#vile the way he smells is disgusting the person he is is shit! like i dont care if we're related lol its not by fucking choice

[0asisbliss]

TW: Canaibalism, dark themes, etc don’t like this type of shit don’t read it.🫶🏽

Pt.1

•Vampire!Phantom Troupe that only gets more vile and disgusting as you try to understand their ways of life.

•Vampire!Pakunoda that is an absolute sweetheart. She respects your privacy more that’s any of the troupe combined.

•Vampire!Machi that keeps her distance, but from afar she fantasies about how you taste. She talks to Chrollo about it and he can’t help, but relate to how she feels. Maybe one day they can make a plan that would lead to your glorious blood trickling out of your neck and maybe from in between your thighs from the many bite marks that would linger on your inner skin.

•You eventually eat of your own kind with the help of good ole peer pressure, and a little bit of motivation from Vampire!Chrollo.

•The taste was tangy, and almost kinda sweet? It made you feel like a different kind of person. Not in a necessarily bad way, but not in a good way either. You feel soft circular rubs on your lower back by Pakunoda. As you get done chewing your first bite.

•The whole Vampire!Troupe is proud of their pretty little human. They could just eat you up.

•“You did such a good job..” Chrollo would pat your head while reassuring you.

•“Awh? How’d it taste for your first round hm?” Nobunaga would tease.

*Vampire!Shalnark that has always been plotted on you since the beginning, and tries to wiggle his way into your heart by trying to understand how you feel about your whole “Situation”. Almost like he’s being sympathetic? No. Oh, honey when you finally break down to him a cry about how unsure and afraid you are he finally can see your deep and sweet emotions. As your tears trickle out your eyes Shalnark would wipe, and kiss your pretty wet cheeks. Licking and enjoying the salty taste when your not looking.

•His presence is soft and comforting until you mention how much you want to leave and be your own person again. When the words “I want to be alone.” Leaves your lips the air around you gets tense and out of a corner Feitan appears with a pale face, and there is no sight of that sickening smirk you knew all too well.

•With last bit of courage you had you got up and left. You couldn’t help but think to yourself maybe your thought process then saved your life?

•Vampire!Chrollo that goes through your house smelling and inhaling your scent. There’s just something about the way you smell that keeps him going. It just adds to your perfection in his eyes.

•Vampire!Phantom troupe that knows to never let you out of their sights as long as your alive.

[red-dye40]

iunno if you're still doing the directors cut thing but -> 💫

yes! always until the end of time because i love to talk!

here’s some commentary for ancaux chapter 9:

“You can get started on his limbs. I recommend below the joints for first-timers; it won’t be as clean but it’ll be easier, and you can take breaks between the ulna and the radius–” he points, with the tip of the machete, to the forearms, “–and the tibia and fibula–” he points, next, to the calves, “–if it gets too tough.”

i do think that, as an active homicidal maniac, nny had his own stupid names for bones, since i don’t imagine he was ever a serial killer who like studied the human form??? i think he just kinda learned as he went along and never opened a book on anatomy in his life. because the body is disgusting to him. HOWEVER i have this idea that, in this au where he gets help and treatment, he still obviously has his natural curiosity and lust for killin, and so sometimes he’ll like check out a bunch of anatomy and biology books from the library to quell his ~urges~, and maybe a more sterile and clinical approach will make him less inclined to act on anything. nerd.

Without a head, with his limbs all twisted to fit more securely in the fridge, with his bizarrely expensive but otherwise unimpressive clothes soaked in dried blood, he doesn’t look much like a person anymore. He looks kind of pathetic, definitely more than a little silly.

i spent my late teens / early 20s exclusively around art students because my sister was a fine arts major and i didn’t go to college so i had no friends otherwise :) her like closest friends were this group of extremely rich kids posing as poor kids and it was so bizarre to experience. they only dressed in ratty clothes but upon further investigation they were actually like one-of-one designer pieces that cost hundreds of dollars and crazy shit like that, and they only ate cigarettes and shitty shitty beer. i went to a party at one of their apartments once and it was inside this like seemingly derelict warehouse, but when we got in it turned out the whole place had been gut-renovated, and he lived in a lofted penthouse with roof access, and everyone there was like smoking weed and giving each other the shittiest tattoos ive ever seen, and i found out his dad paid for his rent and the nelson mandela tattoo thing i mention in later chapters? is based on a Real Thing i saw with my eyes at this party.

“Rigor mortis only lasts like a day.” He plops another finger chunk in a trashbag. “After that, they get all gooshy again.” “I didn’t know that.” “We actually got in at the perfect time!” Johnny continues gratefully. “The window between rigor mortis and true decomposition is small, if nonexistent. Both are extremely unpleasant in their own ways, obviously, but I personally detest the smell of putrefaction. And house flies are annoying.” He wipes a gory gloved hand across the front of his poncho. “So this is really ideal.”

HYPERFIXATION!!!!!! SPECIAL INTEREST IS DEATH AND DECAY!

“The little junkyard doggies love this stuff.” He shakes the contractor bag–its contents make vile, macaroni and cheese-type squishing sounds. “I toss them out my window when I drive by, and they maul each other to try and get to ‘em. It’s so cute.”

i love the little glimpses of weird things nny finds cute that we get in jthm and on the johnny c twitter. i want more of that.

“Does your trunk open with the key, or is there one of those secret buttons somewhere in the front I have to press?” “Oh, the trunk doesn’t open.” Devi freezes in the doorway. She digs her nails into the frame. Slowly, in her comedically loud poncho, she turns to look Nny in his dumb face. “...the trunk doesn’t open… at all?”“Nooooooo, I made a bunch of oobleck for the neighbor kid–I was going to teach him a valuable lesson about the dangers of quicksand and quicksand-adjacent colloids–but then I forgot about it in my trunk during a week-long heat wave and it all kind of exploded.” “And so the trunk doesn’t open.” “Nope.” Johnny finally understands the problem. “Oh damn.” “Yeah, Nny.” Devi grits her teeth. “Yeah, ‘oh damn.’”

SQUEE MENTION 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i think this is one of my fav exchanges in the whole fic. i love for nny to be a huge idiot. i love devi to want to kill him for being a huge idiot.

“If I let you drive, you’re gonna play some fuckin’ irritating classical music you downloaded from LimeWire, and you’re gonna stop at every Cum-N-Go for some cherry flavored swill, and then you’re gonna need to go pee-pees every twenty minutes, and I really really REALLY don’t have the patience for any of that right now, Jonathan.”

this is funny because johnny’s name is most certainly not jonathan. devi knows this.

“If I recall correctly, you slaughtered an entire movie theater’s worth of people when The Fifth Element didn’t meet your IMPOSSIBLY HIGH EXPECTATIONS?? YES?” “IT HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL!” “GARY OLDMAN LOOKED LIKE A PERVERTED BUSINESSMAN WHO GOT BORED HALFWAY THROUGH PUTTING ON A MARILYN MANSON COSTUME AND THAT WAS ON THE POSTER–YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WHAT YOU WERE GETTING YOURSELF INTO!”

this is a little reference to jv’s diary kept during the 1997 roadkill!! tour, in which they see the fifth element and he’s simply underwhelmed. i love the idea of nny getting his hopes up so high for movies and then going completely insane when they’re just whatever. for the record i love the fifth element.

As the car lurches from the inertia of the stop, the twine around the roof of the car groans, and then snaps completely, and with a loud thump the body slides out of the tarp and onto the hood, and its pallid bare ass is pressed up against the windshield. Devi reaches for the gear shift, taps the wipers on the way, and now the ass is doing a weird sexy dance for the two of them as the blades push it back and forth. They’re still screaming. Devi finally shifts it into reverse and turns over the seat to back up–Nny can’t look away from the ass. She floors it. The body goes flying, all rubbery and floppy and veiny and sexy, and the car keeps backing up until it eventually collides with the ceramic squirrel riding a tractor.

i had the idea of nny and devi having to dump the body really early on in writing. LOVE the trope of ppl needing to get rid of a body in a funny way. i didn’t have a plan, i just liked the insurance policy thing, like of nny being really concerned about obeying traffic laws and not wanting to get any demerits (idk i don’t drive) and devi being like “what the fuck you’re literally a mass murderer” and i REALLY wanted all this to feel stupid and not like. idk a bummer in any way. i definitely took a lot of inspo from the scene in search party season 2 (SPOILERS), where they go to the store to find a suitcase for a body and a guy convinces them to buy a really gaudy zebra print one. just weird absurdity stupidity etc.

thank u for the ask sorry this took SO LONG ily PLATONIC!!!!!

[sleepyrainart]

Truth or Dare, gone wrong.

Summary: Toge (a little shit) gives innocent fem reader a dare. Megumi is unamused.

Rating: 18+, Lemon.

Pairing: Megumi x Reader.

Word count: 1,666.

Other: Established relationship, characters are aged up, bunny is used as a term of endearment, good girl is used once, Megumi is a meanie. Enjoy.

A crappy B-horror was playing on the wide screen. Itadori, the only one paying attention to it. The others enjoying their own hobbies. A lazy evening. No missions, no threats, no danger. A nice change of pace, a boring Tuesday.

“Ugh, I'm so bored,” Nobara pouts. Looking away from her phone. “Entertain me,” she says, poking Itadori's face. He just ignores her, so caught up in the movie. Even when she pokes him harder and harder. Giving up and turning her gaze to Maki. Who's crunching on chips. Nobara sighs, trying another person. Orange eyes flicking towards you. A sharp smirk growing on her face.

Dread welling in your chest as you see her forming those sinister words. Trying to think fast, you speak without actuallly thinking. "Truth or dare, we should play truth or dare." An ominous silence fills the room. All eyes on you. Gulping, you try to fix your mistake. "Or… Or something else." You suggest in a rush.

“No, no, we should play truth or dare.” Yuji interjects and Nobara nods enthusiastically.

“I'll go first. ” Nobara announces, “Yuji truth or dare. ”

Tilting his head to the side as he thinks. Her dares range from harmless to blackmail territory, depending on a dime. “Dare,” he winces. She cackles all the way to the kitchen. Cackling still audible even over the banging cupboards.

Returning minutes later with a full glass. Disgusting green liquid sloshing as she sashays back. You could smell the concoction from where you sat. The scent like spicy garbage juice and sickly sweet vomit. Making you want to gag. Yuji's face wrinkling in disgust. He pales as she hands him the glass, “Drink it all. ” She says, grinning with too many teeth.

Yuji blocks his nose before he downs the glass in one go. Everyone watching in disgust. Coughing after he swallows the vile drink. Before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Delicious,” he says, even though his eyes are watering. "My turn, Panda, truth or dare."

“Dare.”

“Cuddles.” Is Yuji's immediate response. Panda does give the best hugs. He's so plush.

“Truth or dare Toge. ” Panda asks.

“Salmon.”

“What's the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you on a mission,” Panda asks.

Toge takes a few seconds before speaking. “Tuna…. tuna mayo…. mustard leaf….caviar. ”Telling his story with cartoonish gestures. Keeping you entertained as you get the gist of his story. At least, you think you do. After his story, he looks around, eyes locking on you. Gesturing you over. You nervously approach as he whispers to Yuji. “ You sure? ” Yuji asks. Toge grinning and nodding. Confusing you and as you start to sweat. A little nervous. Yuji whispers a dare into your ear. Even though they didn't ask you truth or dare. You still go along with it.

“Umm, what does that mean?” You ask, looking between the two.

“Spicy cod roe.”Toge says, giving you a thumbs up. Itadori following suit. A giant smile on his face. Their encouragement, soothing your nerves.

Marching over to your boyfriend. Who was nearby reading and not at all paying attention to the game. “Gumi, can I dom you?” You ask, head tilting to the side.

The group goes wild. Looking over your shoulder. Nobara is clutching her stomach as she laughs. Maki is smirking viciously, eyes alight with glee. Panda is hiding his face in his paws, ears bright red. Toge and Itadori giggling. You frown. Why are they so amused?

Looking back to your boyfriend. Who has closed his book and was uncrossing his long legs. You think you see a tint of pink on his pale cheeks as he stands. Glaring at the group behind you. While you stare awkwardly up at him.

Sighing, he takes your wrist before leading you out of the living room and down the hall. The silence encompassing. You pout, wondering what had set off this course of events.

Pulling you gently into his room. Before reaching over you, to shut and lock the door. Pushing you against the cold wood. “Gumi,” you whisper as he's leaning closer. Your chests touching, his breath caressing your lips. Putting his hands in his pockets. You lean up and try to kiss him because he's taking too long. He pulls back slightly, and you get on your tippy toes, making up the height. Chests now firmly pressing together. Your hand gripping his upper arms for stability. He rises to his full height. Out of your reach. Pouting, your hands trailing up his shoulders and neck. Tangling in his soft locks, trying to pull him down. He wouldn't budge, “Gumi.” You whine, trying again. He's still not budging.

“What's the matter, bunny.” He asks, staring down at you through his pretty lashes.

