#to name a few that come to mind immediately

[partiallysame]

Price's lil wife and how Poly!141 began

Price knew the conversation was going to happen the second he saw the way his men looked at you and the blush it caused on your cheeks. Insatiable was always a word he’d use to describe his sweet wife, so you asking for his men to join in the bedroom was truly no surprise. John Price trusted the 141 with his life and it wasn’t a big jump to also trust them with his wife. The only thing that made him nervous was you getting too attached. They had a dangerous job and more often than not, soldiers don’t come back home. The thought of your face when he’d have to deliver the news to you that one of them was gone, terrified him. But what shook him to his core was him not returning to you. He printed out his letter of resignation everytime the thought crossed his mind but he’s yet to turn it in. However the idea of you having his men, a support system, people to love you the way he did if he were to ever not return to you was all the convincing he needed.

You and Price discussed how to talk to the 141 about what you wanted. You thought Price should bring it up with them and he thought it needed to come from you. Weeks of you trying to hint that you wanted them to fuck you failed. Lingering touches, bedroom eyes, innuendos, anything you could think of to get them to touch you without just coming out to say it and you were getting frustrated. Begging your husband to talk to his team. Safe to say he was reluctant. They are a team, yes, but they don’t talk about feelings and shit like that. What's he even supposed to say?  So it came out awkward and harsh and accusatory. The 141 sitting in Price’s truck on their way to their weekly dinner at your house and he just blurts out

“Do you wanna fuck my wife?” The chorus of “No captain” was immediate, the men panicking, clutching their pearls thinking Price was going to drive them off a cliff because, yes they did. It was all they thought about. You underneath each of them, moaning their names like they’ve heard you moan Price’s. 

“Oh.” Price let out a small sigh. “The Missus is going to be real disappointed then.” Wait what? No one knew how to respond. Thoughts racing about the last few months of you practically throwing yourself at them. They could have acted on that????? Why didn’t you tell them? 

“You wanna elaborate on that Cap’n?” Ghost broke the silence. 

“Nope. Gonna make the Missus do that” 

The second they entered your home, you knew they knew. Three sets of predatory eyes on you, but somehow also looking genuinely surprised. Price walked up to give you a small kiss on your lips before stepping behind you, hands on your waist. “Go ‘head tell ‘em what you want.” 

There you were picture of fucking perfection, sweetest look on your face as you tell them that you don’t like when they leave and how you want them to stay. How you want them to touch you. How you want to make them feel good, feel loved, both in and out of the bedroom. Each of their eyes darting from you to Price. This has to be a cruel fucking joke right. There’s no way he’d share his wife. But their captain is looking at you like you’re his whole world (because you are) and agreeing with everything you’re saying. You finished your speech, half scared the men would run from you, never to be seen again. They all just stood silent until Price added

“Want her taken care of when I’m not here.” To you that meant when he was away but they knew exactly what he meant. This was real. Price let go of you to push you towards the men standing in your living room.  “Our lil Missus eh? Like the sound of that”

Price's lil wife Masterlist

[kabr0ztrousers]

What about a fem waitress/teacher/nurse/other service centered job that is being haunted by a horny exhibitionist ghost that will only touch them in public.

Bonus points if reader gets lured (either fed up with the torment or too cockdrunk to care) into releasing all of the ghost's friends for a ghost orgy

Kabr0z Writes Episode 39: Haunting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: ghosts; public use; noncon; free use; creampie; group sex; possession; pregnancy mention

A/N: Back to requests today, and back to ghosts too, which I'm sure is welcome news to some of you

As always, if you have any requests for any situations, kinks, or revisits then please drop me a DM asking for what you want and I'll most likely write it sooner or later

###############################

The café was always a little haunted, the odd thing moving here or there, the occasional flickering of the lights, unexplained cold spots, nothing major. That was, of course, until Othello turned up.

You weren't sure what was happening at first, it was a normal shift waiting tables, taking orders, business as usual. You bent over to clean a table when a hand cupped your ass. When you turned to confront whoever touched you, nobody was there. You shrugged and carried on working, maybe you imagined it? A couple of hours later you were working the cash register and felt something squeezing your tits, pinching the nipples through your bra. That's when you realised this was probably a ghost.

You shook yourself. Whoever it is, they're probably not going to be around long, and it's hardly the first time someone's been a bit handsy with you. You do work hospitality after all.

You ran off a little of the receipt paper and jotted down your question: "Who are you?"

Setting the pen and paper aside, you got back to it. You even got a few minutes of reprieve as well before spectral hands started stroking your waist, one unclasping your bra as you walked back behind the counter. In a neat copperplate hand, the spirit had answered your question. Its name was Othello.

There wasn't time to dwell on it, the lunchtime rush was about to start.

Your first couple of tables were fine. It's amazing how quickly you adapt to the roving hands of the unqiet dead when you have to. The next one was a little trickier.

The hands started off squeezing your ass, but one slid around your front and pressed up against your pussy. You felt your skin redden as you started to trip over your words. The men on the table looked quizzically at you, but didn't say anything. The other hand started feeling your cunt too, spectral fingers parting the lips of your pussy as more lazily toyed with your clit. You dropped your pen, crouching to pick it up. Your reward was for two fingers to push inside, immediately aiming for your g-spot as the the ghost continued to abuse your clit.

You bit your tongue to stifle a yelp, only half-succeeding. The men were definitely staring at you now as you half-waddled away from their table, conscious of the arousal dripping from you, soaking your underwear and running down your leg.

You scribbled another message "knock it off, asshole" putting down the paper and walking away.

The fingers came back almost immediately. You felt a hand trace two letters on your back. "No"

The rest of the rush was a stagger, taking every measure of your composure not to give in to the insistent hands rubbing your cunt, pushing fingers into you, toying constantly with your clit. You lasted most of the way through, only one table left before you could lock the door, take a break and recover yourself. A couple of men who work in a nearby office block, one blonde, one dark haired.

You took their order, face burning up and voice quivering. You could hear a wet stirring sound coming from your cunt and smell yourself, the way they were looking at you made you think they could too. Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you turned to ring up their order. Othello tripped you, sending you sprawling. Your concentration lapsed a moment, letting a moan escape your lips and your back arch, showing your soaked panties to the two men.

You heard them get up before you scurried away into a back room, locking the door behind you. A semi-transparent figure hung there, glowing softly in the dark room.

"What's the big idea?" You spat at the ghost "Who knows what they would've done?"

"I wanted to get you alone" His voice sounded like he was at the bottom of a deep, dry well "Look in the box"

You looked where he was pointing, the lost and found box. On the top, nested on a hoodie someone had left a month ago, was a heart-shaped silver locket. You picked it up, the smooth metal much colder on your skin than it should be

"Open it" Othello's excited voice called to you from just over your shoulder

You unfastened the clasp, the locket fell open. A faintly-glowing cloud poured from it, flowing into Othello and forming two more spectres beside him. All three of them were much more visible now: three men, each around six feet tall. One reached out and opened the door behind you as another pushed you out. The light of the café made them hard to see, but their hands were solid as they manhandled you to a table. The office workers stared at you as the ghosts bent you over the table, pulling your soaked underwear to one side and hiking up your skirt.

The first ghost lined himself up with your cunt and forced his cock inside. Their laughter filled the room as he mercilessly pounded you, each thrust forcing a yelp out of you.

You could hear the other men walking over, moving slowly as the ghost fucked you, clearly not sure what they were seeing. They stood behind you, watching as the first ghost reached his orgasm, pumping his load into you before stepping aside for the next.

The second ghost wasn't any gentler, forcing himself into you using the first one's cum as lube, pressing his fingers into your clit and rubbing you to an orgasm around him as he buried himself in you. The office workers walked around the table to where your head lay, the edge rubbing on your cheek bone.

They got their cocks out and forced your mouth open, taking turns fucking your face and groping the sides of your tits as the ghosts held you down. The second ghost finished in you and the third took his place as the two men kept your mouth busy. This ghost took his time, running his hands over your waist and your hips, feeling every inch of your skin as he rutted into you. The office workers were getting close, you could taste the precum flowing out of them as they alternated thrusting down your throat. The dark haired one held you down. You gagged as he filled your mouth with cum, thrusting down into you for good measure, despite already being balls-deep. You gasped for breath when he pulled out, only for the blonde one to do the same, roughly fucking your throat until he pulled out and painted your face with it, slathering you with a mix of spit and semen. They put themselves away and left before the ghost and finished, making sure to be gone before you could get up.

You felt the ghost start throbbing inside you, pulsing his cum into your punished womb, mingling with his friends.

They left you on the table when they'd finished. Your legs shaking, tears and cum in your eyes. Othello pulled you up from the table, holding you from behind as another placed the locket around your neck.

You felt as though you were watching a film. You could still see everything, hear, touch, taste, but your movements weren't yours any more. You watched as you removed the stained and sodden knickers from between your legs. Your body moved unbidden, leaving the café and locking the door behind you. Your lungs filled with the outside air as you watched yourself walk down the street

"Don't worry" Othello's voice sounded in your head "We'll give your body back, just maybe a little more pregnant"

#######################################

A/N: Not sure how well this one turned out, but there's certainly room to expand this if needed.

Once again, any requests will probably be written, so if you want something: drop me an ask or a DM and I'll do what I can!

[lvrrgirlll]

2019 patrick x miss honey coded/kindergarten teacher reader

In a moment of desperation from both of you, you two resort to Tinder. He was looking for a place to stay, too broke to afford even the cheapest motel. You were looking for some company, desperately lonely in your own personal life even in spite of the fulfillment you felt from your job.

When he asked you to meet for drinks, you felt somewhat wary, never one to drink much, but agreed anyways. You were too lonely to refuse. Upon meeting him, you were surprised, but you knew you shouldn’t have been. His profile told you everything you needed to know. He was scruffy, seemingly polite, though he cussed like a sailor, and he obviously wanted to sleep with you. But it had been so long since that had even happened for you… and you couldn’t deny it was nice to feel wanted.

Of course, you ended up taking him home. He let out a laugh, mostly out of surprise, when he saw the literal cottage you lived in. He marveled at the live flowers around your home and the eclectic interior. That is, before he kissed you as if he was never going to let go.

That was Saturday night. He had slept over, of course, that being his plan all along. Sunday morning you were up before 10am reading with a glass of tea while his toned body laid asleep in your bed. When he finally woke, you offered him tea and a croissant. He eventually asked you the questions that had been pressing on his mind, namely why you dressed ‘like you were going to church.’ Of course, you answered that you were a kindergarten teacher, which he said ‘made a lot of sense.’

That evening he explained his circumstances, you, of course, taking pity on him for having to sleep in his car, and offering he stay for the rest of the challenger. You told him it didn’t come with a price though. He originally was excited, thinking you meant sex, but he was disillusioned when you put him to work on ribbon garlands. “They’re for my class! I showed them a tiny one and they loved it so I said I’d make big ones to put around the classroom.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. He found your dedication sweet. You showed him pictures of your class and told him about all the wild, funny things the kids said, while he worked diligently on the garland. Neither of you realized but you had been chatting and working till 3am, the smoke of your cinnamon scented candle putting itself out as it drown in wax alerting you two. At one point you had dozed off, your head in Patrick’s lap, and he just didn’t have the heart to wake you. When you did wake up, immediately getting back to work, you chastised him for letting you get ‘sidetracked’ by sleep, to which he just chuckled.

When you did finally go to bed, you had thankfully finished the garland and could relax comfortably in Patrick’s arms, even if you would have to go work in only a few hours. You thought you could get used to this.

[mihii-i]

swim.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, misogynistic views, bc edo japan ueee, mention of abuse cause that’s what taigen’s fuckass dad did, he/him used for mizu in some dialogue, mention of prostitution, taigen being a moron, storyline dragged on for a few more days longer than usual, taigen doesnt meet mizu after the four fangs fight so storyline change, soft mizu ueee, slight violence, mizu ily please come home our kids don’t have names they’re all just named fuckface and numbered 1 through 4, not proofread.

A/N: I was listening to swim while writing my this so I’m making the title and scattering a few references here and there. Now playing: Swim - Chase Atlantic. @nomnai sorry I couldn’t directly respond to the request tumblr was being dumb :( 🕯️

Your memory was all too clear.

The familiar briny odor of fish stinging your nostrils as your father’s sharp tongue continued to loop in a disturbing resonance over and over in the back of your mind, teeth gritting at the mere thought of his demands echoing against your skull. His face was frightening to say the least, you were surprised at how exactly you kept on your unfazed expression in that moment, sure that tears threatened to spill out as his venomous tone rang in your ears.

—

Thumb gently tracing along the cool rim of the cup, your eyes flickered downwards into your lap to cast out into the body of cerulean water outstretched past you in a swish of warm waves below the glinting, pale light of the sun. Filtering out your father’s harsh reprimands blowing against your face, you merely fixed your attention on the wooden teacup fit between your palms, stroking it in gentle motions along the smoothed out ridges as you caught sight of your reflection in the powdery green of the tea. Not a drop drank from the cup.

“For gods sake (Name)…I don’t know how many times I must plead you to be wed! Do you know how shameful it is for me to have an unmarried daughter especially at your age!?”

A soft huff lifted off your chest as you breathed through your nose in silence, averting your gaze from your father as you continued to regard the bitter way he spat as nothing more than white noise drowned by the kicks of fish swimming about, splashing each speck of water onto the land nearby.

“…Father? With all due respect, I’d prefer not to-“

The fury in his voice cutting you off was enough to make you truncate your words almost immediately in a halt.

“Useless girl. You have but one job, and it is to marry to a decent man, the one who was willing to marry you! Your brother is setting his foot down into greatness, and here you are as a worthless child who hasn’t even accomplished the simplest of what I ask!”

You nearly flinched at the mere rage your father displayed right in front of you, face twisted in displeasure as the heel of his heel violently dug into the flimsy wood of a crate, splinters of oak and shreds of uncut bark splaying across the space around you. This wasn’t exactly a new occurrence that unfolded before you. Your father had lost his temper countless times for years, often taking out on you or Taigen in a physical manner.

It was quite a horrific sight to behold now that you thought back on it…the overwhelming stench of cod reeking from the callouses of his knuckles, outlining against his skin as he balled it up into a fist as a means to inflict blooming, purple bruises onto his own flesh and blood. Often times, Taigen was the one subject to your father’s relentless bearings, due to him being older and the only son. Frequently, your elder brother emerged from your miniscule home with a small limp dragging one of his limbs down, brushing it off whenever you questioned the purple patches littered along the light tan of his arm.

Your eyes split open almost as soon as you closed them, apprehensive at the familiar touch brushing along your collarbone. You were certain your father had left so who-

“Our old man giving you trouble again?” Taigen’s voice came out in a quiet laugh as he knelt down beside you, looking down at your lap to catch sight of the untouched cup still brimmed with tea. “It’s cold now, idiot. You should drink it.” You only rolled your eyes in response to his snarky comment, passing along the teacup to him, to which he subconsciously accepted without a second thought, a habit for him at this point to pick up after you in a way.

“You know..he’s right. You should be married by now. I mean I’m not gonna be around forever since I’m marrying Akemi, so I can’t carry out what you need, and you’ll need another man in your life apart from your own brother.” Taigen’s voice dimmed with each word he uttered, lips downturned as they tugged deeper into a stern frown. To which you retorted in an almost snappy voice.

“What good is marriage if I don’t even know him? I’ll have everything I want but at what cost? Having to please him every night? Endure his beatings like I have with our father for as long as I love now?”

Taigen could only muster up a sigh as his hand rested on his hip, running along the frail sheathe of the katana, cloaking the blade.

“Suit yourself. I’ve already become great. It’s you who’s the failure right now.”

—

Firmly tightening your fingers into your scalp, your eyes darted in each piled corner of the city, ankles draped deep in the thick blanket of crystal snow swallowing up your feet with each step you took to trudge along in a drawn out path. Apprehension was but a natural response to the situation at hand, the malice of thoughts that swirled in your head biting along any semblance of sanity you had maintained throughout this hellish life you were forced to endure. Thinking about your father’s outburst to your rejection of marriage at the mere familiar scent of cod from the markets? You seriously couldn’t escape the filth that you had been plunged in all your life.

Strangely enough, you were grateful Taigen had brought you with him to Kyoto, intending on meeting with both Akemi and her father—whom he served under. Thinking back, you couldn’t exactly help but remember the thin layer of sweat showered along your throat in the cold weather from the guard eyeing you up and down, inspecting Taigen’s travel pass precisely before letting you both pass through. Yet considering that you never got to travel, it was indeed a new experience for you to land upon, stepping foot in a different part of Japan other than Kohama or the areas near it.

