised skin of your shoulder. he licked the wound clean before forcing himself away.

"please, please, if you—if you give me your wrist, i—i'll be done, and—"

klaus paused to pant, his lips still stained red. you watched your own blood drip down his chin.

"and, if i could... have you, in another way, it may help to, calm my urges" he said, his voice husky and dark. you watched his eyes glimmer a bright gold. "may i have you?"

"yes," you instinctively blurted, he lunged forward and kissed you. his lips were hard, rough, and you could taste the metallic sting of blood on them. when he pulled back he looked overjoyed.

"good. good. come here, love," he ordered.

you jolted as he dragged your body forward. he carefully tore a hole through your dress and panties with his bare hands.

you shuddered as the cold air hit your bare and slick-coated pussy, but klaus didn't leave you bare for long.

he roughly manhandled you onto the ground before stripping out his suit, allowing his already erect cock to fall down hard on your clit. the sight caused a small, surprised noise to escape your throat, one that he relished.

he was slow, deliberately distracting you with his cock as he raised your wrist to his mouth. he kept you captivated as he carefully slid it inch by inch down your swollen clit, letting you feel every inch.

the pleasure of sinking both his teeth and his cock into you at once was enough to make him physically shake.

with a soft grunt he penetrated both.

your words were turned to gibberish as he pushed his cock in deep, until his pelvis was perfectly squished up against you. the moment your blood hit his throat he started to pump.

you were inside him, and he was inside you. on that filthy, cold floor, you were his.

he started to push his cock in tandem with his teeth.

as his fangs gently shifted beneath the skin, as his lips sucked and bruised, his fat cock gently slipped in and out of your cunt. for such a furious feeder he was a surprisingly gentle lover.

he was terrifyingly strong, that much was clear up close. he bent your thighs until they ached, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he held you in place, and with each push you could feel the power he was holding back.

you felt him pumping, drawing out your precious blood while his cock ravaged you from inside. each delicious slip, each pulsing throb, every time you felt his cock twitching for attention against your creamy walls, it was unbearable.

you were whining, your heavy breathes producing less and less ghostly condensation. klaus was panting furiously with each thrust, his breath condensing like smoke as he huffed through his curled nose. he was lost in the pleasure, the urge, the need.

and between the tightness, the heat, the copious oozing slick squelching and pooling around his bare skin and dripping off his balls as they smacked against your ass, mixed with the sound of you whining and the fresh blood in his body, he couldn't last any longer.

with a single, muffled groan, klaus came inside of you. his blue eyes rolled back and his body began to buck, smacking your hips until they went numb.

just as he felt your hot blood filling his mouth you felt his thick seed pooling and squishing its way into your cunt, filling every available space. it started to seep out as he continued to hump your limp body, now hanging in sweat, hot pearly strings between his pelvis and your inner thighs.

he pumped inside you until he was utterly spent, his own head now hazy and light, and at last he released you. your wrist fell limp to the floor.

klaus coyly wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist before brushing your forehead. "are—are you alright?"

the relief he felt when you shakily nodded was unmatched.

"thank you," he murmured, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "you were... delicious."

[himblebo]

Literally in a state of anxiety exhaustion paralysis. I just want everything to stop for a minute.

[anantaru]

DAY 21 — JEALOUSY

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — alhaitham, thoma, scaramouche, wriothesley

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, jealous & possessive boys, a lil insecure, fear of you leaving them, prone bone, oral (male! receiving), teasing & rough

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

indeed, it was a lot more convenient for alhaitham to pretend like he wasn't jealous right now, painfully so, and the thought of him even getting to this point was somewhat embarrassing to the renowned scribe— especially since you're giving him no reasons to be jealous in the first place.

with shaky fingers, you frame your hands behind his neck as you push him close for a quick kiss, and alhaitham found himself welcoming you with a roughness that manifested into ruthless ruts of his length shattering all sense of rationality in you when you jolt your hips into him, his cock continuously pushing into you possessively before dragging his palm down to grope your tits— his way of handling and pleasing your body was always enough to make you empty headed and crave more friction, even though alhaitham was rougher than usually this time around.

little do you realize that alhaitham couldn't look at your wide, pleading eyes, instead he focused on making you feel good, despite his head being full of constant bothering thoughts and emotions, his own glossed over eyes filled with deep annoyance.

what the man didn't wanted to happen was for you to suddenly believe that his obvious lack of attention and negligence was directed at you, but alas, it gave the impression away, especially when you whine out his name, alhaitham, alhaitham, again and again, but he doesn't even look at you, and it's like a mark burning into your skin when he stops himself at last, his cock still throbbing inside the confines of your walls but alhaitham wasn't moving an inch anymore.

"i-is something wrong?" you mutter, breathing and sniffling through your moans, "did i do something?" your gentle words of compliance  slip past his ears as he suddenly returns your gaze at last, his eyes open wide when the realization hit him. the heat in the air gets drained entirely and the mood falters a little, replaced with subtle touches, low breaths and at last, alhaitham's unwavering focus on you.

"no," he shakes his head immediately, "you did nothing," and here his voice softened, continuing, "you could never, you know that," he looks at you, and in return, you raise your eyebrows at him, utterly irritated, asking him non-verbally to explain himself and his difficult pondering— your cunt still pressed around his girth and it's more pleasurable than painful, yet neither of you was moving an inch, and it doesn't seem like you will for a while.

alas— as you might be utterly aware by now, alhaitham wasn't a man of many words, he preferred the easier route, and his heart was steady for once, thanks to you shaking his thoughts and calming him with nothing but your sensual voice.

and, truthfully, there was a part of him that enjoyed letting his desires out like that, to signalize you his desires despite him drifting off into his thoughts every now and then.

or, that in the end, any other individual fumbling their attempt to get to know you will fail, because as always, alhaitham never has to fear for any lack of loyalty coming from you.

𖧡 — THOMA

the mental picture of not being good enough for you creeped its way over thoma's psyche and body, while this particular thinking was making him much too jealous, too insecure and grumpy, truly, he absolutely loathed the feeling of it, it left a bad taste in his mouth and he hated himself deeply right now.

by now, it felt as though he had memorized every word that his negative emotions spoke to him, and it served as an evident contrast to the lustful temperature littering over your naked bodies as he plays with you, his red tip battering against your sensitive insides with such roughness that your entire body was bouncing back and forth the bed. 

"you're mine," thoma's repeated declarations ooze into you and scratch the deepest depths of your brain, "mine, fuck— and mine," it truly messes with your mind, his thrusts deep and precise making you cry desperately with quick snaps of his hips holding your breath away.

"yes.." you hiccup weakly, "forever... yours," and thoma groans loudly at your sentences, he was so glad that he cannot help himself but smile— even though of course, it didn't entirely melt away the troubling thoughts, they continue to pester him, how not when he was thinking about it all day long.

in spite of that, he wanted to prove himself until you're utterly trapped to the feeling of being overflowed by his throbbing length swelling inside, taking up all the sweet space until you're nothing but full of him— swiftly hiding your dampened face against thoma's neck, stifling your darling cries as he pushes faster, deeper, his painfully hard cock pistoling in and out until you're practically yelling his name in broken spells.

it only takes a couple more thrusts before he spills into you, your clenching walls trying to keep him in as your legs tremble while trapped in a frenzy, fluids mixing and oozing over his erection— and it's sudden, when you run your fingers over his scalp to drag him into you, and it immediately fills him with an emotion akin to joy, "i'm yours, thoma,"

perhaps, that’s all thoma needed to hear�� remembering the fact that he was chosen by you, that it was only him who was allowed to touch you, kiss you, taste you.

𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE

"are you close? please tell me, please.." a hot breeze ignites the shell of your ear as scaramouche's warm, desperate heaves brush across the deepest parts on your body, each word of his spoken out so sinfully that it somehow showed a different, much more vulnerable side of him. he holds you close to his figure, one hand planted on top of your hips while the other was located on the back of your neck, sinfully pressing your head against the soiled pillows with your mouth gaped open, moaning out the pleasure.

the unforgiving, strong pace of his hips was never losing on strength, the intensity of his blows was maddening, merciless, and you could feel it all, he made sure of, the thick veins prancing around his shaft ripping through your bruised walls, sending a stimulating bolt all the way down to your spine.

"cry for me, come on," he breathes, his voice thick of lust, fuck, he was so worked up, so fucking mad at the fact that his own insecurities were playing cruel tricks on him, and he needed to make you cum right now, so he could release himself right after and bury every last drop of his seed inside of you, until you're overcrowded, your eyes brimming with warm tears due to the sheer impact.

now, kuni's broken inability to talk about his feelings and concerns was difficult to navigate through, but this is where everything changes— because after you whine out his name when his rough fingers slide down between your trembling legs, rolling two digits over your neglected clit as he glides his tongue over his lips before pressing his entire weight on top of you, with his mouth located right against your ear.

"i hate, hate, hate, hate, how they look at you," scaramouche really wanted to be gentle this night, he was really trying his best to not let his emotions run freely, but he just couldn't help himself anymore, so he grinds down harder, feeling everything, fucking you hard and deep and reaching the sweet spots he knew you'd roll your eyes back at.

completely lost in the feeling of you, his dripping erection ridges into your bruised walls as his cock repeatedly stretches you— he needed to feel you, more and more, endlessly craving your insides to tighten around his shaft and milk every last drop of him, until his troubled mind would stop racing into negative directions and perhaps then, he'll finally open up to you and tell you about his deep-rooted insecurities.

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

"hold still for me", wriothesley inhales deeply into his chest, the scent of pheromones and sweat driving him ferocious— he could feel himself twitch underneath your warm palm hungrily smearing his salty pre all over his shaft and it's uncontrolled, stimulating, when you pin a snug kiss on his rosy tip.

he places on hand against the back of your head as you part your mouth to take him, your nostrils filled with his scent that permeated every single part of him and made you push your thighs together in impatience— but it wasn't your turn yet, and you wanted to parade your hot mouth over his throbbing dick a while longer, until wriothesley realizes that you could do this perpetually, his lengthy cock in your mouth so you could give it the attention it deserved, your saliva streaming down and making it shine as the spit dribbles all the way down to his aching balls.

"you know you're the only one for me, right?" he laughs before hissing out in exhilaration when you fondle his balls, adding more strength towards the underside but holding them sensitively, you wouldn't want to hurt him, so you bob your head up and down, swallow his salty pre whilst massaging his balls in your hand, all the while parting your mouth as wide as you could, taking as much into your throat as would fit.

"and there's— fucking hell, no reason to be jealous, baby," you suddenly look up at him through pleading eyes, were you really this obvious with it today? well, granted, you cannot even describe the level of rage you would feel whenever someone would talk about your boyfriend, as if he was single, even though knowing full on well he wasn't— yet the good part? wriothesley might be the last person who'd ever give a damn about those pestering intruders, how you referred to them, and he was barely able to wait until he could bury your mouth to the hilt before spilling sweet nothings into your ears.