“Kiss me,” he just gives you a melodic hum. “Please.” You pout. One of his big hands escapes his pocket. Trailing up your neck, resting there for a moment before his thumb is brushing your bottom lip. You kiss the calloused tip before sucking on the digit. Humming in approval and pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You continue sucking, seeking his approval. His thumb pressing your tongue down, saliva pooling. Before leaking out of the seam of your mouth, trailing down your chin. Your eyes begging him.

“Good girl.” He says, popping his thumb from your mouth. A thread of saliva still connecting you. You whine, tugging at his hair. Needy and wanting more. “Now, bunny, behave.” You groan but stop tugging at him. Looking up at him with desire. He tugs at your jacket. Unbuttoning it before you're shimming out of the confining material. All but ripping it from your arms. Dropping it to the floor. He's tugging on your top. So you unbutton it. “Slowly.” He whispers, watching as more and more of you was exposed to his hungry eyes.

He stares at your half naked form. Making you blush and look away. His long fingers slide under the strap of your bra, knuckles trailing against your soft skin. He tugs at the strap and you unhook your bra. It falls from your arms, exposing your upper body to him. Your nipples pebbling in the cold air. His eyes remain on yours. While his fingertips brush down your arms. Taking a hold of your hands. Your saliva smearing against one of your hands. He curls your hands around the hem of your skirt. Lifting the material slowly, higher and higher. Uncovering more of your thighs. Until it's all the way up. Revealing your cotton white panties. “Stay still, bunny.” He says. His heavy gaze wandering over you. Goosebumps raising on your skin under his smouldering gaze.

His long fingers curl around your chin, tilting your head to the side. Exposing the column of your neck. His hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. Clutching your skirt harder, anticipation making your heart pound faster. He places the faintest kiss on your shoulder. Fingertips trailing over your stomach. You squirm at the ticklish sensation. “Be still,” he growls as he cups your pussy.

“Sorry Gumi,” your whimper turning into a whine as he nips at your neck. His index finger rubbing against the wet patch on your panties. The contradiction between his harsh mouth and soft hand has you trembling. Panties growing wetter. He sucks random hickeys on your skin. Nipping occasionally to leave red marks. His finger finds your clothed clit, trailing over the bud lightly. You moan as he applies more pressure before stopping. Making a disappointed noise. His hand returns to cupping your hot pussy. While he moves away from your throat. Turning your head forward. You look up at him with watery doe eyes. He leers down at you.

Moving your head to the other side. Leaning close again. He licks a long stripe up your neck. Before latching to the sensitive skin below your ear. His index finger gliding across your pussy. Lightly trailing over your opening before circling your clit. His skilled fingers making your core tremble. Pleasure mounting as his fingers speed up. Your hips rutting into his hand. Trying to push yourself over the edge. His fast pace slows until it stops. “Gumi.” You wail, tears welling in your eyes. He hums against you. Gently kissing the hickey he's left there. “Gumi, please.” You whine, tears flowing down your flushed cheeks. Desperate. Your hips moving against his uncooperative hand.

He sloppily mouths at your shoulder. Hand still against your aching pussy. “Gumi… Gumi…Gumi.” You're pleading, unable to get the friction you want. He takes pity on you. Sighing against your tender flesh. His fingers swirling around your throbbing clit. Pleasure fills you, leaving you breathless, knees shaking. The coil snaps as you moan. He works you through.

Lazily toying with your clit, slowing before stopping. From the side of your watery eye, you see him watching you. A panting mess. Your soaked panties sticking uncomfortable to you. Squirming at the feeling. “Look at you, creaming in your panties so soon.” He grins, moving your face forward. He makes you look him in the eyes. His pupils blown wide, an unkind glint in the dark depths. The hand on your panties starts moving again. Fingers trailing across your slit. Pressing firmer whenever he got to your clit. You moan each time he rubs against your sensitive bud. His fingers pushing against the damp material, finding your opening. “Are you gonna cum, again?” He asks condescendingly as he plays with your shaking body. Tears trailing down your cheeks as you reach your peak again so soon after the first. He kisses the salt away. Before whispering against your cheek. “Bunny, do you still want to dom me?” You try to shake your head, but his grip is too firm.

He slaps your thigh. The stinging pain making you quake. “Use your words, bunny.”

“No.” You whimper, sniffling and teary mess.

“Good, because we're just getting started.” He says, kissing your lips lightly.

Thanks for reading.

♡ ∩∩ （„• ֊ •„)♡

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS - Chapter 6 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

'Noah, what the absolute fuck did you think you were doing?' I asked myself as I got home from Emily's.

Putting my hand on Sam?

What the fuck was that?

And then I could feel him looking at me, questioning my actions, which I had no answer for him.

Ugh, why did he make me feel so... so what was the word?

But I wasn't able to figure out the word because when I walked in my house I saw three men inside.

Oh, just fucking great.

It was poker night, how could I forget?

I quietly shut the front door and went to the kitchen.

I fucking hated poker night, specially the people 'a certain someone' that I really hated.

I reached up into the cabinet for a cup.

The three men and my dad were sitting in the tv room around an old, beat up poker table.

No one seemed to pay any mind to me, luckily.

If I could just grab water and some food I could lock myself in my room all night.

There was one person who I definitely didn't want to notice me.

He was vile, disgusting and... and then there was someone's body against my back.

I stilled when a hand was placed on my hip.

Randy, the disgusting, vile being and my father's oldest 'friend'.

I lowered my hand and contemplated hitting the guy but I knew it would only make things worse for me.

So instead 'feeling pathetic' I slowly turned around and in a seething whisper said...

"Get your fucking hands off of me."

"Oh, come on, Noah, that's no way to talk to your father's guest."

I gritted my teeth.

He had me trapped and he knew that.

Stuck between the counter and him.

"And we both know your old man would do worse. Well, you tell me, which is worse?"

His cigarette smelling breath took over my senses like a plague as his face moved closer to my ear.

His hand sliding down to my crotch.

"Getting your ass beat by your father or showing me a good time?"

'A good time' meaning me being raped.

"Fuck you," I spat at him, grabbing his hand and pushing it off of me.

I was shaking with anger.

His hand gripped my jaw, forcing me closer to him.

"See? No. That's what I'm trying to do to you."

That was it.

I didn't care if my dad was going to hit me later.

Randy was definitely worse.

I shoved him hard enough that he stumbled back and hit his head on one of the cabinet doors.

He winced then glared at me.

"Hey," I heard my father yell from the tv room.

None of the other men could see us.

"What the hell is going on in there?"

"I think your son needs some shapin' up, Mark," Randy spoke with a devious grin on his horrid face.

I flipped him off as I heard my dad stand up but I ran out the door before my dad could grab me.

I got in my car, put my key in the ignition and... and...

"Come on, fucking start, you piece of shit," and it finally started and I drove off.

********

"Noah, it's really late, why didn't you call me?" I shrugged and let myself into Kaitlyn's house.

She opened the door wider for me then shut it before following my up stairs to her bedroom.

Her parents weren't home it seemed.

I sat down on her bed and watched as Kaitlyn closed her bedroom door.

She was wearing a small, revealing pink tank top and cotton shorts that matched.

"Did you missed me that much?" she teased, stepping in between my legs.

"Hmm," is the only response I gave her.

"My parents won't be home for a little while," she told me suggestively, her soft hands running down my arms.

"I'm not in the mood," I said and removed myself from her touch before laying down on her bed.

"Uh, okay... wanna watch a movie?"

I shrugged.

I kind of wanted to cry or punch a wall or scream instead.

Kaitlyn sighed, laying down next to me.

"What's wrong?"

She knew me too well.

"My dad's shit-hole friends were over and..." and one of them was a perv and basically threatened to rape me but I didn't want to tell her that.

Plus, I could handle myself and that would only make her worry.

So, I turned over and wrapped my arms around her.

I laid my head on her chest and she wrapped her arms around me and stroked my hair.

"Nothing, they're just assholes," is all I said.

"I'm sorry, Noah."

'I'm sorry, Noah, I'm sorry, Noah, I'm sorry, Noah.'

I hated hearing that all the time but I couldn't be mad.

If I didn't even know how to cheer myself up, how could I expect her to?

Then my mind wandered to Sam.

I didn't know why but I felt like he would know the right words to say or the right thing to do to comfort me... or maybe just call me a meat-head.

I almost laughed.

That dumbass.

'Meat-head' was definitely better than 'I'm sorry, Noah' I decided.

[lilyspond64]

like "youre a mean one mr grinch" is fine. theyre calling him mean. valid criticism.

"you really are a heel" ok we get it, hes mean.

"youre as cuddly as a cactus" what the fuck

"youre as charming as an eel" why are you comparing him to a snake like fish rn chill out

"mr grinch, you're a bad banana with a greasy black peel" this is such a fucking diss why is this whole song such a harsh diss track on the grinch

"youre a monster mr grinch" ok this is just an asshole thing to say

"your hearts an empty hole" again is this really necessary

"your brain is full of spiders" ok so youre attacking all his internal organs now. are you calling him stupid or something. or like, evil??

"you've got garlic in your soul" tbh this is tame. garlic isnt evil or bad or rotten its just pungent and rather tasty. garlic soul sounds awesome.

"mr grinch, i wouldn't touch you with a thirty nine and a half foot pole!" wait is this like a "you're physically disgusting and dont bathe so i dont wanna touch your filthy skin" or is it saying he gets no bitches

"you're a foul one, mr grinch" ok i think its the filthy one unless this is foul in a more figurative way

"you've got termites in your smile" what does this MEAN did you just make up a random gross bug to live in his teeth. do they eat the teeth like wood? ok so he has bad dental hygiene. how does that speak to his morality.

"you have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile" ur so mean :( crocodiles are trying their best ok. ok but fine this is a fair criticism. not loving or caring i guess.

"mr grinch, given the choice between the two of you, I'd take the seasick crocodile!" i mean so would i, crocodiles are awesome. but like was this really necessary. you made your point.

"you're a vile one, mr grinch" ok another synonym of foul. you think hes gross. damn

"you're a nasty wasty skunk" ok so he smells bad. sorry he smells bad i guess. his bad for not showering. or something. that's why you hate him, hes not an asshole, rude and mean, destructive. hes stinky. damn.

"your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, mr grinch." im assuming this is metaphorical and that these gross things speak to his morality and demeanor and not his literal physical stench and toxicity. hes not fun to hang out with. ok but why. explain.

"mr grinch, the three words that best describe you are as follows, and i quote "stink, stank, stunk!"" YOU'RE JUST CALLING HIM STINKY IS THIS SONG JUST TELLING HIM HES STINKY OVER AND OVER tbh the grinch being mean and mad all the time makes sense everyone is so mean to him like some people smell im sorry

"you're a rotter, mr. grinch" like a rotten person im assuming. ok youve said this move on to your actual point

"you're the king of sinful sots" what does sot mean and ok so i guess hes sinful. ok. what are his sins. why are they sins. is the sin that he smells. is that the sin.

"your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots" these metaphors are so descriptive making them hurt so much worse

"mr. grinch, your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable mangled up in tangled up knots!" this literally breaks your syllable count on purpose you just wanted to say fuck you real hard like calm the fuck down did he kill your whole family

"you nauseate me, mr. grinch" if i didnt know any better id say this is cause hes evil and fucked up and you cant stand his actions. but no i think he just smells bad and that makes you nauseous. fair i guess but its not worth a whole diss track

"with a nauseous super naus!" thats not a word you made that up specifically to shit on the grinch. hasn't he been through enough

"you're a crooked dirty jockey and you drive a crooked hoss, mr. grinch," is this calling him a scammer, liar, and cheater? is he a scam artist? this is a weird way to say it and also not a thing he does in any incarnation but if he is then that's a fair criticism

"mr. grinch, you're a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!" this is the last line of the song and I STILL HAVE ZERO INFORMATION ON WHAT HE DID ALL I KNOW IS HE SMELLS BAD AND HAS BAD HYGIENE!! IT SOUNDS LIKE HE NEEDS YOUR LOVE NOT A DISS TRACK ASSHOLE

why are they so mean to the grinch

[dmc-tings]

The Lord's with an S/O (who just found out about their powers)

Alcina Dimitrescu

Noice 👌🏾

But what did you do for this woman to spare you?

She's like... the biggest man hater anywhere

So... if your a guy, you are lucky boi (or if you identify as a guy)

Or perhaps your a lucky lady?

I feel like she won't discriminate if she feels like your important to her

But for whatever reason she CHOSE YOU

So take that as a win

Sure, she's a vampire and has to eat people

Which was something you didn't know

But she doesn't eat in front of you

Even lying to the point of telling you she's drinking wine

You get curious, of course

So when she leaves to "take care of business", you look onto her glass or cup

You see red

"Ok... but it dont smell like wine..."

You take a sip, only to spit it out right away

Retching with disgust, you tasted blood

Your not an idiot, at least not fully anyways

Alcina rushed back, hearing you gag, thinking one of her daughters were bothering you

Only to see the sight in front of her

You looked at her in fear

Which hurt the tall woman's non beating (?) heart

You backed into a corner, thinking the worst

Looking for a makeshift weapon, you grabbed a spoon

To which made the Lady shake her head

"Love, you know I wouldn't-"

"Your a damned liar!!" You barked weakly, "W-what the fuck are you!?"