The frosted notes of cool air seeped onto your tongue, slipping through the openings of your chapped lips while you pushed past the traffic of people crowding the city. Your eyes lingered onto Taigen’s form, walking side by side with Daichi Tokunobu’s daughter herself, laughing with their arms hooked into one another’s in a tight coil. Seriously. You couldn’t fathom how your own brother was able to elevate himself to such heights. First climbing his way up to greatness down the long, rocky path of a samurai, and now being engaged to the lord’s daughter?

He truly was great. Worked himself from the bottom up.

And you were a failure.

You were..

“Excuse me.”

The sudden low voice abruptly halting your train of thought, resonating behind you in an intimidating, yet strangely smooth voice vibrating against his throat. You reclined your neck over, cheek squished to your shoulder as you glanced over at the tall man behind you, a cloak bunched up over his shoulders as his orange glasses shielded his eyes in a near opaque tint. Blinking in confusion, you studied him up and down, taking note of his rather odd appearance as you briefly tensed up at a stranger suddenly coming up behind you in surprise.

Was he here to hurt you? Would it be best to run? Would-

“Do you have any information on the whereabouts of the Shindo dojo?”

Well, now you know that he was probably just lost.

Your mouth hung dry as you scrambled to compose yourself from the presumptive accusations you directed toward him in haste, stumbling over your words with each sentence you tried to sputter out. Drawing in a breath, you breathed out in a shaky voice, finally responding despite the sheer embarrassment gnawing away at you right now, pleading you to just bury yourself into the snow and never come out.

“A-Ah..no I don’t. Sorry..”

He let out a hum of what you could only infer to be disappointment, alongside a small nod as his head lowered in a brief apology for taking up your time. A small strand of raven hair strung down left of his forehead, glasses tipped to the bridge of his nose in a small click from the weight of the lenses shifting down. Eyes gently rising open, your breath caught in your throat at the glimpse caught, the man’s irises piercing into you menacingly as the cool blue drowned you in your own blood from the sheer shock coursing through you.

It was hard to help. Especially after what many have told you. You couldn’t help that you were a bit frightened by his eyes, an unnatural hint of color that nobody ever held from the taboo nature of the color stemming from those who were barred from ever stepping foot past the closed borders of the nation. Drawing in a breath, you eased yourself that he was harmless, forcing yourself to lock your eyes onto his for atleast a little while. Honestly, it wasn’t particularly the color that frightened you…simply the pure hate stirred behind them, engulfing anything in sight in a tempest of hate.

It reminded you of a creature your father used to tell you about.

What was it’s name again? Right. An onryō.

Of course, you didn’t dare to mention that to the stranger, only staring off in shock as he pivoted away until the view of his back became smaller and smaller in the distance. Just being at a loss for words at the peculiar encounter, you ran your index finger along the smooth lids of your eye, pressing it in to shove away the exhaustion creeping up on you so early in the day. Perhaps it would be best to eat and then rest for the day, Kyoto certainly has quite a few inns around, and you’d just wait for Taigen to return with his princess.

—

“God, Taigen. You look like shit.” You mumbled under your breath, yet still loud enough for him to hear as his knelt form tensed in his aggravated state beside you. It was a widespread rumor all across Kyoto now, one that passed around like wildfire, and became well known to the supposed ‘massacre’ that had occurred within the Shindo dojo. Taigen’s weakened state alongside the clean cut of his hair shredded off his head only confirmed the ongoing rumors, which in turn tore down his pride shamefully, his marriage into the Tokunobu clan now null and void.

A low rumble, nearly identical to the grinding of stone burned in Taigen’s throat, his teeth grit and scraping against one another as he was unable to maintain even an ounce of poise at the implications of his dignity being torn away. Not only did this rogue samurai shatter the streak of wins he had worn himself to work towards, but he had also left Taigen with his life—a humiliating way to finish the battle as he now wallowed in his shame among many. A dishonor that he was left to live after a battle rather than dying with even an ounce of honor preserved.

“That damned demon. Why didn’t he just kill me?”

You spat in annoyance at his endless rambling about the devilish nature of his opponent. Despite feeling sorry for your brother in the state of humiliation he was drowned in, you couldn’t help but slump against a nearby wall at his constant strings of rage spewed out.

“I shouldn’t even dare to show my face around Japan anymore. Perhaps I should just kill myself now.” Taigen hissed, the bitter resignation in his tone nearly making you drop your attitude toward him.

“Well don’t. You could-“

“I don’t need you thinking what’s best for me, (Name)!”

You paused, eyes wide at his enraged reply.

“Taigen. Even if you see no meaning in living, who the hell is gonna look after me after? Our father certainly won’t, and some random men might try to take advantage of me. Is that what you want?”

“Let them then.” Taigen replied, his voice laced with nothing but pure hatred.

“W-What..?”

“I said let them! I’m the one who’s great! You’re just a failure who couldn’t even do the simple task of getting married! At this point, just sell yourself in a brothel if you have nothing better to do. No sister of mine orders me what to do, understood?”

You choked up your next words, head in a whirlwind of disdain as you seethed with anger. Impossible to believe your brother was so far gone that he wished a dreadful life upon his younger sister.

No matter now. Let him have what he deserves.

Unable to even process how quickly he exited the room, you sat there in silence with nothing but your own thoughts, the ambience of the room being nothing but the violent winds swirling outside. Atleast you had some peace and quiet away from him, attempting to push aside the hurtful words that Taigen had seared into your chest earlier. It wasn’t all wrong was it? You couldn’t even marry a man your father wanted, such a simple request that was your only obligation in life. And what were you afraid of? A loveless marriage? Silly girl..people never marry for love.

A sigh of resignation exited your lips as you reminisced on the eventful day, now crowned by nightfall. Perhaps you truly had no purpose in life. Considering there was no reason to be here any longer, wandering alone might be the best option for you, as you had utterly failed as a daughter, and as a woman.

In the depths of your crumbled life, there was no other alternative. The water was only getting colder, and there was no way back up out of what you had dug yourself into through countless refusals.

—

“Can’t sleep?”

Mizu’s voice snapped you out of your daze, your gaze shifting over to her laying on her side next to you, her weight burdened onto the arm she was laying atop. You shook your head, groggily batting your lashes as you positioned yourself closer to her, earning a quiet hum of approval from her. The rugged, yet soft fabric of her kimono grazed your hand in the wake of her touch, providing a sliver of warmth in protection from the sting of cold.

Within the span of a day or two, you found yourself stumble into the same blue eyed man—well, woman, from what you recently found out—that you had encountered back in Kyoto. Despite dismissively brushing you off upon your initial run in with her, Mizu eventually found herself uncharacteristically basking in the pleasure of your company, opening up a bit more to you and growing somewhat attached, yet remaining closed off.

As to how you had ended up here, you had wandered aimlessly from Kyoto ever since you pondered upon your relevance in life. Taigen was probably worried sick about you, unable to find you anywhere in the flooding crowds of the city. Fate had definitely laid out a path for you to run into the strange samurai, especially when you stopped before a waterfall to quench your thirst in the overtaking darkness of night. Only to stumble upon a familar set of blue eyes fixed on you apprehensively, the tip of the blade pointed directly toward your throat at a thankfully safe distance. And maybe something else that..weren’t her eyes which you shouldn’t have looked down at. At least a woman saw her first before Ringo followed suit moments later, eyes fixed on both of you in shock before catching sight of Mizu’s nude body in surprise.

Despite her despising the presence of you and Ringo constantly tailing her, she found herself oddly drawn to you, even quicker than she warmed up even a little to Ringo. It was perplexing, how could she take longer to accept a kind and polite man who was willing to help, yet soften at the presence of a snarky woman with a flippant attitude which many have found unbecoming of a ‘future wife.’

Mizu’s arm lazily draped over the curve of your waist, her thumb tracing the wave where your hips reside in gentle circles. She sucked in a breath as you nuzzled closer to her side, the pressure straining the stitches of her wound scarred along her body, a quiet groan hitching out of her throat as you pushed yourself a bit too close.

“Sorry..”

“It’s fine.” Mizu assured you, voice still stern, yet not annoyed or anything of the sort. The recent few days with her were honestly better than anything that you had been put through in the hell of a life that had its iron grip on you back in Kohama. Hand resting atop hers, you notice how Mizu finally mustered up the courage to whisper out a couple words, her skin pressed against yours as your fingertips ran along the calloused roughness of her palm, worn down from the countless years of ironwork and brutal training.

“Did you ever think I was a monster?”

“Hm? Why would I do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She sneered, gesturing to her own eyes peeking up at you from a low angle. Only the water beholded such a unique tint which she had dusted along the cloudy exhaustion of her irises, the stress lines stemming from the corner of her eyes only defining the little pools of water you could drown in. Or rather, swim in. You did want to give a piece of yourself for her trust, keep her comfortable around you for the sake of…hell, you didn’t know. You just..kind of cared about her.

Was this a sort of sisterly bond you had formed with her? You didn’t exactly have many interactions with other women growing up after all.

No, it couldn’t possibly be that. Maybe something a little more.

Suddenly, an abrupt crunch echoed in the rustling bushes of the clearing, the warm fire flickering rapidly in alarm while Mizu immediately jolted up. Her hand almost immediately flew down to grip her katana tightly, head spinning around in a hyper aware state of her surroundings in the rising anticipation building up within her. You followed suit, eyes darting back in forth in an attempt to catch someone in your periphery within the clearing while the rustling endlessly persisted, gradually taking on footsteps in tandem.

The minute the figure burst through the bushes, your jaw hung open at the sight of your brother skidding to a halt, hand on his blade as well as he stood before Mizu in rage. Taigen’s expression fell dark at the sight of you shifting behind Mizu, the familar sight of his sister flooding him with an overtake of confusion rather than joy. Especially on seeing her huddling behind the very man who had humiliated him and stripped away his honor. Taigen felt sick at the sight of you clinging onto Mizu like some source of protection, swallowing back a lump in his throat as his gaze stabbed through Mizu’s straight into her deadpan eyes.

“What are you doing with him?” Taigen seethed, his shoulders rising and falling from the sight of Mizu beside you alone. The overwhelming urge to just draw his blade and stab her eyes out screamed at him, wanting to just sever Mizu’s head and present it before his lord as a means to restore his marriage and such. However, that would put him on the same level as this demon, his intrusive throughts followed up by a scoff as he sized her tall stature up and down.

“I just left. I didn’t want to get married so..”

“Do you know what this man did to me?!”

“Enlighten me, Taigen.”

Taigen’s fists balled up as he recounted the memory, his shortened hair tickling his neck serving as a source to that memory plaguing him like a pest.

“He’s the one that destroyed my honor! Ruined my life, and me!”

Your eyebrows raised in slight surprise as you looked over at Mizu, who was only unamused by Taigen’s incessant whining. You weren’t even upset, more so applauding Mizu for humbling your mess of a brother.

“Oh, he cut off your chignon? Wait- don’t tell me Akemi left you cause of your ugly bald spo-“

“It was because he didn’t kill me!”

Mizu’s gaze only flickered back and forth between this ridiculous conversation, a quizzical look etched onto her features as her eyebrows furrowed to confirm this sudden revalation.

“He’s your brother?”

You nodded, almost ashamed for his violent behavior toward Mizu as your fingers dug unto the fabric clothed along her shoulder.

“Unfortunately. Sorry about him.”

“Hey. Do you know how worried sick I’ve been about you in Kyoto?! Pacing back and forth only to find you involved with this stray dog?”

“Really? I thought I was a burden to you, and I should just sell myself into a brothel.” You remarked, referencing his earlier words and causing him to stumble within his thoughts.

“Look. I was frustrated, alright? But that gives you no excuse to hang around this fucking-!”

“Shut up..please. I don’t like you talking about him like that.”

Mizu’s lips barely curved up into a tiny smile for a brief moment, leaving as quick as it appeared. Her heart warmed within her bound chest at your words with an unfamiliar wash of newfound fondness ignited within her, the waves of the raging storm within her subsiding to a cool, shallow wave, lapping at the shore in tranquility rather than the usual disdain and violence she held within her. For once in her life after quite some time, she withheld that anger bubbling within her, giving way to the gentle embrace of the praises you kept within you about her rolling off your tongue like fine silk.

—

“You know, you picked a ridiculous master. But you take good care of him.” Taigen remarked towards Ringo as the rice ball rested in his hand, his teeth digging into the snack before swallowing the bite he chewed down. He turned his attention to you, the three of you trailing behind Mizu on horseback, engaging in a conversation which was mostly just Taigen speaking ill of Mizu. “And you, my dear younger sister with awful taste in men. What do you see in him that makes him worth traveling behind, huh?”

You simply cast an annoyed stare in his direction, unamused with his remarks turning passive aggressive when you attempted to reason with him to cease his verbal onslaughts toward Mizu.

“Maybe I just like him because he’s nice to be around, ever thought of that?”

“He’s a half breed piece of shit who only charges in like an idiotic-!”

“Taigen.”

He bit back his words at your reminder, grumbling to himself in annoyance as his head snapped back foward to keep note of Mizu’s direction. Not wanting to hear his comments, you simply hitched your horse to catch up to Mizu, pacing side by side with her as she fixed her gaze on you with a sweet smile. Hm, you liked her smile. And you’re glad she’s been doing it more often recently.

“Is he giving you trouble again?”

“No. Just how we always were as kids.”

“..I knew him as a kid too.”

You looked over, surprised as the comment she made in a low, unfeeling voice, stringing more information out of her as you begged her to elaborate silently.

“How come?”

“He chased and threw rocks at me as a child. Sometimes even beat me.” She revealed, her voice seemingly quiet and neutral, yet accompanied by a small somber hint from the way she visibly swallowed upon recalling the memory.

“Wow..he sucked that much? I’ll…be sure to berate him over it then.”

Mizu let out a small chuckle in response, finger twitching as you caught notice of her hand brushing over the head of her horse in your direction, yet retracting it. Exhaling at the gesture, you extended your arm over her horse, your free hand still maneuvering your own horse as you steered a bit closer to her. Your hand finally drifted over atop hers, gently clasping your fingers between the gaps of her fingers. It was clear what you wanted to do—wanting her to let down her walls in front of you, trust you with her heart which you’d cradle between your cusped hands the utmost care.

You wanted to drown in the ocean which was the tempestuous flood raging about in the depths of her mind and soul, running your palm against the familiar concept of water from where you were raised. Rather, embracing the waters swallowing you up in the pit of the blue oceanic embrace.

You wanted her to let you in her ocean.

And perhaps this one time, she was okay with that.

A/N: OH MY GOD I AM SO FRUSTRATED @nomnai SORRY I COULDNT DO YOUR REQUEST WITHOUT SCREENSHOTTING BECAUSE TUMBLR IS BEING AN ABSOLUTE WHORE AND IT KEEPS SAYING “erm actually ur ask doesn’t work so haha” EVERY SINGLE TIME BUT IT WOKED ON BROWSERR AND I HATE BROWSER SO FUCK YOU TUMBLR

Anyway I did NOT feel like writing nsfw today and I have a headache and I want the fucking Amazon blue eye samurai shirt also thanks for specifying OUR wife I cannot not deal with these greedy hos thank yew

hey I made something for this fic

[ilovegyokeres]

do part 2 of Celebrity Crush with their dinner and then developing into a secret relationship, him posting her music/film, with her going to the stadium to watch him play and then the public becoming suspicious. it would be cool to have photos on IG of when they came out and maybe Kenan won a championship and she went to hug him on the field 😩 definitely a slow one with cute moments

The phone buzzed again. It was nearly midnight on your end, and you were sitting cross-legged on your couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket. The late-night calmness had settled over your apartment, but your mind was anything but calm.

You’d just finished a long day of work, but no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to Kenan. His messages. The fact that you were actually talking to him. It had only been a few days since your Tonight Show interview aired, but in that time, your social media had exploded, and somehow, amidst all the chaos, he’d found his way into your DMs.

You had to admit: you were addicted to the conversations.

Kenan Yıldız: What time is it over there?

You smiled to yourself as you typed back.

You: Almost midnight. What about you?

Kenan Yıldız: Morning. Just got out of training.

The message was pretty standard, yet you couldn’t help but feel a little spark at the thought of him training hard on the other side of the world. You quickly typed:

You: Shouldn't you be, like… resting?

The reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting for it.

Kenan Yıldız: Shouldn't you be sleeping?

You laughed quietly to yourself. You had barely even realized how late it was.

You: Touché.

Another pause. You could feel your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, and you started typing again, trying to force your nerves into something else.

You: Can't sleep. Just one of those nights.

A few seconds passed, and you stared at the screen, the dots bouncing.

Kenan Yıldız: Same.

That was it. A simple message, but it held so much meaning. You wondered, for just a moment, if he was saying something more than just the words. The shared sentiment was clear. The more you thought about it, the more the weight of it sank in.