"fuck—," he grunts, clenched jaw tensing when he feels it move over your wet tongue tracing over his swollen veins, "fuck, just you wait— just you wait," before he spreads his legs further, so you could fit right in between his strong thighs better, and have enough room while being stuffed full of his cock prodding at the back of your throat.

as was anticipated, wriothesley was slowly turning louder and it's a melodious sound sending a warmth through your body, heightening the temperature on your drenched core slicking up your panties and puncturing it to a sizzling degree— but you're keeping yourself contained, all for him, for his delicious erection  slipping through and expanding, sealing you together as one.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[azullumi]

Hello hello hello, I'm here to ask for like headcanons or an imagine (or whatever, idk, can you tell I've never requested a fic in my entire life) about Luka slowly realizing he actually has feelings for someone? Like genuine ones? I'm not super duper into Alien Stage but I imagine him being super fake (and manipulative lol) especially when it comes to dating. Like, I don't even think he would get into a relationship if he doesn't get something out of it, but what if he, y'know, slowly starts to realize he actually likes the person he's with? Like how would he deal with that and stuff 🫣

GOLDEN BOY, BROKEN GLASS, MAY THE SUN SHINE ON YOU !!

premise— it’s hard to know, to realize, that he has fallen in love, not when the genuine concept of it has been slowly eradicated and painted into something twisted and cruel by the hands of these aliens; alternatively, what he’s like slowly falling in love and coming to terms with it. content tags and warnings — pairing: luka (w/ gender-neutral reader) | kind of established relationship, not an alternative universe, slight angst with fluff, i fucking hate you heperu (heperu is luka’s guardian alien) | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

"jellyfish"— i was listening to sad music so now this came out as sad

The ‘love’ LUKA had received from Heperu was the only love he had known and so, he views the world around him in the same lens, carving his heart out of the same rotten wood that was used to create his being. What can he do in the face of something so tender, so sharp, so gentle, like needles stabbing into his hands but caressing him sweetly all the same?

Was love meant to be as draining as this? Was it meant to tire and wear out his bones? Was it meant to make his heart clench, thorns ripping at his throat? Was it meant to make him reach his hand out for you, to let his touch linger across your skin, to always seek the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his? It’s a little strange, the odd ‘pain’ in his chest blurring into an unfamiliar feeling of comfort and warmth. He’s not one to run away at the face of such unusual feelings, but maybe he’ll turn away from it, to dismiss it as nothing (it’s not what Heperu taught him).

When did his eyes start to follow you everywhere you go? When did he begin to wish to chase the shooting stars, despite the constricting feeling on his throat, just so he could have the chance to see you, bare and flawed underneath the same skies that had forsaken him, that had abandoned you? He never had seen the problem of hurting others or being hurt as long as it is meant for him, for his own good, but when he sees twist in your expression, the hollow in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, he’s suddenly bitter and thorned. He tries to be kind, in ways that he knows of, in ways that he has seen, experienced, and learned.

To be seen as nothing but manipulative and cunning with his princely and charming demeanor, to be seen as a blank slate, to be seen only on the surface of his sweet smiles that never seem to reach his eyes. But it’s better to be misunderstood than to have you see the wretched and tangled strands that is sewn to create the fabric of his existence, to be viewed under the same limelight he is being put beneath than to have you notice the bleakness of color in his golden eyes that rivals the sun—except his light never exists, only when he gazes at you does it ever shine.

It’s hard to understand him either—not when he cannot understand himself also. He wishes to take away all of your pain, all of your problems and worries, to have you rely on him and only on him, to view the world in your eyes, to cup your cheeks in his hands and press his lips against yours (he has heard of the act of kissing, a strange way to convey and pour one’s desire, adoration, and love to another). He’ll lie down on the grass with you and watch the stars, he’ll listen to your songs and music, he’ll let you put those red flowers found in the Anakt Garden on his hair.

Maybe he does and say such things in the name of ‘control’, ‘possession’, ‘obsession’, or anything that can be used to label whatever reason he has just so he could see that pretty shade that adorns your cheeks, the smile that etches across your lips, the sound that bubbles out of your throat, the eyes that glimmer when you look at him. Maybe it’s just those feeble things that make him feel humane, that makes him break away from the shackles that binds him to the image of ‘Luka, the star’, that makes him realize that he does adore you.

(Whatever this fragile bond you share with him, built on weak foundations of the love he has known and the love you have shared, fragile and fleeting like glass teetering on the edge, he’ll seize it, he’ll shape it, and he’ll make it unbreakable—he’ll make it real, he’ll make it his.)

He likes to believe that he deserves the kind of love he has yet to know of, out of the clutches of Heperu and into the warmth of your own. To hold it into his hands, tightly, unrelenting, never letting go—contorting into control as long as it is his.

© AZULLUMI. plagiarism of any form and type, stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is NOT permitted.

[risuola]

TOO MUCH — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Lately, it felt like not a second pass by without some new curse appearing somewhere in Japan and both you and Satoru had your hands full of work for few weeks, but when he comes back home, exhausted to the bone, his composure snaps and he unloads his frustration on you.

cw: angst, verbal abuse, hurt/little comfort, mentions of blood and hurt, reader is injured, mental exhaustion — 2,5k words

Too much. Too much of everything that piled up on Satoru's shoulders, weighing him down so heavily that he almost couldn't breathe. It felt like the world was on fire, curses crawling out of every shithole in Japan, most of them first or special grade, spreading nothing but death and chaos. So many people killed, so much blood and pain he had witnessed in the last few weeks, it drowned him in exhaustion and helplessness. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, and yet he felt so helpless in the current situation. He traveled from town to town, fighting these terrors, but the lives that had been taken away, he couldn't bring back, and he used to think that he was immune to it already. Turns out, one can never be immune enough.

You had your hands full with work as well, but you stayed in Tokyo. The situation drained your energy too, the cascading waves of sadness and sorrow made you feel like you couldn't think straight, but you pushed through. You felt so weak, but had to be strong, everyone had to be. All of your sorcerer friends were just as engaged in the fight as you were, just as tired and distressed, but the show must go on, as they say.

You and Gojo weren't officially a couple, though everyone knew you were together. You were friends, yes, the kind of friends who kiss and have sex. The kind of friends that use pet-names and fall asleep while cuddling naked. Shit, you lived together for a few months, you know everything about him and he knows just as much about you. And you were happy, sharing every moment. He always said that you bring him so much comfort, that he feels like he can be openly himself when he's with you and be accepted for it. Nothing could ever bring you more joy than the man you love feeling comfortable with you.

That being said, it wasn't the best time for your relationship slash situationship. He was more out of the house than in it, and you were just sleeping there, barely. It's been going on for a few weeks already, and it's just now it’s beginning to finally calm down. Few weeks of constant fighting for everyone involved in the jujutsu world, but it started to slow down. So you knew that Satoru would finally return home.

It's when you showered and put on your pajamas that you heard the keys twisting in the lock and the doors opening. Putting on a smile, you rushed to welcome Gojo home, but the moment you saw him, you knew he's extremely exhausted.

Satoru entered the house already annoyed by the conversation he had with Gakuganji a few moments before. That old fart had the audacity to nag him about his methods while he himself was sitting in his cave sipping green tea, not caring one bit that the world was drowning in curses and blood. He threw the keys on the shelf, kicked off his shoes and took off the blindfold, then looked at you, all clean and comfortable in your pajamas. He scoffed quietly.

He felt like his own body was falling apart, everything hurt, his head was pounding, his eyes were burning. Even though he was actively healing himself, the side effects of everything were getting to him. A few weeks of nonstop fighting, of domains, of reds, blues, and purples, and so much physical combat had left him hanging on the last thread of his composure. The usual mask of cheerful carelessness long gone.

Suddenly he wished he could enter the empty house, throw away his clothes, collapse on the bed dirty and just fall asleep, but he couldn't. You were there. And there was never a time in the past when he wouldn't be absolutely overjoyed to come home to you. Even when tired, he wanted nothing more than your arms around him. But not right now.

"Satoru, hey," you greeted him, keeping your voice soft and on the quiet side. You knew him so well, you could see how fatigued he was and frankly, you couldn't blame him. Being the strongest had its downsides, one of which was being very much in demand, and sadly, no one could take his place. "You're exhausted, huh?"

"Look at you, so damn perceptive," he snapped harshly, his eyes cold and empty as he looked down at you. He walked past you to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Are you hungry? I can make you someth-“

"No, just shut up, you cannot make me fucking anything," once again, his tone was cold as he snarled at you. It was the first time so much cyanide spilled out of his mouth and he just barely opened it. At first you tried to understand it. Things had been really draining lately and you knew he was angry because he was tired, but it hurt nonetheless.

"Alright," you sighed, deciding it's best not to get deeper into the conversation when he's so argumentative. "Do as you wish, get some rest, Satoru."

"You know, why instead of telling me what the hell to do, you just don't leave my house, huh?", Shut up Gojo, he screamed at himself subconsciously. "Why are you even here anyway?" Shut. Up. " All comfy when I'm constantly on the job?"

"I know you're tired, Satoru, but I've been on missions too. I'm tired too," you looked at him in defeat, unable to keep the smiley mask on. There was so much wrong in this situation, so much anger being thrown at you for no reason whatsoever, and you had every right in the world to be just as angry as he was, but you just chose not to. You wanted to welcome him home with warmth, comfort him, and keep him up even if you felt down. You wanted to soothe his aching body when yours hurt just as much. Or worse. You were badly injured during the last few battles, but Shoko had her hands so full, you told her you could wait, and you hid all those wounds from Gojo's eyes so as not to worry him.

"'Yeah, your little missions,'" he bit, and your brows furrowed at the sound of his words.

"What does that even mean?" you asked, slowly feeling the heat of anger coursing through your veins. "I'm first gra-"

"I don't care what you are. You're still nothing to me. I deal with real shit, not those..."

You slapped him. Or at least you tried, your hand stopping just short of his face, and it surprised you to realize his limitless was still on, even though he was home already. He was still in fight-or-flight mode, still feeling threatened enough to keep his defensive techniques activated.

"Just what do you think you're fucking doing?" he growled, taking your wrist into his grip, the squeeze shooting shockwaves of pain through your nervous system. "Did my words hurt you? Did the truth hurt you so badly that you thought you could actually hit me?", his tone had a taunting undertone, and when you looked into his blue eyes, you saw nothing but cold. "Funny little thing."

"Let go, Satoru."

"Oh, I will. And when I do, you'll get your useless ass out of here. I'm not your boyfriend, we just fuck, we're not in a goddamn relationship for you to be here all the time. I need my space."

Gojo hated every word that fell out of his mouth, but now he couldn't take them back or erase them, and he didn't exactly know how to act now that he had said them. Immediately, he let his limitless inactivate, hoping you'd want to slap him again. Shit, he'd even accept a kick in the balls, but you remained silent, just looking at him. He could tell by the way your eyes glistened in the sharp artificial light of his kitchen that there were tears threatening to come out, but you didn't cry. Your jaw clenched for a moment and you lowered your hand.

"Right," you exhaled deeply, feeling the hurt burn your heart and soul. The smoke of sadness already flowing through your veins, your cells, your mind. "You're right, we're not. Here," you performed a theatrical swing of your arm, displaying the interiors to him, "your fucking space. I'll let myself out."

"Y/n..." he tried, but you were already in the room, changing from your pj's to sweatpants. He stayed in the kitchen, hoping you'd just jump into bed and maybe cry about it all, and he'd just come back later and comfort you when he wasn't mad anymore, but it didn't go that way.

Once he saw you again, you were heading towards the door.

"Y/n stay, don't be silly, stop," he tried to grab you, but you slapped his hands away.

"What, does the almighty, fucking honored one wish to add something to his oh-so-wonderful speech?"

"No, I'm sorry, stay," he took your hand forcefully, pulling you into his chest, but you fought back, not wanting anything to do with him right now. He had said too much. You knew it was all driven by his exhaustion, but it was far too much.

"No, Gojo, I don't want to stay here. I'm more than pleased to leave you in your space. There's no damn reason for you to share your precious air with such a useless nothing."

"No, no, please," he begged, his anger slowly being overtaken by panic. The sound of his last name felt cold and unfamiliar as it rolled off your tongue. "I'm sorry, please stay. I didn't mean it. Fuck, I didn't mean any of it."

"Please, take your hands off me," you told him more quietly. You were tired and now emotionally drained as well. All you wanted from this evening was to cuddle up with him to sleep. To bask in his warmth, knowing he's safe and home, to feel his skin against yours, to breathe him in. But no.

"No, I won't," he lowered his head and buried his face in your neck. "Please, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm just so tired. I feel dead, there has been so much fighting and pain and suffering and death all around me these past few weeks. I'm sorry, y/n," his voice faded to whisper as he rambled against your pulse.

"Gojo..."