She sat calmly in the chair in front of you, gesturing for you to take a seat as well

You hesitated, but did comply, not letting go of your weapon (the spoon)

She huffed sadly, normally this behavior would have sent her into a rageful fit

But this is YOU we're talking about

Her little muse, the only mortal that makes her truly happy

"My Love, please calm down."

When you showed no sign of relaxing, Alcina took her glass in her hand, swirling the blood

Then takes a small sip, and lighting a cigarette

She offers you one

You cringe, and with that she pulls back again

After taking a puff, she begins to explain

Mother Miranda, the other Lord's, the creation of her daughter's, the Village, and everything else, prior to your showing up

After she finishes, you lower your loyal spoon

Drinking in all of the information

You looked up at her

"So that's why your so keen in keeping the girls away from me..."

The large woman nodded, looking at you

You bit your lip, but let go of your spoon, placing it back into the table

Alcina looked at you, watching you relax

You nodded a calm understanding

"Well seeing as I know what's going on now... is Mother Miranda going to-"

The Lady Dimitrescu, shook her head

"She has allowed for me to keep you. As long as you only stay in the castle... seeing as that the village is too dangerous. And I don't want you mixed up with the rif-raf."

You smiled and sat in her lap, (cause you can do that) and planted a kiss on her cold cheek

She let out a pleased humm, and returned the kiss

"Just... next time, if you choose a weapon, Love, make sure it has a SHARP end."

Salvatore Moreau

You had known Moreau since before Mother Miranda made an impact on his life

You saw less and less of your significant other

He would disappear and cut your alone time short, whenever the woman called

You were saddened when he finally told you that you couldn't see him anymore

But that's didn't stop him from speaking to you through whatever door, that separated you both

He didn't keep you locked up, but he would lock whatever door was between you

So you couldn't see the monstrous transformation, causing him pain

All you knew is that his voice was becoming more and more disgruntled

As said, you knew Salvatore before this

He was a handsome and intelligent man (despite what's written in Miranda's notes)

And to hear your man become... so in thralled by this other woman, made you suspicious

One day, you both were speaking, with a door between you, as usual

Unbeknownst to Salvatore, you were picking the lock

Eagar to see him

He never noticed the change in your tone, when you got it unlocked, nor the click of the lock

Shoving the door open, and pushing Salvatore back

The male let out a yelp, trying to rush in to the nearby darkness

You stepped through the threshold, eyes blazing and searching

You scanned the room and finally landed on a heap of a shivering... beast?

"Moreau? Is... is that you?" You crept closer, and gently put a hand on his back

"D-dont look at m-me...." he shivered, trying to hide himself

Horrified, you took his face on your hands

"I-is this... the work o-of-"

He cut you off, "Do-dont. Mother loves me... she does... I know she does..."

You felt tears pour down your face

You couldn't bring yourself to speak

That vile woman, had destroyed your dear Moreau

The man you knew and loved was beaten and broken into this sobing heap before you

He looked at you, and reached up to wipe your tears

"Oh... please don't cry... thi-this is her will..."

You shook your head, "what kind of will is this, Salvatore? To turn you-"

He pulled away from you, snarling, "I KNEW YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!!! Mother loves me, and i-"

You slapped him, your tears stopping, "What kind of man have you become?!"

Disgusted, not with his appearance, but his sniveling attitude

You left

But... not unaffected by what happened to the man you cared about

You left... everything behind, the Village, your family...

Salvatore Moreau never left your thoughts and you never left his

It was a bittersweet life, but you were glad to leave what was happening behind

Angie and Donna Beneviento

These two kept you in their estate

Though Donna hid Angie from you, worried that you wouldn't understand the need for her doll

She also kept the pollen from her plants away from you

You were the first person Donna could talk to, without her illness bothering her

No need for Angie!? And this person don't care!?

Fucking Jackpot!!!

Though Angie does get a bit upset that she don't get to see you

That's about to change

You and Donna where sitting in the backroom, overlooking the waterfall

Enjoying an afternoon tea

"Dear? How are you feeling today?"

Donna looked at you, taking your hand in her's giving you a smile

"I am well." She reassured you, giving your hand a squeeze

Then you sneezed, surprised cause your allergies hadn't started up, due to the lack of pollen

And the abundance of snow and cold

Donna gasped, looking over her shoulder

"Angie, n-"

Angie revealed herself, giggling and plopping herself in your lap

You froze, "A-a doll? Donna... is this a gift?"

You never really liked or disliked dolls

Angie gave another giggle, "No, stupid! I'm Angie. Donna's most favorite doll. And a friend."

Your eyes widened at the living doll, "Uh... im-"

"I know who you are!!" She floated infront of you now

"And we like you!"

Donna was quiet, not surprisingly, but you reached out for her

She gently took your hand in her's

"Donna. Tell me whats going on. Please."

Donna nodded, quietly starting to explain.

The gifts from Mother Miranda, the plants, the pollen and finally Angie

You looked at the floating doll, who was nodding her head along, with Donna's words

Then finally, you pulled Donna closer to your side

"You don't ever have to hide things from me. I never had a problem with the other ways that you cope, Donna."

Your encouraging words sent the woman into tears of joy

She buried her face in your chest

You smiled at Angie, who patted you on the forehead

Karl Heisenberg

You sat in the smaller, (safer) part of his factory

It was a part he had built to keep you safe

From what?

You had asked Karl several times, on different occasions, what was he building

"Its none of your concern." He waved a hand dismissively, "Whats for dinner?"

You always had huffed out whatever meal you made for the pair of you

Karl was always one of three places: meeting his "family", in the factory, or right next to you

The "family" was always thrown into air quotes

You knew he disliked his "family"

He announced his leaving out again, not telling you where

But leaving nonetheless, as usual you waved him off

But today was different, you WERE going to see what the hell was in that factory

Not paying attention to the warnings he gave you, you made your way down

Once at an elevator, you pressed the button

It came up and you were met with a large, large portly man

"Why if it isn't Heisenberg's little kitten."

Shocked you jumped back a bit, but then inched your way inside

"Its alright. I mean you no harm. Come, come."

You stood next to him, "Uh... who are you?"

"You may call me The Duke." He hummed, "But what are you doing here? Don't you know it's dangerous to play here?"

You lifted your chin, "I can handle myself. Thank you."

The Duke gave a small laugh, as you pulled the switch, but didn't speak again

Hitting the bottom floor, you disembarked, waving goodbye

You noticed a door and pushed through

Only to be met with a metal drill nearly splitting your face in two

With a strangled yelp, you lept backwards

"HOLY SHIT!!! WHAT THE HELL-"

"Who's in my damned- KITTEN!?"

You heard Heisenberg's voice above you and looked around frantic

"Karl! What-"

You didn't get to finish, the same monster came at you again

Dodging to the side, only barely missing getting drilled

Running in to the labyrinth, you were soon cornered

You shook with fear, hearing more monsters come after you

Closing your eyes, waiting for the blows to take you to the Great beyond

Your waiting was cut shirt hearing a series of clang's

You moved your hands and opened your eyes

Seeing Karl, standing in front of you shoving all the monsters back...

But he wasn't touching them....

"What... how-"

"Dont just sit on your ass, get up!" He barked, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind him

Once back in the safe zone, you slapped him, breathing heavily

He took it, it was a well deserved slap

"E-explain yourself!"

He sat heavily down, telling you everything.

The reason for the factory, the monsters in it, his powers, Miranda's plan, even pouring out his emotions about it all

You finally understood and took his hands in yours, kneeling down infront of him

"You idiot. All you had to do was talk to me. Not be a "big tough guy" about it."

You kissed his rough hands

And he chuckled at you

"Always understanding. Thanks Kitten."

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here.  This is like.  You remember that one game, Mercy?  The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous.  Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares?  It’s child’s play.  It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person.  You never have been.  It’s just not part of your nature.  If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else.  You just… do you.  You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good.  And if it’s bad, it’s good.  Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open.  “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron.  What are we doing?  Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up. 

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl.  You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench.  “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today?  Thursday?  Friday?  Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day.  Thursday, then. …Thursday?”  You shake your head.  “Ugh, see?  Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.”  He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers.  It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now.  Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that.  Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it.  “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation.  To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small.  Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here.  “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap.  You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are.  “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.   “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron.  First and last word, that’s all it takes.  And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?”  He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel.  “ Easy credits.  Just begging for it.  Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used��� ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust.  As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly.  Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him.  “You just turned my money into a sex object.  It was vile.  I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging.  You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it.  “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now.  Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?”  You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them.  Withdrawal stage, ha.   “Of course it’s all that bad.  It’s horrible.  It’s the fucking worst.  And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this?  Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to.  “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you.  “I did not.  When the fuck did I cheat?  I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more.  He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire.  “Okay, first of all?  Rude.  I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright?  I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him.  And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good.  He smells… unbelievably fucking good.  Always.  Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on.  It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit.  No such luck so far.  

“Whatever.  The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want.  In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming.  “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?”  He goes on, completely ignoring you.  “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen?  You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm?  No snorgasms?  Hmmm?  No happy naps?  No captain midnights?  No mattress fracking?  Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked.  “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again.  You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one.  “Anyways.  Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!”  You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting.  And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills.  Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems.  “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!”  You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation.  “There it is!  You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself!  Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both.  Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum?  This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused.  He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath.  “Sorry.  But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal.  And descriptive.  “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right.  Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh?  I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.  

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me.  Not right now.  Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh.  Something occurs to you, something… sinister.  Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long.  It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.  You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan.  You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away.  A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?”  You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?”  Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more.  “Now many times did you cum in your sleep?  Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?”  He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time.  “It was involuntary.”

You shrug.  “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious.  “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?”  You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with.  Instead, your voice is soft, questioning.  Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait.  You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape.  The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,”  he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought.  Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this.  The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous.  “It’s your room, too.  Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there.  You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?”  You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number.  You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them.  “Red-Six.  Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder.  “Or, wait… Neah.  No—it was… Nalal.  Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.  “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest.  “It was starting to get obnoxious.  Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is.  “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should.  Lower than it should.  You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls?  Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel.  “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head.  “Sometimes a sabbatical is good.  I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment.  “I’m sorry?  And… you’re welcome.  I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long.  The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable.  At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together.  I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block.  He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus.   You have to control yourself.  You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless.  It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this.  Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever.  One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option.  “This isn’t a good idea.  It’s… not healthy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him.  “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing.  It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit.  “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection.  “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp.  “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—”  You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?”  Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky.  Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding.  Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast?  This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself?  “Finish it.  Sooner, rather than later.  Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident.  Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive.  Fuck.  Dameron, and you, in bed.  It could be mean.  It could be rough.  A fight for dominance more than anything.  He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now.  Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning.  Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?”  Are the first recognizable words that can be heard.  “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips.  “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance.  It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working.  Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before.  Of course.  Stupid.  Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air.  You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed?  A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet.  You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think.  Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences.  You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off.  This is different.  This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable.  A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…”  Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you.  There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him.  Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal.  You don’t like it.  You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead.  The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong.  “I mean, y’know.  Theoretically speaking, and all.  If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before.  Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something.  This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you.  Shit.  You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.  

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin.  You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done.  What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation.  You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it.  Stop it.  Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation.  How dare he?  How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses?  You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him.  Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier.  “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet.  No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright?  Don’t talk to me.  You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight.  And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it.  It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has.  Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least.  You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it.  You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving.  It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds.  A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons.  Mainly, the nerve of him.  The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,”  You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space.  You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare.  “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge.  “You’re… plotting.  Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship.  “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it.  Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty.  Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it.  “Something that you like, that gets you going.  Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further.  “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should.  It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not.  This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable.  The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?”  You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same.  “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart.  “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.  Default to normal, default to normal.  “Your fucking attitude.  Your demeanor.  The way you talk down to me.  You don’t listen.  You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen.  You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?”  He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second.  This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here.  He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on.  “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back.  “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it.  There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity.  Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed.  “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily.  “Have since the moment we met.  And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it.  You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?”  You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak.  “Pop the top on this bitch.  Put me out of my fucking misery, right now.  You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait.  And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up.  You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way.  He deserved that.  You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake.  Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you.  Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders.  It’s not sexual.  It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating.  He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline.  His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter.  They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.  