You wanted to say something, but before you could, his next message popped up.

Kenan Yıldız: Wanna call?

Your heart skipped.

A call? You hadn't expected that. Your thumb hovered over the screen for what felt like an eternity. Your breath hitched, and you suddenly realized how exposed you felt. It wasn’t just a regular conversation anymore. This was Kenan.

You tried to play it cool. You told yourself you didn’t need to jump into anything. But when you looked at your phone, the nervousness crept in. What if you said something dumb? What if you didn’t know what to say? The whole situation felt so… real now.

His next message made you hesitate even more:

Kenan Yıldız: Or we can just text. Whatever you want.

You swallowed hard. You had already come this far. You didn’t want to back out now. FaceTime—that was the next step, right? If you didn’t do it now, you might never get the chance again.

You: FaceTime.

Your fingers hit the send button before you could think better of it. And almost immediately, you regretted it. Was that too forward? Were you rushing things?

And then, your phone started to ring.

Your stomach flipped as you saw the name. Kenan Yıldız.

You took a deep breath, quickly smoothing out your hair and making sure you didn’t look like a total disaster before swiping to accept the call.

The screen flashed, and then there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In your phone.

He was lying back against what looked like a bed, wearing a plain t-shirt, his hair a little messy from training. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other in silence.

You could feel the nerves creeping in, but you didn’t want to look away first.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft, almost like he’d been waiting for this moment too.

You swallowed, still trying to play it cool. “Hi.”

“Didn’t think you’d actually say yes,” he teased, the familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Well, I figured… I couldn’t keep avoiding it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding it? I wasn’t going to bite.”

“No, not that,” you rushed to clarify. “I just… I didn’t know if I was ready for an actual call, you know?”

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I get it. But you’re here now.”

There was a beat of silence, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. Being on a call with someone you’d only ever seen on TV or social media was surreal. It felt different, but also more real than anything you’d done with him before.

“So,” he started, shifting a little to sit up. “What’s the deal with all the edits? I swear I’ve seen enough memes of me and you together to last a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on that going viral.”

“I saw the interview, and I’ll admit—I was flattered. Didn’t know I had that kind of effect.” His tone was playful, but there was something in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t just joking.

You smiled, trying to ignore the warmth that spread across your cheeks. “You should be flattered. You’re Kenan Yıldız.”

He chuckled, but there was a noticeable softness in his voice when he spoke next. “But you’re you. I mean, I’ve been following your work for a while.”

You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. He’d been following your work?

“You’ve been… following me?”

He looked away briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. A fan of yours, actually.”

Your heart skipped.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” His smile widened, and he leaned forward slightly, as though he was trying to close the distance between you two, even though you were miles apart.

You tried not to get too caught up in the words, but you could feel the chemistry between you two now, even through a phone screen. It was subtle, but it was there.

“So,” he continued, “Tell me more about what you’re working on. What’s next for you?”

You shifted a little, feeling the nerves begin to melt away as you got into something familiar. “Well, I’m actually working on a new movie. It’s a bit of a drama, something I haven’t done before. So, there’s a lot of emotional range involved. It’s kind of scary, actually.”

“Sounds like something I’d watch.” His tone was light, but you could hear the genuine interest in his voice.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’d watch a drama?”

“Depends. If you’re in it, I’d definitely watch.”

The compliment hung in the air, and your heart fluttered just a bit. It wasn’t just flattery. There was a realness to it that made you feel… seen.

“You’re making me blush,” you said, trying to keep things casual, but your cheeks betrayed you, and you could feel the heat creeping up.

Kenan noticed, of course. He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Good.”

For a moment, you both just stayed there, looking at each other. The small talk had shifted to something more personal. Something that felt real.

It had been a few days since the FaceTime call with Kenan. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About him.

Every time you unlocked your phone, your fingers hovered over his name in your messages. You weren’t sure if you were overthinking things or if there was actually something there—something real—between you two.

Since that night, your conversations had been more frequent. It wasn’t just the occasional message here and there anymore. Now, he texted you throughout the day, sometimes just checking in, sometimes sending voice notes, sometimes teasing you about things you’d said on the call.

And the energy between you two had shifted.

The messages were still playful, but there was a new weight behind them.

Like earlier today:

Kenan Yıldız: What are you doing?

You: On set. You?

Kenan Yıldız: Bored. Waiting for training to start.

You: Wow, must be nice to just be bored in Italy.

Kenan Yıldız: Yeah, but you’re not here.

Your breath had caught at that last part. It had been so casual, so smooth, and yet it stuck with you the whole day.

And now, you were lying on your couch again, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, waiting—though you didn’t want to admit it—for him to text.

Then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Kenan Yıldız: Can I call you?

Your stomach flipped. You stared at the message for a second, fingers tightening around the phone. You wanted to answer immediately, but something about how casually he asked made your nerves spike.

Was this becoming… a thing?

You chewed on your lip before finally responding.

You: FaceTime or just a call?

His reply was immediate.

Kenan Yıldız: Your choice.

You hesitated for just a second before your fingers moved on their own.

You: FaceTime.

Not even a full second later, your phone started ringing. You took a deep breath before swiping to accept, and there he was—again.

Kenan was sitting on a couch, looking more relaxed than last time. His hair was slightly damp, probably from a shower, and he was wearing a simple hoodie. The second his face appeared on the screen, the corners of his lips tugged upward in a small smile.

“Hey,” he said.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Hey.”

“You’re making this a habit,” he teased, shifting slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could say the same about you.”

He smirked. “I don’t mind.”

And just like that, the tension settled—familiar, warm, electric.

You tucked your legs beneath you and leaned back into the couch. “So, what’s up? Why the sudden call?”

Kenan shrugged. “I dunno. Just felt like talking to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Bored again?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Just… I guess I got used to talking to you.”

You swallowed, the weight of those words settling in your chest. You were so not prepared for this level of honesty.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

Kenan tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “What?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to brush it off. “Nothing, just—didn’t expect that answer.”

“What did you expect?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe something about football or how you just wanted to annoy me?”

He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “I mean, that too.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through your chest.

There was a small pause before Kenan spoke again. “So, tell me something.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Something random. Something I don’t know about you yet.”

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “Okay. Um… I talk to myself when I’m trying to memorize lines.”

He smirked. “Like, full conversations?”

“Oh yeah,” you admitted. “I argue with myself sometimes too.”

Kenan laughed. “That’s kinda cute.”

You scoffed. “No, it’s not. It’s embarrassing.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s real. I like that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how genuine he sounded.

Your voice was softer when you spoke next. “Okay. Your turn.”

He thought about it for a moment, then said, “I always listen to music before a match. The same song, every time.”

You leaned in slightly, intrigued. “What song?”

He hesitated. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kenan sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… Superhero by Metro Boomin.”

You burst out laughing, and he groaned. “I knew it.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just—” You covered your mouth, trying to hold it in. “That’s so intense. Like, imagine your teammates just vibing and then there’s you, mentally preparing for war.”

Kenan smirked. “Exactly. Gotta lock in.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “That’s actually kinda cool.”

He looked at you for a second, then said, “You’re different when you’re comfortable.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You were nervous the first time we talked.”

You swallowed. “And now?”

Kenan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Now, you’re just you.”

For a moment, you just… looked at each other. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you had fully addressed yet.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake it off. “I—um, I should probably sleep soon.”

Kenan smiled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t want to keep you up too late.”

You bit your lip, hesitating before you spoke again. “But… this was nice.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Kenan leaned back against the couch, exhaling. “Guess I’ll have to call you again, then.”

You smirked. “Guess so.”

The silence stretched out again, neither of you willing to hang up first.

Finally, Kenan chuckled. “Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered at the way he said your name.

“Goodnight, Kenan.”

And when you finally ended the call, you were smiling like an idiot.

This was something.

And you weren’t sure where it was leading, but… you weren’t running from it anymore.

You told yourself you weren’t going to overthink it.

And yet, here you were, staring at your phone, overthinking it.

It had been almost two weeks since those late-night FaceTimes with Kenan, and things between you two had only gotten… more.

More texts. More calls. More teasing, inside jokes, little moments that felt like something real.

And yet, nothing had been said outright.

You weren’t sure how to define whatever this was—if it even needed defining. Maybe it was just two people enjoying each other’s company. Maybe it was more. Maybe—

Your phone buzzed.

Kenan Yıldız: What time is it over there?

A familiar smile tugged at your lips as you typed back.

You: Late. Again.

Kenan Yıldız: And you’re still awake?

You: And so are you.

Kenan Yıldız: Yeah, but I have a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, curious.

You: Oh? And what’s your reason?

The dots bounced for a second before his reply came.

Kenan Yıldız: You.

Your stomach flipped.

You blinked at the message, rereading it like maybe your tired eyes were playing tricks on you. But no—it was there. Clear as day.

You exhaled sharply, gripping your phone tighter. What were you supposed to even say to that?

The answer came before you could think too hard about it.

Kenan Yıldız: Wanna call?

You hesitated, but only for a second before you typed back.

You: FaceTime.

The call came immediately. You inhaled sharply before answering, and just like that—there he was.

Kenan was lying on his bed this time, hood up, dim lighting casting a soft glow around him. He looked comfortable, like he had nowhere else to be, no one else he wanted to talk to but you.

"Hey," he said, voice low, relaxed.

"Hey," you echoed, settling back against your pillow.

"You looked scared for a second," he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "I was just preparing myself for whatever dumb thing you were about to say."

He smirked. "And yet, you still picked FaceTime."

You huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Just familiarity.

He adjusted slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "So… I’ve been thinking."

Your heart kicked up a little. "About?"

Kenan hesitated, then exhaled like he was debating something. And suddenly, the lighthearted teasing faded into something heavier.

"About us meeting."

Your breath caught.

You swallowed. "Oh."

Kenan studied your reaction, his gaze never leaving yours. "Do you want to?"

Your head spun. Not because you didn’t want to—but because now, it was real.

You had spent all this time talking, dancing around whatever this was, building something between the two of you that had been kept safely behind screens and text bubbles. But now? Now, he was saying it out loud.

And you had to answer.

You inhaled deeply, trying to play it cool. "Where would we even meet?"

He smiled slightly, like he was relieved you hadn’t immediately shut it down. "You tell me."

"You’re the one in Italy," you pointed out. "Kinda hard for you to just hop on a plane."

His expression didn’t change. "Not impossible, though."

You blinked. "You’d fly here?"

Kenan shrugged. "Or you could come to me."

You hesitated. "Kenan—"

"It makes sense," he interrupted, like he already knew you were about to argue. "I have training, matches… I can’t really leave. But you, you travel all the time anyway, right? And the paparazzi aren’t as crazy here as in the U.S."

Your lips pressed together. He had a point.

"You really want that?" you asked, quieter this time.

Kenan’s voice softened. "Yeah."

The way he said it—it wasn’t some casual, playful suggestion. It was intentional.

He really wanted you there.

Your chest tightened.

You bit your lip, hesitating for only a second before finally admitting, "I do too."

Kenan’s smile widened, but there was something softer behind it. Something real.

"Then let’s make it happen," he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You took a shaky breath. "What would we even do?"

His eyes flickered with something amused. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Your face heated. "I—I didn’t say that!"

Kenan smirked. "You kinda did."

You groaned. "Oh my god, you’re insufferable."

"But you like me anyway."

You opened your mouth to argue—but… you didn’t. And Kenan noticed. His smirk deepened.

After a long pause, he leaned closer to the camera, eyes steady on yours. "Come to a game."

Your breath hitched.

Kenan continued, "Not publicly. No cameras. Just you. No one has to know."

Your heartbeat roared in your ears. "You want me to come to a match?"

"Yeah," he said, like it was obvious. "I want you there."

Something about the way he said it—so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world—made you feel something.

Like maybe, just maybe… this was more than just late-night conversations and teasing texts.

You swallowed. "And after?"

Kenan arched an eyebrow. "What about after?"

You hesitated, then, pushing past your nerves, said, "We should get dinner."

Kenan stilled for a second—then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

"Now who's asking who out?" he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "Take it or leave it, Yıldız."

His voice was lower when he answered, "I'll take it."

Your stomach flipped.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with something unspoken.

Then Kenan exhaled, leaning back against his pillow. "Guess I should start playing even better, huh?"

You smirked. "Oh, absolutely. I’ll be judging."

Kenan chuckled. "Noted."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was one of those rare comfortable silences—one that felt natural, like neither of you were in a rush to end the call.

Kenan was the one who broke it. "You're actually coming."

It wasn’t a question. More like a realization.

You smiled. "Yeah."

And for the first time, this—whatever this was—felt real.

[mxyirin]

➷ OF THE SWEET DESIRES

𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 otoya eita x f!reader

Otoya got all the girls, that was something that had been engraved in his mind since he was in elementary.

He had this motto - 'don't chase, just attract.'

Chasing after girls? He didn't need to do something like this.

And well with this came breaking hearts.

Otoya stood with his hands in his pockets as he stared at the girl pouring her heart out for him.

"Sorry, but let's break up." He bluntly said.

"What?"

His mind couldn't keep up with any of the words the girl was saying to him.

Why?

Because he had just seen the most gorgeous girl to ever exist.

With those [h/c] hair that went down to her waist (before anyone comes at me, I have long hair, I love long hair, my life my rules-), she had a beautiful hair clip.

Otoya could only gale at the beauty that was walking in his direction.

She glanced at them, a judgemental look on her face and that's when he saw the beautiful shade of [e/c] in those eyes.

Rolling her eyes, she walked away and all Otoya could do was state at her with his mouth open.

"Holy crap, whos that?" Otoya whispered to his friend.

"Hm? Oh, her!" The guy answered. "That's [Last Name] [Name], the scholarship student on a student exchange program."

"[Name]..." Otoya said to himself with a dreamy look in his eyes.

After a week, they formally met again.

And it was all because he was lucky to be chosen to be her partner for their project.

The white-haired male giggled inwardly as he looked into the mirror to perfect his looks before he could meet [Name] at the school library to begin their project research.

Nodding to himself, Otoya walked out of the bathroom and moved towards the direction of the school library.

"You're late." [Name] said without looking away from the book that she held in her grasp.

Otoya sat in front of her and mustered a charming smile that had never failed.

"I'm sorry, dear [Name]." He replied. "I was held up you know? By all the girls?"

His charming smile failed for the first time.

Because [Name] didn't even bother sparing him a glance.

"Open that blue book in front of you and note down all the important points on my laptop." [Name] instructed as she turned the laptop to face the white-haired male.

Otoya blinked as he stared at the laptop and the book he was supposed to read, his green eyes looking at the beauty with [e/c] eyes who was busy and hadn't looked even once at him.

"Sure..." He replied hesitantly.

It had been a few weeks since they had been working together to complete their project and Otoya had made zero progress with wooing his beloved who stole his heart.

He had tried his best but couldn't thaw [Name]'s cold heart but he was nothing but a determined man on a mission.

"Hey!" Otoya called out to [Name] who was walking with earphones which resulted in her not being able to hear him.

In a hurry, he jogged towards the girl and stood in front of her so she would notice him.

[Name] removed the earphone for one ear as she raised an eyebrow at the white-haired male who was standing in front of her with what seemed a confident look. 

"What is it?"

Otoya chuckled nervously as he spoke.

"So umm..."

He gulped and when he looked into those [e/c] eyes, he was blinded by a lethal face cad making him look away instantly.

"Do you want to go on a date?"

"No."

The immediate refusal stunned Otoya and he turned to face [Name] who blankly stared at him.

"Eh, why?" He asked causing [Name] to roll her eyes at him. "Aren't you a playboy? Why would I go on a date with you?"

Otoya gaped as the moon to his night, the love of his life, the girl of his dream, his dearest [Name] walked away without glancing at him.

He clutched his chest as he stared into nothing like a male lead of a drama going through some serious issues.

"My past..." He spoke dramatically as the wind chose to blow his white hair as he started his words. "Is catching up to me." 

Since Plan A - asking [Name] on a date didn't work, he decided to work on Plan B.

And that was getting rid of his playboy habits so he could show [Name] that he was a changed man.

Thankfully for Otoya, [Name] made no move of bringing back his failed attempt at asking her on a date so he was relieved and thankful, especially since they still met and worked together on their project.

Now how would he show [Name] that he was a changed man? Well, it was simple.

Otoya stopped flirting with everyone to show his crush that he was serious and distanced himself from pretty much everyone, including boys, because who knew if he had accidentally charmed a guy with his dashing looks and personality?

Getting asked out by a girl?

Sorry, miss who I don't know, I'm quite busy. Busy with what you ask? Wooing the girl of his dreams.

Someone getting close to him?

Sorry, miss who I don't like, I have an allergic reaction to anyone apart from [Name] coming close to me.