"I don't think you're useless or nothing. Fuck, what have I done" he was spiraling slowly into a panic attack. You could feel his heartbeat getting hectic, his breathing uneven, and his grip on you so tight it hurt. "I am nothing without you. Please stay."

"Gojo."

"I love you," he whispered, his tone breathless, and at first you thought you had heard him wrong. He had never told you that. Not even once. "I love you so fucking much, please. Slap me, kick me, punch me in the dick, I don't care. Just don't leave me. I'm so sorry."

"Satoru, please, it hurts..."

"Hurts?", he froze. What hurts? Did he hurt you? The thought frightened him, not only did he insult you for no damn reason and now he caused you pain? As if burned, he let go of you completely, raising his hands as if he wanted to keep them in sight so you knew he wouldn't hurt you anymore. "I'm sorry."

"I've been fighting for these weeks, too. I'm tired too. I would never compare myself to you, but I gave it my all, too," you exhaled deeply. "And I know you're exhausted, Satoru. So please go to bed and get some sleep. I'll just go home."

"Here is your home, with me."

"Here?", you briefly looked around. It was a place you loved because it was filled with him. It was where your heart wanted to be when you felt safest and happiest, but now... "Suddenly I feel like an intruder here. I feel like I shouldn't be here."

"No, please don't say that. Listen, y/n, love," he dropped to his knees, took your hands in his and kissed the tops of them gently and tenderly. "Please, stay with me. I'm an idiot. But I love you. And I need you here, I need you in my life. I want you by my side."

"So, what do you want us to be? You said we're just fucking. God, I thought we were at least friends, if not a couple, but..."

"I want us to be everything. I want you to be my friend, my partner, my lover, my wife and my entire world."

You sighed. Deep and slow, pushing the air out of your lungs, letting your whole body deflate as you took his hands and pulled him up.

"Go take a shower and come to bed. You need to sleep it off. I need to rest too."

Obeying, Satoru rushed to the bathroom and you made sure to lock the doors, turn off the lights and took the time to change back into your pajamas. Sitting on the bed, you finally felt the tears running down your face. They brought you some relief and you let them flow freely, desperate to get it out of you before Gojo came back. It pained you how wrong the evening went and you wondered if there was anything you did to cause it, but no. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve it. And you should leave him there alone, just as he wished for. Then why were you still here?

"Please don't cry," his long arms wrapped around you from behind, enveloping you in his warmth. The light sweet scent of his body wash pleasantly filled your airways and it's out of habit that you leaned into him. "Will you ever forgive me?" he asked, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. Slowly, he laid you down on the pillows and took his usual place beside you.

"I will," you sighed, already feeling the discomfort. "But please, let's change sides."

Satoru didn't understand at first, but he did what you asked anyway. When he saw you exhale in relief as you turned to the other side, his brain clicked. Moving his hands in the most delicate way possible, he lifted your shirt a little, revealing the many layers of bandages, already tinged with red that was seeping through them slowly.

"God, you're wounded. That's what was hurting you when I held you... I had no idea why you didn't tel-, ah, because I was being an asshole, right," he sighed.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to tell you anyway. I'm fine, just Shoko had her hands full, so I told her I'd wait a day or two. It's just a scratch, really," you told him, fixing your shirt. "Please, let's get some sleep, okay? We'll talk about it all later."

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you to his chest and planting a kiss on the top of your head. It was only now that he could feel his body relax, with you right next to him, your heartbeat syncing with his own, and all of your loving aura filling his body. And he realized that the words he never had the balls to say out loud to you now felt natural, rolling off his tongue. "I love you so much."

"You idiot," you sighed, closing your eyes and slowly melting into his form. "I love you too."

[astraystayyh]

seungmin thinks you’re the prettiest at your most ordinary. fluff and softness. pre-established relationship. (happy (very late) birthday to youuu my @starsandrqindrops i love u 💓)

there is an uncharacteristic tiredness that’s weighing on seungmin’s bones, making the mere act of moving his limbs draining. a faint headache pulsates from the base of his temple, and he shuts his eyes closed, forcing darkness to surround his senses, hoping that it’ll muffle the ache latching to his being.

but what soothes his senses is the sound of running water, more so the knowledge that you are near, just out of reach. you’ll come out soon of the shower and seungmin will be okay.

he doesn’t voice these thoughts to you as you come into the room, towel in hand as you dry your hair, clad in one of his old t-shirts. but his body seems to speak for him, eyes snapping open at the sound of you padding to the bed, spine readjusting so he’d sit against the headboard, eager to look at you more intently.

“tired?” you ask, planting a kiss on his temple before retrieving your hair bush from the bedside drawer. the pain in his head subsides, your existence the antidote for all his ailments.

“no, how was your day?” he asks softly, his warm palm resting on your bare knee. you quickly glance at him, at the way his eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly, as if begging you to speak, to weave the dreadful silence with your sweet voice.

“it was good, i tried a new restaurant today,” you speak gently, combing slowly through your hair.

“yeah, what is it called?” he says, thumb circling your soft skin. he is no longer angry at the light, for it highlights every contour of your features. he no longer yearns for the dark, as in its absence he gets to see you. in all your ordinary glory.

and you look so beautiful.

“blossom, they have the cutest pastries. i think you’d really like their cheesecake. it’s decorated with edible flowers. and their coffee is to die for,” you recall excitedly, your eyes locking on his every now and then.

“mm,” he says absentmindedly, laying his head atop your lap. “what else did you do?”

“i had the most boring class today, you know the one with…” your voice fades into the background of seungmin’s mind, lingering like a sweet dream that doesn’t disappear even after you wake.

he’s focused on your bare face, and the way your lips move with each word you utter, he sees your gleaming eyes, radiant under the light, although unnecessary— the star you harbor for heart enough to lighten you up. he sees your hair settling into the curls he loves the most, wet droplets falling into your shirt—his. he sees the slate of your nose that he loves to peck and the cheeks he always cradles before sleeping. he sees you, at your most vulnerable state, at your most beautiful one, and he loves you. god, does he love you so much.

“are you even listening to me?” you giggle, running your hand through his black hair, the one you dyed between giddy kisses in the bathroom.

“you are so pretty,” he whispers, voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. he doesn’t know where this love tide came from, but he knows that the weariness is gone, that a warmth only you can produce has replaced it.

your cheeks are no longer devoid of color, a faint pink hue seeping through them. you smile, widely, with no hand before your mouth, no intent to hide from him. “i love you, you are the pretty one.”

“i know,” he smiles cheekily, further burying his head in your lap, arms wound around your legs. “keep talking.”

“what am i? your asmr podcast?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. his headache is long gone.

“yes, you are mine. only mine, right?” he adds, a bit vulnerably, voice weaker.

“only yours.”

[the-californicationist]

thoughts on price w a lactation kink?? 🫣

Plenty. See Exhibit A and Exhibit B, if you will.

But, if you just want some thoughts... 😈

NSFW MDNI TW: lactation kink, breeding kink, sacrilege? but in sort of a Hozier kind of way...

I don't think that John Price has a lactation kink purely for the selfish satisfaction of watching your face twist into a complicated smear of shame and pleasure as he sucks the sweet, life-giving warmth from your swollen breast, using his jaw to knead your flesh, his tongue to help guide your nectar between his lips, sucking in long, deep pulls to drain you of your rich milk.

Price doesn't just get off on the little, desperate mewl you make when his thick beard scrapes the softest skin of your nipple, rolling the tip of his strong tongue around your pert peak, coaxing your body to let down even more of his prize. Even though he tries his best to stay focused on keeping a steady rhythm, your silky stream rushing down his throat makes his cock twitch and drool like a starving, snarling beast, hungry for its own hot supper.

No, he yearns for that one, singular sound. The siren's song of his heart. He wants to hear you breathe it in your lungs and form it in your mouth and let it escape like a dove from its dark cote, quiet and yet cooing right into his eager ears.

Your sigh of relief makes his dick pulse with a sort of sick pride. From all of your soreness and tender pain, the constant ache of bearing your decadent burdens, he is the one to deliver you to peace. He is the one to bring you comfort. Him and his hungry, suckling mouth are your sanctuary.

Price's zealous thirst is your release from hurt, from pressure, from the leaking rivulets staining your sheets, a bright, new-found freedom from being so overfull that it makes you want to sob, and it's that mind-wiping alleviation which makes you so pliant for him, so ready and willing to spread your legs just a little wider, love, so he can feed his prick deep into your sacred, sacral center; that throbbing, shining, nearly-opalescent shell which welcomes his girthy offering.

As you feed him, he feeds you. Your milk in his mouth, his dick in your cunt. Your keening, his grunting. Your gushing, his pounding. There is a war between you; an infinite entropy of gain and loss and take and give - a roiling, tumbling, undulating wave of pleasure and pressure, rocking you like a ship with slackening sails, soaking at the mercy of the tide.

As you feed him, he heals you. With every crave-wild swallow of your milk, he revels in your satisfaction. Price listens to the timbre of your moans morph from troubled and weary - the hiss of a breath - to sonorant and needy - the hum of a moan - and he hunts that relaxation for you like a lion on a gazelle, dragging it towards you in offering: your protector, your provider.

And yet... there is something else. There's a second shadow, a double exposure. There is something lurking beneath the surface of all of his heroism. Something dark and unmanaged, like a forest and its fire, the flames of his desire licking for you and glowing ever-closer.

You are his to eat. His. Like a snapping mutt with a fresh bone, he subsumes you. You are not just a fleeting fancy, a sneaky kink to enjoy and destroy; no, you are his obsession. His belly is full of you, his cheeks are full of you, his balls are full for you. You. You. You. Just you. Only you. There is nothing else but to suck and to fuck and to drink and to love and to breathe in the breaths that you scream out, gulping them in sharp gasps when he comes up for air, quickly to return to his plush, writhing meal, eating you until he is drunk on your creamy vintage.

Your breasts hang for him like fruit on the vine, heavy and ready to be plucked, and he drowns in the wine of your body. He is wet from you; your pussy's frothy come coating his cock, your sugary cream coating his throat, all of it innocent and white and sacred like an offering. And it is. Your body is his sacrament. He is on his knees as he bends over you, praying for your release, for your blessing, for that twisting clench of your trembling temple. Every thrust is a sin-stained reminder that his work brings about your joy. His effort delivers your delight. His feasting is your fulfillment. John is devout.

And when you're empty, when he continues to drag weak, lax lips over your devoured flesh, mourning the loss of his delicious font, he fills you back up. Price fucks his length into you with complete, shameless abandon, his body arching and sweating and tensing and laboring for you, bending like a bow to shoot rope after rope of sticky come into the deepest part of your shuddering, stretched quim. His mind races with lurid visions of your womb flooding with his seed, of planting a bountiful garden of life with you there, helping you cradle his gift inside of you by sheathing himself fully, letting not one drop escape.

It's the bath and the bubbles afterwards that make him hard again because there you are: sleepy, sated, and sighing so sweetly for him. He tries and fails to hide his flagging erection as he washes your body, covered in temporary tattoos of his teeth and fingers, massaging the muscles that held him so close during his feeding, the arms that cradled his head and hugged his shoulders, the legs that squeezed his hips and wrapped around his broad back, holding onto him and refusing to let go. It's the balms and the lotions, all to keep your skin soft and comforted, and he applies them liberally, rubbing you in soporific circles until you are as far from suffering as you have ever been, floating in a peaceful Eden of his own foddering.

Price admires you as he lays you beside him in his bed, tucking you close to him, letting his belly press against the small of your back, clutching your hip just so that he can rest his cock against your folds, reminding you, even in your sleep, that he is your safety and your source of mindless bliss.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night aching and full again, leaking from your heavy tits? Don't worry. He's always hungry.