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret.  “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need.  Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words.  To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit.  You feel like you’re literally burning up with it.  You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire.  “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone.  “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember.  Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it.  How long’s it been?  Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless.  Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?”  You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes.  Oh fuck, be cool, be cool.  “You think this is gonna work?  Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek.  The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs.  How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard.  “Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second.  Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow.  “Beard or no beard, makes no difference.  Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere.  You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone.  “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious.  Maker, how long until your shift is over?  You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league.  “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?”  Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder.  “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself.  Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going.  “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next.  “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me.  But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist.  Resist .  You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios.  Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.  “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you.  Go nice and slow.  I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away.  I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it.  How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker.  This is a trick.  It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it.  You can’t fucking fall for it.  It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all.  He’s lying to get your guard down.  He laughed at your flirting.  He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him.  You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback.  You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say.  Your room.  It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now.  Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register.  “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see.  I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to.  Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out.  And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm.   Your bed,” he eventually decides.  “I want you comfortable.  You shower at night.  Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep.  That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point.  And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while.  However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening.  Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through.  Maker, it’s fucking painful.  You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?”  You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time.  Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body.  “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in.  Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before.  Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other.  Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies.  Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy.  It hurts to lose a first name.  But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design.  He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it.  Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now.  It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two.  You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea.  Nothing about it comes out right.  The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself.  Oh Maker, can you imagine?  How fucking proud of himself he’d be?  You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it.  Where’d it go?  Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it.  Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false… 

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear.  You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you.  Like… teakwood, maybe?  Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind.  What the fuck does teakwood even smell like?  “Maybe it’s just what I need.  You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low.  It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls?  Just a little bit?  That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad.  That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…”  You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now.  “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it.  “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato.  It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low.  “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.  At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs.  “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage.  “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this.  Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be.  You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want.  And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move.  Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body.  You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder.  “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you.  He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side.  “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—”  Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down.   But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second.  As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise.  The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use.  Fuck , it’s been so long .  You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now.  It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks.  “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs.  “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion.  The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone.  Fuck, he almost made you cum.  He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide.  You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again.  You have to close your eyes.  You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more.  “Shhhit.  I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it.  Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless.  “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck.  Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back.  They start… moving slightly.  Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize.  He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm.  Dameron might cum in his pants like this.  Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum.  You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving.  “One… one more.  If you want.  You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you.  “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.”  You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether.  His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb.  The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure.  Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger.  He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time.  He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat.  Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief.  Genuine, not embellished.  He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go.  You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this.  You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again.  It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?”  Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that.  He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly.  “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you.  Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet.  Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much.  You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes.  It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it?  You could.  You could cum right now.  What’s two weeks of pay?  You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence.  Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear.  “Be nice.  I’m being nice.”

You should bite him.  Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now.  Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again.  Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying.  You need air.  Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this.  If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all.  Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore.  “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half.  He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that.  Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good.  Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good.  Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in.  Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?”  He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them.  “How clearly do you remember the rules?  What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt.  No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer.  “Tell me.  No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind.  But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore.  There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement.  The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it.  “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends.  Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—”  The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out.  “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine.  “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does.  The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it.  You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout.  You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it.  You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves.  The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space.  He doesn’t even acknowledge it.  “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest.  “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens.  Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you?  Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck.  “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order.  “Right now.  Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it.  “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm.  You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it.  Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day.  First names hurt.  You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence.  Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks.  A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[raekahwritings]

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.  

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned  me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be?  “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress,  watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart.  His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

[shorkbrian]

Father Figure - Disappointed

Prelude - I get so many asks about the same thing and so I put them at the bottom lol otherwise this would be so long. Also I combined them, RIP sorry pals I suck. Anyways, remember guys, bad people exist. If someone is hurting you or you suspect someone you know is being hurt, please talk to someone, please don’t let yourself settle into “This is normal, this is fine”. It’s not normal, and it’s not fine. The national sexual assault hotline in America is 1-800-656-4673 and it’s from a organization called RAINN.

https://www.rainn.org

They have a chat service too, if you prefer texting over calling.

Please stay safe y’all

Pairing - Stepdad! Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - Pseudo incest, manipulation, power dynamics, NSFW, noncon, dubcon, mentions of unsafe sex, slight degradation. Belittling, controlling Aizawa.

Music -  https://open.spotify.com/track/5nHTLEJ10zaqdnKqLriah4?si=Bs0su-fBRxWoE3jefCdPIA

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Why? Why, huh? Do I not provide you with very little thing you need, anything you could ever want?”

You dip your head in shame, sock-clad feet rubbing against each other nervously. “I just wanted to-“

“To disappoint me, yes, you’ve done that very well.” Aizawa’s tone is harsh, incensed. “I catch you trying to sneak out again, and all you can do is offer excuses.”

Biting your lip, you spread your hands quickly, trying to appease him. “I was just going to get you a present! For-for your birthday!”

A weak excuse, one that neither of you bought.  Aizawa stood up from the couch, shaking his head.

“My birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks and you know it. Plus, we both know that you’ll be the only present I unwrap on my birthday.”

The sordid promise made your heart drop, tensing up as your stepdad came closer and closer, until he stood in front of you. Tall, imposing, irritated.

“I’m sorry….” You manage, staring down at your feet. It’s too intimidating to try and meet his gaze, those light grey eyes that fill you with fear and guilt.

“I’m sure you are. How are you going to make it up to me?” And there it was, the always-dreaded initiation. You often wondered how Aizawa would be like with a woman his age, someone willing and eager to please him. Would he force them like this?

A minute stretched by while your mind worked, trying desperately to think of some other way to soothe his ire. Every time you undressed for him, every time he touched your body, every time you were forced to touch him made you feel dirty, tainted, disgusting.

Damaged goods.

“I can choose-“

“No!” You cried, head snapping up, fingers flying to his shirt to fist in the soft fabric before you remembered yourself. “I mean, no Dad, I’ll make it up to you.”

The words felt vile in your mouth, like poison. But of your two options, having the slightest bit of control over the situation was preferable. Whenever your stepdad chose some way for you to show that you were sorry, it hurt. He’d introduced you to anal, forcing you to take his thick fingers deep, stretching you out with various plugs and toys, drizzling more and more lube into your hole until you were loose enough to take him.

This way, you could avoid his painful favorite.

Taking a deep breath, you steered him back to the couch, and the man sat, looking up at you expectantly.

You dropped to your knees, spreading his thighs with your hands, the limbs giving way easily. The waistband of his sweats was pulled down easily, your fingers hooking into his briefs to pull them down as well.

He was already hard.

“C’mon, don’t make me wait.” Your stepdad urged, one hand coming to lace through your hair, loosely gripping the aback of your head. You suppose it could be taken as a reassuring gesture, but you knew what it really was; a threat.

You kept your face neutral as you kissed the mushroom tip, a bead of precum wetting your lips. You’d earned quickly that making any sort of face at the sight, smell, or feel of Aizawa’s dick would be met with swift punishment. He’d shove his cock down your throat and keep it there until your legs went numb, until tears pricked at your eyes.

And you’d still have to suck him off afterwards.

So you kept your face relaxed, slowly licking along the length, fondling his balls, kissing the base of his cock noisily.

A long lick from the base to the tip before you took him in your mouth, tucking your teeth behind your lips. Your tongue took over now, swirling around the head, laving broad strips against the very tip, swiping the precum away on each lick.

Raising your eyes to gauge his reaction was a mistake, Aizawa staring down at you with a hooded gaze, relaxing back into the couch.

“Make it up to me.”

You sucked, hard, swallowing around his dick as you eased it towards the back of your throat. You had to build up to deepthroating, still had trouble with it and your gag reflex, but your stepdad was a diligent teacher.

He was holding himself back, thighs flexing aside your head as he stopped himself from thrusting up into your mouth, from hunching over and using you like a toy, making you gag and sob and drool around his length. Aizawa wanted you to do all the work, wanted you to show him how sorry you really were by making him cum.

Moving your head faster, you bobbed on his length, cringing internally as drool slipped down your chin, towards your chest. You hated when it got messy.

Aizawa placed his other hand against your cheek, stroking the side of your face, but you could tell that he was really feeling for the outline of his cock in your mouth, thick, stocky fingers pressing insistently.

You made a little noise of protest, quickly trying to morph it into a moan, pulling off of him to catch your breath. Your hands twisted around his length, stimulating him in place of your mouth while you breathed, sloppy, slick sounds being heard each time your fist met his pelvis.

“Do it like I taught you.” Were his next instructions, Aizawa obviously getting bored by your hand job. You wanted to kick, and scream, and cry, maybe bite his dick off.

But he’d trained you well.

So you took a deep breath before plunging back down again, moving your head enthusiastically as you throat-fucked yourself, willing your gag reflex to stay calm.

It was only when you felt his dick slip into your throat did your stepdad start to make noise, groaning a little bit as he fisted his hand further into your hair. He was subtly guiding you with the hand, forward and back, forward and back, but letting you move about freely.

After all, you were supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s it, just like that.”

His orgasm built up slowly, cock twitching inside your mouth as you worked him higher and higher, hands playing with the length of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You had to pull off once more to breath, chest heaving, desperately trying to jerk him to completion while his length wasn’t lodged in your mouth.

No such luck.

He came in your mouth, hips bucking a little as he released his milky seed. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your fists as you willed yourself not to recoil, not to get sick, not to make a face or do anything else to earn Aizawa’s anger.

You swallowed it down without a fuss, hating yourself for every second you spent being compliant.

But what else could you do?

Cock softening against his thigh, you tucked him back into his sweatpants, leaning your face against his leg to rest for a second.

Your stomach felt warm, full. It made you so sick.

“That was good, you’re learning.” Even his praise was clinical, almost detached. You hated him.

“I’m still upset with you though.”

The admission made you lift your head, turning to your stepfather with a quizzical expression, hurt, feeling betrayed.

“But dad, I just-I got you off? Isn’t that enough?” You wanted to add a “please”, beg for him to say yes, that all is forgiven, that he wasn’t mad anymore, that he wasn’t going to hurt you, or make you do anything else.

Aizawa tutted. “It’s enough when I say it is, and you messed up big time. You think a measly little blowjob makes up for all the shit you’ve tried to pull today? I don’t think so.”

“But, wasn’t it-didn’t I do good? I thought-“

“It was nice, you’re getting the hang of how to move your tongue. But I think there should be a little more effort put into your apology.”

You wanted to cry. This wasn’t fair, you had done enough already, wasn’t he satisfied? Why was he like this, so creepy and gross? Why couldn’t you have had a normal stepfather, who treated you like a normal person, who didn’t rip away your autonomy and freedom.

Aizawa could tell you weren’t fond of having to continue, but he wasn’t fond of your behavior.

A sudden jerk from the hand in your hair had you gasping in pain, Aizawa leaning over as he pulled you towards him. Your hands grabbed for his wrists, but he was already talking, anger swimming in those grey eyes of his.

“I’m being lenient with you. Do you understand how awful you’ve been these past few weeks? You’re pathetic. You think I wouldn’t catch you trying to sneak out the back door? You think I wouldn’t notice the hickies on your neck after you come home from “hanging out” with your girls?”

Your blood ran ice cold, draining out of your face. You thought you had told your (tentative, maybe) boyfriend to not leave any marks, that your dad would notice, that you’d get in trouble. You though you’d gotten away with that little secret, with the fact that you’ve been seeing someone every time you tell your dad you’re just chilling with friends.

Trying to sneak out the back door had been dumb, but you had felt desperate, upset, detested by your life. Hating the daily routine of being assaulted by your stepdad, being forced to be obedient and docile and cater to his lecherous whims.

Spread your legs when he asks, suck him off under the table when he tells you to, keep the bathroom door unlocked when you take a shower, in the off chance that he’d like to join you.

Not being able to tell anyone, caring the burden of shame and regret like heavy weights on your back.

Having to kiss him on the mouth, feel his stubble burning your cheeks, the sensitive skin of your thighs when he felt particularly giving.

His daily “lessons” almost always made you cry, either his harsh words or his insistence that you learn how to please him, it was only your natural role.

A daughter should always do her best to please her daddy.

Even just a night of freedom away from his grasp was welcomed, savored as a treat. You just needed to get away, but even that was asking too much.

“So-“ Aizawa released you, and you immediately rubbed at your stinging scalp. “What do you think I should do?”

“I-I wanna go to bed.” You mumbled, eyes darting wildly around the room, focusing anywhere except the dark-haired man in front of you.

“Oh? I didn’t expect you to be so forward about that.” He taunted, leaning forward onto his knees, lacing his fingers together with a mean smirk.

“No, I want to sleep….. please.” You knew that Aizawa had intentionally misunderstood you, intent on making you plead with him for simple mercies like sleep.

Aizawa sighed, rising to his feet. You scrambled to your feet also, feeling too small and weak kneeling on the floor underneath him like that. Still, he towered over you, running a lazy hand through his dark locks as he regarded you.

“I can’t just let you go unpunished, what kind of father would I be? Letting you lie and sneak around behind my back like this. Your daddy is supposed to care for you. I’d never neglect you.”

You wish he would.

“I learned my lesson dad, I swear. I won’t sneak out, I’ll-I’ll stay home and have my friends over instead of going out! Anything, just-just not……”

Not whatever he had planned for the rest of the night.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples as he circled a hand around your arm, beginning to lead you towards his bedroom down the hall. You wanted to balk, but knew that doing so would only worsen your punishment.

“Thats a start, and we’ll do that moving forward. But you won’t be getting out of a punishment. Offering compromises and begging won’t get you anywhere, even if you do sound sweet.”

Pulling you into his bedroom, your stepdad let go of your arm, closing the door behind you. He moved to turn on a lamp by the bedside, turning off the overhead light so the room was cast in a low, yellow glow.

“Strip, then on the bed.”

You trembled as you slowly shucked off your clothes, Aizawa beginning to do the same, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

But that was normal.