Getting winked at by someone?

Sorry, miss who are you again, I feel disgusted because I saw your eyes and they weren't those beautiful [e/c] eyes that he had been dreaming of.

The next part of his plan was to make sure [Name] would see him and realise that everyone was shit compared to him.

Otoya had dramatically and in the very fashion of him had declared that the one in his heart was [Name] and everyone getting close to her was his rival.

A guy was sitting next to you during class?

He was keeping his eyes on the ugly guy to make sure he wasn't making moves and by keeping eyes it meant straight-up glaring at the guy's head.

A girl wanting your notes?

He made sure to sneakily glance at them because his dear [Name] was absolutely amazing that regardless of gender everyone couldn't help but fall for her.

A dog asking for a treat?

Wait-

Did dogs ever fall in love with a human?

Otoya immediately opened Google and searched. He stared in horror as he read the first word.

ABSOLUTELY!

'Absolutely?!?' He screeched in his mind.

The final part of his plan was to ask [Name] out, not on a date because he had yet to finish wooing her.

He sat in front of her in the library as he grinned.

"So you know how I'm in the soccer club?" He asked and gained [Name]'s attention.

"Yeah,"

Otoya leaned forward eagerly, "Do you think you can make some free time to watch my important match?"

"Why?" [Name] asked.

"So I can show you how much better I am than your guy seatmate, the girl asking for your notes and that damned dog!" He rambled off.

"Sure."

Otoya smiled so brightly that [Name]'s cold heart started melting a little.

[Name] stared at Otoya who had invited her to his match.

He had easily gained everyone's attention, including hers, due to his superior skills as a striker.

She watched as he went past the opposing team's defence and kicked the ball, earning another goal. 

Otoya cheered loudly as he scored the final goal, and immediately, his green eyes went towards the direction [Name] was sitting.

Noticing the white-haired male looking at her, she clapped and nodded at him making Otoya cheer even louder.

[Name] waited for Otoya so she could hand him the earphones he had kindly lent her since hers broke.

"[Name]-chan!"

She was immediately greeted with Otoya's wide smile and she nodded at him.

"Thank you." She said as she handed him his earphones back.

Otoya put them in his pocket as he replied: "No problem!"

"Say..." Otoya started, "What kind of guy do you like?"

[Name] tilted her head towards the white-haired male who was earnestly looking at her.

"My type? Someone who can cook and bake." She answered honestly after thinking.

"Ok got it!" Otoya exclaimed with a smile.

This caused [Name] to stare at him with a thoughtful look as Otoya's fingers twitched in nervousness.

"Do you like me?" [Name] asked.

Otoya's eyes widened, and his heart raced in panic.

"Hahaha no...?" His laugh all shaky before he ran away without another word.

[Name] was sitting in the empty class and she lifted her head when she heard the door slam open loudly.

There stood Otoya, all flustered, his head down.

He quickly walked to where she was sitting.

"That day!" Otoya bowed his head and thrust his arm forward, his hands holding a neatly wrapped box. "I lied to you!"

"I actually like you, very much!" Otoya confessed and waited for his crush's reply.

"Oh..." [Name] said as she looked at the white-haired male. Slowly she reached out to take the gift in her hands.

She opened the wrapping and saw chocolate in various shapes.

[Name] looked at Otota who didn't dare even look at her and was looking away, his cheeks tinted red due to embarrassment.

"I made them myself." He explained, refusing to meet her eyes because he knew he would fumble the words he wanted to say.

"...Because you said your type was someone who can cook and bake." Otoya licked his bottom lip as he finished his words.

[Name] laughed a little making Otoya stare at her in awe.

This was the first time he had seen her laugh and man was he mesmerized.

His green eyes blinked softly as he watched the girl of his dreams.

[Name] gently placed the chocolates on the table bedside her.

She lifted her hands to hold the other's hands and Otoya watched with wide eyes as she smiled at him.

The first smile he had gotten from her.

"Mhm, I like you too."

art credits: hwikki_11 [twitter]

red hearts - masterlist

wattpad

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digimon Adventure Reboot Sequel AU - Chapter 0: Weird

Summary: Despite his best efforts, Mimi, Sora and Koushirou have, indeed, noticed that Taichi has been acting rather off recently. Unwilling to accept his weirdness as the status quo, they meet up to discuss how to handle it...

Based on: [Prologue] [Concept] [Designs] [First Idea]

Word Count: 885

„No matter how you look at it – Taichi-san has been acting weird lately!”

Mimi’s voiced oozed with frustration, as she flopped back down on her personal chair in their “hideout” with emphasis. As Palmon blinked at her, she gracefully flipped her hair over her shoulder, grabbed the cup of lavender tea in front of her and took a small sip, letting her statement sit for a moment.

A moment Koushirou and Sora used to exchange a worried look. Mimi may have been the one to order them all to gather due to “an emergency!” – which, as it turned out, was “Taichi-san being weird” –, but if they were being honest… They had noticed it too.

“I think I’m aware of what you’re referring to”, Koushirou agreed after a while. “My personal verdict is that he hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep, since he’s been spacing out frequently. But whenever I try to address it towards him, he says everything is fine.”

“As he usually does, but I think it’s all deflection”, Sora added, leaning against the computer table while Koushirou went back to trying to fix the blue screen Mimi had caused by accidentally ripping out a cable during her heated rambles from earlier. “He’s just… Smiling it away and, I mean, that’s always been him, but…”

“It’s like he’s hiding something”, Koushirou concluded without looking up from the screen.

“I know, right?!” Mimi put down her tea cup with a clinking sound, causing Piyomon and Tentomon to make inquisitive noises as well.

“And really, it’s not just that, it also feels like he’s forgetting things or getting them mixed up”, elaborating, Sora fumbled at the hem of her college jacket. “Last time I asked him if he wanted to have an extra training session, he just looked at me like a deer in headlights and asked if I wasn’t already meeting with Yamato… Who’s in Shimane. I have no idea where that came from all of the sudden. It’s hard enough to get the group together these days and I didn’t understand why he was so confused about me not traveling to Shimane in the middle of a school week.”

It really had been a chore to “keep the whole gang together” these days. While Yamato and Takeru had always been living in Shimane and, outside of Summer and Winter breaks, only joined them on their digital adventures in the net through a port in their area – usually it were only Taichi, Koushirou, Sora and Mimi that ended up gathering physically at their meeting points, namely the club house Mimi’s grandfather had sponsored a few years ago. With Hikari going to a different middle school and Jyou thoroughly focusing on his management career, their group of eight really was somewhat decimated.

“Super weird…”, Mimi pouted and Koushirou actually lifted his gaze this time.

“Speaking of which, he was asking me if I had talked to Jyou-san about college entrance exams for medical school…”

“He did what?!”, Mimi screeched. “Where’s that coming from?! Jyou-senpai has been so determined to take an internship at our company, grandpa would be devastated if he had suddenly changed his mind – and I would know, Jyou-senpai hasn’t shut up about it, I can show you our texting history, it’s-“

“That’s what I mean by him getting things mixed up”, Sora tried to intervene, smiling at Mimi serenely, so she immediately calmed down a little. “Even though these things really come out of nowhere…”

“Well, maybe high school is getting to his head?”

“His grades seemed to be fine overall though, even if… He’s never been the most studious”, Koushirou thought out loud. “Perhaps we could ask Hikari-san about it?”

“It didn’t seem like they had problems at home either.” Once Sora had said these words, the room got quiet. An aura of worry and confusion that was only disrupted by Mimi sipping on her tea again – more nervously than before as well. They had all known Taichi for several years by now, he had always been their beacon of confidence, a leader to look up to in every situation, positive and unshakable, especially during their gate hopping shenanigans. Seeing him so scatterbrained really was a novelty for all of them.

“There’s another possibility…”, Koushirou eventually broke through the silence with a low voice, drawing all attention towards himself.

“And what would that be?”, Tentomon asked curiously, flying over his head.

“Well… There is at least a tiny chance it’s caused by a Digimon he encountered the last time we went into the network.”

“So what, you believe there is a virus in the net messing with his head? Like… Giving him a cold that made him forget things or something like that?”

Hearing how peculiar it sounded by Mimi’s skeptical tone, Koushirou wasn’t so confident in his theory anymore.

“We will have to test it first of course. By talking to him once more and scouting the network for irregularities.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” With that, Sora pushed herself onto her feet again. “You’ll keep investigating on the digital side of things, Koushirou-kun, and we’ll, once again, try to get something out of him in person.”

“Spoken like a true lioness, Sora-san!”, Mimi cheered happily and raised her fist encouragingly. “Let’s solve this mystery once and for all!”

[crowsofdarkness]

Who Are You?: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner.-

Pairings: The Winter Soldier: Bucky Barnes x Agent Fallen x The Crow: Eric Draven

Content Warnings: angst, violence, kidnapping, death, language, smut that will include unprotected pinv, oral with male and female receiving, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, double penetration, semi-rough sex, spanking, sharing of partners(m/f/m).

Summary: Agent Fallen was looking for a ghost, her ghost. With direct orders to shoot on sight to anyone who stands in her way, she soon finds herself at a crossroads when facing another ghost. The Crow. As they work together to find The Winter Soldier, Fallen and Eric Draven have to also work out their complicated relationship with each other.

Authors Note: this series is not canon to any of the Marvel movies, besides a few details. this will be a reverse harem/why chose series which means the FMC is with both MMCs, never choosing between the two. there will be moments where Eric and Bucky share Fallen. updates will be slow for this one. Tags are open!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr @starfly-nicole

-i have my permanent bucky tags on this. if you're not interested in this story because of Eric Draven, no worries! let me know and I can take you off this story-

The snow beneath my boots crunch as I trudged farther along the darkened path, the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains in the horizon. My suit stuck to my like a second skin, the leather doing nothing to keep me warm due to my heated blood. Thanks to my powers, my blood always ran hot so while it was nearing -39 degrees celsius on Mountain Pik Podeba in Siberia, I felt sweat gather at the back of my neck. It had been an incredibly difficult trek yet I continued to push through, never giving up. 

It wasn’t in my nature to which is why SHIELD hired me. 

Did they hire you or felt pity for you when they found you on another cold mountain side and saved your life eight years ago? 

Shaking the thought from my mind, not daring to think about the past, I thought about the mission instead. My boss, Agent Fury, set down an extra classified folder on my desk a few days ago with one demand: keep it between us. 

As soon as I opened the folder, I immediately knew why we needed to keep it between us. Fury was the only one in SHIELD that knew about my past and where I came from since he was the one that found me eight years ago. If anyone inside of SHIELD found out about where that was, I’d be outcasted and probably arrested. While everyone at headquarters thought I was away on vacation, I was actually up in the mountains in Russia, looking for a ghost. 

The Winter Soldier. 

There had been rumors he’d gone rouge from Hydra a few years ago, killing everyone that had a hand in creating him. Fury had been keeping a watchful and good eye on The Winter Soldier to see if he had me in his sights. It was fine until last year when the list started to dwindle down to only three names left. 

One random guard. 

Dimitri. 

The last name on The Winter Soldiers list was only three letters, almost as if he couldn’t remember the entirety of it. But Fury knew and when I saw a copy of the list, I knew as well. 

When I read that all too familiar name back in my office the other day, all of the oxygen was stolen from my lungs as my past reared its ugly head. I hadn’t come face to face with The Winter Soldier in nearly eight years when Hydra literally tossed me out into the snow, broken and defeated. Just before one of the Hydra guards shut the door, I saw those dark eyes watch me over the guards shoulder, not bothering to stop them. 

“Soldat,” I cried out, as the flames dissipated from my hands; the fight for my survival was long gone. 

Everyone who didn’t know him called him The Winter Soldier, I called him Soldat during my time in Hydra. He was the one who trained me, made me who I am. But once one of the guards found Soldat and I in bed together, our leader Dimitri ordered my removal from the compound. I was shunned and left to die on the side of the mountain by the people I thought I had a home with all because I fell in love with another one of their other puppets. 

Dimitri was stern in his orders, never wanting Soldat and I to stray too far from our orders of death and destruction. So when he got word of our private affairs, it was clear who would be shunned. The Winter Soldier was Hydra’s most prized soldier and weapon meanwhile I was their project gone wrong; the one who couldn’t be controlled. 

Along with the love and memories of Soldat, I buried that part of me deep within me, never letting Căzut out again. I had a name when I was younger, something I couldn’t remember so Soldat was the one that gave me my name the first night I arrived at the Hydra compound, afraid. 

“Căzut,” a metal thumb lifted my chin as I knelt before him, causing me to look up at him. “You may have fallen but you will rise again.” 

So when Fury found me eight years ago wandering on the Russian mountain side and asked me for my name, I gave him the only one I had. 

Fallen. 

Breaking over the horizon, I could vaguely make out a wooden home about 15 feet west and let out a small breath of relief. To others that ventured up on this side of the mountain they might have thought it odd for a small house to be placed in the middle of nowhere. But us at SHIELD knew what it was. 

A safe house. 

This one specifically was off the map  because it was Fury’s own safe house, one he didn’t want anyone to know of. The only reason why I knew about it was because he’d brought me here eight years ago. 

“I’m fucking starved,” I grumbled under my breath as I stepped through a large mound of snow, the heat seeping through my boot melting it almost instantly. 

Fury mentioned that the wood burning stove in the house didn’t work but when I snapped my fingers, bringing fire to them, I reminded him that warmth shouldn’t be an issue for me. 

After gaining access inside with my thumb print to the front door,  I took the first step inside of the house yet immediately froze because something felt off; wrong. There was a shift in the air that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t the chill of the house that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the feeling that eyes were watching me. Softly letting my bag fall to the floor, I reached for the knife in the side pocket of my tac suit and when my fingers grazed over the handle, a sharp kick landed to the back of my knee. I fell to the aged hardwood floor with a thud, quickly spinning around on my knees to look at who managed to attack me. Expecting to meet a pair of eyes, I was met with a long blade from a katana sword, the tip pressed to my neck. 

I followed up the length of it up to a hand covered in tattoos, recognizing one of them immediately. Snapping my gaze up, I met a pair of soulless eyes already pinning me in place and sucked in a breath. 

No fucking way. It’s true. 

“How the fuck did you get inside?” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone calm since he was the one with the blade pressed to my throat. 

The man, who stood tall over me at atleast six feet, cocked his head to the side. His face was covered underneath a mask from the nose down, showcasing those dark eyes as they assessed me. Those same eyes were blanketed in some kind of black paint. A few small strands of hair fell into his eyes but he made no move to brush them away. He was glad in all black, except for his hands that showcased all of the ink. 

Everyone in SHIELD thought The Winter Soldier was the ghost but they were all wrong. The man standing in front of me was an even bigger ghost. He was a rumor that no one seemed to have any proof of. I only knew of him from what I’ve read in his very skim folder which only had two things; his name and the picture of one of his tattoos. 

The Crow and the tattoo of a crow on the outside of his hand. The same one I was staring at right now. 

“You’re real,” I muttered. 

He remained silent yet pressed the tip of the blade harder against my throat causing me to kneel straighter while holding my hands out to my sides showing him I was unarmed. 

“I’m really at your mercy right now,” I flicked my gaze to the sword. “All it would take is a simple flick of your wrist and you’d hit one of my arteries, making me bleed out on the floor in seconds. I can tell you right now, I have no intention of dying today.” 

The Crow didn’t seem to believe me because he motioned to the weapons on my tac suit with a silent order. 

Remove them. 

Biting back a curse, I slowly removed the gun and knives from all of the pockets before sliding them over to his combat boots. 

“Are you going to tell me how you broke into a SHIELD safe house?” I asked. 

Yet again, he didn’t speak as he kicked my weapons across the floor, them skidding down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“I have orders to kill anyone that stands in the way of my current mission,” I said while shaking out my fingers, not yet bringing the fire forth. 

“I’d like to see you try,” The Crow chuckled darkly. 

I nearly fell to my ass at his voice, how deep and rich it was, but maintained my composure. 

“So you do speak,” I teased with a smirk. “Here I thought Hydra cut out your tongue.” 

His eyes snapped away from the exposed top of my breasts in my suit thanks to the zipper being down a bit and his jaw ticked. Victory surged through me when I found the answer to a question a lot of us were wondering. If The Crow was Hydra or not. 

“So it is true,” I continued on, puffing out my chest when I caught him staring again. 

Even if he was this top secret Hydra weapon, he was still a man and men have certain weaknesses.

“Let me guess. Hydra got bored with their main weapon and decided to create another?”

“You know Hydra?” The Crow asked me, the grip on his katana never faltering as the tip was still pressed to my throat. 

“You’re looking at one of their failed projects,” I sighed. 

He snickered. “What’s so special about you?” 