[rebelscums]

Angel (Qimir x Jedi reader)

Part One of Angel

Ratings: Angst | Fluff

Summary: After the death of your master you begin to question the dark side and just who keeps appearing in your dreams…

The ringing in your head only grew as you opened your eyes. Your vision was blurry, but you knew that you were hanging from something… You drained your neck up to realize that it was a tree. You were stripped bare from your robes and something dropped slowly down your forehead past your nose… Blood.

“Master?” Your voice cracked as you called out to her.

The air felt thick and the smell of blood grew stronger, but you could hear her to your right.

“You must whisper, my padawan.” She whispered in the same predicament you were in, “It is hunting.”

“What is?” You whispered confused, hurt, and you knew you had a concussion, “What is going on?”

“They betrayed us and now they are offering us to the beast they fear from this jungle. It has already taken the other. We must remain vigilant and strong as we find a way out of us.”

You looked around, the moonlight brightening the forest floor just enough to see all of the blood and bones scattered everywhere.

Hours had passed as you both struggled to get out of your bindings without falling to the ground. You realized quickly that the tribe you were trying to help had drugged you heavily making it even harder to escape.

With the luck of the force, your master unblinded herself and swung over to one of the large branches on your tree.

“Stay still.” She requested as she began to untie your bindings, “Once you are free we will make a run towards the north river. Our shop is just across the river.”

“Okay.” You whispered as you began to feel the rope loosen.

“Almost…” Master Runh went to untie the rope. You were almost free… Almost.

It was so quick that you could barely see it grab your master between its large jaws and drag her down to the forest floor. Her screams echoed throughout the night as she yelled over and over…

“Run!”

Tears streamed down your face as you watched her get torn apart. Struggling to free the last not so you could help her… Save her… You needed to save her. You were so close.

“Master!” You cried out as her final breath left her body and through your tears you saw something or was it someone standing beside the beast over your dead master just watching you…

You jolted awake in your room with a startled gasp. It took you a moment for your brain to let you know that you were safe and it was only a dream, but but the wetness on your cheeks had let you know that you had been crying.

You quickly wiped your tears and went to the fresher to compose yourself. It had been a couple hours since you have been in hyper drive and you knew you would arrive to the next planet soon.

That means you had a bit of time to talk about your dream to Master Sol… Maybe he would have an answer for the mysterious figure.

“Master Sol.” You drew his attention away from the map he was looking at from where he sat at a table.

His tired eyes were now trained on you, a calm look on his face as he greeted you with a smile. He was an ever present and diligent master and you silently thought of how lucky Jecki was.

You have been missing master Runh dearly these days. She was a great master, someone that you could count on for anything. She was wise, and strong, and brave too… She aided and guided you as you grew up, leading you down the path of the Jedi. You were grateful to her for everything she has done for you. You believed in what it meant to be a Jedi.

Until she was killed a few months ago.

It wasn’t her fault, the two of you were betrayed and sold out by the tribe you were trying to help… It shook you to your core, leaving you with nightmares and sleepless nights. You could still hear her screams, see her body be torn to shreds by that horrible beast… A beast you barely ran away from with your life.

You remember it’s sharp claws digging into your right side, leaving you with a painful reminder of that night.

That was when the urges of darkness started to rise. A growing pain that settled in the pit of your stomach and rose to your throat almost like a scream. Your calm temper had grown shorter these days and with no other master willing to take you in during your last few months of training as you were too old and they were looking for someone with a more pliable mind.

You remember scoffing as you stood in the council room, an annoyed look suddenly spreading across your face. Not one free master would take you in so you could pass your trials. You almost threw a chair at the weak minded fools.

That was until you were placed in the care of Master Sol. He had graciously stepped up and offered to take you under his wing along with his current padawan. Master Runh was a dear friend of his and he refused to let her padawan be casted out.

“Yes?” He asked.

“My anger towards what happened to my master…” Your voice lowered into almost a whisper, “I feel as though it is getting worse.”

His gaze turned concerned as he lowered his voice, “I know what have you experience has been painful, but rage will only lead to the dark side. It was not your fault young padawan and I know that you will overcome this tragedy with great strength.”

“Thank you master, but my dreams…” You shivered as you remember them so vividly, “It’s always the same every night, but last night was different… It felt as if my master was warning me of someone.” You whispered, “There was…” A dark figure standing above my masters body.

My explanation was cut short as his former padawan butted into the conversation, “We’re nearly there. I was hoping you and I could talk before we go find Master Torbin?” Osha asked master Sol.

A torn look spread across his face as he tried to choose who he wants to help more… The sinking feeling in your gut at him looking back at Osha sealed your fate.

He started to say, “Maybe we could…” continue this another time.

It was the same thing you heard before and you raised your hand to stop him, “It’s alright. I should probably go get ready anyways.” You stood up from your seat and Osha quickly took your place.

“Another time.” He said again, an urgency in his voice.

You didn’t spare him another glance as you walked away, “Sure.” You knew you wouldn’t talk about it again.

You thought back to the figure in your dream as you followed after the group. Yord fell into step with you as he kept a watchful eye out.

“Your lost in thought.” He mentioned which seemed to work in snapping you out of your daze.

“I’m just worried for master Torbin.” You lied and a part of you hated the feeling, but you felt that it was necessary to keep the figure to yourself for now. At least until you can find out more about it.

“Mae has already killed Master Indara.” You continued, “Who knows what she is capable of.”

“The Jedi do not judge someone we do not know.” He said and his words twisted a not in your heart, “But I am confident that we will get to him in time.” He glanced at you, “There is no need to worry.”

His confidence made you cringe. How could I not worry when there was a Jedi killing assassin on the loose? Is no one here concerned? You thought.

It was safe to say that Jord’s plan to confront the mystery man was stupid.

“Or we skip that and she just talks to him.” Jecki said, “If he’s Mae’s accomplice, we can send her in. She can talk to him and we can record and monitor the conversation that way we have a lead on Mae plus we also get a confession from him. Seems like the most logical way.”

“That sounds like the better option out of the two.” You agreed.

“I’m in.” Mae nodded her head as she stepped forward.

“We will follow your plan padawan. It’s a good one.” Master Sol agreed.

That was all that was needed to spring into action on our mission. You watched as Osha stepped into the shop.

“Hello there.” You could hear her say over comms.

“Oh… Hello.” His voice sounded… Chipper. It seemed that he was happy to see her. Maybe he and Mae do know each other on a deeper level?

“Hi…” Osha’s voice trailed off as she seemed unsure of what to say.

“Hi?” His tone now held confusion to it.

“Come on Osha.” You muttered praying to the force with words of encouragement.

He continued sounding concerned, “You alright? You’re back so early?”

“I wanted to see you…”

“See me? Oh?” His light chuckle sent a pleasant chill you didn’t know the exact reason for, “Mae… Are you okay? Did the poison work?”

“That’s it.” Jecki looked up from the comms ready to go, “That’s all we need.”

“Pull her out.” Yord stated taking out his lightsaber.

You also made motion to grab your lightsaber, ready to head into the shop and confront the mysterious man before Sol put his arm out to stop you.

“Wait!” Master Sol’s sharp word had you, Yord, and Jecki all freeze in place. The four of you paid closer attention to the comm.

“You’re acting so strange…” The man spoke through the comms. There was a pause, as if he was assessing something about Osha, “Wait.”

Please don’t figure out she’s not Mae… You thought with worry.

“You killed Torbin without the poison.” He assessed with a light tone to his voice, “He will be so pleased.”

That seemed to be all Master Sol needed to hear as he said, “Go.” And pushed his group towards the man and Osha.

He was different than you expected him to be. A good way perhaps… He was easy on the eyes for a smuggler or was he a dealer? You weren’t sure. What you did know was how quick he was to sell out Mae.

You stayed partially hidden behind Jord. Your hood was up and your hand remained on your lightsaber as the stranger continued to explain himself.

“Wait wait…” He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain, “That isn’t my thing. This is her. I didn’t know what she was going to do with that stuff.”

“If you cooperate. We will consider letting you go with a warning.” Master Sol walked around him, assessing if he was a threat.

The man clasped his hands together, “Okay! Thank you! Thank you sir, ah… Please don’t do the memory wipe thing or whatever it is you guys do.” He held his hands up in surrender as he followed Master Sol’s movements.

You studied his movements, they were graceful compared to the nervous way he spoke.

“What is your relationship to Mae?” Was the first question Master Sol asked.

“I’m just her supplier.” He explained quickly walking around the room and using his hands as he spoke, “Yeah, I started out gun running for the hits and now I supply people like her with what they need. For the right price.”

He seemed to calm but too fidgety at the same time as if it were almost forced…

“Well maybe you could supply us with the truth.” Jord’s voice was stern and left no room for debate.

You hid further behind his stance as the man turned around. Not ready to reveal that you have been studying him intently to see if he was telling the truth or stalling for time…

“Who is he?” Master Sol asked.

The man gave him a confused look, “Ah… I? I thought he was with you?” He asked pointing back at Jord.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped past your lips, but quickly stifled it as his amused gaze tried to find your behind Jord’s frame.

Master Sol didn’t find it funny as he continued, “Does Mae have a master? Is someone training her?”

“Listen I have no idea what’s going on with that girl.” He stepped towards Master Sol, “All I know… Is that she wants revenge on four Jedi.”

The room fell silent as a grave realization settled… Four Jedi was stationed on Osha and Mae’s planet and Master Sol was one of them…

His eyes widened as an idea sparked, “If you want to get to her, she’ll be back here tonight. I’m holding some things for her.”

“Jord. Secure the perimeter. Keep an eye out for Mae.” Master Sol ordered, “Jecki get to the ship. Mae, you are coming with me and…”

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as Master Sol looked in your direction, “You will stay here and make sure that he does not try to escape.”

“But—“ Your pleas were left unanswered as he gave you a look. You bit your tongue and nodded, “Yes master.”

“Good. Let us go.” Master Sol stated, “Mae will be here soon.”

You watched with a knot in your stomach as your group left. How could they just leave me here alone with a stranger? You thought as you clenched and unclenched your right fist to try and keep your nerves at bay.

You tried to take a calming breath. You are a Jedi. You can guard an unarmed man. He couldn’t hurt you. This will go smoothly without any problem… You squeezed your eyes shut as the screams of your master rang through your ears.

You were alone then too… You but your biotin lip, grateful that your hood hid your face as you stared longingly at the door. You didn’t want to be left alone with a stranger… You couldn’t handle it, not again. Your breathing began to pick up, something that the stranger noticed immediately.

“So…” He spoke in an airy tone in an attempt to lighten the mood and get your mind off of whatever you were thinking about, “Who might you be Angel?”

[mangosrar]

call it closure

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

long asf. smut. filth. sexy chris 😛😛😛

your relationship with chris had always been complicated, a will they wont they sort of thing. you both loved eachother, that was obvious, yes you were his, but he wasnt yours.

you both decided friends with benefits would be the best option. well for him. part of you agreed just so you could play pretend, trick yourself into thinking you had him, and you knew nothing lasted forever, but he fooled you for a while.

everyone knew chris had major commitment issues, but you just didnt understand. he treated you like the only girl ever behind closed doors, but the second anyone else was around, he would drop your hand.

you thought this would be fine, you had him, you had him to yourself and that was all that mattered. until you realised you didnt. he had you eating out the palm of his hand on complete puppet strings. he said jump and you asked how high. you had fallen down a dangerous rabbit hole, and the only way to escape was to drive a knife straight through the heart of whatever it was you and chris had.

flashback.

the house was the quietest youve ever heard it. matt and nick were out so chris had invited you over to smoke with him but you were pretty sure he had over done it because he had gone completely none verbal and just started staring at the wall. he was slouched down on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table and his hands in his lap. you were too, slouched down on the couch with your knees up. he took a deep breath in before breaking the silence.

"do you think were soulmates in every universe?" he said. not moving his eyes from the spot on the wall. you could have cried right there and then, feeling a deep aching pain bloom in your chest from his words. you hated how he was so absentmindedly killing you.

there was an abundant pause and a thick tension gathered in the air, you wondered if chris could feel it too.