Aizawa was a fit man, able to manhandle you and pin you down, keep you still with the muscles hiding under his skin. But he was a father, and older, his body taking on the characteristics of someone who enjoyed life.

His thighs were thick, his abdomen sturdy. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but his muscles were overplayed with a nice layer of fat. He looked like a bear, with the dark hair on his chest, his thick limbs, his solid frame.

But the man wasn’t shy, and by the time you had stripped down to your panties he was completely nude, pink cock soft against his thigh.

“Dad, I really don’t want to do-“

“I don’t care. Get on the bed.”

You bit your lip, staying still. “Please, please, I said I’m sorry-“

Within a second, Aizawa’s hand was around your throat, his eyes blazing as he shoved you against the wall.  

“This is what’s going to happen.” His voice was raspy, grinding out past his clenched teeth as he invaded your space. “You’re going to do as I say and get on the bed, or else I’ll use my belt on you until you bleed. Once you’re on the bed, you’re going to lay nice and pretty for daddy while I get everything ready. I got a candle to play with, and a couple of toys, and daddy wants to see how well they makes you moan for me.”

You were shivering, fingers scrabbling at the hand squeezing your airway, still allowing you to breath, but just barely.

“You’re gonna get all fucked out and stupid, ’n then I’m gonna bounce you on my cock until I’m satisfied, got it?” The man continued, his nose almost touching yours “Then you’re gonna wear a plug all night, and all tomorrow morning. I get to have you whenever I want, and you won’t complain or else I’ll cum inside, alright?”

Nodding your head, you felt tears rising. You had to do what Aizawa said though, you couldn’t take the risk of having the man cum inside.

“I’ll decide a better way to continue your punishment tomorrow, when I’m not as upset with you. Maybe by then you’ll figure out how to listen to daddy.”

When the man released your throat, you gasped, coughing a bit as you sucked in oxygen. Aizawa was already pushing you towards the bed, eyes trained on your figure.

The new knowledge that this wouldn’t even be the brunt of your punishment was devastating, and you felt your chest tighten up as you struggled not to cry. Crying would only get him to mock you.

All you could do was comply.

“I need you to remember-“ Your step dad catches you by the wrist, tilts your chin with a finger so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine.”

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

[parvulous-writings]

Not on My Watch // Jesse McCree x F!Reader

Request:   Howdy! Perhaps another Mccree fic? 👀 Mccree and fem S/o decides to have a chill leisure and some dude catcalled s/o and Mccree witnessed it? what do he do? 😳🤠 (loved the previous fic you did for me im still reading it til this day!!)

Requested by: @fragolaaaaaaa​

Summary: McCree takes you out, and you get cat-called.

Warnings: catcalling, alcohol, explicit language.

Words: 1.2K

Notes:  Howdy! I had quite a bit of fun with this one! I’m happy to hear you’re still reading my other fic for you! Makes me smile! My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

It was one of McCree’s rare days off, and he had insisted on taking you out for the evening to one of his old local haunts, an old bar in the middle of Deadlock Grange. The entire town may have had some less than savoury memories, but he was hoping that spending some time there with you would clear those away or at least push them to the side.  All he wanted was to share a drink with you on a day off, hear you laugh and see you smile at something stupid he’s said. That was his plan- share drinks with you (preferably something involving whisky for himself), maybe get a little less sober and have some real quality time together, away from the buzz of the Overwatch complex. 

That was his plan. Initially, things had gone really well- you were now a couple of drinks in, and absolutely loving your time together. You personally couldn’t see why Deadlock Grange was so bad, even after all the tales you had been told. Jesse had gone to get the third round for the pair of you, more than happy to be paying for all of these drinks.  Whilst he was gone, someone else saddled up on the stool behind you. You didn’t think anything of it at first, anyone in the facility had right to sit at the bar, rather than at at table. It was when he started speaking to you that the problems started to arise. 

“Well, hey there, doll,” He greeted, leaning closer to you- so close that you could smell the alcohol on his breath; practically taste it as you turned to give him a distasteful look, to try and show him you were not in any way interested. However, he seemed to take this as the exact opposite of what you had intended. He shuffled so that he sat on the edge of his seat, his face mere inches from your own.  “Haven’t seen you round here before... You new?”  “Not exactly, could you please-”  “Show you around? Sure thing... I’d love to...” He gave you a lopsided grin, brushing some of his greasy, auburn locks from his forehead, clearly trying to make himself appear more attractive. It didn’t work very well at all.  “No, that’s not what I was going to say.” You reply, giving him another disgusted look. He seemed to pout a little bit at your words, but you did not cave in to those green faux puppy eyes.  “Shame...” He half laments. “I could’ve shown you my place.. Real special, I think you’d like it. ‘Specially the bedroom.” He gave you a sly wink that made your skin crawl. 

You move to turn away from him again, but he puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you back. “Oh come on, now, doll.” He coos. “Don’t be that way, I was being so nice to you, weren’t I?” He pauses, quirking his brow. “Or did you want something more?” He started to grin- but not the kind of grin you would have wanted to see on someone’s face. This one was sick, and twisted, and outright vile. He used his hand on your shoulder to slowly but surely pull you closer to him, till you were practically sitting on his lap. His arms were like the coils of a constrictor as they slowly wrapped themselves around you, holding you in place and preventing your plan of escape. 

You heard someone clearing their throat near McCree’s seat- sure enough, it was the gunslinger himself. “’Scuse me, sir.” The needless honourific was drenched in Southern venom, a poison you hadn’t heard him use often at all. This kind of tone was used for people like Reyes or O’Deorain- people who had wronged him substantially, and caused his blood to boil even to this day.  The man turned his eyes to Jesse, giving an unsavoury look in his direction. “Can I help you?” He quipped back, and though your eyes were fixed on McCree, you could hear the snarl on your aggressor’s face.  “Yeah, actually.” Jesse put the tray of drinks- two pints and some shots- on the surface of the bar. They landed with a clank, and it was surprising that they didn’t topple over or break with the force of the landing. “That’s my girl,” He gestured to you as he spoke. The man just scoffed.  “Yeah I don’t think that she is.” He replied with a roll of his eyes. This just infuriated Jesse; you didn’t think you’d ever seen such fire flash behind those earthy irises of his. 

His hands started to ball into fists by his sides as he tried desperately to keep his nerve. “I suggest that you step away from ‘er, right now.” He warned, his tone dark and dangerous. You could just tell he was seconds from snapping, and you’d never even seen him this angry before.  “And what if I don’t, huh? What’re you gonna do?” The man challenged, “I could give you a new one of those, real easy.” He gestured to McCree’s metal arm. “You can’t do shit, cowboy.” The man slowly got to his feet, flicking the brim of Jesse’s hat as he finished his sentence. 

It was then that McCree snapped. He grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt and yanked him away from you- with such a force that it caused Jesse’s victim to yelp, and not quietly either. It caused close tables to stop their conversation, as McCree started to drag the man who tried to woo his girl, his sugarcube outside. It was something he simply could not accept, something that could not go unpunished. Once he had gotten the man onto the dusty road outside the bar, he tossed him to the ground face first.  “You stay the fuck away from her!” He growled, kicking the man back down when he tried to get up. The man’s auburn hair stuck to his face and got in his eyes as he groaned.  “I didn’t even do anything!” He protested weakly.  “You tried, and that’s what I’m angry about. You leave her the fuck alone, or you’ll be gettin’ more than some bruises, I promise ya that!” He vowed, and even this stranger seemed to get the memo. Finally. 

With that final threat, Jesse returned to you- taking off his hat and placing it on the bar as he sat beside you. “Sorry about that, sugarcube....” He apologised, seeming genuinely remorseful that he had left you alone, even for a moment. “And for losin’ my cool...” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. You placed a hand on his, showing him some affection to comfort him.  “It’s fine Jesse... I liked it, really.” You chuckled, brushing some of his deep brown locks from his brow. “It shows you care... And it was pretty damn sexy.”  McCree looked at you for a moment, slightly baffled, before he began to smile, reaching for one of the drinks still on the tray. “Well, if that’s the case... I’m mighty relieved I could be of assistance to ya...” He took a small sip of his drink, before he felt your warm lips against the stubble on his cheek.  “You know, cowboy, I meant it when I said that was sexy...” You whisper to him. He seems to get your hint, and starts to chuckle.  “Finish your drink off, pumpkin.” He tells you, “Then maybe I’ll give you a lil’ something’.” He winked at you- and his wink was one you genuinely adored; it sent shivers down your spine and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.  “Alright, cowboy...” You smirk, picking up your drink, starting to sip at it. It will be a fun night indeed.. 

[realisticjojoxreader]

getting a hug from star platinum🥰🥰

jotaro x reader, part 4, 1.2k

“What are you doing?” Jotaro asks, but when you glance up, he’s not looking at you at all, which seems kind of rude. You’re trying to seduce him, here. How is that supposed to work if he spends his time staring up at his stand instead of down at you? You even wore your nicest pants for this!

“Ora ora ora,” says Star Platinum, gesturing like it’s making some eloquent point. Jotaro blinks. So do you. “Ora ora!”

That’s when you notice that, for some reason, Star Platinum seems to be getting closer to you. “Do you, like, need something?” you ask it, taking a step back, rightfully intimidated. The damn thing is taller than Jotaro and Jotaro’s fucking massive. “I don’t speak Stand, I don’t know what you want.” You squint at Jotaro, who looks just as baffled as you feel. (Or at least he would, if he emoted in a normal way. As it stands, he just looks kind of constipated.) “Do you know what’s going on?”

Jotaro shakes his head. He’s lucky he’s hot as hell, because he’s definitely not helpful, now or in general.

Star Platinum turns away from you and starts doing some elaborate miming, evidently trying to tell Jotaro something too complex to be conveyed with mere ‘ora’s. You can’t see most of its movements, since all you can see is a broad blue-purple back and a—wait, what the fuck, is that a loincloth? It’s kind of hard to pay attention to the nonsensical charades when you’re just now taking the time to notice that Star Platinum is wearing a fucking loincloth, and the damn thing leaves very little to the imagination. It basically covers the crack and nothing else, which is distressing, to say the least. Why is its ass so square?

When you finally stop freaking out about Star Platinum’s loincloth, you peek around its big (mostly naked) body to see how Jotaro’s reacting to all this.

He is, for some reason, bright red. It’s weirdly adorable. “Don’t you dare,” he growls, finger pointed at his Stand like he’s scolding a puppy and not a humanoid manifestation of his own soul. “I’ll find a way to punish you for this, I swear to fucking God.” Oh, now you’re just dying to know what Star Platinum wanted.

“Ora!” chimes Star Platinum happily, spinning back around to face you with the biggest, dumbest grin on its face. You can’t help but grin back. It really is like a puppy—its excitement is contagious.

“What’s up, big guy?” you ask it, watching as it gets closer and closer to you. For a split second, you’re afraid, because it could flatten your Stand in an instant, but you really don’t think it’s going to attack you. You’ve seen it fight. You’ve seen Jotaro’s rage channeled through it, and that isn’t what’s happening. It just looks… happy, in a way you’ve never seen Jotaro. Is his smile lopsided like that, too? Will you ever get to see it to find out?

When Star Platinum wraps its arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, your legs wobble beneath you. Is this… is this what Jotaro wants to do, but won’t allow himself? Stands are the manifestation of one’s soul, after all. It would make sense.

Fuck, Star Platinum even smells like the shirts you’d lifted from Jotaro’s hotel room. Of course you hug back. You hug back with everything you have.

Star Platinum giggles and tightens its arms. The hug is so warm, so full of love, you almost want to cry, as overwhelmed as you are. Star Platinum giggles again and you giggle with it, still giggling when it starts spinning you around like you’re lovers being reunited in an airport. You’ve never felt so light.

It’s hard to believe that this is happening to you. You were so sure Jotaro didn’t feel the same way about you, that your feelings were one-sided. You’d tried everything to get him to notice you—including but not limited to bending over in front of him to show off your ass, using pickup lines every time he was within earshot, and dressing as skimpily as you could without getting arrested—but he never gave you the time of day, beyond asking for your help with Stand users. He’s easily the hottest person in Morioh these days, so you really didn’t want to just give up, but you were admittedly close to the end of your rope. There’s only so many times you can handle someone completely ignoring you.

But here he is, hugging you and spinning you around like he loves you. (Well, it’s Star Platinum, but as we’ve established, a Stand is the manifestation of one’s soul. So it’s still technically Jotaro, right? Right.)

Wrong.

“Found you, you piece of shit,” snarls Jotaro, running towards a bush and throwing himself at it. You and Star Platinum both freeze, still in each other’s arms, watching as Jotaro wrestles a small man out of the brush and onto the ground. Oh my God, was there a guy watching you from a bush? How long was he there? Fuck, that’s so fucking gross. What the hell is wrong with Morioh these days?

Eventually Jotaro stands, holding the guy up by the scruff of his neck like a naughty kitten. “Heyheyheyyy c'maahn I'm a little guy, I'm just a little guyy, noo, it's also my birthday, I'm a little birthday boyy,” croons the guy, wriggling in a way that is upsetting to watch.