He’s fucking rude. 

With a snap, I brought forth the fire to my fingers which made him take a step back, letting the blade of his sword fall away from my neck. With the new found opportunity, I kicked my feet out to trip The Crow and he clambered to the ground. 

I looked back down the hallway where he kicked my weapons moments ago, ready to crawl my way towards them only to have my ankle grabbed and yanked into the living room. The Crow and I scuffled for a few moments, me trying to rip off his mask which caused him to slam his forehead on mine, nearly making me succumb to darkness. 

Super soldier strength? Check. 

While I had my own strength thanks to the serum running through me, it wasn’t anything compared to his. I sent a knee into his groin which made him double over in pain, giving me a few seconds to scurry away from him. Quickly rising to my feet, I threw a fireball at him only for him to grab his sword, blocking it. I watched in horror as the fire fell to ash at his feet. 

“What the fuck is your katana made out of?!” I demanded right before The Crow ran towards me, pushing me against the wall. 

His thick arm pressed into my throat, cutting off my breathing almost instantly. My feet dangled in the air slightly as I clawed at the material of his jacket, doing whatever I could to get him off of me. 

“Just like I thought. Pathetic,” he sneered, face inches from mine. 

His mask had slipped in our scuffle and it was then I got a good look at his entire face, lingering over his plump lips. Somehow without his mask, it seemed to accentuate the black paint around his eyes. 

He was gorgeous. 

Focus, you idiot! He’s going to kill you!

“Thank god you don’t have a metal arm,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to fight against him. 

The Crow’s grip around my throat faltered only for a moment as his face twitched but then he pressed his hips deeper into mine to pin me fully against the wall. Through his cargo pants, the outline of his cock against my pussy and my eyes doubled in size when I felt how hard he was, letting a moan slip quietly. 

“Is this turning you on?” I teased. 

His eyes narrowed as he pressed himself harder against me. “Says the one who just moaned.”

Curse his super soldier hearing.

“Can’t help but like what I see,” I did my best to shrug while still being pinned to the wall. 

The Crow eyes casted down to my breasts, lingering over the sweat that gathered there and all too quickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” 

His gaze flicked up to me as he pressed his arm tighter against my throat. “I have no desire other than to kill.” 

“Hydra program you to say that? Because your dick pressing against me says otherwise,” I tossed back. 

“You’re insufferable you know that,” he sneered while tossing me to the floor and I sucked in a giant breath, feeling the life return. 

“You can thank Hydra for that,” I choked on a breath before rising to my knees and glancing over at him. 

He had placed his sword back into its sheath and set it on the back of the couch then turned to face me with narrowed eyes. I was growing tired of this look. 

“What are you doing here?” The Crow asked. 

I snorted while slowly standing and rested my hands on my hips. “I should be asking you that. You’re in my safe house, which I’m still wondering how the fuck you got in without my thumb print.” 

“You left the window unlocked,” he pointed to the window in the living room. 

Damn it, Fury. 

Running a hand through my red hair, I let out a long breath and stood in front of The Crow as he sat against the back of the couch, his long legs outstretched. 

I squinted my eyes at him when I realized something. “Why didn’t you kill me just now? You had the chance more than once.” 

Something flickered in those eyes but his face remained like stone. “You said something about Hydra programming me. How would you know that?” 

I brought forth the fire again, letting it dance inside my palm as I manipulated it with the air around me. A party trick is what I liked to call it. 

“Like I said, Hydra created this. They kept me captive for years and the second I disobeyed one of their orders, they tossed me to the side as if I was nothing,” I closed my fist to put the fire out. 

“So you’re not with Hydra anymore?” The Crow asked. 

I shook my head, not completely sure why he was suddenly not trying to attack me anymore, but what shocked me the most was how comfortable I felt opening up to him.

“You mentioned something about a metal arm,” he said while crossing his arms over his chest. 

I swallowed thickly, not knowing where the conversation was headed now. “Your point?” 

The Crow shook off his jacket, letting it fall to the couch behind him. “Was The Winter Soldier before or after your time with Hydra?” 

“During,” I informed while shifting on my feet. “He’s the one that trained me.” 

“No offense but he did a shitty job.”

I shot him with a glare, feeling protective over Soldat after all these years because the love I had for him still lingering. “Fuck you.” 

The Crow eyes drank me in from head to toe before resting back on my lips. “Tempting but I have other orders.”

“Care to tell me what those orders are? Because I’m still curious on how you found this SHIELD safe house?” 

“This is SHIELD? Here I thought they would put you up in a mansion or some shit,” he snickered. 

“Well,” I kicked my bag in the air and caught it. “This has been so much fucking fun but I have plans. Please let the door hit you on the way out.” 

I made it all of two steps towards the staircase, ready for a shower and food while I went over my notes on Soldat when a voice stopped me. 

“Do these plans have anything to do with The Winter Soldier?” 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I glared at The Crow. “Excuse me?” 

He threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the laptop on the coffee table behind him. “I hacked into the laptop here and read your current mission report. It’s kind of irresponsible to leave a top secret laptop out in the open like that.” 

Letting out a scream of frustration, I chucked my bag at him which he caught with an attractive and annoying ease. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Few days. I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

This piqued my interest and I raised a brow at him. “You’ve been waiting for me? Why?” 

The Crow stood to his full height and closed the distance between us. Suddenly, I got a small whiff of his scent and couldn't help but shiver at how good he smelled. 

“I’ve been tasked with retrieving The Winter Soldier to bring him back to Hydra,” he informed me while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

I scoffed while shaking my head. “There’s no way I’m helping you bring Soldat back to the monsters that tortured him.” 

“Soldat?” His brows furrowed. 

“It’s what we called him. It's "soldier " in Russian,” I said. 

He nodded curtly. “Well, my Hydra mission is different from my main mission.” 

“Which is?” I pressed. 

There was something oddly weird about why The Crow chose this safe house and why he was waiting for me personally. 

“I need his blood to create an antidote for the serum running through me. I’ve been this weapon for years and need a way out. Hydra doesn't know this but I’m not returning from this mission. I don’t want this life for me any more.”

“What makes you think Hydra will let you get away with that?” I asked in utter disbelief. 

There was absolutely no way anyone in that group would let someone like The Crow get away.

“I have people on the inside that will fake my death so I can hide away.” 

“And you trust them?”

I was beyond shocked that not only did he have the balls to pull off a move like this but he was also divulging his plans to basically a stranger who was an agent of SHIELD and former Hydra assassin.

“With my life,” he said without missing a beat. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion from my trek up the mountain suddenly catching up to me. 

Something seemed to lift from his shoulders as he let out a long sigh, suddenly breaking free in front of me. 

“I need your help. I’ve been hunting Soldat for months but can’t seem to keep on his trail. If anyone can find him, it’s you,” he said. 

“What makes you think I can find him?” 

“My sources tell me he’s also looking for you,” he motioned towards the laptop on the coffee table. 

I rolled my eyes at his sources and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why the hell would I help you? You tried to kill me.”

“I would never,” he placed a hand over his chest in mock pain. “I just wanted to see what you were made of.” 

“You’re insufferable,” I exasperated while repeating his words from earlier.

The Crow continued to wear that smirk as he shrugged. “You’ll get used to it the longer we’re together.” 

“Hang on,” I raised a finger. “I never agreed to help you. What do I get out of this? It goes against my orders from SHIELD.” 

“Well, according to your records, it seems like you’ve had quite a few red marks. Your boss, Fury, is trying to help you keep your job which is why he sent you on this private mission. If you brought in The Winter Soldier, it would solidify your position until you retire. But something tells me that you’re looking for a way out as well.”

My spine stiffened as I stood up straighter, not knowing how he found that info out. No one inside of SHIELD knew I was purposely getting red marks on my record in a way for them to kick me off the force. This private mission to find Soldat was a way out with the hopes he remembered me and he could help. 

I swallowed thickly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you know things about me because you read my file.” 

“A thick file,” he corrected. “If you help me, I can have one of my hacker friends wipe your file clean so you and Soldat can live happily ever after. That is, if he remembers you.”

The urge to slap that stupid smirk off of his face was strong and made my hand twitch at my side yet I weighed his words heavily on my mind. This was technically the way out I needed and now that I finally had the chance to do it, it would be stupid not to take it. 

Right?

“If you were to help me, something tells me I would owe you something?”

Something shone in The Crow's eyes but his next words didn’t match that glimmer. 

“We both get a way out of a life we had no say in. Consider us even,” he spoke while walking past me into the kitchen. 

Reluctantly I followed him and for the first time since stepping inside, the smell of a warm cooked meal filled my senses and my stomach roared to life. On the table were two plates, two cups, and silverware. 

“Are you fine with chicken and potatoes?” The Crow asked over his shoulder as he pulled out a large dish from the oven. 

I blinked at him a few times, trying to gather my words. “How the hell did you get the oven to work? Half of this shit didn’t work the last time Fury and I were held up here.” 

With his back to me, I could see the muscles tense as he moved about the kitchen, getting things ready for dinner and I bit my lip at the sight. 

“I’m good with my hands,” he answered while setting the dish down on the table. “Go wash up and we can talk more about the details.” 

Very briefly, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck as he scratched at it, lifting down his shirt slightly. 

“I never said yes,” I reminded him while popping my hip out, showcasing my attitude. 

“The way you haven’t blown me to ash yet shows me that you already agreed. So again I say, go wash up and we can go over the details. I have a hunch where Soldat is hiding out.” 

As much as he irritated me, I knew that I’d be nowhere without The Crow. I had nothing on Soldat, so as much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help. 

“Fine,” I forced out through gritted teeth and turned swiftly on my heels but halted when he called after me. 

“What did Hydra call you?” 

“There’s no way I’m giving you my name. I don’t even know you,” I tossed over my shoulder. 

Something in the way he smirked told me he already knew my name due to his hacking but gave me the benefit of the doubt to tell him myself. 

Dropping my shoulders with a sigh, I gave in. “During my time in Hydra I went by Căzut but now I go by Fallen.” 

“I know,” The Crow smirked. “I just wanted to see if you trusted me enough to tell me.” 

“Does this mean you’re going to tell me your name? And not the stupid moniker Hydra assigned you,” I gave him a small smile but dropped it when I noticed the way his face fell. 

“I don’t know my name. I’ve only ever gone by The Crow.” 

Ignoring the pain I felt for him in my heart, I tapped my chin in mock thought before snapping, a spark igniting. “You look like an Eric to me.” 

“Eric,” he repeated the name a few times, almost like he was trying on a new pair of pants. “I like it.” 

“Good because it stays,” I ruffled his hair before leaving him alone in the kitchen as I skipped upstairs. 

When I left the SHIELD headquarters this morning, I had no intention of working with someone on finding Soldat but something in the way Eric smiled at me told me that he was the same as me in a lot of different ways. So if I had to deal with him for a few days in my search for Soldat, it was worth it. It helped that he was good to look at as well. 

“This is going to be a long few days,” I mumbled under my breath as I took the steps up towards the one bedroom of the house. 

The bedroom Eric seemed to have taken over. The same bedroom with only one bed. 

Son of a bitch. 

[lych33dragoncookie]

Chatting around a bit with my partner, something clicked for me.

Okay, I guess I'm making a semi-detailed Eternal Sugar analysis post before the Shadow Milk one? odd, but that's because honestly it's gotten to a point where I would rather wait for the APV update before doing anything with him (partially because i wanna get the chance to go on my high horse about how all the SMC redemption hype was horrendously misguided and never likely to come to fruition), so I might as well dump out some thoughts related to Eternal Sugar, considering she's logically up next after Shadow Milk and before SIlent Salt.

... So we all agree she was the previous Sugar Swan or something of the sort, right?

Kind of a wild thing to put out when we know so little, but what little we do know is more than enough to place a firm connection.

First, something I IMMEDIATELY noticed that stuck out to me while I was looking around at the Earthbread map.

They are right. Next. To each other. The Forgotten Sugar Paradise is not all that far north from the Dessert Paradise. And, what is it that we can find inside Dessert Paradise, at least back in Ovenbreak's continuity?

The Eternal Sweetness. Ignoring the fact we've not seen it outside of how it looks when Black Sugar Swan has it, the general role of the Eternal Sweetness is to keep Dessert Paradise as well. A paradise. A place where nothing needs to hunt for food, nothing dies, everything just kind of perpetually lives forever in harmony and peace.

Now, I hopefully don't need to tell you that this thing being called the Eternal Sweetness raises an eyebrow when the Beast with big pink feathery wings is called Eternal Sugar Cookie, and said Eternal Sugar Cookie's domain is basically RIGHT next to Dessert Paradise, said domain literally having the word Paradise in its name.

THIS is where I'm taking a few leaps for my predictions on Eternal Sugar's motives, but hear me out here.

I genuinely, genuinely think Peril in Paradise could be used to draw some parallels. Despite Sugar Paradise being a place where nothing can die and nothing decays, it happened that a heart consumed by selfish and corrupted desires got its hands on the Eternal Sweetness, causing that eternal life and peace to slowly but surely decay into nothing. Mold had started growing on plants, the inhabitants of the land started hunting for food, and death was introduced to a place where death was never meant to be.

So, we can potentially tie this back to Eternal Sugar.

Eternal Sugar Cookie is the Beast of Sloth, originally holding the Virtue of Happiness. Clearly, there HAS to be some relation to Dessert Paradise, considering the frequent reuse of certain words between Eternal Sugar's stuff and Dessert Paradise. Here's what I'm thinking; originally, the Forgotten Sugar Paradise was Dessert Paradise, or its predecessor of some kind. Here, Eternal Sugar Cookie took up the role of the land's watcher and protector, preserving the life of all the resided in it, much like what the Sugar Swan would do later on. I'm personally thinking that, at some point, something similar to what happened in the Peril in Paradise story happened here. For one reason or another, death and decay were suddenly introduced to the paradise; withering, hunting for food, lives actually at risk. Unlike what happened back in Ovenbreak, Eternal Sugar was likely unable to stop it, or was only able to stop it way too late, with a significant portion of the paradise's lives being taken. And that's when something in her mind broke.

Having forcefully been introduced to the concept of death and decay, the protector of paradise would become desperate to never let that happen again. A crippling, debilitating fear of death. So, what would they do about this? Preserve the world's beauty, by force. Make sure that nothing will ever have to spend energy, never have to decay, never grow ill, never age, never be tarnished. Asleep, forever, perfectly preserved. To her, the only way to ensure precious, beautiful lives will never be taken again is to fully embrace sloth, and ensure that nothing ever has to move so much as a finger, never put itself at risk, never be in any danger, never age, never rot, never die. Pristine. Peaceful. Eternal.

Reaching more into assumptions, I'd think that if this is the motive, she'd want to keep everyone and everything encased in glass, unmoving, asleep, undying, preserved forever, their beauty on full display for all of time. Hell, if you wanna make her REALLY scary, have it so that by the time we meet her, she already has a small collection; cookies, dessert animals, other sapient beings all encased in glass, asleep. Like they'd been frozen in time. And, honestly? Even though she would be the antagonist, she could have a weird relationship with Hollyberry where unlike all the previous ancients, there's no actual animosity, no personal sense of antagonism. Thinking that, ultimately, yes, Hollyberry should be preserved, she deserves to, as someone so strong and loving and passionate, qualities that deserve to be preserved and regarded beautifully; despite how much they think in opposite ways (With Hollyberry rightfully thinking that the only way to live life is to LIVE it, to its fullest extent, as happily and vividly and eagerly as possible).

... You can also make it yuri, if you so please. Something like Eternal Sugar going on about "Why? Why won't you let yourself be preserved? You are so beautiful, so perfectly baked and formed and well taken care of, so loving, and yet you're okay with all of that being lost? Why? Why won't you let me save you? Why are you so willing to let something so beautiful rot and fade with time?", genuinely desperate to make sure that what seems like her beautiful other half can be preserved forever. Not gonna happen canonically, most likely, but I think it would be fun and proooobably make sense. Probably. We'll see.

But yeah, those are my personal predictions for Eternal Sugar. I'd be really happy if they came true, honestly! Bringing in some more old-school Cookie Run lore and stuff for one of the Beasts would be a good way of making her stand out, and feel quite gratifying for more long-time fans. Really excited to see where the writing team takes her.

[a-forbidden-detective]

Until their dying day

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt FFF291 - stuff of legends and @fluffbruary Feb 7 using hand as the prompt. Thank you once again for these prompts. Also, with my head canon in mind I’d like to tackle Ron Kamonohashi’s ancestor, Sherlock Holmes.

—

Fandom(s): Kamonohashi Ron kindan no suiri / Sir ACD’s Sherlock Holmes

Characters: Ron Kamonohashi, Totomaru “Toto” Isshiki, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson

Pairings: RonToto, Johnlock

Word count: 1099

“AHHH! Now I must clean up my dad’s messes. Imagine, Toto, having a father like him leaving dirt on his trail?”