"are we even soulmates in this one?" your voice was so quiet and soft you weren’t sure he even heard you, until he let out a frustrated sigh before bringing a hand up to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"come on y/n dont start this shit now" his voice was harsh. he kept his eyes closed waiting for you to drop it, like you did every time, but you werent sure how much longer you could carry on like this.

"what chris? im being serious, i dont even know what this is anymore, you treat me like im everything one minute and then act like you couldnt care less is i fucking live or die the next!" you let your feet fall and land on the floor as you sat up and turned to face him.

"you know thats not true" he took his hand off of his face and let it rest in the air. his eyes still closed.

"do i?" your voice was quiet and broken. this was draining. the heavy presence of the fact he wasnt truly yours was sucking the life out of you. he opened his eyes and looked at you.

"we both agreed to do this y/n you cant put all of this on me" he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and staring at you intensely.

there was a pregnant pause, he was waiting for you to defend yourself, or at least try to argue his point, but you couldnt, he was right, to a certain degree. yes you had both agreed to friends with benefits but you hadnt agreed to being hopelessly in love with someone who only reciprocated those feelings in the dark.

you dropped yours eyes, tearing them away from his and letting them linger on his hands before taking a deep breath in.

"i cant carry on like this, its killing me." he tried to cut you off momentarily but you held a hand up, stopping him. "i wont beg for you to love me anymore chris, because i know that somewhere deep down you really do". he said nothing as he stared at you. he was completely speechless. he felt that pain, just like you did, deep in his bones. you searched his eyes for something, anything, a sign that you were lying and just embarrassing yourself, a sign that told you he wasnt at all affected by this, any sense of doubt. you found nothing.

and with that, you left. you got up and walked out of that house, leaving chris to sit there and regret every singe life decision that had got him to this point, but he didnt come after you, he didnt try to stop you, he didnt try to change your mind and thats what stung the most.

end of flashback.

"im going to pack the car so everyone bring your bags down!" chris shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

you pulled the zipper closed on the bag before taking your phone off the bed and making your way downstairs, nick following close behind you. you didnt even look up at chris. you couldnt, you wanted to take complete advantage of the short amount of time you had left to distance yourself from him as much as possible.

it had been about 3 months since you walked out on chris, you hadnt spoke at all, he hadnt tried and neither had you, both of you just accepting fate and trying to move on, but considering the fact his two brothers were your best friends and you practically lived at their house with how much you were over, it was proving to be quite the challenge.

you just politely dropped your bag at his feet and scurried off into the kitchen, bumping into matt.

"you want me to drive the first or second half?" you asked. considering you were the only two that could drive, you insisted you would split it.

"i dont mind but, you sure you wanna have to sit next to chris for that long?" he lowered his voice slightly, his eyes darting to chris who was grabbing all the bags behind you, as his face scrunched up slightly. you glanced over your shoulder at him briefly before crossing your arms over your chest and shrugging.

"its okay, he wont talk to me anyways" you let out a pathetic laugh through your nose, trying to make the situation a little light hearted and a lot less embarrassing. matt obviously picked up on this but was kind enough to ignore it.

"ill do the first half, he will probably fall asleep by the time we swap anyway" he patted your shoulder and you nodded as he made a bee line for the front door.

matt and nick were probably the worst part of this whole situation. they were stuck smack bang in the middle of this pandemonium. of course they both knew what had happened but they gave you the courtesy of separating you and chris with you and them and decided to move past it. you and chris were both aware of how awkward it was for them, and thankfully, he was mature enough to not kick up a big fuss every time you were around. you hadnt spoken at all since that night, only the odd flash of a smile sent each others way when you crossed paths and that was rare, so when nick invited you on their weekend get away to a cabin in the middle of no where with them, you were obviously delighted.

the drive was excruciating. if it wasnt matt and nick arguing it was chriss shitty trap music playing or the gps redirecting you. while you were driving up front chris hadnt even spared you a glance, he didnt utter a single word to you the whole time.

part of you was grateful but another part of you wished he would have, selfishly, so you could just get over it and enjoy your weekend, but nothing was enjoyable anymore as long as chris was around.

"i call the double bed" chris yelled, running through the house.

"y/n theres a room with two singles, wanna bunk with me?" nick asked, slipping his backpack off of his shoulders.

"sure" you nodded, before making your way to the room, setting your bag down and plopping on the bed with a huff, matt trailed in behind you, with your suitcase.

"come on grouchy pants, were gonna have funnnn" he said swatting your leg that was dangling off the edge of the bed.

"i need at least 3-5 business days to recover from being within a 1 mile radius of chris for longer than 30 seconds" you let out a breath as you looked over to matt who was leaning on the door frame with his arms folded over his chest.

"that bad?" he raised his eyebrows in question.

"that bad" you replied flatley. matt just chuckled and motioned for you to follow him downstairs. you huffed and sat up before stomping down the hall after him.

in all fairness, it hadnt been that bad. the 4 of you had eaten, laughed played games and just had fun, regardless of the hanging tension wedged between you and chris. it was now 11:30 and everyone was asleep, but your mind just couldnt switch off, tossing and turning, checking the clock every 5 minutes. you huffed and looked over at nick who was out like a light. hot tub it is.

"i dont know madi, it just hurts" you spoke.

"has he even tried to talk to you?" she spoke over the phone.

"not one single word, and the thing is i dont know if i wanna strangle him or just kiss his fucking face off" you huffed, readjusting your arms so they were resting on the edge of the hot tub with your phone in your hands, the rest of your body being engulfed by the warm blanket of water.

"im worried my advice is gonna get you in trouble" she laughed, making you blow out a huff of air through your nose.

"it doesnt matter, i cant bring myself to do either" you and madi spoke for a little while longer beofre you wrapped the call up, put your phone on the ground and let your body sink lower into the steaming water until it was resting on your collar bones.

you sighed and let your head fall back, this is what you needed, a relaxing moment, the quiet calm of the night lulling your brain into a state of tranquillity, no matt and nick arguing, no chr-

"cant sleep?" you almost had a heart attack, your body jolted forward as your eyes darted around searching for the body that owned the voice.

"jesus, chris you scared the life out of me, how long have you been sitting there?" your hand rested on your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart from being startled. he just stared at you with drooped eyes from his position on the patio chair, opposite the hot tub.

"long enough" he said. his face didnt show any sign of emotion. his stoic expression sending an un willing chill up your spine, despite the warmth of the chlorine filled bubbles around you. chris leaned forward and you swallowed thickly.

"did you mean what you said?" his voice was alot softer and quieter than before, like he was worried you would break at the slight tone of his voice. you couldnt bring your self to look back up at him, he would eat you alive. you paused momentarily, weighing out your options of whether you even wanted to entertain this conversation with him or just cut him dead.

there was no way in hell that you were letting yourself fall back down this slippery slope again, so just like before, you abruptly got up and out of the hot tub, reached for your towel and made your way back inside, without sparing him a glance, keeping your eyes trained to the floor, leaving chris once again, to watch you walk away from him, and all the same, he didnt try to stop you.

"nick open the fucking door!" you whispered loudly. no reply.

resting your forehead against the door, you mentally cursed yourself for even going in the hot tub. you should have stayed in bed and this whole situation would be avoided, chris too. speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"what are you doing?" he stood just beside you with a questioning look on his face.

you huffed, pulling your head back and looking up at him.

"nick locked the door" you sounded so defeated it made his heart beat a little harder in his chest.

"you can come sleep with me, ill take the floor i dont mind" he motioned his head towards his designated bedroom while keeping his eyes trained to yours.

you dropped your head and sighed. how was this happening. you had spent months walking on egg shells, doing everything in your power to stay as far away from him as you could, and now you were forcing him out of his bed so you could sleep there.

he stared at you waiting for your answer. he knew you had no other option, you couldnt sleep on the couch with matt and you were also stood in a wet bikini and a wet towel. be realistic y/n.

"sure, okay" you looked up at him, and his eyes gained a fraction of hope momentarily, before he nodded and started leading you to his room. this was going to be a long night.

"um, i dont.." you paused and cleared your throat. "i dont have anything to wear" chris looked up at you from his position on the bed before his eyes trailed over your body, stood in a towel in the bathroom doorway shifting on your feet, looking like a nervous little girl.

you cleared your throat again, snapping chris out of whatever trance he had gotten into. he stood up and walked over to the dresser at the end of the bed, pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers, before padding over to you and handing them over.

"thanks" you smiled.

"no problem" he replied, watching you turn back into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face and leaning against it, you werent sure if this was going to work, your left control was wearing thin.

how had it ended up like this? you tried so hard to have some composure but you couldnt help it, he was shirtless, clad in grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, basically inviting you to jump straight on him.

his lips trailed down your neck as his hands ran up your sides, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his after 3 months of complete torture without it.

he brought his lips back up to meet your in a hot and heavy kiss, tongues dancing together, teeth clashing, the works. frantic hands gripping his hair relentlessly, pulling groans from his mouth.

chris brought his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and separating the kiss, before diving back in and sucking purple marks into your neck and collarbones, earning breathy whines from you.

there was a moment of hesitation from you as he trailed his hands lower fiddling with the waistband of his boxers that you were wearing.

"chris wait" he halted his movements and brought his face up to yours. god he was making this so hard. he was breathing heavy and his hair was messy from your curious hands, his chain dangling between the two of you.

"we shouldnt be doing this" you shook your head, eyes wide.

"why y/n?" he asked breathlessly.

"because chris" you whined. he knew exactly why. all your hard work of keeping your distance from him had just been thrown into a sweltering ball of gasoline and chris had completely set it alight.

"call it closure" he whispered. he could see the inner turmoil you were facing. you knew you were about to give in, and judging by the smirk growing on his face, so did he.

you pulled his face down to yours again and he hummed into the kiss, the feeling of your lips on his being something no drug could ever amount to.

he continues his trail down your body, leaving wet hot kisses in his trail, keeping his eyes glued to yours. he was dragging this out, savouring the blaze of your touch.

"chris please" you whined.

"what baby? tell me what you want" he spoke in-between leaving kisses on your stomach and thighs.

"just fuck me" that was all he needed to hear before he was yanking your shorts down and doing the same with his own pants and boxers. he was on his knees between your legs, pumping his cock in his hand, eyes wondering over your frame hungrily.

"so pretty" he muttered before brining his lips to yours again and pushing his cock into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size before he was pulling all the way out and slamming back in over and over again. you were already a mess underneath him, mewling and moaning like you would never get the chance again.

"missed you so much baby, so fucking much" chris grunted in-between thrusts before peppering light kisses down the side of your face and neck. you just whined at his words.

his pace was relentless and your hands flew to his back, dragging your nails down his skin, pulling a low "fuck" from chriss lips.

"so good to me y/n, cant believe i ever fucking let you go" he said as he stilled his thrusts and pulled back, sitting on his knees and lifting your legs up to rest on his shoulders, and continuing his thrusts.

you let out a lewd moan at the new angle, hands gripping the bed sheets as chris arms wrapped around your thighs, drilling his cock into you so deep, hitting that spot inside that made you see stars.

"oh fuck chris dont stop" you mewled, letting your head fall back.

his pace became impossibly faster, every single thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.

you were pulsating around him, your high getting closer and closer. chris dropped your legs and doubled over, shoving his head into the crook of your neck with a deep groan.

"fuck y/n i can feel you squeezing me" his words were strangled and breathless. he brought his lips to yours once again but the pleasure was so good and you were so close you couldnt keep up with him, chris noticed this and smirked against your mouth.

"come on sweet girl, give it to me, come all over my cock" he said as he brought his thumb down to rub hard, fast circles over your puffy clit making your back arch even further off the bed.

you let out a strangled moan of his name before being launched into a pool of complete, white ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his thrusts did not falter as he sat up watching you ride out your orgasm with hooded eyes.