Jotaro shakes him rather violently. “Undo what you did to my Stand or I’ll snap your fucking neck.” Goodness, you’ve never seen Jotaro lose his cool like this before. It’s kind of hot.

“I didn’t do anythingg, I’m just a little guyy, noo—” the guy’s vile warbling gets cut off when Jotaro punches him in the face, his nose breaking, you think, judging by the sound of it. “God, fuck, fine!” He snaps his gross little fingers and, almost instantaneously, Star Platinum blinks and shakes its head like a dog drying off.

“Did you really think that little birthday boy bit would work?” asks Jotaro, lip curled up with what you presume is disgust. It looks a lot like his confused face from earlier.

Groaning, the guy cups his bleeding nose. “It usually does,” he gurgles.

“Unbelievable. Get the fuck out of here.” With that, Jotaro kicks him, and the guy scrambles off down the street, crying. “And you,” snaps Jotaro, pointing at Star Platinum. “Get the fuck away from that weirdo.”

Star Platinum obliges instantly, pushing away from you with so much force that you go flying into the canal.

“Can you swim?” Jotaro calls to you, sounding bored more than anything, not even bothering to poke his head over the edge.

“Yeah,” you call back, unsure of what else you can say in the face of such utter rejection. He called you ‘that weirdo’. There’s no coming back from that, is there?

“Shame,” he says. “Stop stealing my shirts, freak.” And then he walks away, footsteps clear as day against the concrete sidewalk. Maybe it’s time you moved to a different city, one without crazy photograph ghosts or serial killers with catboy Stands or Kujo fucking Jotaro.

[plus-size-reader]

Worthy

Rewritten

Thor Odinson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1492 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader picks up Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir.

——————————————————————————————————

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you decided to go to a party at Stark tower. Every time you had ever done anything where Tony Stark was involved, you all end up completely wasted. 

It just came with the territory

Each one of your team members, the avengers, had their own challenges and difficult things to face. It was only natural that when you got a chance to let loose and have a good time, you would take it. 

Even if maybe you took it a bit too far sometimes. Tonight for example, you knew that it was going to get a little intense. From the second Thor brought out that little golden vile, that was guaranteed. 

“Y/N! Come dance with me” Tony called, emerging from the large crowd of people on the dancefloor, a big smile on his face. He had a half glass of bourbon in hand, but from the looks of it, he’d already had more than enough. 

All you could do at first was laugh, taking in the look of the man, stumbling slightly over his goofy dance moves. It wasn’t until you realized that he was completely serious that you found yourself putting your hands up in protest. 

That wasn’t happening. 

“Oh no, I’m not that drunk” You laughed, stepping away from him just to make your point clear. Tony may have been used to being the center of attention but you weren’t and you didn’t want to be. 

In fact, he was lucky he’d gotten you here in the first place, and had he been sober, he would have recognized that. However, in his current state, all he could do was pout at your refusal. 

“You’re no fun. Where’s Romanoff?” he asked, heading toward the bar to find her, even though you knew he’d probably get a similar answer from her. 

You laughed at the defeated sight of the billionaire sinking into the crowd again, but you weren’t alone for long. Before you could even collect yourself, you turned to find the God of Thunder at your side. 

Admittedly, you felt your muscles stiffen slightly at his sudden appearance, but chalk that up to the bit of warm liquor coursing through your veins. Normally, you were much harder to sneak up on. 

“Do you not wish to dance?” he questioned, having caught just enough of your previous conversation to gather that much. It didn’t make much sense to the male, who thought everyone was having fun. 

It didn’t make sense to him that you wouldn’t want to be part of that. Clearly, he’d never been wrangled into a dance with Tony Stark, because if he had, he wouldn’t have to ask. 

“No, I’m not really much of a dancer” you allowed, giving the blonde a smile. You were having a good time, that was just a part of this whole thing you never really partook in. 

You weren’t a dancer. 

Thor nodded in silence for a second, thinking about what you’d said before speaking again “And you do not drink, why not?”

You seemed to be the only person here who didn’t have a drink in hand, and he wasn’t sure why. Though, as soon as the words left his lips, you smirked. That was one thing he was wrong about. 

“I’ve been drinking all night, it just doesn’t show” You say, feeling just a little bit badass as you admitted it. You had never had a problem handling your alcohol but Thor was sure that what he was holding would challenge that notion. 

“Try this” 

That was all he offered, a smile on his handsome face as he waited for you to do as he asked. Without so much as a word, he handed you the small vile he’d been holding, and casually, you gave it a sniff. 

It couldn’t have been that bad, right? 

You thought so. However, upon giving it a real sniff, you had to rethink that completely. The smell was vile, like vodka on steroids, aged for fifty years in the rankest of undersea cheese cellars. 

It was awful. 

“What is this?” you groaned, your face twisting up in disgust for a moment. It was unlike anything you’d ever dealt with before and you had no idea what it was. Though, you should have assumed that it was what you assumed. 

...And Thor only confirmed your suspicions with a much hardier chuckle this time. 

“Asgardian liquor, I’ll take it back if you do not want it” he offered, reaching his hand out for it but you held the tube just out of his reach before he could get it. “Uh uh Mr, I can handle it” you leveled, tipping the vile back, the syrupy liquid draining down your throat in one shot. 

You couldn’t handle it.

Something in that Asgardian shit messed with you hard and before long, you were dancing on Tony’s glass top bar in your boots. You didn’t pay any mind to the mess you were probably making, too preoccupied with singing Britney Spears to think about anything else. 

To say that Thor was proud of himself was an understatement.

You were always so put together and serious on missions, and in all honesty, he was curious as to what you would be like when you actually let go for once. From where he was sitting, he had gotten just what he wanted, and it was funny. 

Until you nearly slipped from the bar and it occurred to him that you may actually hurt yourself in your current state. 

“I think you should get down from there now, M’lady” Thor decided finally, his big hands falling on your full hips to get you down from the high place. It wasn’t until you were safe on the ground that he let you go, at which point, you burst into a fit of giggles. 

“You’re getting real handsy there, mister” you laughed, basically falling into the larger man’s frame. By this point in the night, you were tripping over your own feet, and as funny as it was, he was worried for you. 

Thor wasn’t entirely sure what he was worried would happen, but in his mind, anything could go wrong and he wasn’t going to let that happen. If you got hurt, it would be his fault. 

“Come sit down” he suggested, though the words fell from his lips as more of an order, and when you didn’t comply, he took your hand in his own and led you that way himself.

You didn’t like that. 

You were having the time of your life right now, and Thor was trying to put an end to it. Of course you were going to put up a fight, because you knew that he was going to make you leave. 

...And Thor couldn’t have that. 

So, the God did the only thing he could think to do and picked you up, finding it best to just toss you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and due to his strength, he didn’t even falter. 

Anyone else would have struggled quite a bit to get you up there, but not Thor. He did so as if it was as easy as breathing, which was quite impressive to you. 

However, he was far from finished with his goal of keeping you out of trouble because as soon as he got you to the couch, where he was sure you couldn’t cause any trouble, you had already moved on to a more troubling task.

In worrying about you, Thor had left Mjölnir sitting on the table and as soon as your eyes fell on it, you decided that you now needed to move it. The hammer was in your way, and you wanted it moved. It was something Thor wasn’t really concerned with. 

From where he was sitting, the blonde was sure that you couldn’t do anything with it. There was no way in the world that you could ever do something dangerous with it. 

Until you picked it up.

In one fluid motion, you picked up the hammer and plopped it down on the floor. In your current haze, of course, you didn’t even think anything of it, but you were alone in that. The rest of the team who had chosen to sit around with you were all in shock. 

“Lady Y/N?” he hummed, Thor’s voice registering in your mind as distant and far away. In reality, he was sitting at your side but you didn’t pay him any mind. 

Naturally, you assumed that he was waiting for Mjölnir, so you picked it up again casually. “Here Thor, you want it?” you muttered, handing off the hammer without a second thought before going about your scavenging. 

Right now, you didn’t blink an eye at what you’d done but in the morning, you were going to have to have quite the conversation with the God of Thunder himself. 

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes pt 9

Click Here for other parts! Part 10 is up! 

Warnings: Character death. Kind of torture. This is a very dark chapter and I’m really sorry about it. 

Word Count: 2.4 K

TAGLIST: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi @operatorsdime @drownedbytears @emilymikado @fluidfandoms @gotagan @mikasackrmann @flowersgirl02 @bohica160 @andrastesbeard​ @riapxq @percabethismyotp14​ @celestiallustre​ @moon-spirit-yue​ @hecatve​

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Shockingly, the door hadn’t been dusted like you thought, apparently the red eyed alpha could, in fact, open a door regularly. As soon as Dabi noticed Shigaraki, he immediately started to scent you again, a reflex from his alpha. You could clearly see the wrinkle of disgust at the other alpha’s scent across Shigaraki’s face from where you were on the floor, but he didn’t seem like he cared that much about you. The other league members did however.

“Y/N! Are you okay? That looked like a nasty spill. That was funny, did you see her face when she fell?.” The mask covered Beta was holding in face in exaggerated shock while the shorter perky blonde squatting down and pushing back your hair from your face, poking at the caked blood as she frowned.

“Who made you bleed Y/n? I wanted to do that.”

“Don’t touch her,” Dabi glared at the small blonde.

“Get off the floor you idiots. What did you do to Compress?”

Dabi helped you get up, lightly shoving you to stand behind him in a protective stance, one which you noticed Shigaraki rolled his eyes at and the smaller blonde pouted at.

“Let me guess, he tried to touch your precious omega? Do I need to worry about your loyalty Dabi?”

“He tried to force bond her.” This ripped a gasp out of the two beta’s perfectly in sync with each other.

The red eyes shifted onto your own, taking in the bruised state you were in, the way you were clutching your stomach in slight pain. The dried blood that was still caked onto your head. You watched him back, ready to tuck and run at the first sign of attack, but he only reached a hand up to scratch at his neck, where his bond mark should be.

“How aggravating. We can’t have our members fighting, and but I can’t ignore Compress’s actions. Hmm.” You watched him argue with himself internally before his eyes snapped up to your own again.

“How should we punish him?”

“What?” You spluttered. Why was he asking you that? What did he mean punishment? Compress was already burnt to a crisp as he had put it. Were they going to kill him?

“You were the one he hurt. How should we punish him?”

“What do you mean punish? Dabi already beat him up.” You pulled into yourself, not liking where this conversation was going. What did he want you to say?

“You’re one of us now. Someone slighted you, hurt you. They need to be punished. How do you want to handle it?” There was almost a smile gracing his chapped lips as he watched your reaction. What was he saying… one of us.

“I-I don’t… want to hurt him.”

“That’s not an option.”

“Shi-“ Dabi tried to step in but Shigaraki cut him off immediately, a glare being sent his way. The two beta’s remaining silent behind him, mixed emotions across both of their faces.

“Not an option.”

Dabi barley glanced back at you, a sheepish look on his face before nodding at Shigaraki. Twice looked like he really wanted to say something but held his tongue.

“W-wait what do you mean not an option? I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want anything to do with him. Dabi already dealt with him. It’s fine. I’m okay. Please.” The scent in the room was growing more and more anxious as Shigaraki stared at you, his face unreadable. There was no way he actually expected you to give a death sentence to one of his members.

“What is his punishment Y/N?”

“I don’t know!” You chirped, watching as Toga and Twice exchanged a look, Dabi running his hands across his face pulling at the staples slightly. Why was he letting them hound you like this? He wouldn’t even meet your eyes, you barely could hear him as him mumbled, directed at Shigaraki.

“She’s not ready for this. She’s not like us.”

“She will be. Bring her.” Shigaraki took off down the hall, the two beta’s barely looking at you, before following after. Dabi finally glanced at you, a look of guilt on his face as he reached for your hand, which you shoved away.

“What is going on To-“

“Don’t call me that. Not here, come on.” He shoved his hands in his pockets nodding towards the way the other had gone, his face pulling into the disinterested mask he had so perfected.

“And If I say no? I don’t wan-”

“You don’t have a choice.” You flinched as he looked away from you, stoic as ever. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t give a shit about you or what you wanted, like the two of you hadn’t just..

“You sound like your father.”

There was no warning as he let out a snarl. Before you could even realize what you just said you were shoved up against a wall, your shirt gripped tightly in his fist as he towered over you, his skin hot to the touch, fire in his eyes. You held your breath. He wouldn’t actually hurt you would he?

Enji hurt Rei.

You let out a soft chirp, Dabi’s face immediately showing regret as he saw the fear creeping into your eyes and your scent.

“Princess… I…” He let you go backing away running his hands through his hair as he tried to get his thoughts and emotions under control. You could see the anger still in him, could see him fighting with himself.

“Y/N, I’m a villain, a bad guy.  This isn’t a game. This is literally the League of Villains you are dealing with. If you’re going to be with me I can’t protect you from this shit. This is my life. This is my…these are my friends. This isn’t going to be sunshine and roses.” You stayed silent as he ranted, watching as he paced back and forth.