“You have been going on about that all day long…” But Toto shut up his mouth at once when he saw Ron looked admiringly at the picture of his father. Next to it was a rare photo of his parents together, which he alternately paid attention to.

“May I?” Curious, Toto pointed at the picture Ron next to Ron’s head. The forbidden detective was smiling at his newly christened lover.

After the two had a lay-in caused by the gruelling events of the Plateau Auberge incident, Toto went back shortly to his flat in Asakusa to get some fresh clothes, reported to Amamiya and returned to Ron’s place immediately. It made him anxious leaving Ron alone even though he knew that the younger man could cope with it better than Lily-san, Mia and Sakai.

Toto traced the two figures entwined on the picture frame.

“Your life is so extraordinary, Ron. You have these two great people who have cared for you…” He let out a sigh, he and Ron were ready to die together.

“I love the way you think about me… I truly cherish it,” Ron sat behind Toto, encircled his arms around the police officer and went to tell the story of his parents and the ancestor he wanted to emulate, who was the stuff of legends in the family.

“Come to think of it. Milo mentioned that I reminded him of your ancestor’s trusty companion. Who could that be? Do you know him?”

Ron looked at Toto, slowly got up and walked toward the shelves where one of the boxes contained several photographs.

He handed him an old picture of a man in a British uniform. The man sported a slight moustache with blonde hair underneath the helm. His eyes could be blue with the looks of it. He seemed to be a very handsome man.

“It was him why half of the reason my ancestor could and would never leave London. The other was the cases. His name was John Watson, an army doctor for Her Majesty, the Queen Victoria,” Ron said with a naughty smile on his lips.

“Huh? What do you mean? Were your ancestor and this man more than acquaintances?” Toto was surprised.

“Yes.” Ron responded with pride, his eyes were glowing. “You could say they were my ‘real’ great-great-great grandparents!”

“How long has it been going on?” Sherlock lighted up his pipe, white hair threatened to overwhelm his once dark brown hair. Across him was his partner, Dr. John Watson glaring at him, there was also sadness etched on his face, tears threatened to fall. The consulting detective was holding a telegram.

“You are gravely mistaken, my dear doctor. There’s no more understanding between us. The child I left behind only longs to see his father,” the detective was looking at the luggage in the living room. John Watson was going to leave him. If he did not play his cards well, he would do so permanently.

“I only wish for your honesty, Holmes. To me,” the doctor bent his head. “Only to me. After all that we’ve been through. After all the lost three years I have wasted for you.” Frustrated, he believed this was the last straw. The three years in which the doctor thought that his partner had died broke him apart. He likened himself to those bereaved wives who lost their husbands in the wars. As a former soldier, he beat himself up for being pathetic.

On the table there was an ukiyo-e painting of a woman clad in cobalt blue kimono with white plum blossoms all over it. Her face was hidden on the spectator by her fan. It was sent to the flat a few weeks ago. Next to it was a picture of a healthy beautiful boy smiling seated on a wooden floor. Not even two years old. His hair stood up and his cheeks were round like a bun. One could see that he was loved and adored by his family. Below was a note in English, “Yori-kun says Dada for the first time, Chiyo,” with two shaped hearts drawn on it.

“Are they the reason you left for a few months this year?”

Holmes nodded. He took another puff from his pipe but he smoked it too fast that he experienced a tongue bite. There was a burning sensation on his tongue.

“I understand that you deem it as a betrayal, but she is the closest thing I had when I was far away from you,” the detective said. His eyes pleaded, praying that the doctor somehow would understand.

“You didn’t have to go anywhere, Sherlock! You could have asked for my help! But you told me there were assassins following me ready to kill me if you established your connection to me again after your fall at the Reichenbach,” John put his hand on his face suppressing his anger, the need to hit someone or something.

“Now there is nothing we can do. You have your son. And I…” trailed John, who did not know what to say.

Holmes put down his pipe, walked to him, and without saying a word placed his arms around his partner.

“I understand that you hate me. But I never forgot you, John, during the three years of my absence. I always thought of you, asked Mycroft about you, told him to fast-track the process and eliminate the problem as soon as possible so I could come back to you,” the detective assured his best friend one more time.

The doctor shook his head, slowly pushed Sherlock back and said, “No, you could have told me everything. But you have many secrets and I am not even privy to them! Am I an outsider to you?!”

The question rattled Holmes as he had never seen his partner so angry like this.

“No! No, John!” Sherlock put down his hands. He knew when he was beaten.

“I can’t do this. Please give me time. I have to sort this out first.”

With heavy footsteps, the doctor took his luggage and headed to the door.

Upon hearing the door slammed, Sherlock sat on the floor and closed his eyes.

“They got back together again, didn’t they?” Toto held Ron’s face. He was seated on the forbidden detective’s lap. How did it happen?

“Of course! Until the army doctor’s dying day!” Ron replied.

“Thank god!”

And the two laughed together as they held hands.

~fin~

[buckshotanon]

This is a simple question with a complicated answer. There are a few factors we currently have no way of knowing that will determine what this scenario would look like, namely how much time passed between the extermination and the beginning of season 2. For that reason and just based on not yet knowing what will happen, I might go over this again once season 2 releases.

But even without that information, the big thing to figure out would be what finding him "in time" means. As I mentioned before, a non-penetrating TBI like the one he faced (getting hit on the back of the head, causing additional damage to the front of the brain as it strikes the inside of the skull) would kill in about 8-24 hours depending on severity, but other complications and longterm damage would occur in a shorter period.

Technically, it can take considerably longer like days or weeks for complications with a head injury to reveal themselves, but the force Alastor hit the wall with, and how his head made contact with that wall, added to everything else he had going on is where the acute time frame comes from, instead of subacute which would have given the longer range. The time frame for debilitating complications could also be significantly shorter, only a matter of minutes. But if it were that bad, he wouldn't have gotten up from Adam's blow, or if he did, would have been on the brink of death before the battle ended, let alone however long it took to find him.

So what defines "in time" would be between simply preventing death, or preventing anything hard to recover from. It is possible for people to recover remarkably well from even severe TBIs, but the chances are directly correlated with how long it takes for that person to receive medical attention. It is possible in any case, as long as the person is still breathing there is a chance, but probable is another matter entirely.

The ideal would be for Alastor to be found immediately before the worst of the symptoms could reveal themselves, but the one most likely to accomplish that would be his soul owner, and even then it could take some time to locate and reach him depending on where he was.

Given his circumstances and adrenaline, Alastor's symptoms have the highest chance of manifesting somewhere between 30 minutes and 2 hours, and once they did, they would worsen fast. There is wiggle room, it could happen much faster or slower, but adrenaline can do this funny thing where it won't tell you about dire problems until the adrenaline fades, and Alastor's adrenaline would be extremely active. Even if his symptoms were on the faster end, it may take him some time to process there is something wrong.

With this in mind, for the best chance of longterm recovery, the hotel would need to start looking, if not immediately, within a couple hours. If all that matters is him being alive, the max would be about 12-20 hours. He could be dead by that point if the injury was on the very severe side (in which case the max would be around 5-6 hours), but that would be a general maximum for what would constitute "in time."

Alastor ended up in the radio tower, and with the aid of adrenaline, he should be able to make it there from wherever he first was. Not gracefully, I've only talked about the head injury thus far but for full realistic injuries, the rest of his torso is some combination of broken, bruised, ruptured, sprained, or strained, which would cause even a non-damaged brain to be not in the best state. That alone would make my personal max for starting the search 12 hours, but humanoids are weirdly durable sometimes, so it wouldn't be strange for Alastor's max on his own to be longer. Him making it to the fallen radio tower means he wasn't too far from the rest of the hotel, so once the search began, it shouldn't take more than an hour or so to actually find him. It could take longer, easily, but if they started in the surrounding area it shouldn't take too long.

That's the set up out of the way. From here, there are a few different ways this could go, entirely depending on the severity of the brain bleed and how long it took to be found.

------------------

ASAP: The ideal scenario, Alastor was found somewhere between immediately and within an hour or two. Even if the symptoms have manifested, unless the head injury was extremely severe, he has a higher chance of still being conscious. He may be disoriented and suffer a headache, and could experience post-traumatic amnesia as many who suffer a TBI do, but that would be temporary, and his chances of longterm recovery with proper medical care would be greatly increased.

Even if his symptoms haven't manifested, one of the most obvious signs would be one or both eyes being visibly dilated when they shouldn't be. The moment after being struck by Adam when his eyes were different, one black and one red, could be made into a stylistic way of conveying that, but a difference in pupils alone would be more realistic. One or both ears may begin to droop as well. Both of these signs would become more apparent the more time has gone on.

Moderate Time: Alastor was found within 4-10 hours. The chances of finding him conscious have notably decreased. If he is conscious, he will be experiencing clear symptoms, and is almost guaranteed to be in a state of post-traumatic amnesia. How that manifests would be a state of extreme confusion, struggle to remember things (not full-blown amnesia, but would not be able to answer menial things like conversations he had or what he ate that day), not recognizing people, and could become either very aggressive or unusually docile—it could go either way, but given Alastor's emotional state he would not be able to control, he has a higher chance of aggression. He may experience photophobia, dizziness, nausea and vomiting, and have lost a considerable amount of his vision. Depending on severity, he would struggle to speak or understand speech, and if he still had that ability, his words would come out slurred.

Something that would be apparent around this point is Alastor may struggle or be unable to regulate his body temperature. He could be either too hot or too cold, depending on external factors like weather and how his other injuries impact his circulation.

In the event he still has enough control of his extremities (unlikely considering everything with his torso, as well as numbness and loss of coordination, but it is possible) he may try to wander, which could make finding him more difficult. An argument could be made of him going to the radio tower while in a wandering state, searching for somewhere familiar because of the confusion.

If found unconscious, his chances of survival would be reduced, but he would by that point not be in a coma, though he could fall into one rather easily. If given medical intervention fast enough, he should be saved before too much damage is done, and if he did fall into a coma, his estimate to wake up would be sooner rather than later. But he will have a rockier longterm recovery than if he was found earlier; there could be permanent effects or ones that take longer to recover from.

If found conscious, that greatly improves his chances of a smoother recovery, and the goal would be to keep him conscious for as long as possible until getting the proper help. This may be difficult to do, and will become more so the more time has passed. If he does lose consciousness, the goal becomes waking him up again.

Be careful if the method of choice is rubbing a knuckle against his sternum. That can be risky with Alastor's situation, and should not be done at all if his ribs are broken.

Maximum Time: Alastor was found at the maximum duration for this specific brain bleed that is still survivable. He will not be conscious—he will more than likely be in a coma or on the brink of one, and will have experienced seizures.

The goal would be to wake him up if possible, but that would be doubtful. He would need immediate emergency surgery, with the chances of success being reduced but still possible. Something to take note of in any of these outcomes but specifically this one is he may score lower on the GCS (Glasgow Coma Scale) than is actually true, on account of his other injuries making it difficult to get a reliable score. Testing his motor responses doesn't work when there is damage to the muscles and bones that are important to those responses.

Where he would score on the GCS isn't guaranteed, and even if it was, that test isn't an end-all-be-all especially for reasons mentioned above, but a rule of thumb would be somewhere between 3-8. How long he would remain comatose and the ramifications of that would depend on his starting point.

If by some miracle he was able to be woken up, it would be only in technicality. He would not be coherent or responding to people around him beyond reacting to stimuli.

Making a full or significant recovery is possible especially with the proper care, but a poor neurological outcome would be the standard to prepare for.

------------------

Which of these do I think is most likely? If his soul owner is allowed to intervene, somewhere between ASAP and moderate. If it's the hotel, somewhere between moderate and max. That's not me making any commentary on the characters, but based on the circumstances and everything going on, his soul owner would have an objective edge the hotel would not have unless Alastor had enough of his sense about him to send an SOS to Husk or Niffty. Asking someone with serious head trauma and disorientation to have enough sense to do that is a tall order, and even if he did, it may be too late to do so successfully by that point. Hence moderate or max.

Timeline, Treatment, and Other Complications

Obviously, how this would impact Alastor's involvement in season 2 depends on the question proposed earlier: how much time was there between the extermination and the beginning of season 2? All signs from the finale song and the scenes after point to the idea season 2 will take place immediately if not extremely soon after the end of season 1, at most the same period between the pilot and the series proper of about a week. That means the real question to ask is how long was between the extermination and the end of the finale song.

The average time from research to build a large hotel is about 2.5-3 years, though the fastest record time was allegedly 15 days based on foundation built ahead of time and some other factors that still left the end product of questionable safety but technically done. From what we see of the hotel's construction involving no shipment wait times and the use of magic, a guess of the Hazbin Hotel taking 2.5-3 weeks feels more reasonable. However, that estimate has a caveat in this scenario that may cause things to move slower, because having someone in the hospital tends to reduce morale and energy, even if only by a little. With construction, the opposite happening of manic energy and determination to get things done would lead to concerns of the building being structurally sound, so that speed would cancel itself out.

Based on that estimate, Alastor would have 25-28 days, a little under a month, from point of injury until the expectation to do things during season 2.

That's not going to happen.

Anyone who has had a concussion can probably attribute to what a bastard they can be to shake. While most concussions do resolve themselves for the most part in a week or two, with an average of roughly 10 days, even milder concussions can linger for months. The TBI Alastor is facing is a bit more than a mild-moderate concussion.

Some brain hemorrhages don't require surgery. Alastor may be able to escape that if he was found ASAP, but it's more probable that even in the best circumstance, he would need at least decompression, drilling a hole in the skull to drain blood and relieve pressure in the brain. What is much more likely, especially in the worse cases, is a piece of his skull would be removed and replaced, to relieve the pressure and manage the source of the bleeding. Congratulations, Alastor, whatever is going on with the back of your hair might spare you some of the impromptu haircut that will result from this.

How long recovery from this would take depends on if the piece of skull can be replaced at this time or would need to be done as a follow-up surgery. In the case of emergencies where there wasn't scheduling ahead of time or if the swelling in Alastor's brain was a serious concern beyond draining the blood, it's more common this would need to be a second procedure and the patient would wear a helmet in the interim, but it can be done at once, which would make the surgery a craniotomy instead of a craniectomy + cranioplasty.

Given the options for who would be bringing him in, there would be a much higher incentive to do the procedure all at once. Royalty being involved would magically make this procedure more convenient for everyone, because that is the world we live in. Obviously, this would change if Alastor needed time to reduce the swelling in his brain and would die without that time, but if the swelling could be managed in other ways, a craniotomy would be the goal. If the removed piece of skull was too damaged to be placed back in, a metal plate would be used instead. There are other synthetic materials that could be used, but doubtfully on that short of notice.

So, Alastor is once again down some skull. Between this and the chances of vision loss, he can expect some feelings of déjà vu. Not that he would be conscious for that déjà vu for a while. The procedure itself would take somewhere between 3-5 hours, but could run longer when accounting for everything else going on in his torso that could make him harder to stabilize. Even if none of his other injuries were serious enough to require surgery, his slash wound from Adam would need to be treated at some point, and that would add more time, up to around an hour.

Tests would be done to make sure no broken bones were about to puncture organs and none of those organs had ruptured. If they had, surgery would be significantly more intensive, and how long it would take depends on the organ. It should be mentioned if there was serious damage to his organs, that would drastically reduce the time to find him before he succumbs, I wouldn't go beyond 3-5 hours at most. If it was a ruptured heart or pneumothorax, he would be done for or at least in grave danger before ASAP could find him. But the ask was about the head injury, so I won't go into this quite as much.

All of this is important when accounting for how long Alastor would be looking at for recovery. Typically with a craniotomy, what would follow after leaving the operating room is a transfer to the ICU to be monitored for roughly 24 hours, and he would stay in the hospital an additional week.

However, what complicates this would be the event Alastor did fall comatose, which would mean a prolonged state of unconsciousness, that requires more dedicated care and a longer stay in the ICU to support his spinal cord, breathing, organ function, and circulation until he has woken up. For that reason, the aftermath of this surgery would likely be exclusively in the ICU, and he would stay there anywhere from a few days to a few weeks depending on the severity of his condition.

There could be an argument made to transfer him somewhere else for personal safety reasons, but that would not be a discussion for at least the first 24 hours, or until he was stabilized enough to be out of immediate danger. After that point, it still wouldn't be preferred, but provided the place he was being transferred to had the necessary equipment and there could be a team to monitor him, it can be done.

From the head injury alone even if a coma was factored in, stabilizing could be done in 24-48 hours. As he was monitored, professionals could more reliably determine what else is going on, and if either the angelic nature of the wound or any contaminants got into his bloodstream that could cause infection and sepsis. Both concern and likelihood of infection and blood poisoning would increase in direct relation with how long it took for him to be found. This wouldn't be as much of a concern if he was found within a couple hours, whereas if it took closer to a day, it would be wise to prepare in advance for an infection to reveal itself.

How long an infection or sepsis would take to treat and recover from depends on its severity. Given in any scenario, Alastor would need to be found in less than a day, neither of these would have time to set in with too much severity, so his recovery from that would be more in line with somewhere between a few days and 2 weeks.

If he was going to stay in the hospital for acute recovery, he would be there for a minimum of 8 days, but provided he did fall into a coma, he would remain for the duration of that coma. If he were going to be transferred somewhere, that would become a discussion within 24-48 hours only if measures can be taken to ensure he is still cared for and won't die the second he leaves immediate care. However, if he were going to be transferred, it would not be to the hotel, unless it could somehow be guaranteed the room he was staying in would in no way be impacted by what is going on around it. I don't think I need to explain why a patient of questionable consciousness recovering from a skull surgery in a construction zone is a bad idea. Once the hotel was rebuilt, he could be brought there, but not while it was an active construction zone.

Alastor's head would need to be elevated while on bedrest, so most likely he would be in a semi-sitting position similar to what a recliner would provide, instead of being laid down flat. There are certain beds and pillows to make that possible, and that is one of many things that should he be transferred outside of the hospital, the people taking him would need to be aware of.

Something else that would be taken note of is the state of Alastor's spine after making contact with the wall. Any injuries to the spine are a bit different and need to be brought up, because unlike anything else going on in his torso, this directly relates to what is going on in his brain and how his recovery would be handled going forward. To put it bluntly, the human back is a design travesty and there is almost a guarantee of some type of issue that no amount of ability to twist and crack his neck would save him from.

What do I mean by that? Alastor's spinal cord itself didn't seem to be all too damaged, and if his ribs and muscles took the brunt of that damage, he wouldn't necessarily be paralyzed. He certainly could be, but going by the idea he was able to get away and walk to the radio tower, then his spinal cord is intact. What Alastor has to worry about going forward is less fatal and more annoying, and that comes down to costal cartilage and spinal discs.

Costal cartilage is cartilage of the ribs, and the reason to be careful of this is that when that cartilage is damaged, it has a tendency to make a person's individual ribs more prone to dislocating themselves with minimal provocation. When this happens, depending on which rib it is, but especially if it's in the upper ribs, it can lead to losing function of the arm on the impacted side. With a head injury, this would be a serious problem if the body in response doesn't properly relearn how to use that arm, because during the healing stages it would just stop working. This can be difficult to treat if it's one of the top three ribs, because that can be mistaken by the body and by specialists for the neck being out of alignment, and cause them to treat the wrong thing while the rib continues to cause problems. However, if the rib is found, it wouldn't be dislocated enough that it couldn't be put back.

There are warning signs one can notice when this is about to happen, but what those warning signs are vary from person to person. One example is a popping sensation in the sternum with movement, and that will happen in the days leading up to a rib detaching in the back.

And the other problem to look out for is spinal discs. Nothing loves killing itself quite like spinal discs. If I had a dollar for every time I've seen L4-L5 and/or L5-S1 decide it didn't want to exist anymore and either degenerate or explode for no reason, I would be able to pay my rent for a few months. If a spinal disc has a legitimate opportunity to end its own existence, it will, and it won't hesitate.

This is where Alastor's ability to crack and twist his neck may come to his advantage and make him more resistant to this, but as I have mentioned before, the spine reacts differently to doing something versus having it done by an external force. Therefore, it is still worth watching out for the chance at least one of Alastor's spinal discs makes an attempt to end his entire way of life. This wouldn't be fatal on its own, but it can be agonizingly painful for reasons of no longer having a working cushion between vertebrae, as well as the nucleus pulposus (jelly-like substance in discs) getting onto and agitating nearby nerves, and being attacked by the immune system that doesn't recognize it outside of where it belongs. That detail is an issue if Alastor is fighting an infection or sepsis, and could push his immune system further into overdrive.

Spinal discs could be treated with a different surgery quite easily, but because this isn't fatal, it would be something to talk to Alastor himself about before doing. People can recover from this without surgeries or nerve ablations, it will only take some time. This may be subject to change if Alastor's immune system is pushed too far, and he is unable to make a judgement call.

What makes spinal discs a particular problem for Alastor with a head injury is where these herniations occur. If it happens in the neck, it would cause sharp pains in the arm and shoulder. If it happens in the lower back, this pain would be down one or both legs and into the foot. Anything impacted would suffer considerable muscle weakness and struggling to move, which would impair recovery. Lower back would be the worst, because this would directly impact Alastor's ability to walk. Not paralyzed, but the muscles being so agitated and weak that it would be very difficult.

Adding on inevitable small vertebral fractures, not enough to necessarily damage the spinal cord but enough to cause concern and a need to be careful, he would be put in a back brace. It would need to be one that doesn't compress any ribs if they are broken or agitate his chest wound, but keeps the spine supported. The condition of his spine, discs, and ribs would need to be monitored alongside his head to determine what lingering problems came from the head or something else.

How This Impacts Season 2

With this out of the way, we can give a more accurate assessment of where Alastor would be at in his recovery by the end of the time-skip, or at the end of the estimated 25-28 days.

------------------

ASAP: If found in the early aftermath of the battle before too many symptoms manifest, Alastor could receive treatment quickly. This would not change the severity of his injury, but it would have given blood less time to cause pressure and additional damage in the brain. He doubtfully lost consciousness, and if he did, not for very long. He would remain in the hospital for the duration of surgery recovery and be monitored, but over the next few weeks, he could be well into the subacute stages of his recovery and be in active rehabilitation and therapy by the end of the timeskip.

How long treatment takes depends on the extent of the damage and Alastor's personal response to that treatment. He could have a more difficult time with this when accounting for other potential injuries and especially the chest wound that would hinder movement. Chronic headaches and migraines would be something to look out for as well, though they wouldn't be labeled chronic for a few more months. Head pain is a normal response to head trauma, so frequent headaches would not inherently mean chronic during this stage, but it's worth looking out for.

He could be an active presence among the cast, but he would not be able to maintain his role as hotelier. His role in the conflict would be hindered by those limitations, as well as photophobia, which would continue on into the coming weeks or months (to be elaborated on), and potentially a need to relearn speech.

Moderate Time: Finding him in this timeframe has the most variety in what could be happening. Like with finding him ASAP, he would be able to receive treatment and may not have lost consciousness, but the damage has had time to cause continued problems in his brain. He would most likely remain in a state of post-traumatic amnesia and disorientation for anywhere from a few hours to a few days, but not going past a week.

Alastor would remain on bedrest or resting while avoiding rigorous activity for the majority if not the entirety of the 25-28 days. This would be the time to monitor him and check for any lasting effects. He may experience a struggle to speak, temporary vision loss, fatigue and brain fog, balance and dizziness problems, spasticity, sensory impairment, chronic headaches and migraines, and ataxia (struggle to move and control muscles, most obvious in extremities). His ability to control his emotions will also be hindered during recovery, and he may be prone to emotional outbursts.

The emotional outbursts can be managed by prescribed anti-anxiety medication. It might seem like a bizarre medicine to prescribe for a head injury, but it's done in scenarios exactly like this. That would be one of multiple medications he was given which could include any combination of anticonvulsants, non-opioid pain relievers, anticoagulants, stimulants, steroids (not the ones most think of), diuretics, and stool softeners.

Sexual dysfunction also can happen, but if he was impacted by that, it would be something to be discovered further down the line. That does not seem like something that would impact season 2.

If he did lose consciousness and was unable to be woken up, or if the damage was bad enough he was induced into a coma to heal, his prognosis would be better than if found later. Loss of consciousness would most likely be in the range of 6-48 hours, but if he had truly fallen into a coma, a few days to a week would be a rough estimate. His recovery would be paused for him to regain consciousness and awareness (to be elaborated on*).

Maximum Time: Alastor has a high chance of spending most of the 25-28 days in a coma and recovering from that coma—either being in one on his own, or being induced into one to give his brain time to heal. Being induced would be a more likely situation if this were the moderate time, but in the case of maximum, that probably happened on its own.

How long he would be in a coma does depend, and the likelihood of a longterm recovery does relate to that. With the amount of damage he would have suffered from the blow itself and the amount of time before getting medical care, he could be looking in the range of 2-4 weeks.

Technically, it is possible especially for the maximum time, he could be comatose for all of season 2. But that feels like a cop-out answer, and if it were to happen, it would reduce his chances of longterm recovery even further, so we're getting into specifics.

Looking at the range of 2-4 weeks, and factoring in a storytelling standpoint of this question, that means that Alastor would be either waking up by the end of episode 1, or if he was closer to the 2 week range, he could have regained awareness by the end of episode 1.

* This is more common knowledge than it used to be, but media depictions of people waking up from a coma are inaccurate to what it's actually like. There is no immediate waking up like someone was asleep, because unconsciousness and sleep may look the same from an outside perspective, but are notably different. It is a very gradual process over the course of days to a couple weeks of slowly regaining awareness, where Alastor may seem awake for short periods ranging from a few minutes to an hour, but he is not all-there. His eyes might start to open more frequently, he might show signs of agitation and confusion based on instincts, but there will be little higher level of responsiveness. Once he has regained awareness, he may remember very little about this period.

To put that simply, he could be mistaken for being fully awake once he opens his eyes, but that's not the full story. This is the waking up stage, not necessarily being actively awake and alert. Having any conversation and expecting a coherent answer would need to wait until this stage has passed.

This scenario would mean he would need to be more heavily watched than any other, to look out for complications like infections from the surgery like pneumonia, deep vein thrombosis (blood clots in the legs that can form during long periods of inactivity like being bedridden), seizures, or a stroke. He would need to be monitored at all times even after waking up to make sure there are no lasting complications like this.

Though a possibly unexpected benefit would be whereas moderate means Alastor would be more aware of everything such as pain and vision loss, the time unconscious would double as the time for those aspects to begin healing and be less of an active presence when he does awaken. If he did experience vision loss, it wouldn't be back fully for a few more months, but there would be enough time to establish this is not a permanent thing.

------------------

But, in any case, every one of these scenarios would have Alastor out of the hospital either by the end of the timeskip or by roughly episode 2 of the season at the latest, assuming he was staying there and not cared for somewhere else like Cannibal Town or the later completed Hotel. If found ASAP or Moderate, he could be in the subacute stages of healing, whereas with Maximum, he would be further behind, but at the very least conscious and alert early on and able to begin those therapies.

Relearning to walk and speak if those is something he lost would be the highest priorities, as well as making sure there are no continence problems. But of the things Alastor himself could focus on, it would be walking and speaking. Providing physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy would be ideal, but it may be difficult to find all the necessary people, so at least have some type of plan to make up the difference.

While there is a broad range for how long it takes to recover from a head injury like this, a slight majority of patients are able to walk with minimal help after six months. More specific hand movements and speech could be in the realm of a year or two, but there are plenty of patients who have made a remarkable recovery within the six-month range.

From my experience, Alastor would be an interesting patient to have, and one of the more difficult. There are two types of patient he could fall under:

Patients who are willing to do whatever they have to for recovery. Extremely receptive to the point they sometimes overdo it. Those are the ones who will rest if they are specifically told to, but need to be very specific on how long, otherwise they will start trying to do things before they should and set themselves back on accident.

Patients who refuse to accept they need help. May either forcefully ignore the problem or try to treat themselves with no guidance. They won't let anyone know they are struggling, and do more harm to themselves than good.

In most cases, the second option becomes the first option once they have a harsh wake up call, something that could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. Reasons for why vary but it tends to come down to dignity and pride, or if they have loved ones the believe they need to be strong for. They don't want to be seen as vulnerable or weak.

These are some of the toughest patients, not because they are bad or even difficult people, but if the therapist doesn't thread the needle, it can lead to the patient not being as receptive to treatment or actively fighting against it. Through no fault of the patient's own, this often happens subconsciously and causes feelings of stress and shame for the patient. Obviously, some patients can become spiteful and hard to work with, but those are not as common as people seem to think.

With these patients, it's a delicate balance of making sure they know they are making progress without babying them, and pushing them like they want without overdoing it and hurting them. Place yourself into the shoes of the patient, figure out what they would consider true progress.

Don't get overexcited about accomplishments. An innocent mistake to make, but if this type of patient is going to become agitated, being treated like a child is most of the time how it happens. The patient is not a toddler taking their first steps or saying their first words. But they do need to know when they are making good progress.

Don't be super delicate and dance around difficult topics with them. But being too harsh or blunt with those topics can cause feelings of stress and hopelessness. Realism is important, with a lean towards making sure belief in the patient is conveyed. Tracking progress and showing data tends to be useful for this.

An effective way of tracking progress is to give them goals one step at a time, something that would distinctly be a challenge to work towards but a realistic one that they won't hurt themselves pushing for. Just enough that they feel like they're doing something, and you believe they are strong enough to get through it, without doing harm if they try to push just a bit more, or causing psychological distress if they're not quite ready.

It really is a very delicate balance, even professionals make mistakes on it all the time. But it is so rewarding when it's done right, and can have amazing results for the patient. A good way to think about these types of patients is "high risk, high reward," because of how easy it is to mess up, but if done right the patient may heal better and/or faster than average.

Provided someone manages to accomplish this, and stops Alastor from overdoing it or pushing himself too far, he may be able to see significant recoveries within the six-month range. He may not have everything back and struggle in some areas, but his prognosis could have a positive outlook. If symptoms were to linger and become chronic beyond during the healing phase, he may have difficulty concentrating, minor memory problems, headaches (though they would reduce in frequency), and fatigue.

The main thing Alastor could struggle with is regaining speech. When I say he will struggle to speak, I don’t mean he would lose the ability to make sounds. He can still communicate, but like with his hands, he will struggle with precise muscle movements such as controlling the facial muscles that help properly turn sound into words. Notably, he will need to give up the permanent smile. If the smile is stitched on, the stitches need to come out (this may be difficult if the smile was stitched on my someone else). On paper, him not using those muscles and keeping them in place would mean less muscles to relearn, but it would double to mean he would require more effort for other facial muscles and take a longer time.

However, one aspect of Alastor’s powers has shown him speaking with his mouth closed and the words still come through, his teeth just start glowing. If he is able to speak without facial movement or use of muscle as part of his powerset and that wasn’t impacted by his staff breaking, then he wouldn’t have trouble with speech at all beyond any struggles with focus that could make it easy to forget words. But he would still need to relearn to use those facial muscles eventually.

Additionally, depending on how well his vision returns, he may need to wear glasses instead of only the monocle. This may be temporary, it is rare for vision loss to be permanent, but he may need the glasses longterm.

He may also have struggles with reading, either having to outright relearn or simply suffering mental fog that makes it hard to focus. It can happen that people can read just fine but the brain gets stuck on processing words despite them being read through.

Lifestyle changes would be important. Obvious things like avoiding overworking himself, adapting to any limitations he may have, and making sure to avoid substances like alcohol, tobacco, and drugs for a minimum of 3-6 months (depending on severity of the injury) but closer to a year on the safe side, after which reintroduce them gradually provided that's what he chooses and a doctor deems that safe, and he is not on prescription medications that react badly to those substances. All of those substances can worsen the outcome of a head injury during the recovery stages, and Alastor may have a significantly reduced alcohol tolerance going forward.

He will need to cut cannibalism. Cannibalism has too many negative impacts on the brain for him to be able to continue with that aspect of his diet. That isn't something to be lenient or gradual on. No cannibalism. If he insists on cannibalism and will not listen to reason, there needs to be a set time frame he is not allowed to engage in cannibalism, like for example a year or two. There can be nothing vague like "when you're better," that is subjective and patients are willing to abuse technicalities or claim to be better to get access to something they're restricted from. He wouldn't be leaving the hotel much if at all during the recovery period, but avoid going to Cannibal Town if temptation becomes a problem.

Relying on his powers would be something to avoid, but as long as his powers are used to supplement his recovery instead of take away from it, that would be welcome.

I do need to emphasize that even if his prognosis could be positive with proper care, this would be a grueling process for everyone involved. Caring for a patient with a head injury, especially someone you know and care about, is a physically and emotionally demanding full-time task. There will be a period of time Alastor is unable to control his emotions and may be prone to outbursts and episodes of aggression (threats, swearing, scratching and biting are common occurrences) and confusion, especially in the early days. It could go in the other direction of him being very docile and in no way acting like the person the people of the hotel know, which can be just as traumatic for people caring for a loved one. This will be reduced over time as he recovers and regains more of his ability to control that, but it will go beyond the initial recovery. The rates of depression in the first year following a TBI is extremely high compared to those without a TBI, and setbacks in the recovery would also be setbacks in Alastor's mental health.

Not everyone is able to handle this. The hotel would need to be prepared for that, this isn't something that can be fixed with summer camp strategies. Optimism is a good thing, but there needs to be an understanding of the situation, and not trying to ignore reality. For a while even in the best case, it may feel like things will not be okay. Alastor may take strides forward and just as easily take strides back. It's not linear. It would be important they take care of themselves and support one another just as much as Alastor. Some may need to acknowledge they are not cut out for the long haul, while others may have a much easier time, and whoever can successfully do it would impact the story of the season.

When asking how Alastor having a head injury would impact season 2, it would have ripple effects onto the other characters because of how demanding it can be. It may not change things too drastically in other plotlines, but it's worth noting.

We have no way of knowing how long season 2 will go on for in terms of its timeline. Season 1 was over the course of six months. It could be different on account of a different antagonist, but six months feels like a reasonable estimate. Where would Alastor be at?

------------------

This estimate is based on the scenario where recovery goes relatively smoothly, he stays consistent with the work necessary, and an effort is being made to reduce his stress as much as possible. This does account for a grace period he may resist treatment for reasons mentioned above. Any extra injuries or illnesses are also accounted for, but as they would be healing simultaneously, the difference isn't all too substantial.

ASAP: Alastor has regained the ability to walk. He would still need to be careful not to push himself, but he can walk around the hotel and outside with company. He will be able to take care of himself. He may have some trouble with refined movements like speaking or writing, but he will have made progress and have some or even most of his range of motion. He may have lingering issues such as headaches, fatigue, and brain fog, but these should be reducing in frequency. He has regained control of his emotions. Will suffer from mild photophobia.

If he experienced trouble with spinal discs, he may experience pain, and his back may be prone to going out during flare-ups if it's in the low back, but he will have regained sensation in any limbs that were previously numb. (If he opted to treat this with surgery, this would not be a problem, or a reduced one.)

May experience struggles with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. If the symptoms continue beyond this point, he may want to be screened for a formal diagnosis.

He can return to some of his duties as hotelier, but nothing strenuous and the workload would need to be reduced. Maintain a gradual progression of mentally-stimulating activity, but make sure not to overdo it and take breaks.

Moderate Time: Alastor may still struggle to walk. The problem may be less in muscle control or balance and more endurance leaving something to be desired, but he should be able to walk at least short distances. He may need to be accompanied, but he would be able to take care of himself for the most part besides that.

Refined movements may be a problem, but he will have gained back some range of motion. He could still struggle with cognitive tasks like reading due to brain fog or headaches, but this is improving and will continue to improve. He has regained control over his emotions. Will suffer from photophobia.

Like with ASAP, if he experienced trouble with spinal discs, he may experience pain, and his back may be prone to going out during flare-ups if it's in the low back, but he will have regained sensation in any limbs that were previously numb. (If he opted to treat this with surgery, this would not be a problem, or a reduced one.)

May experience struggles with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. If the symptoms continue beyond this point, he should be screened for a formal diagnosis.

He is not ready to return to his duties as hotelier, but he can help with tasks around the hotel. Once he is consistently steady on his own, he should be able to return to his duties in the next few weeks.

Maximum Time: Alastor will have some ability to walk, but may still struggle considerably with balance. He may need to wear a gait belt to prevent falls on bad days, and have someone close-by.

Progress will be limited on refined movements, but it does exist. He may be able to speak some with effort. Headaches and brain fog may be a continued problem inhibiting daily life, but this will be gradually reducing. He has regained control of his emotions, but may have episodes of losing control. Will suffer from photophobia.

If he experienced trouble with spinal discs, he will experience pain, and his back may be prone to going out during flare-ups. He may not have gained back as much mobility, but the numbness in impacted extremities should be gone or reduced. (If he opted to treat this with surgery, this would not be a problem, or a reduced one.)

Mental health needs to be carefully watched. Patients struggling with a severe injury getting in the way of progress may be prone to decline the more time passes.

He is not ready to return to his duties as hotelier, and should focus on therapy and recovery. If he becomes restless or feels a need to help with tasks, allow him to do tasks under supervision, but nothing that could be strenuous.

------------------

Over the course of the next few months, and therefore the next few seasons, Alastor's condition would continue to gradually improve. He should be for the most part recovered within 2 years, but have made significant progress by the one-year mark.

There is a myth that the limit to healing is around 2 years. That isn't true. Healing will continue for decades, though it will slow over time. Even if it ends up taking a long time, Alastor will recover eventually.

Photophobia and the Death of the Alastor-Vox Plotline

One thing has continued to come up over the course of this analysis, and that is photophobia. Contrary to what people associate the term "phobia" with, photophobia is not a fear. It's an abnormal sensitivity to light, but as some people may be able to guess, there's a reason emphasis is put on Alastor continuing to suffer from photophobia during this time. The answer is simple: Vox.

Vox being the main antagonist puts Alastor in an interesting position, not even for anything Vox himself could or would do. Vox's head emits a blue light as most modern screens do. Based on that alone, Alastor would not be able to interact with Vox without physical pain or discomfort, with severity depending on a few factors gone through above.

We don't know the details of what Vox's plan is exactly. Various leaks give some clues, both the November ones and one a few months ago that was a chunk of script, but not enough to have a firm grasp on what exactly Alastor being down for the count would change about his plans.

Going into speculation of what his plans could be, one could assume Vox would want access to Alastor in some way. This is a case where Alastor's head injury and resulting photophobia could be his greatest advantage or his worst nightmare, and it all comes down to the care of others. I tend to avoid character discussion unless it's relevant, but it would take a lot to get around "your face brings physical pain to our hotelier," and not have the explanation be a lack of decency from others. Photophobia is not something Alastor would successfully be able to hide.

Because Vox has been willing to send in spies before, I should clarify that a spy wouldn't count when I say accessing Alastor directly would be difficult. A direct meeting would be mean an interaction between the two. Vox himself would have to try really hard to interact with Alastor, be that in a room face-to-face, or any screen-related means of communication.

Therefore, Vox's plans in relation to Alastor and the hotel are either the easiest or the hardest thing he has ever done, and there is no in-between. If he can pull it off, this is a walk in the park. If not, then he's shit out of luck unless he gets really creative really fast.

However, if Alastor is disconnected from the rest of Hell, that would give Vox an advantage with any indirect plans going unchallenged unless someone steps in so Alastor doesn't have to.

The biggest challenge is that Alastor having a head injury means he cannot under any circumstances fight Vox. Not only would photophobia make that battle almost impossible, but there would be another factor to worry about, and that's second impact syndrome. Second impact syndrome essentially means he would suffer fatal or otherwise life-ruining consequences if he sustains another blow to the head before recovering from his current head injury. Fighting anyone, much less Vox who would be almost guaranteed to know that weakness, would not be in the cards.

All of that points to as long as Vox is satisfied not interacting with Alastor directly, this is the easiest evil plan ever. Until, of course, bringing it back around to it all depends on the care of others.

Hyper-vigilance and protective behavior is common in the family and friends of people who suffer a serious injury. The hotel may be more prone to noticing and reacting to things than they would be in any other situation—not just related to Alastor, but in general. That could make Vox's plan incredibly difficult.

In Summary: If any part of Vox's plan is to make Alastor suffer, he got beaten to it by Alastor's own body. There is not much Vox could do that Alastor's body wouldn't say "challenge accepted" to.

Alastor will be conscious and an active character for most or all of season 2, but his storylines will be on pause to focus on recovery. Not much can be done about his soul deal or his situation with Vox when he has to avoid stress, therefore avoid engaging with the plot, to heal.

Everyone else may have ripple effects from this into their plotlines, ranging from emotional draining to hyper-vigilance to actively having their plotlines disrupted if they were viable caretakers.

But at the end of the day, in every scenario, no matter the severity or the time it takes to find him... Alastor is uniquely qualified to opt out of the entirety of the canon season 2 Vox plotline. The real complicated and sad was the head trauma we got along the way.

(Note: Something I do take into consideration is this being Hell, and it feels like it would be a design flaw for head injuries to cause drastic personality changes or mental incapacitating like they could for a living person. That feels like it defeats the purpose of punishing someone in Hell if a head injury can stop that person from existing anymore. If sinners come back by respawning with no consequences we know of unless done in by an angelic weapon, that specifically is most likely not something to worry about. My guess is that at most for plausible mental impacts, memory loss could be something to consider as long as the person themselves remains intact, but that's speculation. That is the reason I didn't go into that aspect of head injuries.)

(Another Note: This is based on one scenario of brain bleed TBI, there is a very wide variety, and all of them have broad ranges of symptoms and recovery times. Different people will have different experiences. Alastor's injury could be debilitating and significantly worse, but as the ask mentioned him healing, I decided to go with a more positive outcome.)

@buckshotanon you talked about how if Alastor's injuries from Adam were realistic he would have a nasty head injury. Assuming the hotel found him in time and got him the help he needed, how much involvement could he feasibly have in season 2? Head injuries take a long time to heal, right? Can't imagine a brain bleed would heal in a timely manner.

👀

[vmures]

Art is a tool for expression and conveying emotions, ideas, and experiences. While art always carries seeds of its creator, it also becomes so much more than that once it is let free into the world. It becomes a conversation, a layered thing with different meanings and impacts on different people.

Humans are complex beings and everyone can create art. It can be heartbreaking and infuriating to learn that the creator of a piece of art that profoundly influenced you and changed you, that has become part of you, is a horrible, vile person. But it is important to remember that their art is more than the creator themself. Liking the art and finding meaning in it doesn't make you a horrible person.

It is also very valid to be unable to see the art the same way after you learn about the creator. Everyone has to wrestle with their own relationship to the art in question and how they know view it. You can still appreciate the meaning it had for you once upon a time while acknowledging that it hits differently now.

Often the hardest thing is not the fact that the creator is a vile person, but that they built a convincing mask of being kind and encouraging to others. While we often understand that public personas are not who people really are, when someone makes kindness their brand, it feels like a betrayal to learn that they have been using that mask to prey on others. I know for me, there is a part of me that is mad at falling for the con and that knows I would have been perfect prey because I fell for it.

So when such an unmasking happens, as it so often does, the best advice I can offer is this: be kind, to yourself and to others, as you all wrestle with this paradigm shift. Give yourself space and let yourself feel what you feel. Learn from it. Remind yourself that what we know of creators usually fills less than a thimble if we could distill knowledge into liquid. We know their art, but not them. We can appreciate that they make compelling art without putting them on a pedestal. Remind yourself that all creators are human and pedestals are dangerous places to put anyone, because inevitably you will be let down.

[thaeon]

obviously late to the party on this like 9 years later and not saying anything that hasn't already been said but its sooo interesting going back and watching blind playthroughs of undertale bc its so funny how many of the people drawn to the game immediately fall into the very first pitfall set by it by being so unimaginative that they cannot imagine a game system existing that does not require grinding up levels even as they say to themselves they don't want to kill the characters AND the npcs reference the game mechanics TO them

[kaptainkoalaoshiz]

OK, so I let the worms dig a little bit more and I can't help but love that AU gjzohjo :

Wrong number to dad AU where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian knew each other in high school and they were in love, but life, misunderstanding and Wei Wuxian stopping coming to school separated them - both thinking the other stopped loving them and it's really bittersweet for the two to look at pictures they took of their "summer idyl".

Lan Wangji goes to work for his family company for a while before he then goes to work for a non-profit that focuses on clean energy or something like that. He adopts several bunnies. He thinks of Wei Wuxian three times a day, buying trinkets that reminds him of him and hiding them because, who the hell buy stuff for a high school sweetheart they haven't seen in thirteen years?

Wei Wuxian's life has been chaotic right after quitting high school. The people he's been friends with and doing odd jobs for (the Dafan Wen) had a stroke of bad luck coming right after the other and when they left Wen Yuan to him for babysitting, Madam Yu flipped a switch so hard she nearly had a stroke, thinking WWX got a girl pregnant and he'd hid that from them for years - never mind that WWX is barely approaching his 18th birthday and still a virgin.

His pleadings and him trying to explain the situation doesn't work and he's kicked out, so he has to go and find a job to support his and Wen Yuan's life from then on. The first ones he find pays little and have horrible hours - but he power through until he gets a name for himself in a knick-knack repair shop, where he still do odd jobs but he's paid a good amount to make computers, repair old gramophones and such; he also paint and invent things on his own time, which sells like hot cakes (coincidentally, one of the little statuette he did with copper wires and bits of marble has been gifted to Lan Wangji as he saw it at a salon and fell in love with it, the owner giving it to him because he was so thankful for their work).

Cue thirteen years later after Wei Wuxian mysteriously disappears and Wen Yuan, wanting to text Lan Jingyi, who got a new phone& phone number, gets one number wrong and ends up texting Lan Wangji.

They don't quite hit it off immediately but Wen Yuan keeps texting him because Lan Wangji gives good advices and is a good listener - but Wen Yuan keeps internet safety rules pretty tight (he does not give his name, does not give his location or anything that can lead to him) but one year after Wei Wuxian has disappeared from his life, Wen Yuan just want someone to tell him everything is going to be ok, and Lan Wangji sends him a few pictures of his bunny - and Wen Yuan is like "hey, why is there a framed picture of my dad on your wall"

Lan Wangji had kept and framed a picture of Wei Wuxian when they went to a school outing and he looked so free and gorgeous, so loving - before the misunderstanding, the bitterness, the heartbreak - that he could not help himself. The picture is always in the bunnies' room because he thinks they deserve to know this sunshine boy, the one that said he'd adopt three thousand bunnies with Lan Wangji just because Lan Wangji likes bunnies (at first, lwj did not like bunnies. They were fine, bute animals but then wwx startedf gifting him bunny paraphernalia "because they reminded me of us" that his love for the animal started blooming full force) and so his bunnies deserved to know about him.

They start meeting IRL after that, after Wen Yuan is 100% sure LWJ is not a creep and that he genuinly loved his father, that he regretted his words back then and regretted not running after wwx before he disappeared from his life. They visited each other for comfort for another year before the hospital called Wen Yuan - and they drive there so quickly because they can't believe their luck, can't believe wwx is alive again-

When they arrive at the room's door, wwx is hesitant to let them in, saying he's not presentable and such and he doesn't want to break their heart. But they insist and he let them in - and they are shocked because his face is absolutely different from before - softer, gentler, more pretty than handsome but his eyes are still the same, as is the curve of his smile..

Two years ago, Wei Wuxian had left Wen Yuan home alone (a sixteen years old boy who knew how to cook and clean the house could stay a week alone without problem. He needed to know how independance felt like and wen Yuan was excited to manage the household like a grown adult) for a business trip. The first five days, everything went well and Wei Wuxian met a young man who had a difficult life like himself. Mo Xuanyu was at the trip to try and prove himself and get away from his maternalle family that claimed mental illness to keep him at their home and pocket his inheritance/the government money.

They hit it off like a house on fire but at the sixth day, wwx's clothes got so dirty mxy let him borrow a few things and stuffed into wwx's pants his phone, keys, papers -while wwx's were left inadvertendly at the hotel. The bus they were on got into an accident and mxy died on the spot, his head so damaged he was unrecognizable. And so was wx's face. So when the ambulance arrived and got him to the hospital, they decided on reconstructive surgery based on the papers they found in his pocket - mxy's papers. His face. His life, basically.

WWX stayed into a coma for a good year and a half and had very muddled memories when he woke up - and when he told the doctors his name wasn't Mo Xuanyu but Wei Wuxian, and was allowed to call his son, he was then put into a panic because - this wasn't his face anymore and what if Wen Yuan thought he was Mo Xuanyu trying to get Wei Wuxian's stable, loving life?

But then when Lan Wangji entered the room with his son, he blurted "Lan Zhan?" and Mo Xuanyu had never met the man, would never had known his birth name and so their reunion was tear filled - wangxian talked about how and why they broke up and realized they still loved each other even after so long and not seeing the other for more than a decade- even with his new face, wwx was wwx so.. happy ending where they end up together co-parenting Wen Yuan and three dozen bunnies more and everything is right in the world again!

so many people writing wrong number text meet cutes for couples but what about wrong number meet cutes for reserved teen boys and their new mother figure to be send post

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up Masterlist / Stripclub Owner Sukuna headcanons

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and eventually violence, some former trauma of reader.

WC so far- 20k

Headcanons/story preview below!

Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'

Soooo this is a tease of a full fic- Pour it up

permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @n1vi @aldebrana @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy - also taggingggg- @naammiii @msniks @1worm1 <3

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted. 

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. ��Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm– because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm– I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.