“you look so pretty like this ma”

he wasnt far behind, his hips stuttered before he let out a loud whine, followed by a hiss and a string of curses, painting your insides white, sending a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim, before collapsing on top of you.

the two of you were sweating and panting, both completely silent, just relishing in the feeling of the post sex haze. your hands come up to his hair and you ran your fingers through it soothingly.

he planted a soft kiss to your collarbone before bringing his face up so he was eye level with you. his eyes trailed over your face, creating a memory and he took a deep breath in before speaking.

"i do love you”.

_______________________________________________

YALL😛😛😛😛

sorry for starving you guys i’ve just been mad busy but i’m back !!!! love u. bee ❤️‍🩹

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @urmyslxt @soursturniolo @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattslolita @flowerxbunnie @lovingsturniolo @its-jennarose @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @justaslvttygirl @urfavstromboli @chrisfavoritepepsi @kenleighsbl0g @udonotknowme

[happy74827]

The Perfect Gift of Appreciation

[Rudy Cooper (technically) x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Being severely injured with zero money to back up your bills, you decide to take an emergency visit to the only doctor you personally know.

WC: 2897

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Fluff,

A lot of you actually liked my Brian fic (love y’all), so I wanted to make another for you guys. I’m sad that there’s still none 😔😔

『••✎••』

He was absolutely pissed. Granted, he didn’t actually tell you, but the way his face fell into utter disappointment when he finally answered his door was all the information you needed. You couldn’t help but frown, your hand moving to cover your poorly bandaged arm as you watched him.

It made sense; the man had just come home from his shift, and his outfit was still intact with his suit and lab coat, with exhaustion weighing on his eyes. The man looked downright miserable, and with you looking like a wet rat from the rain and the blood seeping from your wound, he couldn't imagine a less welcome sight.

You both just stood there staring at one another, the rain pounding against the umbrella over your head. The wind was picking up, and you knew it was going to storm harder. You really couldn’t stand the look he was giving you.

"Hey, Rudy," You managed out, swallowing hard as the pain began to seep into your voice. You endured quite a lot to get here, and you weren’t about to let your pride show now.

The man before you let out a tired sigh, leaning against the doorframe as he closed his eyes.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?" He questioned the usual cheerfulness of his voice, which was replaced with annoyance. It hurt a bit to hear, but you didn't blame him. It’s quite rude to show up unannounced, and it was even worse considering you showed up after 2 am.

Your eyes averted downwards, feeling ashamed for even showing up here. The last thing you wanted was to bother him, especially at a time like this.

Yet, you couldn’t go anywhere else. Money wasn’t quite flowing well in your area, and it was bad enough to where you had no insurance. You were a simple college student, working odd jobs here and there while balancing school and the like.

The job you had recently obtained was a janitor position for a nearby grocery store, and things seemed pretty good for a bit. It was not enough to pay those outrageous health bills, but it was getting you by.

"I need a favor... I know it's not exactly the best time to be asking, but please, just listen—" You began, the words spilling out of your mouth just as you’ve rehearsed them a million times.

Before you could continue, Rudy opened his eyes and looked down at you with a small frown. He already noticed the way you held your arm and the way you kept glancing at it. He knew what this was about; he knew the moment he opened the door and saw the desperation in your eyes.

Your name fell from his lips, drained and tired as he rubbed his forehead. He was silent for a bit, just as you were, and when he finally looked back up, his frown grew deeper.

"You seriously can’t afford to get simple treatment? How do you even know if I have the right supplies to fix something like this up, huh?"

You didn’t reply, merely biting down on your lip as you looked away. It was true, you weren't sure. Yet, Rudy had always been so kind to you, always willing to offer his help and support when you needed it.

The man sighed, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe he was doing this; he had to wake up in a few hours, and now he had to deal with this.

The only thing keeping him from saying no was the look you gave him.

You weren’t one to beg or ask for help. You usually dealt with things on your own, and when you couldn’t, you were willing to work it off. He admired that about you, how you weren't the type to depend on others.

The fact that you were even here, soaked to the bone and asking for his help, proved to him just how serious the situation was.

You had no other choice, and he knew that.

So, without a word, Rudy stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. The relief was immediate, and before he could blink, you were inside, the sound of the rain slowly fading behind you.

The warmth of his home was a great contrast from the outside, and you couldn’t help but sigh contently as he threw his coat off and led you down the hall.

His duffel was still beside the couch, a sign that he had just returned moments before. Somehow, it made you feel worse, knowing that you interrupted his much-needed rest.

You followed Rudy through the living room, landing in the kitchen where the door to his basement was. You were about to follow him downwards, side-stepping past him, but a hand slammed against the doorframe just before you could.

Startled, you looked up at Rudy, a brow raised at the sudden stop. He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, and it made you grow uncomfortable.

"Stay here. I’ll be up in a minute, okay?" His voice changed slightly, sounding far more awake than before.

"Can’t you just do it down there? I mean, that’s where all your stuff is, right?"

Why go through all the trouble of bringing everything upstairs?

He shook his head, his lips pulling into a tight line. It looked like he was thinking something over, and when he finally spoke, he seemed hesitant.

"Just trust me, okay? Just wait here. I promise I won't be long."

You frowned, wanting to question him, but Rudy was already moving down the stairs. The door shut behind him, and the next thing you knew, you were left alone in the kitchen.

Confused, you couldn't help but stare at the door.

Why didn’t he want you down there? That was pretty odd behavior for someone who loved to brag about his work. You couldn’t recall a time when Rudy wasn’t so open about what he did.

So why the sudden change?

You didn’t want to question it, and instead, you hummed and sat down in the chair. You could hear his footsteps echo downstairs, and you waited patiently for him to return.

The sound of the basement door opening was almost instant, and when Rudy entered, you noticed the big medical box in his arms. You couldn’t help but watch the man walk around his kitchen, his movements slow and calculated as he made his way over to you.

Rudy placed the box onto the table, popped it open, and began to pull out the gloves, rubbing alcohol, and gauze. The man grabbed a chair and pulled it across from you, and as he did, he glanced up at you and smiled.

Your mind, however, was still elsewhere.

"Hiding a body down there, or something? You were taking forever, know..." You mumbled, your gaze shifting from the box to Rudy.

He chortled at the comment, glancing up momentarily to give you a small smile before resuming his task of pulling out the medical supplies.

He didn’t say anything other than the comments about your wound. How’d you get it? If it hurt, how long ago did it happen…

You know, the typical doctor questions.

Rudy took your arm in his, his hold gentle as he carefully removed the cloth that was once your makeshift bandage. You winced, hissing as the material peeled away some of the dried blood, and it caused Rudy to glance up at you apologetically.

As the cloth finally came off, Rudy didn’t make any type of comment. He didn't react to the deep cut on your arm other than the occasional flicker of his eyes. To you, it was absolutely jarring. It looked so much worse than you expected, and you couldn’t help but glance away as the man poured the alcohol onto the gauze.

He must’ve been used to this kind of thing, considering he didn’t so much as bat an eye.

The alcohol felt cold against your skin, and you bit your tongue to prevent the pain from escaping. Rudy didn't say a word as he cleaned up the wound, and you took the time to glance at the man.

Rudy was focused, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on your wound. He was careful but quick, and his actions were precise and methodical. The way he moved was almost fascinating, and before you knew it, he was done with that part.

Rudy tossed the now bloodied gauze into the trash can that was temporarily beside the table and then reached for the next item.

The numbing shot.

The man paused, his gaze lifting from the supplies and up to your face. Rudy, the sweet and caring guy, had a very different face whenever he worked. He had his usual soft and comforting smile, but the way he constantly looked at your arm was so… cold.

He almost looked bored.

You blinked, and suddenly, he was staring at you, his brows raised.

You stared, unable to find the words, but the moment he spoke, the spell was broken.

Rudy gave you a sheepish smile, gesturing the shot in his hands. He warned you about the small prickle, gesturing to the shot in his hands, the prickle that’s never just a prick of the skin. It’s always quite painful.

The needle was tiny, but the feeling of the sensation entering your body was enough to make you grit your teeth. You felt your face grow warm, the embarrassment washing over you as the pain became a dull ache.

It didn't last long, and soon Rudy was shaking it around, supposedly making the numbing effect act faster.

Then, the waiting game. He told you around five to ten minutes, depending on your tolerance, and that's how you both ended up sitting across from one another in silence.

Rudy was tapping his fingers against the table, the only sound filling the air. You couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged, and the occasional yawn that escaped him.

"I’m sorry," You said, finally breaking the silence. His facial expression didn’t help you feel better, the frown on his lips growing deeper as he shook his head.

"Don’t be sorry." He mumbled, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Truth be told, I actually despise apologies. And it's not like you did this to yourself on purpose, anyways…"

That was true, you supposed. Still, the guilt wouldn't leave you alone.

When the man didn’t receive a reply, Rudy looked at you with a tired smile. His hands moved over the medical box, and with a slight push, it was out of the way and no longer between you.

Rudy then leaned forward, placing his elbows against the table, and folded his hands beneath his chin.

"You know, I miss this."

You blinked, tilting your head at him as a soft smile formed on your lips. "Me being clumsy and annoying?"

He chuckled, a sound that brought warmth to your heart, and the exhaustion was temporarily forgotten.

Rudy shook his head, and as he did, his smile faded and was replaced with something a little more sad. "Skin. The human body. Blood. The life force. I just miss it, I guess... I love what I do, don't get me wrong, but it can be a little boring at times.. It gets repetitive. The smiles are nice, the gratitude of those I treat, but sometimes I can't help but think about other things. More exciting things, y'know?"

"Suturing my arm is exciting to you? That's pretty weird, Rudy, and that's coming from me…"

You were only half-joking, and Rudy was aware. The man was silent for a moment, his gaze averted as his smile slowly returned.

A soft chuckle left him, and he leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms against his chest.

His eyes closed, and the smile on his face grew.

It wasn’t a sad smile, nor was it happy. It was a smile that said many things but nothing at all.

When his eyes finally opened, they were different. The smile was gone, and so was the warmth in his expression.

The smile he wore now was a familiar one, and the glint in his eyes was one you knew too well.

The box was moved back in front of him, and with a swift movement, the scissors and tweezers were in his hands.

Then, the conversation was over, and so was the waiting period. He did check to see if it was numb, but the moment you confirmed that it was, he went right back to work.

It was silent for the most part; you felt no pain, and Rudy was careful as he did his job. It was going by rather quickly, and with the silence that fell between the two of you, you couldn’t help but look down at your arm.

He was already halfway done. The numbing was working like a charm, and with how quickly Rudy was going, it was almost like a superpower. For a man not in his element, he seemed like he was pretty damn well in his element.

Maybe he did have a body hidden downstairs. Give him some practice.

Rudy stopped for a moment, the sudden pause causing you to lift your gaze and look at him. He was holding a new needle in his hand, a black string-like material in the other.

He was staring at your arm, the concentration on his face strong as he held the items up. It was a rather odd sight, and you couldn't help but lean closer to get a better look.

Rudy blinked, his focus snapping up at you, and he gave you a lopsided grin.

You watched him for a moment, the man simply staring back at you with the same grin, and after a moment of silence, he put the tools down.

"And, presto." He said, his grin widening, and before you knew it, he was packing up the box.

Damn, that was fast.

He wrapped the wound in an actual bandage, moving at the speed of light, and before you could even comprehend what was happening, Rudy was already finished.

The man got up, stretching out his back as he did, and he glanced down at you with a soft smile.

"I don’t keep any antibiotics around here, but a simple store trip can fix that. You don’t need anything fancy, just a simple infection control, and you should be good to go. It doesn't seem to be too bad, and if it gets any worse, then we can look into that later... at the ER."

"Right." You mumbled, not having the energy to protest. The sarcasm, the jokes, the humor... everything was gone. You were drained, and now that the whole ordeal was over, you felt yourself slouching against the chair.