“I’ve killed people Y/N, and I’m going to kill more before everything is done. This is real.” It was one thing to know in the back of your mind that Dabi was a murderer, that he hurt people on purpose, that at some point he probably took pleasure in it. It was another thing to hear him say it. Your omega was silent for once.

Words wouldn’t come to you. He had stopped pacing and was staring at you from across the narrow hallway. Watching as your brain attempted to make sense of how you felt. You stayed silent.

He let out an audible sigh after a minute or so. Glancing down the hallway where the others had disappeared to, before steadying himself, his emotions being concealed behind his mask once again.

“You said you didn’t care if you were free as long as you were with me. This life … it let’s you have a lot of freedom that you didn’t before, but for you it’ll just be another cage. If that’s… if I’m not what you want then I’ll get you out of it. But if you are going to stick around… “ He paused looking back over at you, his eyes burning into your own. He didn’t need to finish his sentence, the implication hanging in the air between the  two of you.

If you stayed, you would be surrounded by criminals, murderers, psychopaths, and they would be your only allies. If you stayed, they would expect you to help out, to be fully emersed in their group, to become a villain, even if you didn’t fight. If you stayed, you would be expected to hurt people in some way or form. There was no way you couldn’t be apart of this and still be with him. You would have to choose a side.  

Him or your sanity.

For you, there was no choice.

You pushed your body off of the wall, keeping your eyes on his for a brief moment, forcing yourself to steel your nerves mimicking his mask of no emotions to the best of your ability, before turning and walking down the hallway that the others took.

You didn’t see the slow smile that crossed Dabi’s lips.

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You’re steeled expression faltered when you stepped into the room, Dabi holding the door open for you, ushering you in, the rest of the team already there waiting expectantly. Compress was bandaged up in the bed in the middle of the room that was covered in dried blood, not all of it his. You could barely smell his alpha’s scent, it being heavily diluted by the rest of the smells in the room, but even the small whiff you had gotten made you want to throw up.

The second his molten eyes met yours you felt yourself taking several steps back into Dabi’s large frame, his hands landing on your hips to steady you as he blocked the door. The whole room was spinning, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. You’re eyes trailed across his body, seeing just how much damage Dabi had done to him. His skin was blistered, and raw, dried blood and fresh blood splattered across it. It looked like his face had taken a good brunt of the fire, but you were unable to tell, his lower body being completely wrapped.  

You expected this, you told yourself, you knew that Dabi had gotten ahold of Mr. Compress. You knew it couldn’t have ended well for the other alpha. You knew what fire could do to a person and you after seeing this you were shocked that Compress was alive. What you didn’t expect was the anger that flared up inside of you. A little voice telling you it wasn’t enough, not for what he did.

You were prepared for Dabi to have thoughts like this. You weren’t prepared for yourself.

The room was silent for a moment except for Compress’s labored breathing and every breath he took only made your anger burn brighter. You hated that you felt this way, but you hated his eyes on you more.

“I think she’s ready now,” Your eyes stayed on Compress, but you could hear the furtive smile in Shigaraki’s voice. “What should his punishment be?”

There was that question again, but this time vile thoughts flashed inside your head. The thoughts were clear as day in your mind, whispering to you. You took a step towards him, then another until you were standing over him. Your eyes scanning his own only seeing anger before dropping to the damage that was done.

You had seen plenty of burn victims in your life to know Compress couldn’t handle more.

“He’s going to die if you do anything else to him... he might die anyways.” The sound of your own voice was foreign to you. You expected it to come out shaky, scared, but it came out almost as unfeeling as Dabi’s did.

“That’s true.” Kurogiri spoke, watching you from the corner of the room, all eyes were on you, other than Twice’s who were switching back and forth between you and Compress, almost giving himself whiplash. In any other situation it would have been comical.

“Is he on medication? For the pain?” Your voice almost sounded concerned this time, almost. Your eyes following a tube that disappeared under the blanket, attached to a bag up on the table next to him.

“Mhm” Shigaraki answered this time, his voice a mere hum as he scratched away at his neck, his eyes watching your shaking hands with eagerness. Everyone couldn’t wait to see what you would do. No one cared at this point what happened to Compress. Not after what he did. Just because they were villains didn’t mean they didn’t have a code of ethics. A forced bond was unforgivable. The only reason to keep him around was his quirk. Shigaraki knew he was a good ally, but only if he could be trusted, and after this he knew he couldn’t be. Tomura was okay with using him to test Dabi’s little pet.

You could see the seething anger settling in Compresses eyes. You could tell he hated you, which was only proved when he twitched his good hand to be touching your arm, causing Dabi to lurch forward to protect you, only for Compress to let out a noise of frustration, barely to be heard. Compress’s quirk wouldn’t work on you. You already knew it and now everyone in the room knew it too, watching with awe.

It would work on your precious Alpha though.

You could see the thought click in Compresses brain, clear as day. You were pretty sure if the agile Alpha had been at full health he would have been faster than you by a landslide. But he was burnt almost beyond recognition and you were pretty sure the only reason he was able to move at all was due to the amount of what you assumed was morphine he was on. You easily slid over, blocking Dabi from his feeble grasp, gripping Compress’s offending arm, yanking the IV out of it’s place and shoving his arm roughly back against his own chest, watching as he let out a low howl of pain.

You wrapped up the tub and bag, tossing it back to Kurogiri before turning and stalking out of the room with Dabi at your heels, a whisper barely leaving your lips but still being heard clearly by everyone. “Let him suffer.”

Once you were outside of the room, you finally took a deep breath, Dabi pulling into him, his arms wrapping around you, burring your face in his chest. You could hear the other members talking lowly in the room, and it was only a couple minutes before you could hear the hoarse agonized screams of Compress as his body registered the pain he was in. You tried to pull away, to run back in there and reattach the IV so that you didn’t have to hear what you just put the villain through. So you didn’t hear those awful sounds, but Dabi just crushed you tighter against himself, cooing in your ear softly to distract you.

The screams felt like they lasted hours, but in reality was only a couple minutes before they quieted all at once. Tomura Shigaraki stepped out of the room with the others following behind, a quiet nod to you in recognition, the scent of amber and leather disappearing completely, his glove missing from his hand.

You pushed Dabi away just in time to avoid getting vomit on him. What did you just do?

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[anyaaforger]

Delusion or Not

Summary: It all started behind the library that one summer day, it was a downward spiral since then.

Pairing: Kokonui

Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut (only if you squint real hard), character study, Inui-centric

A/N: Look, I would apologize for whatever this is but I'm not going to, so suffer. Love y'all uwu. Also I don't hate Koko, I just think that Inui should've beat his ass at least once for all the bullshit Koko made him go through.

Read on Ao3

Inui Seishu wasn’t asleep his eyes were just closed, there was a cool spring breeze and the curtain fluttered with the wind. It was nice, it had been a while since Seishu found himself feeling so calm. He would admit, it was a little risky resting in the library, anyone could walk by and mistake him for a girl or he could get scolded by the librarian, neither sounded very appealing to him. But he still wanted to stay in the same spot, it was soothing, except for maybe the heels he was wearing.

It was irrational, his reason to put those death traps on that is. He didn’t need to do such ridiculous things, with or without the heels, those feelings would still be there, heels or no heels Inui Seishu would always get the short end of the stick, regardless he still wore those, as if shoe bites lasting weeks wasn’t enough of a nuisance.

At some point Seishu lost track of time, it would probably be best to go home now, he thought. He was yet to have lunch, he was starving. Just as he was ready to move, he heard footsteps coming his way.

Shit, he thought. Maybe it was just another person walking by, it was better to stay in the same spot instead of getting caught by that psycho librarian. And Inui stayed there, his eyes closed and not moving an inch, still. The footsteps got closer and closer until Inui felt the wind get blocked by an intense heat, and a smell that he could never miss, overwhelming and suffocating, so strong it felt like a rope tightening around his neck, choking him slowly until he was to stop breathing altogether.

That smell and that heat got closer and closer, making him dizzy. And there it was, the flutter of heat he felt on his lips, quick and hot. The wind blew stronger, lifting the curtains in the air.

And at that moment, there was a balance of hot and cold. And just for a moment, Inui felt at peace like he was floating on a cloud, above the land, above all the chaos and the fire, the smoke and the ashes, the hospitals and the scent of death they bought along, above it all.

And in the blink of an eye, it was all gone, the heat and the wind. The curtain returned to its place gently trailing behind the wisps of the wind. Inui heard a pair of knees hitting the ground.

Say it, he thought.

Say my name.

“Akane.”

Ha! This bastard, this disgusting son of bitch, fuck.

Inui felt disgusting, he wanted to throw up and then scrub himself until his skin was red and on fire. He needed to leave, he needed to leave now and get away, how foolish of him to think such delusions would come true, how foolish of him to think that he wasn’t a replacement.

How very foolish.

Inui opened his eyes, as he heard the footsteps go further and further away. He stood up, running out of the library.

Never again, he thought. Not in his entire lifetime, no matter how long or short will he ever let such a thing happen again.

He rushed into his bathroom, the moment he stepped foot into his house. Puking his guts out as his mother knocked on his door asking him what was wrong. He touched his forehead on the sink mirror, the vile taste of vomit still lingering in his mouth.

“Bastard,” he mumbled.

Never again, he thought. But he was wrong, it happened over and over again for years, and Inui never said anything, he kept quiet and took it, at some point it went from when Inui was unconscious, to him being conscious, be awake, and aware. But that didn’t stop Koko, not even streaming tears would stop Koko.

It became a thing. No, they became a thing. Something that would fulfill both their delusions. And every time it happened, Inui found himself puking in the bathroom. While Koko listened to him retching outside the door, not having enough courage to comfort or confront him. And when Inui would come out, his skin still crawling with disgust he would either find Koko gone or asleep.

It had been the case for years until suddenly Koko was gone. And Inui Seishu should’ve been happy, Inui Seishu should’ve been relieved that the one person who had haunted him for so long was gone, was out of his life. But instead, he felt like he was crumbling, this delusion, these lies that he had made up suddenly came tumbling down without any rhyme or reason. And then it made sense. He wasn’t it and it wasn’t him. Delusion or not, he was never enough.

It has been years since then, slowly Inui had picked himself back up, pieced himself together until he was satisfied, walked out of the delusion he had been living in for years, and faced reality headstrong, this time without a pair of heels.

[shxnnxnchxmbxrs]

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

Katniss thinks Peeta is cheating on her. Pregnancy is fun, huh?

—————

She smells that smell again. It hangs solemnly in the air, mocking her with its presence. It’s perfume.

And it’s not hers.

There’s no need to jump to conclusions, she tells herself. There’s a multitude of different reasons why her husband might be fucking another woman behind her back.

Okay, so she’s already leapt.

Still, there must be a perfectly logical reason behind it. Peeta would never cheat on her, she’s certain. Well, she thinks she’s certain. Now she’s thinking and she’s not that certain at all.

She didn’t think Cato would cheat, but then again that was her simply ignoring her instincts and ignoring the red flags. Looking back, he’d definitely been cheating from the very start and not even trying to hide it.

Douchebag.

But she’d cried in Peeta’s arms that night she found out, and he kissed her so gently, so gently that she felt reborn. The look in his eyes was as if she personally torn out his heart and stamped on it. She imagined her own looked the very same now, finding out the horrors her husband had been up to behind her back.

She knows she’s overreacting, but the vile smell of the rose perfume makes her want to gag all the same. It smells familiar, but she can’t quite place it. That’s when she spots a long, blonde hair on the kitchen worktop. It’s far too long to be Peeta’s, and far too fair to be her own.

This is disastrous. Not only is her darling husband cheating on her, it’s with someone she vaguely knows. And she’s probably a gorgeous blonde too.

Narrows it down, she thinks as she bitterly takes a sip of tea, trying to imagine who the hot blonde could be. It could be Glimmer. In fact, it’s definitely Glimmer. She has long legs, curves where she’s supposed to, and she’s not six months pregnant. She runs a hand over her swollen stomach and is hit with instant nausea that she hasn’t felt in over three months. Glimmer sounds about right.

The front door clicks.

“Hey, I’m back!” Her husband, if she can even call him that, calls from the hallway.

“Hi.”

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look on his face disgusts her. He seems genuinely interested in her well being. Like he fucking cared when he was fucking whoever the fuck she was against the fucking kitchen counter.

“Yes.”

“Don’t believe you. Try again, this time with a smile, please?”

She turns to scowl at him, raising her lips into a faint, sardonic smile. His brow knits together in confusion as he bends down to take off his left shoe. He moves past her slightly to put the shopping bag he held in his hand onto the kitchen counter.

His blonde bimbo probably had her perfect, not pregnant body pressed up against that. Lovely. She’d never eat again.

“Are you okay though, darling?” Don’t call me darling, you adulterer.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?” She scowls, but he takes it as a joke and when he laughs lightly it only infuriates her further.

“It’s not funny Peeta, I know what you’ve been doing!”

“Oh do you now?” He teases. Why can’t he understand that she’s being totally serious?

“I mean it, Peeta, run off to Glimmer and then see if I give a shit! I don’t want to hear excuses just get out of my sight before I poke your eyes out!”

That made him take notice.

“Glimmer?”

“Yes! I figured it out! Thought you could hide it from your dumb and stupid wife, did you? Well, you’d have gotten away with it for a lot longer if she’d not left her ratty hair in the kitchen!”

She huffed and tried to catch her breath. She had never quite seen Peeta so gobsmacked, standing there blinking at her as if she was an exhibit in the museum, or an animal in a zoo.

“Katniss, I haven’t seen her since she left my office building a year before we got together.”

“Oh, so you’ve been sleeping with her for the entire six years we’ve been together then. Hmmm. Is that what you’re telling me?”

He blinks at her dumbly. She almost thinks that she’s gotten it wrong, he can’t possibly have been that much of an arsehole. But then he smirks and she realises she’s hit the nail on the head.

“Oh yeah that’s what’s been going on...” No need for sarcasm you snarky prick, “Katniss, don’t be stupid, I’m in love with you!”

“I’m not being stupid, I’ve just put all the clues together and it makes sense!” He raises an eyebrow at her, and she takes that as her cue to explain, “The rose perfume, we both know it’s not mine I hate the smell of roses, and there was a long blonde hair in the kitchen. Fuck her on my dining table, did we?”

“Katniss, the last time I fucked anyone on our dining table was when that happened!” He points to her stomach, a smug smirk plastered to his face. He knows he’s getting a rise out of her, and he’s even enjoying it. Cheating bastard.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t, babe. Really that plausible I could cheat on you, huh?” He’s moved closer towards her, she thinks he looks slightly wounded by her accusations, but she doesn’t care. She’s right. And she knows it.

“Plausible if it’s true. And it’s true. I know it’s true I worked it out.”

“Someone tell Mystery Incorporated that you’re after their jobs. Sorry Scoob!” He smirks again and she has to fight the urge to not slap it right off of his smug little face.

“It’s not funny.”

“Seems pretty funny to me.” He replies, before adding, “and I’d have gotten away with it if it was for you meddling kids,” under his breath, in the hopes she would only half head him.

Her hearing, it turns out, is impeccable.

“Aha! So you admit it!”

“Katniss, I was just quoting Scooby Doo.”

“No, you just admitted it. So where did you do it then? The kitchen? The bathroom? OUR bedroom? Oh my god, have I slept in our bed after she’s been in there!” She was rambling, as she would when she was nervous. Of course she was fucking nervous, she’d never accused her husband of cheating on her before.

“Will you just calm down?”

Uh oh.

“Katniss, please just calm down and let me actually explain what’s going on so that I can prove to you that I have eyes for no one else. I’ll even prove it to you against the dining table if you want. Just please, calm down and let me talk to you properly.”

Fuck. Now he’d done it.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”

She launched towards him, arms flailing, but he easily grabbed her by both wrists. As she struggled against his iron grip, he swiftly spun her around and pressed her against the closed door, her arms pinned above her head by one hand whilst the other roamed to her waist.

“Don’t touch me.” She protested weakly, already leaning into his hand as he began to caress her jaw gently.

“Are you going to let me explain, or do you want to carry on spitting bullshit theories?”

His voice was low and hoarse and as he whispered into her ear, she felt a tingle jolt happily down her spine.

“It’s not bullshit if I can prove it.”

She was so close to his face now, she could see into his eyes. They were staring at her intently, dark and intense. For a split second she saw a flash of pain cross his pupils, but it was so faint she must have been imagining if.

“I hardly think that Effie’s hair and perfume prove that I’m sleeping with a girl I haven’t seen in seven years.”

“Effie?”

He was lying. Why would her Aunt Effie be here when she wasn’t at home herself?

“So now you want to listen?” And as she nodded he explained in a low voice, still holding her pinned to the door.

“She wanted to do a baby shower for you, darling. But, you know what Effie is like, so that meant it had to be a complete surprise. Which you’ve now ruined by the way, so you best act surprised when it happens.”

She turned to look at him for the first time in a few minutes, and her cheeks flush, embarrassed she could ever think such a thing about her wonderful baker boy. Because truly, that sounded more plausible. Her Aunt Effie was always throwing surprise parties, much to her Uncle Haymitch’s dismay.

She’d been an idiot. It was almost as if Peeta could read into her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’d be feeling pretty stupid if I was you too. But, seen as though I’m a nice husband and all that, I’ll let you off and we can put it down to the baby hormones. Sound like a deal?”

She nodded quickly, and turned away from him again. Her arms were starting to ache from the position he had them in and she wiggled her wrist.

“One more thing. I would never do that to you, you know that, right?” The dark, playful tone has vanished, and he was looking at her so sweetly.

“Yes...”

“You don’t sound too convinced. How can I prove it to you?”

She shot him a look, one she had done some many times before, and he complied just as he had all of those times. He kissed her neck gently, and slowly began to move up towards her jaw. He still hadn’t released her wrists, but she no longer cared.

“Peeta, I’m so sorry.”

“Katniss, there’s no need to apologise. If I was carrying a human inside of me I’d definitely be a bit crazy sometimes. Plus, I don’t mind you being angry at me sometimes.”

“I’ll get angry with you more often then.” She smiled her first genuine smile of the afternoon.

“Good. It’s hot. And the make up sex is always incredible!”

[bangtan-sinnamons]

Exotic l2l

Part 1

⤞ Paring: Snake!Jungkook x Human!reader

⤞ Summary: When you are stranded on an island full of hybrids, a little someone is excited to meet you.

⤞ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Sprinkle of angst, Action

⤞Warning: Blood, fighting scenes (self defense) , claw marks, possessive behavior (not from kook)

⤞ Word count:  1650

My heart says write fluff, but my brain functions in angst. T-T

As the sun was rising Jungkook tries to stretch his body across the caves’s floor, but is met with you drawing him close to seek out the warmth of his body. In seconds, your body is moulded into his, sharing body heat as easily as Jungkook is willing to share his heart with you. He is so overwhelmed with happiness that he begins to nudge his nose into the crown of your hair.

When he takes a deep breath in, the smell of sweetness tickled his nose. It was no longer the disgusting smell of the bear hybrid or the initial smell of salt water when he first met you. Right now, it smelled addicting. Jungkook didn’t realize how effected, he’d be with you literally clinging on him simply to avoid hypothermia.

He tried so hard not to engulf you with his scent. He deemed mixing scents was too romantic and needed consent for. To you, scenting was probably the equivalent of dating. But in the back of his mind he knew the real reason he was stopping himself from scenting you, he was scared. Terrified that he would get too attached. Once he had scented you and when you left, he would long for you and no matter how much he wishes you to come back his words would reach nowhere, but the seemingly endless ocean that separates the both of you.

You began to stir and he withdraws his arms around you, nervous that he would seem overly possessive with you. To his delight, you roll closer and your hand slowly pats his chest in the process of finding his soft hair. He was left breathless with the constant surprises and affection you gave him. Once you felt his locks, you started to caress it delicately.

“Kook…aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? You said you were mostly nocturnal,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “Last time I did this, you fell asleep really fast,”

The disappointment becomes apparent on his face. Of course you didn’t do this because you loved him as much as he did. He was embarrassed that he thought your touch could possibly mean much more than friends. He suddenly felt shy, even going as far as hiding his redden face with his slender fingers.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a peak at his face. Your hands stopped for a moment. Maybe he didn’t like you touching his hair you thought.

“I missed this. Do it again,” he pleaded. You begin to play with his hair again, but this time with more confidence that he actually liked the feeling.

“Miss what exactly?”

“This feeling,” he snuggled into your hand. The way you caressed his hair was filled with nostalgia. “It reminds me of my caretaker. She use to do this before they dragged me on this island,”

You couldn’t even describe the heartache you were feeling due to his soft and fragile voice. How long has he been left alone? Maybe you should somehow help him find some other hybrid friends before you left?  But then how could a human help him?

You were interrupted from your thoughts, when Jungkook suddenly perks up and sits on the floor.  His eyes moved with the alertness that comes from anxiety. He heard something, but more specifically someone and he is ready to protect you this time around.

“𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,” a voice calls. His eyes widen at how fast they were approaching.

“Hey Y/n… stay here I’m going to check something,” Jungkook says, hesitant to leave you alone in the cave. His hands were clenched in tight fists by subconscious demands. You tilt your head in confusion, but you nod your head in agreement.

He rushes out of the cave giving one last glance at you curling up to go back to sleep. He wanted to settle this problem quickly so he could snuggle back into your arms.

“𝚂𝚗𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎,” the voice penetrates Jungkook’s ear and he growls in response. “𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎? 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚎?” he snickered. The lynx was ridiculing him. He could see the lynx’s mouth beginning to form into a vile smirk, a smile that said lets fight.

Jungkook scans the forest and its surroundings, he was worried that this was a part of scheme and it wasn’t just this lone lynx asking for a fight. “What do you want?”

“𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊�� 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.” Despite Jungkook trying to block his way, the lynx continues approaching closer to the cave, “𝚂𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎. 𝚝𝙷𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝙾𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝙴𝚊𝚝,” The lynx tried to push him aside, but Jungkook doesn’t budge.

Staring became the only form of communication between the two hybrid. Both of them were not backing down.

“Jungkook? I thought I heard something, so I….” Your voice was a distraction.  A fluttery feeling formed in his stomach and his head buzzed with anxiety, he looked back at you. The urge to make sure you were okay overrode the current stare-down.

The second Jungkook’s eyes left the lynx, the sly hybrid slams his fists into his chin. It was harder than he expected, even stumbling back from the force. “Kook?!” You ran over to him while he wipes the blood that drips from his lip.

The lynx couldn’t help, but burst into a fit of laughter. “𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚢.” The lynx steals a look at you, while Jungkook contemplates on what he should do next. Although it was very subtile, an arrogant smirk formed as the lynx checks you out and Jungkook hisses. He never felt so hungry for destruction, so ready for his animal instincts to kick in and allow himself to throw punches until this lynx was soaked in a pile of his own blood. “𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚝.”

How dare he.

If you weren’t standing by Jungkook’s side, it was a guaranteed fact that the snake hybrid would have lunged for an attack. “I don’t know what’s going on, but is it really worth getting bloody over that? Cause obviously I’m no pet,”

“If you’re asking, if you are worth it… then yes,”

You were at a loss for words. You stared into his brown slit eyes burning with anger, and fell silent.

Jungkook still wanted to settle this peacefully, despite the strong urge to wield a few hits…

“Leave.” Jungkook demands. “This person is not worth your time and energy. This person is not worth your time and energy,” Jungkook reminds himself.

The lynx steps closer to the both of you, sniffing the air and his smirk only grew “𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛.” He provokes.

Jungkook lost it. Absolutely lost any rationality left. He landed a stern blow on his mouth. This mouth that talked shit about you. A crack could be heard, but he doesn’t care because the lynx deserved it. Once satisfied he starts pounding the lynx’s eyes. These eyes that dared looked at you with such evil intent.

The snake hybrid couldn’t suppress his animal features any longer and his lethal stare brought regret to the lynx.

“𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃, 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿” the hybrid yelps, trying to dodge the attacks, but Jungkook holds him down by the collar. The lynx became desperate to get the beast off of him. The once egotistical hybrid was now clawing Jungkook’s ribs in distraught.

Jungkook hisses, baring his fangs when the lynx tries to jab a knee to his stomach. Whether it was in contact with Jungkook’s old scars or how he despised the lynx, he only knew to respond through his fists.

His punches were relentless. You belonged to nobody. Especially not this bastard.

“Jungkook!” There was something in that shout, was it pain or disappointment, he did not know. His mind was still hazy and intoxicated with darkness.

Despite how overpowering Jungkook seemed to be, he could still feel the stinging pain as the hybrid digs his claws into him, but right now his main focus was protecting you. Yes, protecting you, but why wasn’t he by your side comforting you? Why was he still hitting the hybrid? He already won this fight. As the realization hits him, his punches were no longer hard and fatal.

He had come back to his senses. No longer worried about the lynx and allowing the beaten hybrid to scurry away into the forest without a second thought.

When Jungkook finally comes into full view, you don’t recognize him. He looked so feral. His lip split, the fact that a large tail had even grown from behind and his fists were covered in blood should have contributed to you shaking in fear, but you don’t. Opposed to how intimidating he appeared to be, you notice how his bottom lip trembled.

You weren’t even aware that you were holding your breath until you ran towards him and melted into his form. Feeling his firm torso and the heart that was racing within. His hands wrapped around you, drawing you in closer. “You were so so cool,” you smiled.

“You’re not scared?”

“Never, but we need to get you clean up,”

He pouted “But…I was going to show you something before a certain somebody came,” He wanted to give you good memories before you leave. Not memories of him being violent, but he can’t say no when you were already dragging him by the hand to the creek. Just being with you made his smile complete.

“Hurry up and get undress, look at all this blood” you pointed, a frown forming on your face, when he walks even slower.

He could feel the heat rise into his face and he paused in his tracks. He had to undress and rinse off in front of you?!

(Tell me if you guys want a Drabble for Kook’s “bath” scene b/c it’s not going to be in part 3. I’ll write it if at least 5 people are willing to read it)

Drabble here!!

Part 1