You looked up at Rudy, and before you could speak, he was already talking.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll drop you home tomorrow morning before I go in. I’m seconds away from passing out, and you look like you're about to fall over."

You nodded, a silent thank you falling from your lips. Rudy gave you a nod in response and then gestured towards the hallway.

It wasn’t too long after that you found yourself walking down the hallway with a spare pillow and blanket. The guest bedroom was empty, and when you entered, the lights were off.

You didn’t question it, and instead, you set the pillow and blanket on the bed and made yourself comfortable. He said he used this room a lot, but somehow, it looked so untouched. It wasn’t dusty, but the way the room was set up proved that it wasn't often used.

Still, you were far too exhausted to give it a second thought.

Rudy walked past the doorway, a pair of keys in his hands as he waved them around. You heard him mention something about locking up and going to sleep, and after he left, the hall was silent.

And then, after a few minutes, the house was silent.

As you lay there, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. Your arm was still numb, and you felt nothing as you gently placed your hand against the bandage.

There was no pain, no nothing. It was just ugly, and yet you were grateful.

You didn’t even know Rudy for that long. A mutual friend introduced you to one another, and ever since then, it has been a whirlwind of events.

Especially due to your overbearing clumsiness.

But tonight? What a true blessing.

You couldn’t thank him enough. Maybe you could make him breakfast in the morning. That sounded like a decent enough gift.

Unless you happened to break his kitchen or yourself, you’d have to see how things played out.

And with that, you rolled over, your eyes slowly drifting shut.

You were out within a minute. And fortunately for Rudy, so were his neighbors.

It was a rather quiet night, after all, and with his soundproof walls, no one could hear a thing.

Even with the preparation for the next present for his precious Ken, the perfect gift of appreciation, no one could hear the sounds of his true work.

Well, no one except you.

[@ghostheartbeat, @numetalnerd2007] Here’s your tag, besties! Go wild! ☺️☺️

I hope you guys liked the "realistic" approach I took here lmao. I felt really devious about this plot 😈

[diivineangel]

“ i’m takin’ care of each and every part…i open up your legs and go straight for your heart. ”

𝓢ynopsis: hiromi’s unwavering dedication to his work has created an unspoken distance in his marriage, leaving his spouse adrift in quiet loneliness. the long hours he spends away weigh heavily on them both—his partner aches for his presence, while hiromi wrestles with guilt and the fear of losing the one he loves most. finally, driven by the need to heal what has frayed, hiromi steps away from the chaos of his career, choosing instead to rekindle their bond in the most intimate and heartfelt way.

pairing: hiromi higuruma x fem!reader

cont: desperation, smut, oral receiving, he cums inside, just general 18+ content…., mdni.

wc: 2,543

────        𝓗iromi Higuruma's job was grueling. Fighting for the innocent, defending the wrongly accused, standing tall for people who didn't deserve to be caged away—it was as noble as it was soul-crushing. The endless hours, the weight of other people's lives resting on his shoulders, the knowledge that justice wasn't always as blind as it should be—it wore him down. But this was his duty. And he bore it, even when it left him drained to the core, because someone had to.

And then, there was you.

You, who made it all feel worth it. You, who welcomed him home like a balm for his weary soul. You'd have a warm bath ready after those long, punishing days, your arms open and waiting, a soft smile that could disarm any tension. You cooked him dinners so rich, so full of care, that he felt it in his bones. Everything about you soothed him, brought him a kind of peace he never knew he needed so desperately.

And he adored you for it. He always did.

Even if his words didn't always convey it, his heart spoke it every time he looked at you. How did he get so lucky? A wife who loved him unconditionally and somehow, on top of all that, made time to praise his nose? He'd chuckle about it in the quiet moments. It was silly, but he cherished it.

But lately, something had shifted.

At work, his focus wasn't what it used to be. Oh, he was still good—too good, even, to falter in the courtroom—but his mind had started wandering in ways it never had before. Specifically, to you. And not just your smile or the way your laugh filled every corner of a room. No. It was the way you felt pressed against him. The way your lips parted when he kissed you deeper. The soft sounds you'd make when he touched you.

It hit him out of nowhere most days—a rush of heat curling through him like a flame he couldn't extinguish. It didn't help that you hadn't had much time for intimacy lately.

Work, schedules, and exhaustion had gotten in the way, but the longing hadn't gone anywhere. If anything, it had only grown stronger, festering inside him until it was a near-constant ache.

So there he was, in court, cross-examining a witness with a painful erection straining against his slacks. No one could see it, thankfully, but the sheer humiliation of it burned in his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about you—your body, your voice, the way you'd feel under him. It was almost maddening.

By the time he won the trial, he wasn't even relieved. He just needed to get home.

To you.

The moment Hiromi stepped through the door, he was in motion. Shoes off, briefcase discarded, and then he was climbing the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding like a war drum.

When he saw you, he froze for half a second. You turned to greet him, your finger booping his nose in that playful way you always did, your voice sweet and full of pride. "You looked like you worked hard again, Romi," you praised softly, smiling at him.

"Yeah, I did. Thank you," he managed, though his voice was thick with something else entirely—something raw, hungry. And soon enough he was pulling you into a hug. 

The second your body pressed against his, he nearly lost his composure. His hips shifted instinctively, the hard line of his arousal brushing against you. He inhaled sharply, his face buried in the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of you was like a drug-intoxicating, irresistible.

"You—" His voice cracked slightly as he pulled back, his gaze locking with yours. He didn't know how to explain what you did to him, the way you completely unraveled him with just a touch, a look, a word. He didn't need to. You saw it in his eyes, the raw, unspoken desire that had been simmering for weeks.

Before you could say anything, his lips crashed into yours, hungry and demanding. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed. There was no rush in his movements, though. No frantic desperation.

"I've been thinking about you all day," he confessed, his voice low and thick with want. His hands slid to your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles over your skin. "I'm gonna take my time with you, sweetheart, that alright?"

He didn’t even let you answer, his eager mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your body until he was between your legs, his tongue dragging languidly over your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as he worked you over with an almost torturous patience. His nose brushed against you, and the sound that escaped your lips made him groan against you.

"Hiromi..." His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan, your voice shaking with need. You couldn't help it-couldn't stop the way your hips instinctively bucked against him, seeking more of the unbearable bliss he was giving you. He only tightened his grip on your thighs, holding you firmly in place, his movements deliberate, maddeningly slow.

You couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything but the feel of him. His tongue moved in a steady rhythm, his nose brushing against you with every motion, and it was too much and not enough all at once. The sounds he was making-low, satisfied hums that vibrated against you— only pushed you closer to the edge, your entire body tensing as the pressure built inside you.

"P-please," you whimpered, your voice trembling as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were a mess—flushed, shaking, your hands fisting the sheets in desperation. You could barely form words, barely do anything but feel.

Hiromi pulled back just enough to glance up at you, his lips slick, his eyes dark and hungry. "I said I'd take my time, didn't I?" His voice was rough, filled with an almost predatory satisfaction, and it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a strangled cry as he dipped his head again, his tongue sliding into you with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. It was like he was savoring you, taking his time to unravel every part of you. And you let him—because in that moment, nothing else existed but him and the pleasure he was giving you.

Your body trembled beneath his touch, every stroke of his tongue, every soft scrape of his teeth, every teasing nuzzle of his nose sending shockwaves through you. The knot in your stomach tightened, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, a wave of euphoria crashing over you so powerful it left you gasping, tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

He didn't stop, didn't let up even as you squirmed beneath him, overstimulated and blissed out. When he finally pulled back, his lips curved into a wicked, satisfied grin, his hands still holding you steady. "You're beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice soft but filled with an unmistakable possessiveness.

And as he moved to capture your lips again, you realized you'd never felt more utterly, devastatingly his.

Hiromi leaned over you, his lips claiming yours as if they could draw every last sound of pleasure from your mouth. You could taste yourself on him—warm, intoxicating, a reminder of just how thoroughly he'd worshipped you moments ago. His hands never left your body, sliding over your trembling thighs and up to your hips, anchoring you to him like he couldn't bear even a sliver of distance between you.

The look in his eyes when he pulled back made your breath catch. It was raw, unguarded-like he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn't control. His lips were slightly parted, his breath uneven, and you could see the flush creeping up his neck, could feel the way his body radiated heat against yours.

"You don't know what you do to me," he rasped, his voice low and unsteady. His hands tightened on your hips as he ground his clothed arousal against you, the friction making you gasp. His eyes flickered shut for a moment, and a groan escaped him-deep, guttural, filled with an ache that mirrored your own.

"Baby..." you whispered, your voice soft but trembling with want. You reached for him, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, the slight stubble that tickled your fingertips. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, dark and filled with so much emotion it made your chest tighten.

"I can't stop," he admitted, almost a Whisper, as if confessing to some uncontrollable need. "You're in my head, always. Even when I'm at work, even when I'm trying to focus, it's you." He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours. "And it drives me insane. I've been waiting—craving—this. Craving you."

The sincerity in his voice sent a wave of warmth flooding through you, your heart swelling even as your body ached for him.

You pulled him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he let out a sharp exhale, his control visibly fraying at the edges.

"Then take me," you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath.

That was all it took.

His hands moved with purpose, unbuttoning his shirt with a desperate kind of urgency before shrugging it off. You couldn't help but admire him—the way his muscles tensed beneath his skin, the way his chest rose and fell as he fought to stay composed. But when he finally joined you on the bed, pressing his bare body against yours, any semblance of restraint he had left crumbled.

He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the way your lips moved against his. His hands explored every inch of you, his touch reverent, as though he was memorizing every curve, every shiver, every little gasp you gave him. He moved against you, his arousal pressing into you with a delicious kind of pressure that had you arching against him, desperate for more.

And when he finally slid into you, the world seemed to still.

The stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so perfectly-it was overwhelming in the best possible way. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, and he groaned low in his throat, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.

"God," he breathed, his voice strained, as if the feeling of being inside you was too much. "You're so... perfect. So warm. So —" He broke off with a sharp inhale, his hips moving slowly, deliberately, as if he wanted to make this last. But the way his body trembled against yours betrayed just how much you affected him.

Every thrust was slow, deliberate, his body pressing into yours with a rhythm that left you breathless. The friction, the heat, the intimacy—it all built into a crescendo that had you teetering on the edge of bliss once again. And from the way his breathing grew heavier, the way his groans became rougher, you knew he was right there with you.

"Hiromi... I—" Your voice cracked, your nails raking down his back as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

"I've got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice soft but thick with emotion. "Let go for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

And you did. Your release crashed over you in waves, your entire body trembling beneath him as your voice broke on his name. The way you tightened around him, the way you clung to him like he was your lifeline—it sent him spiraling.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his groan muffled against your neck as his body tensed, his release ripping through him like a tidal wave. He stayed there for a moment, his arms wrapping tightly around you, his breath hot against your skin as he came down from the high.

Neither of you spoke for a while, the silence filled only with the sound of your mingled breathing. His weight on top of you was grounding, his hands gentle as they traced lazy patterns over your skin. He lifted his head eventually, his gaze soft as he looked at you, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

And as you pulled him closer, your bodies still tangled together, you both knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

🏷️: @luv-lies @tojiseviltwin @yung-notorious @kentosmirrorball @jazzthatonewriterchick @sugoroo @lokissweater @pepperyduck @obsesssedblerd

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"You," the hero whispered. "No."

It should have been enough for the villain to stop. To actually pull their hands away and stare into their enemy's eyes for more than just a second. It should have been enough for them to simply go the other way and ignore whatever their nemesis was dealing with.

But they couldn't. They had tried before. They had tried countless times. Over and over and over again with no use.

"Please," the villain whispered back. Their hands were shaking, right above the hero's open wound, right where they stared at the broken bone. "Let me do this."

"No," the hero said between labored breaths. "No. You can't just...you can't just show up here."

"Please..." The villain touched the hero's leg, carefully examining the rest of the bone that wasn't broken and the hero - stupidly so - pulled away, leaving them with a horrible stinging pain and a scream horrid enough to make the villain flinch.

Months ago, the villain would have laughed at that. They would have circled the hero and taunted, they would have played with them first. But the villain's desire for toying was long gone. Along with the satisfaction that would come with it.

"Listen, don't move, okay? You need to - we need to calm down," the villain tried but the hero didn't seem to be listening.

Their face was drained of all its color and the sweat ran down their forehead; the less obvious indications of their horrible physical condition. And then, of course, the thigh, the femur. Broken and bleeding. The villain had broken their own femur before.

It had left their leg nearly immovable for half a year.

"You fucking-" the hero hissed. "How dare you?"

The villain couldn't tell if their enemy was actually crying or if that was just the sweat. However, they understood quickly that the hero was, in fact, not very happy to see them.

Sometimes, the villain would dream of themselves as a hero. They would think about saving their enemy or saving the city. They would think about all those people cheering at them and being happy to see them.

They imagined what it would feel like to hear the hero whisper "thank you" into their ear and to read about their own heroics the next day. Sometimes, they really really wanted to be good and do good but more importantly, they wanted other people to see it. They wanted that affection, they wanted that jubilation.

But no matter what they tried, they screwed up most of the time. They acted to rash or not rash enough. They didn't make the choices a hero made and ultimately, they weren't like that. They could never be.

"You betrayed me," the hero said between sobs. "You left. You left me."

"Listen, please. I thought it was best for us. You were so unhappy with your job and-"

"Not because of you."

"I know, but I thought it would be easier for you if I-"

"It wasn't, okay?! It wasn't easy. It sucked, it fucking sucked," the hero nearly screamed. They stared at their thigh and tried to swallow some of the sobs but it didn't really lead anywhere. The villain knew the hero was tough but this tough? Staring at a wound and finding the energy to complain about their enemy leaving for three months - that kind of tough?

"Okay, I understand," the villain said. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for leaving. I just thought with me gone, you could relax more."

"I got assigned to other villains," the hero responded. They gestured towards their thigh. "Villains who do this."

"I understand, I am sorry." They stared at the hero whose bottom lip started to tremble.

"You left," the hero repeated. Their voice sounded strangely weak and all the villain could do was sit next to them and stare. "You just left. Just like that."

The hero snapped with their fingers. "...just like that."

"It wasn't easy for me either, if that's what you want to hear from me. It was horrible, I- I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. At night I would go outside and sit on a bench for hours, thinking. It wasn't easy. It wasn't..." The villain took in a deep breath. "I clearly made a mistake. I'm sorry. Just let me-"

"Don't do that to me," the hero said. The villain could feel a horrible feeling inside their guts, a horrible turning and toiling that made them almost vomit. The little trust the both of them had built between them had snapped like an overstretched rubber band and the villain could feel the grief behind it.

"Please, listen. You're important. You're more important than any of this and I sincerely, truly didn't want to hurt you." Their voice was shaking as much as their hands. They stared at the wound. Thankfully, whatever had done this to the hero had missed the femoral artery. That didn't change anything about the bone they could see clearly. Nor the amount of blood. "I never meant to hurt you, I...I admire you and, please trust me. Just one last time and after that you decide what happens with us."

The villain didn't expect anything. In fact, they couldn't think of a single action the hero might be able to come up with.

But then, the hero took their hand and squeezed their eyes shut.

"One last time," the hero said. "Get us out of here."

The villain obeyed perfectly.

[owlcomics101]

”New Master.” Demon!Taskforce 141 x Human!Reader

Warnings: 15+ (Slightly suggestive but nothing NSFW I’m a minor), Gore, blood, drinking, smoking, cult stuff, demons, (I do not condone any of these things), Reader is gender neutral

GIF credits: (All in order and on tumblr) ekscelsior, eurodynamic, collinnmckinley, deactivated account. (Some of these users are MDNI so please leave them alone if your under 18 like me I’m just crediting them)

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

You were trapped in a dark room. Your hands tied behind your back-ropes digging into your wrists almost to the bone. You body aches and burns, the back of your head throbs it felt like you were hit by a truck, though apart of wishes it was actually a truck. You hear whispering around you until a match ignites and lights a candle in front of you. You were then greeted to masked hooded figures with strange symbols on their clothes and body’s that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Are you ready little lamb?” The hooded figure in front of you asked that sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine. You began to weakly thrash as your eyes dart around the room-taking in all blood stained paintings among the walls, body parts on display for the world to see and were still dripping with blood. All the other hooded figure’s eyes were on you and that’s when you realized; you’re in a cult, but not as a member…you were being sacrificed.

“Come now, don’t be scared…” The hooded figure in-front of you said as they slowly pulled out a knife whose handle was coated in pure gold that seemed to have never been cleaned. You couldn’t help but wonder how many innocent people they sacrificed for whatever god or…creature they worship.

“You’re going to make the world so much better…” Another cult member said as they walked over with a book in hand, slowly opening up and trying to look for the right page. Other cult members circled you. The hooded figure in-front of you took the sacrificial knife and cut your thigh open. You let out muffled cries of pain through tape muffling your mouth. The other cult members one by one dipped their fingers into your open wound and used your blood to start drawing a pentagram on the ground. You squirmed and screamed in pure agony as they continued to use your blood as nothing but paint to aid them in their fucked up drawing. The hooded figure slowly licked your blood off the dagger with a smirk on their face. They watch tears stream down your face and dripping off your chin.

“Shhh…” The hooded figure was quick to hush you as they were given a strange book by another cult member.

“Quiet now and be still, it’ll all be over soon little lamb.” The hooded figure reassured you, but you weren’t reassured at all. No one sane was here to witness your death. No one outside could hear you scream. No one knew where you are. No one is going to come to save you. You closed your eyes as you began to hear the cult chant. Maybe if you closed your eyes hard enough, you’d wake up back in your bed. Back at your rundown apartment and hearing the rain hit the roof and drip into a bucket in the corner of your room, but that hope vanished as you felt the blade press against your neck-only bearly grazing your skin. This was it. You were going to die.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Then It was quiet…and cold. Was this it? Were you finally dead? No. You could still feel and hear your heart pounding in your chest, you could feel the blood still gushing out of your thigh, your limbs burning from the ropes rubbing against them, and your head was still throbbing, but you could no longer feel the blade-just the small graze on your neck from it. You were afraid to open your eyes at first. Would the cult still be there? Are they just waiting for you to open your eyes so they could see the life drain out of them? You were hesitant at first, but slowly opened one eye before opening the others. You immediately regretted it. You were met with dozens of mutilated corpses of the cult members. Some of their bodies were twisted in ways that made them look inhuman. While others were missing all kinds of body parts. Your breathing grew heavy, your skin went pale from both the blood loss and the horror of it all. Your lips parted as you were getting ready to scream again but all that came out was just a choked raspy sob. You then heard voices from afar. Was it the surviving cult members? Maybe the cops? You knew it was a risk but you squirmed around and let out muffled screams to get the voice’s attention, but you were met with figures that weren’t….human. Four demons stood before you. Their features coming to light as they stepped closer to the light of the candles. One demon had a strange short Mohawk with two large horns that curved backwards like a goat’s, two large wings flexing, pointed ears with small hooped earrings at the bottom of them, and a long forked tail that swayed back and forth.

“Och, looks lik' we forgot yin. Ah jalouse oor master left us a bawherr plaything…” The demon that the other demons called ‘Soap’ or Johnny said. His accent was so thick that you couldn’t quite make any of his words out.

“God are succubuses always this horny?” Another demon spoke up. This demon was wingless, and had more snake like features, he had ram-like horns that curved downwards and a tail with a snake’s head at the end of it. This demon goes by Gaz.

“Quiet ya muppets.” This demon’s voice was deep and booming. He had crackled horns that curled outwards like a bull, large wings that are torn at the webbing with the upper half of a human skull that coved his face. The skull wielded demon was only ever called Ghost.

“Ah, relax Ghost, we just havin’ a we bit of fun.” The succubus smirked. His words becoming a bit more clearer to your ears as he crouches down in front of you. You flinch and squirm as the demon licks at the deep cut in your thigh.

“Wheres our bloody master anywa-“ The succubus was cut off by getting yanked by the horns and shoved away. A low hiss escapes his lips as the fourth and final demon approaches and kneels down before you.

“Right here.” He says bluntly. His voice gruff and cold which sent shivers down your spine as he moves your head to the side-taking a look at a strange symbol that somehow appeared on the side of your neck. This demon didn’t really have as much demonic features as the others, he seemed the most..human looking besides a pair of horns, sharp fangs and…white feather patches here and there on his body. The three other demons call this one Price. He seemed like the head of the group. The leader.

”What? Them!?” Gaz shouts before scanning your form and looking back to Price. “No offense, but they seemed like they were supposed to be our sacrifice.

“Doesn’t matter.” Price says as he pulls the tape from your mouth and cutting through the rope with his clawed hands.

“This is the mark is it not?” Price says as he makes you tilt your head to the side and expose your neck for all the others to see. Their eyes widening at the strange symbol on your neck.*

“Dammit.” Gaz mutters.

“Fecking hell.” Ghost said with a growl, shoving past Soap and Gaz. His large frame towering over you as he watched Price pick you up and carry you bridal style.

“What would you like us to do Master?” Price whispered to you, his voice hushed and his warm breath hitting your ear.

“……M-Master….?” You finally spoke, your works slurring as every thing starts to blur for you. The four demons waited for orders but their eyes widened as you immediately slumped and leaned into Price’s shoulder-burying your face into the crook of his neck as exhaustion had finally taken over. Everything started to go dark from there. Your vision blurred, voices began to muffle. You were finally going to rest. Yes, maybe you can sleep all this away and everything will be back to normal in the morning.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

You begin to stir from your slumber, your heavy eyes slowly scan your surroundings. You’re back in your room.

”…See? Just a dream.” You mumble to yourself with a sluggish smile of relief. It was more like a fucked nightmare but a dream nonetheless. You were about to sit up and stretch when you had a weird feeling washing over you. You felt like you were being watched. The thought of being watched gave you goosebumps along your skin but you tried to blame it on paranoia from the nightmare you just had. You forced yourself to sit up. Your right thigh feeling painfully sore for some reason. You pull the covers off to see what was going on only to find a large gash in your thigh, but it was now all healed and scarred. Your eyes widened as your face paled in horror. It wasn’t a dream, and if it wasn’t a dream then that means-

“No, no, no-“ Suddenly something large jumped onto your bed and slowly crawled on top of you with wings spread out wide and a devilish smirk on its face.

“Good morning Master!” Soap yelled out to you.

[angrelysimpping]

Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway 

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm. 

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others. 

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark. 

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks. 

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum 

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark. 

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks. 

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks. 

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you? 

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs. 

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse. 

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria. 

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark. 

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out? 

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you. 

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand. 

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting. 

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action. 

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you. 

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax. 

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar. 

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you. 

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise. 

Doren 

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist. 

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable. 

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw. 

Don’t touch their marks. 

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped. 

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what. 

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers. 

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan 

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine. 

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all. 

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it. 

Also not big on touching your marks, either. 

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times. 

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks. 

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital. 

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching. 

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow. 

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks. 

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks. 

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton 

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark. 

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong  with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play. 

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck. 

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school. 

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke. 

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe. 

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist. 

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern. 

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake. 

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks. 

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker. 

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks. 

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest. 

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement. 

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas. 

Sydney 

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips. 

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks. 

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh. 

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks. 

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone. 

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public. 

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark. 

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed. 

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's. 

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily. 

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks. 

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home. 

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time. 

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely. 

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity: 

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity: 

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery