#where’d my claws go?

[7atl7as7]

wait wdym not everyone has a playlist where they dream that they’re their kintype and ripping the flesh off of people they don’t like O-o

[slutforpaladins]

trying to do shibari when you have a cat is not for the weak

[wonderjanga]

Revival

(I posted this on accident when I meant to put it in drafts, anyone who saw that, you didn’t)

Anyways , so Billy casually revives Mary and Freddy whenever they die in their marvel forms. (For this AU, let’s say they’re still super durable, but they’re less durable than Marvel) Like for example:

*Mary and Marvel are fighting a super strong monster. It swings one of its claws at the two, hitting the both of them. It gives Billy a scratch but Mary just dies.*

Marvel: *forgets about the monster immediately* “Oh my gods…” *looks down at her looking properly disturbed and uses tip of boot to move Mary onto her back to see if she’s really, really dead.* “That’s… a nasty one.” *Bends down and fixes her face and wounds up with magic.* He’s revived them before but seeing them die never ceases to scare him. What if he can’t save them the next time?

Mary: *alive but unconscious*

Marvel: *picks her up and zips off to the Rock of Eternity* “Okay, Mary… I’m just gonna…” *Puts her down on the floor and runs around the rock finding blankets upon blankets and a singular pillow. Puts them all on her and puts the pillow under her head.*

Mary: *wakes up slightly and tries to sit up* “Billy, what happened?”

Marvel: “You uh… got knocked out.” *Pushes her back down so she can lay back down* He hasn’t told either of them that nine times out of ten, whenever they get knocked out, they die. It causes a major argument when they find out. “Just go back to sleep, Mary. I’ll take care of the monster.” If anyone saw this, they would truly think he’s her dad.

Mary: “The monster’s still out there?” *already on the verge of going back to sleep*

Marvel: “Not for long.” *tucks her in extra tight and pats her head before flying back to Fawcett*

or

*JL are fighting some aliens. These aliens are actually a little harder than normal. Some of their weapons burned Billy such as the ray-guns. (Which looked awesome) After closer inspection, the ray-guns had some type of magic signature. (Is it bad he finds that even cooler?) Freddy’s also there. The ray-guns affect him more than Billy. He dies when the aliens use a particularly big gun when Billy’s too distracted to help him. He doesn’t even realize Freddy died (again) until all the fighting is over and he’s looking for him.*

Marvel: *Flying around, looking around for Freddy* “Junior! Junior, where’d you go?” *Sees Freddy just laying there and flies down, touching down on the ground* “Junio…” *trails off when he sees Freddy’s dead and walks over to the corpse*

Superman: *flies down and lands next to Marvel* “Cap, Hal’s asking if you want to go for drinks. Do I tell him you’re not going—” *covers mouth when he sees Freddy.*

Marvel: *kneels down in front of Freddy.* How long had he been like this? Could Billy even save him now? He’s so charred… *feels impending dread and nausea creeping up*

Superman: “I- Marvel- I’m so sorry…”

Marvel: *spiraling as he stares at Junior*

Batman: *appears from the shadows* “I know what it’s like to lose a child, Marvel.” *puts hand on Billy’s shoulder* “If you ever need to talk to someone…”

Marvel: *shrugs hand off and starts to try and heal Freddy* “I’m fine.” *keeps muttering that he’s fine and the whole situation is fine as he continues to heal Freddy.*

Batman and Superman: *staring at Marvel in pity*

Superman: “…Marvel?” *Walks up behind Billy* “Marvel. He’s not fine.”

Freddy: *healed, alive but unconscious*

Marvel: “Yes, he is.” *Picks Freddy up* “He’s perfectly fine. I uh- I gotta go.”

Superman: “Cap, wait!”

Marvel: *Zooms off the rock. Ended up doing the same thing he did with the blankets before with Mary to Freddy.*

The league are gobsmacked when they see Freddy talking to Billy as if they hadn’t heard from Supes and Bats that he died. Billy also found a few grey hairs when he detransformed.

[aozui]

YUJI had a baseball cap phase, you can’t convince me otherwise. alternatively: I MISS THE TRIO BADDDD :((

for the ones who wear claw clips: he’d be the type of boyfriend to put yours on the back strap, parading it around like he would an ‘I ❤️ MY GF’ tee (he has one of those too), and he wears his relationship on his sleeve. on his forehead, actually. he never shuts up about you.

“he’s like a walking billboard for her,” nobara scoffs, “you can’t be telling a curse ‘I’m gonna marry the shit out of my girl’, moron. especially not two seconds before blowing their brains out.”

itadori shrugged, “I am going to marry her.”

“that wasn’t my point, airhead! don’t you have any morals?” nobara yells from below as she hammers a nail into a disfigured blob—exorcizing it. last of many.

the trio were on yet another mission, a minor one. yuji had been texting you the whole ride there. megumi rolled his eyes so far back into his head you could see the whites, nobara fake-gagged a few times.

“stop being such a wet blanket, kugisaki.”

“..where’d you learn to say that?”

(they both look at megumi)

“what?” megumi’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets. from that angle, he sort of looked like his dad. the one that stepped up I mean! not the other one.

“nothing.” (yuji, nobara, in unison)

safety makes you careless. they’ve gotten used to these back and forths on the walks back to the dorms. it makes their youth feel less abnormal; as much as either of them would hate to admit, they’re all each other has. it’s no surprise that they get defensive over him when it comes to you. it doesn’t help that you’re from jujutsu high’s kyoto branch.

itadori thinks of you a borderline unhealthy amount, and they can’t deny the expression he makes when he does. happy he’s happy. his phone buzzes in his hand,

yuji 7:88 AM: soooooooo tired

you 8:03 AM: mission? sorry slept in pretty late

yuji 10:11 AM: yeah 👎

yuji 12:00 PM: I miss you

yuji 12:00 PM: fushiguro keeps glaring at me LOL I think he’s jealous I’m texting you. or that I have someone to text at all aha

new message! you 1:55 PM: 😭 maybe he just doesn’t like.. me

he frowns at this. the other two are having a debate over dinner. or something. he’s not paying attention.

you 1:56 PM: how’d the mission go?

you 1:56 PM: [3 attachments] had a late lunch with miwa <3

itadori’s developed a habit of fiddling with your things when he misses you. he pulls at the hair ties you’ve lost on his wrist, touches whatever marks you left on him the last time he saw you in person. and of course, the clip.. that.. isn’t.. there? they must notice the panic on his face, because they stop talking, while he frantically pats himself down, swearing under his breath.

“did you lose something?” someone asks. he isn’t sure who. everything was starting to blur.

your name is in white gemmed cursive on the hair accessory—black, matching his current favorite cap.

yuji started to get sentimental when he realized how precious life is, how unfair it is that death doesn’t pick favorites. he figures that if you’re going to lose someone, at least remember them. and what better way to remember than holding onto something that belonged to them?

it might’ve been the weight of the day. it was probably just his head messing with him. the trauma from seeing so many lives get taken away in front of him. supposedly a flaw in mindset. an aftereffect of trauma. but he was losing his mind over a hairclip.

it was yours, and you trusted him with it. he can already hear the “it’s fine, I’ll just get a new one.” yet the guilt still gnaws at him from the inside.

“are you turning pale?” he’s almost sure it was nobara.

they were worried. the voices kept getting smaller and smaller—more concerned by the minute. by the time itadori realizes he’s having a panic attack, he’s in a different place: sat next to you in a hospital waiting room, claw clip in your right hand, left hand in his.

he recognizes it from somewhere, the hospital.

he feels like he’s been here before. he chooses to assume it’s the familiarity of having you around.

you notice him staring, and give him a disarming smile. yuji feels his entire body relax.

how can the sight of someone feel so good?

“they found it a block away from where fushiguro called the ambulance.” you lean on his shoulder as he runs circles on your palm with his thumb—watching the nurses and patients pass along. “he was worried about you. they both were.”

itadori’s quiet, so you keep going.

“I wouldn’t have been upset.”

“I know.”

“you do?”

he nods. “I just don’t like losing things.” and it feels like some kind of cursed metaphor for the things he leaves unsaid, the things he hasn’t healed from. it feels like a secret. both of you let the statement seep.

“you won’t lose me.”

yuji looks up at you, waiting for more.

“nobara told me you wanted to marry me. and to call her nobara from now on,” you laugh, “I think I’ve been accepted somehow.” he grins at that.

“I would’ve said yes.” “..yaga would’ve scolded me.”

“because we’re young?”

“because I’m a moron, apparently everyone thinks.”

“I don’t think so.” “well you’re different.”

you two sit there for awhile, talking about things that matter, things that don’t matter. normalcy—the sole thing he craves, he has with you.

“I’m never putting baseball cap on ever again.” he says, serious all of a sudden.

you pale. “let’s not say anything we don’t mean.”

the next week, he had a new one on, because you bought it. said it looked good on him. you’ve always had a way of giving itadori a new perspective, anyway. people may think your relationship is weird. that you’re a moron for choosing the moron. none of that matters, though. you’re his anchor, and he’s yours.

A/N excuse any typos and grammatical errors, haven’t been feeling like myself lately so this was just a 3am brainbaby </3 don’t love this & I might delete later, I’ll let it sit for now

masterlist

[slut4daviii]

character(s): g.tomioka

pt(s): 01/02

cw: cheating, cum-eating, masturbation

summary: idk but giyuus husband is cheating and giyuu is fantasying about his neighbor. one thing will lead to another and you’ll find that forgetting an anniversary will never end will for the forgetting party

a/n: hi. | minors and non-male aligning DNI

title: anniversary sex

wc: 1250+

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scandalous.

he knew his thoughts were everything but pure.

scandalous.

he knew his thoughts should only pertain to his own husband and the life they’d built together.

scandalous

but… he couldn’t. he couldn’t keep his eyes from the widow. couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering; forming indecent images and scenarios.

his thighs pressed inwards at the situations created by his imagination. each one a different position, different pose; exploring each other’s bodies, igniting new passion into one another.

“haa— hah! [n—name]…!” he’d moan into your chest, dragging his fingers down your back in such a crude, indecent manner.

you’d groan into his neck, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower, the fruity scent still lingering from the perfume he spent seventy dollars on. just for you.

you’d press yourself deeper into him, embedding your tip into his womb. “ahh!” a high-pitched yelp. he would put his hand on your v-line, trying to stop your movements.

you’d only go harder, dismissing his mindless mumbles of “ngh!! t—too… too de—ep! s—sl—slow d..d—down!!”

he would know.

you would know.

his husband would know.

everyone would know.

that he wanted it. just how you gave it to him; slow, deep, mind-breaking stokes that left him breathless at every thrust.

“you wanted this, right? watched me from your widow. rubbing yourself to my form, hoping I’d come and sweep you away from your husband.”

he’d choke on his words, clawing at you for any sort of support. his eyes would roll backwards, an orgasm rippling between the two of you, staining your chests in a sticky white substance.

“Gi—“

you’d move your fingers to his chest, lifting his legs to his shoulders in the process. your fingers would slid along his abs, soaking up his spewed semen and bringing it to his—

“Giyuu”

—mouth, forcing him to taste his own—

“Giyuu!”

—seed. he’d moan around your fingers, the salty taste of himself pushing him over—

“GIYUU!!”

Giyuu pulled back from the sink, dropping the cup he held in his hand, shattering it.

his husband stood across the short kitchen distance with a briefcase in hand. he adjusted his tie, tugging on the fabric to adhere to his neck.

“Giyuu, where was your mind? I’ve been calling your name for five minutes.” the man chuckled

Giyuu smiled, glancing back to the window before snapping his vision back to his husband. “J…just thinking of our anniversary.”

his husband hummed, closing the buttons of his suit. “anniversary?” he chuckled, burning a hole into Giyuu’s chest. “our anniversary was two months ago.”

Giyuu glanced at the calendar on his refrigerator, looking at the heart over today’s date.

His husband followed the look, panic rushing through his body. “Uh—uhm I mean, I, I was thinking of your birthday..!”

‘my birthday was two days ago.’ he thought

Giyuu looked back to the window, no longer seeing the picture of his fantasies. ‘where’d [name] go?’

his husband came behind him, palming his ass and resting his chin on Giyuu’s shoulder, disregarding his obvious discomfort. “are you mad at me?” his husband moaned into his ear, harshly rubbing his front against Giyuu’s back.

Giyuu remained silent, earning a harsh thrust “oh, I’m sorry Giyuu, I’ve just been so busy. but, I promise, when I get back, we’ll celebrate all you want.”

“Get back? where are you going?” Giyuu asked softly, not surprised by his husband’s actions.

“I have a business meeting with Rengoku. It’ll last a week. I’m sorry!”

Giyuu nodded, moving away from the man to pick up a banana from the table. “Well, you better go now, I forgive you.”

his husband smiled, placing a quick peck on his forehead. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

Giyuu nodded, undoing his apron to take a shower.

“oh! I called [name] over to fix the sink, he should be over later.”

Giyuu stopped his movements, feeling heat rush to his face. “ok, love you.”

as fast as his husband had entered the kitchen, he was gone, leaving with only a distracted “mhm.”

Giyuu continued to his room, removing the rest of his clothing to begin his showering process. he pulled a basket from under his sink labeled ‘[name]’ and continued on his way, reliving his fantasy from earlier.

he felt a smile etch its way onto his face, burning into his features

“I’ll see [name] soon…

[awkward-walking-potato]

Could you do a request with 15 and 16

With Logan where the reader dresses as him for Halloween

Costume Confusion

The Xavier mansion was decked out for Halloween, glowing with a hauntingly warm ambiance as orange lights flickered, fake spider webs clung to corners, and the unmistakable scent of pumpkin and cinnamon wafted through the air. The annual Halloween party was in full swing, with mutants of all ages wearing creative and occasionally ridiculous costumes. You, however, had been feeling a little uninspired this year.

As you scanned the room filled with witches, superheroes, and a very awkward-looking Cyclops in a vampire cape, you finally saw Logan — dressed as… Logan. Of course. His costume was simple: his usual flannel shirt, jeans, and that familiar leather jacket. No costume needed for someone who already embodied a legend.

But tonight, you had something special planned for him. Smiling to yourself, you snuck out of the crowd and headed to the room where you had stashed your last-minute costume. Logan didn’t know about it yet, but you were sure his reaction would be priceless.

When you emerged, your transformation was complete: flannel shirt half-open over a white tank top, jeans, and boots — the closest match you could find to Logan’s signature look. You’d even managed to get your hands on some claw-like props. You knew it wasn’t perfect, but it was the thought (and the teasing) that counted.

With your heart racing just a bit, you made your way back into the party, spotting Logan leaning against the wall, drink in hand, surveying the scene with his usual gruff demeanor. His eyes were scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

For a split second, his brows furrowed, like he was trying to process what he was seeing. Then, as you approached with a swagger mimicking his, his lips quirked into a lopsided smirk.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Logan’s voice was low, the familiar growl softened by a trace of amusement.

You grinned, giving a mock snarl as you raised your clawed hands. “I’m the best there is at what I do,” you said in your best (but terrible) Logan impression, drawing out the claws with a dramatic flair.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you’re tryin’ to be scary, darlin’, but you’re just way too cute.”

Your grin widened as you took a step closer, meeting his gaze. “I couldn’t find a costume, so I just decided to go as my partner,” you said with a playful shrug. “Figured it’d be easy. All I needed was some flannel, jeans, and an unshakable sense of grumpiness.”

He snorted, his smirk growing as he looked you up and down, clearly fighting to keep his amusement under control. “Well, you nailed the flannel and jeans. But the grumpiness? Nah. You’re too damn cheerful for that.”

“Maybe I’ll work on my brooding for next year.” You leaned in a bit, still grinning. “What do you think? Do I pass as a mini-Wolverine?”

Logan’s eyes softened for a moment as he reached out, gently tugging at the sleeve of your flannel shirt. “You look better in this than I ever could,” he muttered, and you could see the faintest hint of affection in his rough features.

You chuckled, slipping your hand into his, feeling the calluses of his rough palm against yours. “Thanks, old man.”

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t let go of your hand, giving it a squeeze instead. “Careful who you’re callin’ old when you’re dressed like me. People might get confused.”

You laughed, the sound mixing with the festive atmosphere around you. The two of you stood there for a moment, comfortable in each other's presence as the party buzzed around you. It was a contrast to the wild costumes and energy of the night, but that was part of what made it special. With Logan, you didn’t need over-the-top antics—just being by his side was enough.

After a beat, Logan glanced down at your makeshift claws. “Where’d you get those?”

“Made ’em myself,” you replied, lifting your hand to wiggle the faux claws. “Not as sharp as the real deal, but they’ll do.”

Logan grinned, his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. “Good thing. Don’t need you shreddin’ up the mansion tryin’ to be me.”

“Well, maybe if you’d let me use the real ones, we wouldn’t have that problem,” you teased, knowing full well how he’d react.

Logan shook his head, his chuckle deep and warm. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

As the party carried on, you both lingered near the edge of the room, watching the chaos unfold—kids running around in costume, the X-Men mingling and enjoying a rare night of peace. It was fun to be part of it all, but with Logan beside you, it felt like your own little moment, a quiet pause in the middle of the festive storm.

Leaning against him, you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer. He might not have been the type to dress up for Halloween or join in on the party games, but Logan was there with you, and that’s all that mattered.

You tilted your head to look up at him, catching his eye as he glanced down at you. “So, do I win for best costume or what?”

Logan gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “You win, sweetheart. Hands down.”

“Thought so,” you muttered, grinning as you leaned into his warmth, the sounds of Halloween fading into the background as the two of you enjoyed the night in your own way.

[achromatophoric]

Do you think camping wenclair would be successful or a failure?

It’s late one night at Jericho’s lone gaming cafe. The only customers are a pair of assholes teenagers who have been spawn camping for the last half hour.

Gamer 1: Hah! Got her again!

Gamer 2: Sick, bro! Gotta love pwning these Nevermore freaks.

Gamer 1: No cap. Fangs and claws don’t do shit in game.

Gamer 2: Hang on—she just respawned… BAM! Headshot! Fuck you, K1ittyClaws17!

Gamer 1: 🤨

Gamer 1: Her again? Where’d that other player go?

Gamer 2: Hers4evermore? Eh— *shrugs* That noob probably pussied out like a bitch.

Gamer 1: Prolly. They sucked even more than this fucking cunt.

Gamer 2: Yeah dude! Trying to knife us? In a fucking shooter? Total. Fucking. Loser!

The ensuing laughter is interrupted by surprised cursing as the entire cafe abruptly goes dark.

Gamer 1: Are you fucking shitting me right now?!

Gamer 2: Fuck! She just respawned, too!

Gamer 1: *stand* Yo! What the fuck, man!? Get the power back on or else I wanna refund!

Gamer 2: *mutters* Shit it’s dark in here.

Gamer 1: HEY! Front desk fucker! I’m—

Gamer 2: What th-hrrkt!

Gamer 1: —TALKING to you, bitch!

Gamer 1: 🤨

Gamer 1: Did they bail? Fuck. Can you believe this shit? *turns*

Gamer 2: *missing*

Gamer 1: B-Bro? Bro!?

The glint of metal moving amongst shadows.

Gamer 1: 😧

Rustling fabric and a glimpse of one black braid.

Gamer 1: BRO! Stop fucking around!

Nothing.

Gamer 1: Fuckfuckfuck! What the F—

Cold. Sharp. Education with an edge against an ill-mannered throat.

Gamer 1: *freezes in terror*

From behind, a flat voice.

Wednesday: Th1ckD1ck69. Legal name Frederick Whittaker. 18.

Wednesday: Senior at Jericho High. Son of Lucy and Gary Whittaker of 772 Maple Hill Road.

Gamer 1: 😨

Wednesday: I have just one question for you, Freddy. *leans in closer*

Gamer 1: *probably wets himself*

Wednesday: Did you just call my beloved, my divine sun who holds my heart hostage—

Wednesday: *voice drops* —a fucking cunt?

Gamer 1: 😭

Wednesday: 👿

— SPAWN CAMPING FAILED —

[As for Wenclair camping in the woods, they’d be totally successful. Between Enid’s werewolf background and Fester’s survival training, they’d have no issues. Except maybe for arson. 🤔]

[airas-story]

Tony's children bots and humans playing Cupid!!!

Tony raised an eyebrow as DUM-E trundled over, Tony’s suit jacket dangling from his claw. “Where’d you get that?” he asked. 

DUM-E waved his claw, to indicate Tony had left it during one of his business clothes’ strips. 

“I don’t need my suit jacket, tonight,” Tony said. “We’ll probably get burgers, something easy.”

“Actually, Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted. “I took the opportunity to make a reservation at Boucherie in Union Square. Doctor Strange mentioned interest three weeks ago.” 

Had he? Tony didn’t remember that. “I don’t think Stephen is expecting that,” Tony said. “We really need to plan—”

“Mr. Parker has gone to the Sanctum to ensure Doctor Strange is adequately prepared for the night out,” FRIDAY informed him.

Tony tried to picture Peter giving Stephen advice on what to wear. His imagination failed him.

“Look, FRIDAY.” He knew what this was. “This is a business meeting. Avengers Liaison stuff.” He’d like it to be more, but he was well aware Stephen’s interests didn’t lie in his direction. “Stephen doesn’t mix business and pleasure.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” FRIDAY said. “Now you need to go, Doctor Strange appreciates punctuality.”

Tony sighed. This wasn’t over, that much was clear.

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 26 (Masturbation)

Kink: Masturbation

Pairing: Mothman x GN!Reader

Other Kinks: Consensual Voyeurism, Mutual Masturbation

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1091 words

Kinktober Masterlist

There is a vivid squelch, silicone against lube, when you press the dildo into you. It’s loud, wet, and perfectly lewd. The kind of sound you’d hear amped up in volume in a schlocky porno or some hentai. It’s the kind of sound you’d avoid making in fear of being caught; But your partner is gone, has been for the past 3 days, to help in the forewarning of an oncoming disaster two states over.

And gods, how you have missed him.

A year ago you never thought you’d be this touchstarved, this desperate for affection for one man’s touch. You thought that kind of stuff was only in romance novels and smutty fanfiction, accepting that no human man was ever going to be that exciting, leaving you wanting so much more.

Well, you had been right about the human part, at least.

Still, your body ached for the soft feeling of your partner's fuzzy wings, his long fingers which always held onto your waist so gently. His ruby red eyes that seemed to stare directly into your soul, always filled with a gentlemanly love, even when he had you bent over a table.

“Hmmm, Atticus.” You moan, feeling the fake balls of your toy nudge against your entrance, sunken full inside of you. “It feels so good.”

Familiar with a…tool this size, you waste no time and begin to thrust it in and out, moaning your sweet partner's name as you do. You imagine his deep, southern drawl. His claws running down the side of your face. His antennae twirling and buzzing as you come undone for him.

You even imagine the familiar tapping on your window, the one he always uses to sneak into your bed late at night. So quiet despite being 7 feet tall.

“Oh my.”

And now you can even hear-

Wait.

Your eyes shoot open, sitting up from bed, realizing you now lie spread eagle in front of your very-real boyfriend who is very much actually present in your bedroom.

His antennas tutter back and forth, hand thrown over his mouth like a shocked 50s housewife. The dildo slides an inch out of you as you scramble upward, something like an excuse on your lips, face red hot with embarrassment.

“Did you miss me that much?” Your partner chuckles, lighthearted, a matching blush lighting up his black fur.

“I-” You stutter, wondering if he heard you calling out his name. You may have been dating for a year now, but still, being caught by your refined, almost-victorian gentleman partner is a little mortifying.

“Well, if it helps.” Atticus’ voice sinks to a lower octave, big eyes narrowed like a smirk. “I missed you a whole lot too.”

The hand around his mouth slides down his chest, leading your eye across his scrumptious body, right to his unsheathed cock.

When did he even get that out?

“C’mon baby.” Atticus drawls. “Keep going.” He sits down in a corner chair, stroking his swollen dick. “Gimme a show.”

A shiver rolls down your spine.

My god, where’d he learn to talk like that?

You ain’t complaining, slipping back to your comfortable position, making sure to keep your legs extra wide. You slide the dildo all the way back in.

Atticus hums in approval, hand rubbing at his flushed head.

“How's it feel?”

“Good.” You pant, slowly rocking the dildo in and out, making sure to press it extra hard with each thrust.

“As good as mine?” Mothman chuckles, rubbing some leaking precum down his shaft with his thumb.

You eye up his cock, biting your lip.

“No.” You gasp, the dildo hitting a particular sensitive spot, sending tingles down to your toes. “Not even close.”

“Hmm, but good enough while I was away?” His eyes shoot to the clear bottle of lube on your bedside table, almost halfway empty. “Seems it got put to work.”

“Couldn’t-” You breath hitches, spreading up your pace, “Couldn't h-help myself. Missed your cock so much.”

You throw your hips up, making a show of your entrance clenching around the thick shaft of the dildo. Lube and juices trickle down the curve of your ass.

Atticus remains dignified, silent as he lazily jerks himself off. But you know the signs by now, see the way his chest tightens and his antennae twitch.

“That right?” Atticus’ other hand reaches down and begins rubbing at the slit where his cock protrudes, an extra sensitive spot you're well acquainted with. “This cock missed you too.” He finally shows some sign of his pleasure, a small hitch in his articulation when he squeezes his head. “Missed that tight hole, missed filling it up.” He rolls his neck, a move he knows you love, showing off the sinewy muscle as it cracks. “Hmm, felt like torture, not being able to fuck you whenever I wanted.”

Your wrist aches and goes ignored, your focus solely on Atticus and the burning fire in your belly. You hang off every word like it’s gospel, letting it sink into your chest and stir up your insides.

“You got me addicted, honey. How could I resist coming home early?” Precum squirts out his head, splattering the top of his hand. “Knowing I’d have such a sweet little thing to greet me?”

Your moans are breathy, vision getting fuzzy are your orgasm climbs. Your brain wants to close them to ignore everything else and focus on your high, but you force them on Atticus. His cock twitches in his hands, and you think you can make out a low “Damn.” as he jerks it.

“You gonna cum?” Atticus asks.

All you can do is nod, head stuffed with cotton and legs trembling. You imagine it’s his cock, the cock in front of your eyes, fucking you open. That it's his hands wrapped around your hips, his pelvis in between your thighs.

Atticus leans forward, cock still humping into his palm, but those big eyes only on you.

“Then cum.”

“Ahh-nggh!” You keen, hips spasming as your orgasm wracks your body, exploding across your abdomen and miking your toy.

Your limbs feel heavy, sweat dripping down your chest. The toy slips out of you and you pant, leaving trails of lube on the bed. Its that post-orgams kind of high that has you going “Wait, what was I doing again?”

“Good job.”

You don’t even have the energy to react when you feel Mothman’s palm against your face, not even wondering how he moved over so quickly, now straddling your hips.

“Now, it’s my turn.”

[wjhik]

Why Are You Doing This To Me?! (Jude Bellingham)

A/N: guys im way too proud of this one. so much angst so much heartbreak. gaslighter!jude so much fun PLEASE COMMENT ANYTHING I LOVE READING THEM

As my birthday approached, I clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. I planned a special dinner for just the two of us, maybe a chance to reconnect and rediscover the love Jude and I had lost over the past 5 years. I was there for him at his worst at Dortmund, and now his best at Madrid, but as the hours ticked by and Jude failed to show, any remaining hope turned to despair. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I blew out the candles to my homemade chocolate cake, as per Jude’s request, alone, the flickering flames a cruel reflection of my shattered dreams.

↭

I sat on the edge of Jude and I’s bed, my fingers tracing aimless patterns on the wrinkled sheets beneath me. The clock on the bedside table mocked me with each passing second, a cruel reminder of Jude's absence. He had been drifting further away with each passing day, lost in the shitty late-nights with his friends. Our once vibrant relationship had begun to crumble, leaving me alone to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.

I had given everything up for Jude. I left everything I knew to come to Dortmund to be with him. I gave up scholarships to end up going to a shitty college in a country where I knew no one, but I never complained, because I was with the love of my life. A few years in, I had finally settled down, but Jude decided he was too good for Germany, so he made the move to Madrid with not a thought about me. He wouldn't hesitate to leave me behind if I didn’t make it work, but being the dumbass I am, I made it work. I moved out here to Madrid with him just for me to see him, if I’m lucky, twice a week, despite living together.

Unable to bear the silence of our empty house any longer, I made the decision. The decision I would regret forever. I went to Jude's regular bar, the place where he often chilled in the company of his friends. Pushing open the door, I was greeted by the familiar scent of stale beer and laughter. But, unexpectedly, Jude was nowhere to be found. My heart started pounding, thinking about the worst possible situations. I scanned the room to see a group of some of Jude’s teammates. I let out a sigh of false relief, suspecting maybe he was using the toilet or something. Desperation clawed at my chest as I approached Vini.

"Vini, have you seen Jude tonight?" I asked the Brazilian, my voice trembling with emotion, hoping and praying that he knew.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, words slurred from far too many drinks. "Yeah, he left a while ago," he mumbled, pointing vaguely in the direction of the exit. “With someone…” He softly added on softly. “With who?!” I exclaimed. “Just one of his friends, don’t worry.” Luka adds on. “Where’d he go?” I asked, slightly shivering. “I don’t know.” They said, miserably lying. “Please.” I plead, tears in my eyes.

↭

I heart sank unhealthily deep in my chest as I shoved my phone back into my pocket, the address burning in the forefront of my mind. I started the 30-minute walk to the given location, all sorts of horrible thoughts in my head. Who is this friend? Do I know him? Why would Jude not tell me? Why were the guys keeping it a secret? Is he with another girl? 

↭

With trembling hands, I pressed the doorbell, my pulse racing with anticipation as if I had run 5 marathons with no break. The door swung open, revealing Jude. He was shirtless, bruises all over his uncovered chest, bruises I didn’t leave. He looked around briefly until his eyes meet my wet ones. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jude asked me, much too surprised for anything innocent, his voice tinged with guilt. Before I got the chance to reply, I heard a voice calling his name from the next room. I heard light footsteps approaching my boyfriend. “Baby, who’s there?” She asked. My heart instantly dropped. Anguish surged through my veins as the truth dawned on her. 

The beautiful woman wearing lacy lingerie and a silk robe places a kiss on the back of Jude’s neck before clinging onto his arm. “Can we help you?” She asked, far too nicely. My eyes filled with tears as I struggled to find my voice. "Who is she?" I whispered, ignoring the girl on Jude’s arm in my place and locking eyes with my ‘boyfriend’, my heart breaking with each and every word

Jude's gaze shifted uncomfortably, his grip on the other girl tightening. "She's just a friend," he insisted, but his words fell on my deaf ears. Her eyes widened as she realized who was standing at her front step.

A torrent of emotions flooded through me as I screamed all sorts of horrid curses at Jude, each accusation tearing at our already fragile bond. “You’re a cheating, lying bastard! All these fucking years I wasted on you, you’re going to throw that all away for this?! And on my fucking birthday?!” I couldn't understand how the man I loved with all my heart could betray me like this, how he could throw away everything we had built together for the sake of a fleeting moment of pleasure.

“Love, you’re hyperventilating. You’ll pass out at this rate. Please come inside.” The woman offers. She sat me down on her couch as I uncontrollably sobbed and screamed at Jude. She disappeared for a moment into her kitchen and came back with a glass of water. 

Our argument echoed through the empty hallway, or should I say my yelling, because Jude had nothing to say. All of my insecurities that Jude has ever reassured bubbled to the surface, fueled by years of my doubt and his neglect. I was small and insignificant. I didn't matter in Jude's eyes anymore. I didn’t matter in anyone’s eyes. 

Jude stepped away from my shaking body to cross paths with his ‘new girl’. I couldn’t hear everything except for something along the lines of: “You’re right, Jude. She’s not well. She needs help.” It sounded sympathetic. I stood up and continued yelling. “You made me seem like I’m fucking crazy! You fucking asshole, you ruined everything! Anybody would go crazy with all the shit you put me through!” The two got startled and came over to comfort me once again. I felt like I was nothing. Nothing but a mentally ill, crazy bitch. I felt like it was all my fault. Maybe Jude wasn’t wrong to cheat on me. “It’s okay, darling. Just breathe.” The girl comforts me. 

↭

Somewhere along the lines of screaming and crying, I had given out and fallen asleep on my boyfriend’s side chick’s couch. This was probably my lowest point ever. My eyes shot open and the tears fell out once again. I looked around to see no one there. I heard a sweet voice coming from the other room. I went over to see Jude on her bed, head in his hands, and her hugging and comforting him. Jude looked up and immediately shot up. He moved towards me and hugged me. 

"Y/N, let's go home. You’re so exhausted." he said softly, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

I hesitated, torn between the desire to lash out at this fucker who broke my heart and the girl he broke it with or the longing for comfort they both were giving me. But in the end, I nodded, allowing Jude to drive me back to our shared house. The journey was filled with a heavy silence, the weight of his unspoken words hanging in the air like a thick fog, my words were all spoken. I laid my head on the window, unable to hold back my tears.

As we entered the house, once called a home, the tension between us was obvious. You could break it with the dullest of knives. I looked at the man I once loved who didn’t hesitate to throw me aside like a broken toy. But to my own surprise, I wasn’t leaving. I always preached about leaving your cheater boyfriends, but I truly had no one else.

"I'm not leaving," I said, my words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “I have nowhere else to go. You’re all I know."

And with those simple words, I thought the fragile remnants of our love were stitched back together, a patchwork of broken promises and shattered dreams, but I was wrong. 

"I have to go, Y/N," Jude's voice broke through the heavy silence, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

My heart skipped a beat, confusion etched into every line of my face. What is he doing? I’m letting him have his happy ending. What the fuck is happening? "What do you mean?" I whispered, my voice barely audible in pure confusion.

Jude took a deep breath, his gaze filled with sadness and regret. "I'm leaving you, Y/N," he said, each word like a dagger to my heart. "Cassie… she's pregnant. I'm going to be a father, and I’m really happy about it."

The world seemed to spin out of control as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of Jude's betrayal. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at him, unable to find the words to express the depth of my pain. “Jude, I’m giving you what you want here. I’m supposed to be the independent woman and leave you, but I’m not. I’m staying. What the fuck are you doing to me?” I say, sobbing as I try to plead my case. 

“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He said, walking into the bedroom to get his pre-packed suitcase, me trailing behind. “Listen, I was planning on doing this anyways. The house is all yours. I don’t need it.” He says, handing me his keys. I looked around at our house, all of his belongings were gone. How did I not notice? “Wait, Jude. Hold on. Why are you doing this to me-” I tried to say as Jude walked out of the room. “You’ll be fine.” He interrupted. He put his hand on the back of my head and kissed my forehead. And like that, he walked out of my life.

↭

Six years passed in a blur of heartache and longing. I watched helplessly as Jude built a new life with Cassie, our shared house now a distant memory. I thought I would accept it, but I never did. I couldn't change the past, couldn't erase the hurt and betrayal, and I knew that, but it didn’t help. All I could do was move forward, one painful step at a time, but I couldn’t. All of our pictures hung in my apartment, despite selling our house out of desperation. I couldn’t keep a job, always coming to work drunk and miserable, so I needed the money. 

Here I found myself standing outside a church, my heart heavy with sorrow and despair. I received an invitation to Jude's wedding, a cruel reminder of how that sick bastard ruined my life. But as I stepped inside the beautiful venue, my eyes fell on two familiar faces in the crowd.

Jude stood at the altar, his hand intertwined with the woman who ended it all, a big smile playing at the corners of his lips, bigger than when we were ever together. And beside them, a little boy with Jude's dark curly hair and soulful eyes, his resemblance to his father unmistakable. 

My heart hurt and felt heavy at the sight, a bittersweet and horrible mix of sadness and resignation washing over me like a tidal wave. I watched silently as Jude exchanged vows with the other woman, my heart breaking with each promise of love and fidelity. He promised her love, care, attention, and ironically honesty and loyalty. The same things he promised me almost 10 years ago, but here I am. A miserable guest while she’s his wife.

[waffledforbreakfast]

First Date- [MUTI! BLLK X F!READER]

(SEPARATE) pt3

Staring: Otoya, Karasu, Reo

pt1: Rin, Sae, Kaiser

pt2: niko, kaiser, ness

[ BLLK Scenario Masterlist ]

TW: heavy ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, cringe, scuff, etc.

>Otoya

[Mall outing]

You stared at the time on your phone, it read 11:59pm. You two were supposed to meet up 29 minutes ago.

You sighed and shook your head, you couldn’t say you were surprised, but still. You assumed Otoya had some human decency in him. So you told yourself you’d wait 30 minutes. If he still didn’t show, then maybe you’d give Karasu a call and see if he was busy…

You looked back at your phone, 11:59 turning into 12:00.

You mentally facepalmed for ever thinking Otoya would actually show and got ready to leave.

Just then, you heard you name getting screamed across the mall from behind you

“[Y/N]!” Otoya collapsed on to your back, trying to catch his breath, “Sorry I’m-... A bit late-”

You gave him a judgmental look while pushing him lightly off you “A bit?? Where were you!? I waited for 30 minutes!!”

“Yea about that..” he laughed awkwardly while brushing himself off “I forgot…”

You glared at him, slightly pissed. “Why did I ever agree to this…” you rubbed your temples “Should’ve gone out with Karasu instead..” you mumbled the last part before composing yourself 

“So- wanna grab some food? I’m kinda hungry…” he asked you while eyeing another women. What a great start to your first date.

You calmed yourself before agreeing, and the two of you made your way to the food court.

You were quite hungry as well, waiting for Otoya took much longer than you would’ve thought. So the two of you stood at the Churro stand while browsing the menu.

“Let me pay” Otoya offered with a smirk “As an apology for being late.”

You gave him a skeptical nod, “... You brought your wallet- right?”

His face froze for a second, before he started digging through his pockets.

Your eye twitched as you placed your order (and Otoya’s bc he always get the same thing) and pulled out your card to pay

But before you could tap, Otoya did instead, and the payment went through (surprisingly)

You gave him an amused smile as he gave a smug one (more to himself than you) seeming proud to have found his wallet

“Great job so far Eita.” He thought to himself, “10/10 date, I’m sure she’s in absolute amazement at my rizz.”

He took the Churros from the worker with a wink and handed you yours. Otoya smiled before taking a bite of his, “So, where’d you like to go?”

“Hm… there’s a new clothing shop nearby… how bout we check it out?”

Otoya nodded before following you closely, soon entering the store.

He helped you pick a few outfits out, and surprisingly, he knew exactly what you were comfortable in and what you looked good in. He even carried the bags for you after!

You two wandered around a bit more, stopping by whatever shops you felt like. He won a few claw machine games for you, and even hit on the cashier for a free donut(also for you-)!

As your date slowly came to an end, he made a short but proper apology for being late, and offered to walk you to the station.

Before you hopped on the train, you gave him a quick kiss and a wave, heading off

He’d never admit it, but he was blushing for the next 20min XD

>Karasu

[Seasonal Festival]

You looked at the map on your phone as you followed the path to your destination. He had invited you to the annual Lantern Rite, and you’ve never been before so you figured you should get there early/while it wasn’t entirely dark yet.

“Should be around here…” you mumbled, seeing that you're in the right area on the map- before bumping slightly into someone.

“Hey, thought you’d be here early.” Karasu laughed, seeing your surprised expression

“I- yea…” you were a bit flustered to be caught

Karasu laughed even more, and you just glared at him as he did so. “Sorry sorry- *wheeze* I’m fine now” he gave you a smile before reaching out his hand, “Here, let me hold your things for you.” he took the bag off your shoulders and carried it before intertwining your fingers with his, “You ready to go?”

He took you around the festival while commenting, “This year’s theme is Kites, have you flown one before?” He turn to look at you, still holding your hand

You thought for a second before responding, “When I was younger, yes. But it’s been a while.”

Karasu gave you a smug smirk, “Well, I’m basically a pro. Here, let’s try.”

He guided you to the dock selling kites before looking around. He was about to get one before realizing that it was the most popular. Then he worried about looking mediocre in front of you and decided against it, only to get it in the end because ‘it’s the best one there’.

He hoped that you didn’t see him argue with himself as he walked over to where you were looking. It was the child's section.

“Karasu look! This one’s a crow!” You showed him the kite you picked with a smile

He tried to keep in a laugh “Cute, I mean, if you like it.”

The boy paid before following you out to fly. The scenery was beautiful, kites everywhere, lanterns lighting up the festival, and the quiet chitter-chatter of the bystanders on the lower floors. And yet his eyes could only focus on you.

You unwrapped the string of your kite, standing at the edge of the wooden flooring while Karasu leaned on the edge of the railing, watching you with a smile.

As you finished setting up, you looked at him with an amused expression, “So, you gonna do yours too? Or just watch me?”

He was snapped out of his trance before turning his back against you to hide his red face and starting unwrapping his kite too

The two of you got ready to fly them, Karasu did a little countdown. “3, 2, 1!”

You both let go of your kites as you watched them soar, your’s immediately going higher than his. The two kites looked so pretty flying above the ocean water, you watched them in awe.

Karasu was a bit salty that yours was higher than his, but seeing the smile on your face made it worth it. Still, he thought he was a bit mediocre because he couldn’t show off to you.

The two of you made small talk as you watched the kites and he watched you also your kite

“You look really beautiful, you know?” Karasu suddenly blurted out, trying to keep his smile as calm as possible

You struggled to form a sentence for a second, but then whispered out a “Thank you” (his face was redder than yours LOL)

After you pulled your kite back in, the two of you set off to wander the festival a bit more. Karasu bought you some tanghulu and sparklers (those sticks you wave around?)

As the day came to an end, he offered to bring you home as it was dark out. The two of you walked hand in hand as he delivered you home.

“Thank you for joining me today, [Y/N].” he thanked you with a smile

“Of course, thank you for taking me out.” you gave him a quick kiss before heading inside your house “Safe trip home!” 

He nodded before smiling to himself, internally freaking out over the small action. This Lantern Rite was his favourite, and probably will be for many years to come.

>Reo

[Art museum]

You entered the wide doors of the art exhibit, carefully surveying your surroundings, well aware that some of the “art” here cost more than your life (even if it’s just a canvas that looks like it’s been pissed on)

“My my, who knew that art could be so hot? Maybe I should pin you to a wall” you looked Reo up and down, jokingly flirting 

He turned around and frowned, before rolling his eyes with an amused smile “Hello to you too. I was just looking at this actual piece of art.” He turned back around to an empty glass on display 

“...” You looked at the piece, then back at him, “Is that an Ikea cup-”

“It’s art. Don’t think too much of it.” he took your hand and dragged you away “shh, the owner gave us-well, me- early entry tickets, that’s the whole reason why we’re here. And he’s literally watching us.” he whispered to you under his breath, bringing you to the next room.

You composed yourself and tried to act as sophisticated as Reo (though you wondered how he kept a straight face). There were a few people gathered around this piece, you wondered what could cause such an attraction. You were about to push your way through before Reo brought you around the few people instead.

Once you saw it, your eyes shot open and you tried to hold down a laugh. But that back-fired horribly and you started choking. 

Reo hits you lightly on the back, not to help you stop choking, but to tell you to compose yourself. Though he himself was having a hard time not breaking down in front of the art and all the rich people staring at them

You cleared your throat, and stood up straight (A/N: YOU TOO READER- I SEE YOU AND YOUR SHRIMP POSTURE) “Ah yes, what a wonderful piece of… art.” you scrunch your face at the art in question on display

It was a simple stone carving, not having many surfaces, giving it a geometric look. The edges were smooth, clearly being cut carefully, the piece looking much like… a ‘rocket ship’.

“The rock must be… very hard” You gave a weak smile, trying not to laugh

This time Reo was the one to break, even if it were just for a second. He quickly stifled the laugh though, but you felt a bit of pride in getting him to break.

“Hey, this rock must get wet pretty often, huh?” you nudged Reo lightly.

You were speaking fairly quietly to only be heard by him, but someone else seemed to have heard you. 

“Yes, you are quite right.” an older man approached you, “This is one of my best pieces, made from a special rock that comes from the sea. The natural wetness made it a wonderful material to work with!!” he gave a gleeful smile

“You don’t say? It looks beautiful, the shape is amazing, so much thought must’ve gone into it!” you doubled down and returned a smile, matching him in enthusiasm.

He nodded, very excited “Yes yes! Finally, a true art connoisseur! I’ll tell you what, I’ve carved a smaller version of this piece, it is available in the gift shop if you ask.” he quickly scribbled down a note and handed it to you “Just give them this and they’ll let you buy it” he gave you a quick wink before going back to assisting the other people there

You turned to Reo with a smile, and he was trying his hardest to keep a laugh in. His face turned slightly red from doing so. He let out a quiet wheeze followed by the quietest laugh. You covered your mouth and did the same, very amused at the recent interaction. It took Reo a good few minutes to recover, you had to drag him away from the room to not offend the artist.

You quickly walked past the other exhibits before reaching a small isolated locker area. Reo immediately lost it, he fell to his knees, laughing his ass off “OMG YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT LMAOOOOO” his laughs echoed through the small corridor, soon followed by yours. The two of you couldn’t believe what just happened, you were impressed with your quick thinking. After the two of you had a good laugh, you helped him off the floor “Did you want to go back to look at the other exhibits?”

“Nah not really” he brushed himself off, “Did you want to go to the gift shop and pick up your carving?”

You grinned and made your way over to the store. Reo held the door open for you as you entered, looking around. 

“Damn…” it quickly hit you that the things in here were all very expensive.

Reo walked up to the cashier with a small wave, he gestured for you to come over as well. You pulled out the slip of paper and handed it to the worker who read through it quickly and nodded before disappearing into the back.

“So, how much do you think it is?” Reo asked you while leaning on the counter 

You shrugged “I dunno, like $200?” You’ve never gone to an art museum before and it showed

Reo gave you a questioning smile “Really? Just $200?”

“Fine, how much do you think it is!?”

“Like $50k+” Reo laughed, but he seemed serious 

The worker came back out with the miniature carving, placing it carefully on the table. “That’ll be $52k” she smiled at him.

Reo smiled back before pulling out a cheque and filling it out quickly before slipping it to them

You, on the other hand, were flabbergasted. $52k for a rock?? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend that.

Reo took the bag from the worker and handed it to you, “Take good care of it okay?”

You held the item carefully, “Thank you, Reo… This is a lot tho-”

He waved it off “It’s nothing, really. Barely make a dent in my account.”

You gave him a hug and he laughed, “Is that all?”

You looked up at him questioningly. He pointed at his lips with a smirk

You rolled your eyes before leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. But before you could pull away, he held you by your waist and pulled you back in for another.

“Mm, much better.” he smiled, still not letting go of you “I’d say that was well worth $52k”

You pushed yourself off playfully, “Whatever you say, rich boy.”

Reo laughed, “Let’s get you home, love.”

A/N: d

[britishassistant]

Okay, going on with the Ultimate Villain Idea, Yuu eventually gets home pretty drained and each Villain boss separately has the idea to give Yuu a pamper day...only they can’t let their Villainous Reputation be tarnished, so they each “Kidnap” Yuu for a day.

Cue bad acting on from some of the sect members and them saying that this wasn’t planned. They just happen to see Yuu on the street. No the preprepared meals were just extras from dinner. No, Leona just so happened to kidnap Cheka and wasn’t because Cheka saw the news and was crying to see Yuu.

The only one who doesn’t “kidnap” Yuu is Malleus who is just shows up one day asking if they want to go for ice cream with the Diasomnia Sect. The public fears Malleus enough to assume it’s a hostage situation

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Yuu wakes up the next day feeling drained, bruises on their arms and around their middle so deep they’re surprised the skin hasn’t broken overnight.

They’re wincing as they lever themselves up from the couch and as they pull on the softest button up they have, the loosest jeans that are still work appropriate. They cringe as they think about how much it’s going to cost to repair the wall in their bedroom, let alone clean all the rubble from their bed and floor. They hobble to the door gingerly, wishing not for the first time that they had more hours of sick leave to use.

They open it to see rookie minions (and Grim) from nearly all the supervillains across the city standing on their doorstep, clearly mid-whispered argument.

“Yuu.” Deuce says, disappointed puppy-dog eyes big and sad.

“I told you!” Ace insists, stabbing a finger in their direction. “I told you that the big lug wasn’t lyin’! This overcompensating moron—!”

“Yuu.” Epel says, disappointed puppy-dog eyes lethal.

“I don’t know what this is.” Yuu says as they try to close the door only to find Sebek’s foot now wedged in the jamb. They have a fire escape by the hole in their bedroom, it’ll hurt but they can head out that way. “So I’m just gonna go—”

“Yuu.” Jack rumbles, arms folded and one eyebrow raised, unimpressed.

Yuu meets his gaze with their chin held high, fighting the urge to curl in on themselves and just hurt.

“Were you about to go to work?”

“This is entrapment.” Yuu declares. “I don’t have to answer that.”

Sebek throws up his hands with a wordless shout of disgust. Jack pinches the bridge of his nose with a warning rumble. Epel’s puppy-dog stare grows exasperated and incredulous. Grim begins yowling and digs his claws into their jean leg. Deuce’s grows even bigger and sadder than before. Ace begins gesticulating at them so wildly they’re concerned he’s going to smack a hand or elbow on the wall, hollering all the while. Ortho lets out an upset whir and balls his little hands into fists.

“Bedrest is important for your convalescence, Yuu-san!” The robot protests. “The notes the doctor transcribed on your state were very clear on that!!”

“How do you have access to my medical information?!” Yuu demands, eyes narrowing when Ortho tries to hide behind Sebek. “And besides, that jerk left rubble all over my bed and my bedroom. Forgive me for not wanting to do much heavy lifting right now, but…”

“Where’d ya think yer goin’?!” Grim howls from their ankle, still attached to their person and dragged along when they try to retreat strategically. “Y’can’t go t’ the TV station like this, minion! That big boss guy’ll kill ya with overwork!”

“Tsk.”

“This settles it.” Sebek folds his arms across his chest in a way they really dislike. “It is clear Yuuken spoke the truth on these matters. FELMIER! SHROUD! Notify Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer of their roles, AT ONCE!!”

Yuu barely has time to process the betrayal by their partner (damn Yuuken and his concern for their wellbeing!) when Epel and Ortho both snap sharp salutes and cry “ROGER!” before darting off for the stairs.

“Their roles?” They lurch forward, stumbling over Grim’s weight on their ankle. “Wait, hold on—!”

“Oops!” Ace swoops in to hook one of their arms over his shoulders. “Seems I’ve captured a helpless reporter! Nothin’ to do except bring ‘em back to Royal Flush, right, Two of Spades?”

“R-right!” Deuce appears on their other side, taking their other arm and most of their weight to boot. “R-resistance is futile, reporter! Ah, but I’m not hurting you though, am I?”

“You’re doing fine Deuce.” Jack decrees. “Remember, don’t leave ‘em alone for long—the Prefect’s on our side on this, but those RSA bastards might still try to start shit if they do something stupid. Ruggie and I’ll be by later to grab ‘em for King.”

“I’ll show you stupid.” Yuu grumbles mutinously as they’re delicately and carefully frogmarched to the elevator.

Though still, they grant somewhat grudgingly, at least if they’ve been kidnapped they can’t be penalized for taking a day off. And Royal Flush, Tsunotaro, and Posion Queen do have some very comfortable couches and daybeds…

“For the record, I’m very much under duress here.” They announce to the two minions and Grim. “And I’m probably going to be only good for lying down and sleeping. Is that fine with you?”

There’s gentle squeezes on both of their hands and Grim’s purrs ease some of the aching in their leg.

[thinkblotted]

A Little Treat

We're all allowed to have one.

-

So. Things happened. Are happening. I will continue posting about stupid 80s vampire boys until I'm physically unable. Speaking of which, this drabble was inspired by something @enquiringangel mentioned a good while back (as in like. Two months lol)

The final draft doesn't have any Micky-Ds in it, but it does have Paul being the most annoying thing in the space at any given moment.

Enjoy!

Paul’s digging into his pockets before the blood was even dry on his face. 

Hand still smeared with gore, claws barely retracted, Paul rummages through first the front pockets of his jacket, grumbling when he only pulls out crumpled receipts, a broken pen, and twenty three cents worth of pocket change. He goes for the inner pockets next. 

The receipt drifts in the slight breeze blowing in across the waves and catches under Dwayne’s nose, still pressed to the body as he drinks. He snorts, startled at the intrusion and pulls off.

“What the fuck?” He growls, licking his fangs clean. Paul just shakes his head. 

“I know it’s here somewhere, I swear I stashed ‘em in here…” 

Now Marko comes up, finished with his own meal. The flesh around his bite is ragged, still needing a few tries before he finds the best spot. “Dude, you gotta kick the habit.” 

Paul throws him a scowl. “I don’t <i>gotta</i> do anything.” 

“It’s candy that’s older than my grandma, Paulie.”

“Your mom is older than your grandma,” Paul huffs, starting to realize it’s a losing battle. 

David finally speaks up. He’s further away, down the shoreline where the sandy dunes meet real dirt, among a grove of scraggly trees. He’d had his fill and gone to start making preparations for hiding their evidence. (At least, for long enough that identifying the body would take time.) He had stripped off his coat and overshirt, wearing only the thin black tee as he kneeled on the ground. Hands curled into claws and covered from fingertip to upper arm in sand and dirt. Digging, in only a way vampires can, a shallow grave. 

“First - nice comeback, Einstein. Second - I’m saving you your dignity.” 

”What!?” Paul yelps. 

David rolls his eyes. “A vampire eating candy? That’s a hill you’re dying a second time on?” 

“I paid for it!” 

Marko laughs. “You did not, you liar.” 

Paul finally abandons his search, now knowing his prize was never there in the first place, and stalks over to David. 

“Where’d you put them?” 

David shrugs and goes back to widening the hole. (If some sand happens to hit his packmate, then oops.) 

“Like I’m telling you.”  

“They’re mine!” 

David turns an icy glare up to Paul. “And keeping that shit around attracts pests. I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to avoid the place I live being more rat-eaten than it has to be.” 

“Or covered in feathers and bird shi-” 

“Hey!” Marko interrupts Dwayne and his little comment, laughter turning to a scowl. 

Paul for his makes a disgusted noise and about-faces, intent on going right back to the nest and finding his sugary prize. The blood will have settled in his system by then, and the sparkling, dizzying energy that came with drinking it will have lost that bright edge. Fucking shame. Food always tasted best as a chaser. Life remembering itself in his dead body, if for only a few minutes before the clock began ticking down again. 

His three packmates watch him go, grinning amongst each other. 

“Good ‘n Plenties aren’t even good!” Marko shouts to his back. 

“Fuck off!” 

-

Paul lays on the rim of the fountain, eyes idly watching the wind spinners and mobiles twirl around languidly in the errant draft. Scattered around him were tins and boxes and clothing that had been lifted and tossed aside in his hunt, but sadly, no sweet candy had been found for him to claim, no matter how he’d torn through the place. David must have either buried it, or just tossed it into the ocean, because there wasn’t an inch of the place he hadn’t checked. 

He sighs and flips himself over, laying on his belly now. Legs kicking up, one arm tucked under his chin while the other dangled down near the floor. A single finger traces idle patterns on the sand. 

If he imagined hard enough, he could practically feel the crack of their hard shells before sticking his teeth together with the softer insides. Like bone marrow. Mm. And the sugar would be so good - it slicked his tongue and the licorice flavor was bitter in the best way. It tasted like it was supposed to. Like he remembered. Paul’s tongue traces a tooth, wanting. 

But, even now, only an hour after the feed, the taste would have been getting muffled again. He’d be fine for another day or two, but any longer and anything but blood and meat would start to taste like the cardboard packaging the candy came in. His body didn’t want sugar. It wanted fat and salt and iron. 

Life. Powerful, sustaining life.

He grumbles low, undefined curses to no one, at everyone.

So it was a little old school. So what? Not like the rest of them didn’t have favorite things from eras past. (There had been a car show in town last year, and they’d basically had to tie Dwayne down to keep him from nicking a Packard ‘22. They were good little thieves, but disappearing a whole damn sixty year old car was something not even they were stupid enough to try. And don’t even get Paul started on the deep, dark hole where Marko kept his disco vinyls…)

Stupid body. Stupid David. 

Paul can feel him, and the others, in the back of his head, like watching pings on a radar. He knows David is feeling his annoyance as background noise that’s easily tuned out. He thinks about annoying him further by sending it to him more pointedly, but that would be a lot of work, and David could just shut him out all the way. 

Paul watches the firelight from the drums flicker against the cave walls, his finger languidly twirling. Letting the gears turn in his head. 

David had things he liked that weren’t ‘dignified’ or whatever. He smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish. Sure, it looked cool, and Paul could understand the itch for the nicotine or alcohol to smooth out the rough edges of the world, but it wasn’t the <i>vampire</i> part that wanted it. And the clothing! David and Dwayne had always been punks, even when the definition of the word was slightly different than it was now. They’d just traded in their cuffed jeans and slicked hair for grunge and dark eclectica. The rock and roll for…well, a different kind of rock and roll, Paul supposes. 

Whatever. Same principle. David was still such a hypocrite. 

The irritation seethes in Paul. His eyes narrow as he glares, wandering this way and that as though he were physically following the progression of some thought through space. 

Suddenly, as though striking a bell, Paul breaks out into a manic grin. His blue eyes light glittering yellow in the center and all in a rush he skitters away into the depths of the nest. 

This was going to get interesting. 

-

“Where is my hair gel?” 

David stands in the doorway of the main antechamber of the cave, expression pinched. 

He’s dressed in one of his usual ensemble - dark pants and shirt, but sans vest and coat for the moment. It was early, and they’d been planning on going out to see what Hell they could raise around the concert circuit, depending on who or what was playing, and like the person he was, David took just a little longer to preen himself. Part of which involved gelling the hair on the crown of his head. 

At the moment, it was damp from a wash, still in unsightly clumps that alternatively stuck up at the wrong angles or layed plastered to his forehead. Not exactly the most intimidating sight in the world. 

Marko snorted behind his hand at the sight, and Dwayne looked up from considering his own jacket and whether it would need some new stitching at the shoulder. 

“Your what?” He asks. 

David steps into the room, hands on his hips. “My gel. I had a new container of it right on the shelf and it’s not there.” 

Before Dwayne can assure David that he hadn’t moved it in an organizational fit, or Marko could deny that well, he didn’t use gel so it wasn’t him, there was a jingle and a thump, and Paul is landing with all the grace of a lion behind David, having slipped down from some hidden nook high above in the rafters. 

He rises from his crouch with a sinuous roll, hands never leaving the pockets of his own curated black jacket, the belts slung over his shoulder and multitude of bracelets covering his arms making music with every step. 

“What’s the matter?” He drawls. 

David flashes his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. “My. Hair gel.” He over pronounces each word, as though it needed to be spelled out. “Where is it.” 

Paul stands in front of him, shoulders back and relaxed, eyes drifting. He hasn’t indulged in anything tonight yet, but he’s slow in his speech, carefree in his words. He gives David’s hair a once over, and then the rest of him in a long look. 

“Why in the world would a vampire care about something like that?” Paul asks with a shrug. 

Before David can react, before anyone can react, Paul is skirting around David and up to the entrance, giving a jaunty wave and a jovial laugh behind him. “See you dorks topside! I wanna actually catch the music.” 

And he’s. Gone. 

Marko and Dwayne look from the place he’d been, to David. 

David, who stands there for a moment staring after their missing member with an expression on his face somewhere between gobsmacked and ready-to-smack. 

In the end, David doesn’t find his gel. He settles for using some old hair spray, enduring a night of looking a bit like a blond hedgehog had made a home on top of his head, and letting the others be front and center. All the while glaring at Paul, who remains just far enough out of his way that David can’t get a grip on him. 

-

The storm is rolling in, much faster than the weatherman on the radio had predicted. 

The boats in the dark marina bob in the breeze that had picked up significantly even in the past few minutes. It’s blowing in hot and humid, a taste of the squall that’s rumbling in just off-shore. They didn’t have time to fuck around - not if they didn’t want to have their meal while drowning like rats in a bucket. 

But they were still missing a member. 

Marko is further down the beach and out of sight, keeping eyes on their target. Dwayne is perched like a massive gargoyle on the prow of a beached boat, keeping an ear out for unwanted interlopers. David is glaring at the sky. Lightning cracks across the sea only a few miles out. He can feel Paul somewhere in the back of his head only insomuch as Paul was a member of his pack that existed, but not where, not how far off. Not if he was getting closer. 

Bright urgency streaks through the bond, Marko letting them know that the boathouse clerk was starting to close up for the night. Even stumbling drunk, the man was a functional alcoholic who knew how to drive in a straight enough line to get himself home - in town. 

David hisses, teeth on full display and leavers himself away from the side of the boat, having been leaning against it smoking himself hoarse to try and keep calm. 

“Easy,” Dwayne murmurs above him. 

“I’m going to use his scalp for a fucking boot cover,” David snarls, throwing his latest smoke to the rocky beach and grinding it to smithereens under his heel. 

“He probably just got distracted. Again.” 

Dwayne says it calmly enough, but even still, there’s a hard set to his mouth and his eyes get a little darker with every patter of stray raindrops that had started to fall from the sky. The storm was basically upon them, thundering inland as the unstoppable force of nature it was. Again, Marko basically screams through the bond that if they didn’t move now, they’d miss their chance. 

Something something, most predators miss nine times out of ten. David liked to think they were smarter than most animals, but at times, he had his doubts. 

A massive wall of wind hits the beach, bringing with it a wall of rain, hard and fast. The sea lashes at the shore and the tied boats next to the docks toss. Dwayne ducks his head against it, wincing as his hair lashes against his face. The tarp over the deck of the boat picks up, flapping against him, and he calls it quits, jumping to the ground to join David in the shelter on the aft, just out of the worst of the wind. 

“Think he’s got enough on his head for two pairs of boots?” He growls at David. 

Above, the sky lights purple and blue with a massive streak of lightning, the sound deafening. Close enough that they can almost taste the crackle of electricity in the air, hear the whine of it as it splits the atmosphere. 

Marko comes charging out of the darkness, head ducked against the wind, almost flung to the side as another gust brings the first proper round of rain with it. His own expression is pinched and upset, eyes narrowed into yellow slits as he glares at David. 

“What the fuck! We had this in the bag, David! What, were the stars just not in position for this or something?” He asks incredulously. 

David matches the searing ire in his head with his own, though it’s not really directed at Marko. 

Even Dwayne can’t seem to hold back the rumbling displeasure that they’d not only lost their quarry, but that they’d gotten soaked in the process. 

Another crack of lightning splits the sky, a little further off, and in the distance, like a whirling top, spinning about a bowl, a body surfs the wind. It’s lit from behind for a moment, arms outstretched, reveling in the beauty and danger of nature, how close it could come to complete destruction, but without fear that held any mortal back. 

Paul sweeps in on a blast of storm, his hair a cloud around his head and his smile and white as the lightning. He’s soaked through, shirtless, panting as though he’d gone through some exertion. 

“Boy, nothing like waiting for it to stir up just before the shit hits to go flying!” He crows to his pack with a boyish, gleeful laugh.

David is already moving. He makes a swipe at Paul, claws out, ready tor pull him in and make damn good on his promise of scalping - but Paul sees it coming. Keyed up from his flight, he nimbly hops away, getting a little more air one final time before setting down again. Still grinning, but there’s more of an edge to it, now. More teeth. 

“Aw, what, did you wanna come with?” He asks. 

“We were supposed to be here, at eleven!” Snarls David. “What in the actual fuck were you doing?”

And Paul guffaws. 

He laughs, incredulous, as though David were telling some kind of bad pun, of a story where there’s an unfortunate ending for some poor fucker. 

“What’s it look like I was doin’?” He asks, thumbing over his shoulder at the storm that’s still going strong around them. “Went flying!” 

“We were supposed to hunt tonight,” Marko hisses, not un-catlike. 

“We were waiting for you,” Dwayne says, with all the guilt sent right through the bond like an arrow aimed true. 

Paul’s grin slips off his face. It doesn’t disappear however, simply sinking into something else. A new, subtler, more simpering smile. Which he sends right at David. 

“I don’t see what the problem is. I was just enjoying being a vampire.” 

And just the same, before anyone has any chance to react, Paul is kicking himself up. Back up into the gale above, to ride the wind currents, tossed like a toy boat on a violent sea. His howls echo across the water, distorted with each wave of wind. 

There’s a twitch under David’s eye. 

-

”So what if those girls saw us? We could just hunt them down, we’re vampires, remember?" 

”Hey, I thought the rings were really pretty, they make good additions to the decor, right? Don;t do no one any good sitting in a glass box. We’re immortal, crime doesn’t mean shit.”

”Yeah, I invited them back to the cave, it’s Friday night, party night! If they ever try to come to the nest again, we can just off ‘em.” 

David sits in his wheelchair, head in his hand. He was staring, unblinking, at an unremarkable spot on the ground, some feet away. Marko and Dwayne were nowhere to be found. It was just him. 

And Paul’s fucking music. 

The boombox had been placed up on one of the makeshift tables, where the acoustics would ring best across the huge atrium. To the sides, Paul had broken out some amp cords and had plugged it into two speakers, the pornographic, screaming metal doubly loud. And to top it off, he’d slid a curved sheet of plastic siding behind it. To direct the sound right out where he wanted it. 

So he could dance to it. 

Paul scoots across the floor of the cave, digging his heels into the stone and sand so that when he moved, it flung up, scattering like glitter and getting into just as many nooks and crannies. He was humming just off-kilter with the beat of the music, and mumbling the wrong words, mincing the chorus with the verse. It sounded awful. 

And no matter where he went in the caves, David could hear it. 

Dwayne and Marko had cleared out, a while ago. At the low end of the season, the Boardwalk was slower, but it beat this. Whatever Hell this was. 

Paul shimmies up to David, that fucking <i>glint</i> in his eye. David goes still, and his eyes flash a yellow so dark it made them look like two coals glowing in the burn barrels at the end of a long night. 

He leans over David, hips still swaying. 

“What’s the matter? Too loud?” 

David didn’t say anything. Paul pretends to pout. To think. 

“Too…much?” 

The hand that’s clutching the armrest of the wheelchair tightens, and supernatural ears could hear the groaning of the cast metal. 

Paul tilts his head. Slinking that much closer, until his lips were practically brushing the tip of David’s ear. 

“Too…whatever I want?"

David explodes up and out of the chair. Without a word, he’s slinging around and begins digging at it. Clawing off the teeshirt over the backrest, ripping out the cushion of the seat. Under which is part of the wooden carriage, a little box to settle the seat, supported by the lower crossbars. 

David wraps his hand around a little cardboard box, crushing it in his grip to the point it almost rips in two as he hurls it at Paul’s head. It finds its mark with a rattle and a scatter of the little purple and white candies as it bounces off Paul’s forehead, onto the floor. 

Without another word, he flies off, outside, to find some shadowy hidden place to plot some revenge so dark whatever lived in the Mariana’s Trench would be scared of it. 

Paul watches him go, rubbing at his head. There’s a little cut there, from the edge of the package, which Paul swipes a finger against and then sticks into his mouth. There’s an odd haze to it, the consumption of one’s own blood. But that’s fine. He’s got just the chaser. 

Paul scoops up the box on the ground, torn in half, but still plenty of the candy inside. He pops three into his mouth, and slowly grinds them between his teeth. 

“Sweet,” Paul giggles. 

[pupkashi]

arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

a/n: hi hi !! inspired after an arcade date so here u guys go !! let me know what u all think and any requests u have :3

wordcount: 1,728

masterlist

Your eyes lit up as you took in all the arcade games around you, smiling as you saw the amount of Mario kart, dance games, and so many others. Your eyes jumped from game to game, realizing that the further part of the arcade was purely a maze of claw games.

“where’d ya wanna go first angel face?” gojo asked, holding your hand and guiding you through the arcade.

“claw games?” you smiled, gojo nodded, he would never deny you anything even if he should.

“let’s fill up our card with points first, sweets” he spoke, letting go of your hand as he grabbed his wallet, heading to the kiosk and swiping his game card.

“how much should we put in?” you asked, looking at the prices, “like $50? seems good right?” gojo would usually agree with you, seeing as though you hated when he spent too much money, but not today.

Without hesitation he pressed the most expensive option, filling up the card with a hefty 777 points, tapping his phone against the reader before you could argue.

“toru!” you whisper yelled, swatting his arm as he giggled at you, grabbing your wrist and smoothly intertwining your fingers.

“let’s go play some games shall we?” He wiggled his brows and you fought your smile, rolling your eyes and heading to the claw games together.

Gojo didn’t pay much attention to the prizes, too busy smiling at how pretty you looked with colorful lights flashing against your skin, lighting up your eyes. God, you were so beautiful. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that his eyes were practically hearts, cheeks pink as you dragged him down the aisles of games.

“this one’s cute! let’s try it” you smiled up at him, taking the card from his hands and swiping it, aligning the claw before pressing down. The plush just barely slipped out of grasp, causing you to groan.

“you gotta like, double tap it,” he explained, taking the card and swiping it. He aligned the claw with the plush, pressing to drop the claw and then pressing just as it surrounded the plush, causing the claw to firmly grasp the plush, easily carrying it to the opening and dropping it.

“oh my god!” You exclaimed, bending down and grabbing the plushy, holding it up in the air.

Gojo grinned, petting the plushy before deciding he was gonna win you every single prize you wanted tonight.

“you’re so good!” You smiled, adoring the small cat plush in your arms.

“I’ll win ya anything you want angel” he smiled, loving the way you held onto his arm as the two of you walked.

“let’s try this one!” gojo stared at the overly round dark brown platypus plush. This would be tough.

He swiped the card quickly, getting to work, only for the plush to just barely slip out of the claws grasp. Gojo groaned, trying once more and failing.

“watch this” you smirked, handing the cat plush to your boyfriend and stretching, gojo just rolled his eyes and smiled.

On your very first try, the platypus was on its way to your arms, landing softly into the opening. You smiled widely, jumping as you held the plushy up the gojos face.

“I’m so good!” You cheered, gojo jumped in excitement with you, cuddling the plush as you moved onto the next game.

You stared at the fuzzy hello Kitty, pointing at it and looking at gojo, “i need it,” you stated. Gojo smiled, swiping the card confidently.

By the fourth try you had tried to pry gojo from the machine, but the 6’3 sorcerer was not budging until the small hello kitty plush was in your arms, and you were jumping with joy.

The plush just barely slipped out of the claw again, “fucks sake!” He grumbled, swiping the card immediately and aligning it again.

“sweets we can go get a different one” you laughed, admiring how concentrated your lover looked. His eyes were furrowed, tongue just barely sticking out from his glossy lips, the shades on barely balancing on the bridge of his nose and his snowy bangs falling across his forehead.

While you were busy falling deeper in love, gojo pulled you out of your daydream with a loud cheer, smiling widely at you and bending over ungracefully, shoving the fuzzy plush in your face.

“thank you toru” you giggled, adding the plush to the ones already in your arms, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “you’re so talented.”

The compliment made him blush, his grin growing wider. He followed you to the next game, watching as the flashing colorful lights painted your skin, your eyes narrowed as you tried to get the otter within grasp.

If gojo was stubborn, there was no word to describe you. Who after the 7th attempt and failure snatched the card out of gojo’s hand and swiped it again, a slightly adorable crazed look in your eye as you mumbled to yourself to adjust the claw for the fuzzy otter.

“sweets, i don’t even want it that badly” he began, you turned to look at him after yet another failure, the machine making a small sad noise as the plush fell back into the pile.

“that badly? so you do want it?” You pushed, swiping the card again and adjusting your position to try again. Gojo smiled at you, he could very easily pull you away, but your determination held him back. He watched you with his hands in his pockets, a small smirk on his lips as you continued.

After a couple more rounds both you and gojo yelled in triumph, high fiving each other before you proudly presented the soft otter to your lover.

“for you, baby girl” you teased, gojo hugged the plush, closing his eyes and sighing dreamily.

“thanks so much babe” he replied, voice a higher pitch than usual.

The two of you made your rounds down the aisle, hyper fixating on certain items the other had said were cute.

It was probably your 12th attempt at the round cat plush holding a fish when you realized you had no credits left. You pouted, grabbing the card and sighing.

“what’s wrong, sweets?” Gojo asked, as the two of you walked away from the machine.

“out of credits, gonna go out some more in” you spoke, gojo looked at you in disbelief. Who did you think he was?

“you are not spending a single cent” he spoke sternly, stopping you in your tracks. “I, however, will spend whatever necessary to win every single thing you want.”

“I can't allow myself to stand here and watch you spend another hundred dollars on points,” you began, “no toru.”

“you can’t stop me,” he quipped.

“okay, can’t say i didn’t try” you replied, barely fighting as you wanted so badly to win your lover another prize.

The next hour or so passed quickly, and the two of you were beginning to grow exhausted, and you began to fear for gojos wallet by the third recharge.

“I’m getting tired, you ready to go?” You asked, watching as he managed to win the colorful bunny plushie you asked for. Gojo looked over at you, barely visible over the mountain of plushies you held in your arms.

He bent over and grabbed the bunny plush, along with the other five he had set in the floor.

“let’s get a bag before we head out okay?” He spoke, you nodded, following him as he asked for a bag, the cashier, shooting him a smile, blushing as she held the bags out.

“thanks” gojo spoke, already turning before the cashier called out, causing him to turn around.

“here’s my number” she smiled, holding the paper out, gojo only stared blankly at her, putting the bunny into the bag, leaving one hand free to push his sunglasses up a bit.

“sorry, hands are full” he shrugged, walking away and finding you struggling to balance the 12 plushies in your arms, two of them already fallen over by your feet.

“need help sweetheart?” he smiled and you began pouring the plushies into the bag, your arms finally getting relief as you finished filling the fourth bag up and handing it to gojo.

The two of you walked out with bright smiles on your face. You snapped a quick picture of gojo holding up the bags with a giant grin on his face, setting it as your lock screen before putting your phone away.

“i learned something today” you spoke, putting the bags in by your feet as gojo turned the car on.

“what’s that?” he asked, the LED lights from the dashboard just barely outlining the shape of his nose and the jaw, his bright blue eyes still standing out.

“if i stepped foot in a casino, I’d walk out with a gambling addiction” you stated, gojo smiling as he kissed your cheek.

“I’d fund every last penny baby” he laughed, you rolled your eyes.

The two of you headed back to your shared apartment, setting all the plushies on your bed, gojo immediately cuddling the otter you had won him, laying on a macron plush you’d also won him, claiming it was as sweet as him so he had to have it.

“did you like your prizes toru?” You asked, arms wrapped firmly around the colorful bunny, your lover smiled up at you, a boyish grin that was full of love.

“course i do, ‘specially cause the best person in the world got em for me” he smiled, letting go of the otter and wrapping his arms around you, placing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your nose. You craned your neck slightly, kissing his lips and smiling.

The two of you changed into your pajamas, gojo holding his arms out for you to cuddle into his chest. You smiled and jumped into bed, grabbing the bunny plush and hugging it while resting your head on gojo’s chest.

“i had so much fun today” gojo mumbled, kissing the top of your head and running his fingertips gently up and down your arms.

“I did too, thank you for everything” gojo smiled, watching as you wiggled a bit to reach his face and peppering kisses everywhere.

“now let’s go to sleep before the reality of how much you spent dawns on me.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Are you up to write something for poly!feysand x reader? Maybe a little darker.

I found your account recently and I'm obsessed with everything you wrote.

A Court of Nightmares!Feysand x reader: Beg for It[***]

A/N: Pretty filth, as promised. Also thank you so much for this ask, I was elevated to a higher plane while writing this 😭💖

Summary: The High Lord overhears your treasonous thoughts and decides to have his High Lady help with your punishment.

Warnings: Dub-con, humiliation, degradation, pussy eating (reader receiving), oral (m!receiving), threesome fmf, edging?,

The cold granite always sucks the warmth from the room. In spite of the terracotta rug you have on the hewn floor, and the paprika infused bedcovers, everything’s grey. Having to live here day after day after day after day, it sucks your life away from you before you even get a chance to live it. Simply wasting away beneath the rock of the mountain.

And yet the High Lord and Lady come and go as they please. They’re free to travel the land in ways you’ll never be permitted to. Hatred burns beneath your skin, resentment bitter in your mouth.

Your head is yanked back, sharply, a slim arm curling around your waist as a female body presses into you. You’re paralysed, completely taken out of your own control as you freeze. “Hello there, little traitor.” A shiver zaps down your spine at the cruelly lilting tone of the High Lady. What was she doing here?

A laugh rings from her dark painted lips, the sound empty and cold, “don’t panic,” she drawls, nails biting into your sides as her canines nip at your ear, “or maybe do, considering those treasonous thoughts you were practically screaming at us in the feasting hall.” Dread coils in your lower belly, solidifying into terror.

She laughs again as she scents your fear, nosing at the soft skin of your neck. “Not so aggressive now, are you?” She croons, hand releasing your hair to curl around your throat, “come on, where’d all that fight go?” She yields a seed of control, allowing your words to return.

You grit your jaw, the muscles trembling. You know what she’s capable of with those daemati abilities. You feel it as her lips slice into a wicked grin over the pulse point of your neck. “Silence isn’t going to cut it, little traitor. I suggest you start answering before I loose my temper.”

Terror thrums through your blood, singing for you to run, screaming at you to submit to escape whatever she has planned. You swallow, “damn you to hel.” The words come out as a rasp beneath the squeeze of her fingertips, sharp claw-like nails biting into your skin.

With powers you can only dream of, she drags your bedside table until it presses against your hips, forcing you to lean over roughly. “You brought this on yourself, pretty liar. Remember that when you’re screaming for us to stop.” Her hands forcefully push you down onto the desk, bending you over and your body complies, wilfully following her cold commands as she shoves your skirts up.

Her breasts press into your back as she leans into you, squishing you between her own lean body and the table. One hand slips beneath your waist, snaking between your legs as she cups you. You take in a sharp breath, freezing in shock at the invasion. Her canines nip against your neck as she opens her mouth over the sensitive skin, “scared, little traitor?” Her nimble fingers push further between your legs, her middle and forefinger pressing at your entrance as silver lines your eyes.

“There exist a multitude of methods to torture without resorting to violence,” she croons, “surely you’re aware of that.” You swallow, balling your hands into fists, thinking of every year you’ve spent trapped beneath the rock, kept from the outside. You grit your teeth, making a choice, “I’ve been kept beneath this mountain my entire life while you’re free to travel as you please,” you snarl, “I understand well enough.”

The sharp talons jutting from her fingertips dig into the bare skin of your inner thigh, making you hiss. “I wouldn’t want to make this any worse for yourself, pretty liar,” she purrs, hand dipping beneath your flimsy slip of fabric, fingers locating your clit effortlessly.

You’re surprised by her bold moves, and by the shock of pleasure that flows from your nerve endings. You jolt, dropping onto the table, forearms bracing you as you inhale sharply; exhale heavily. She laughs wickedly, “I didn’t expect you to crumble so easily,” she croons, circling the sensitive area repeatedly. “Who would’ve thought,” she drawls, “and after all that heat of hating us for being able to leave at our pleasure.”

Her hands leave you and you seize the chance to scramble for your composure. That is, until she kneels behind you, tendrils of darkness wrapping up your thighs and lower back to keep you tied to the table. You gasp when her thumbs gently pull at the soft, wet skin around your entrance, spreading you wider. Hot embarrassment flushes your cheeks, “what the hel are you doing?”

She laughs darkly from behind you, thumbing at your sopping hole, “No guesses? I’m sure I’d be delighted to hear your ideas.” Your thighs tremble as you have to lean more heavily on the desk, frantically attempting to close your legs. “How do you even know if I have an appetite for females?” You pant, trying desperately to force a growl into your voice, to no avail.

“I don’t,” she laughs, the soft breath brushing over your inner thighs with how close she is, “this is torture, remember?” Her tongue sweeps over your entrance and your arms almost give out then and there. You revel in the way the hot, wet muscle drags over you, how she laps so intently. “Don’t you think it’s unbecoming of a High Lady to lower herself like this?” You manage to pant through the mind clouding pleasure that’s thrumming through your body, lighting your sensing with flame.

She nips at your clit and a moan escapes you. Your palm smacks across your mouth the second after but it’s too late. “You seem to certainly be enjoying how I’m lowering myself.” Her tongue pushes against your entrance and you dig your nails into the desk desperately.

“You want to come, little traitor?” She drawls, lapping up your cunt, pressing against the swell of your now puffy clit. “Come on,” she croons, “as your High Lady, you belong to me. Every part of you. Every breath, every touch, every orgasm. It’s mine.”

“I believe you’re my High Lady, Feyre Darling.”

You freeze. Even the female behind you stops. Then she’s rising from her kneeling position, arms lacing around your waist possessively, one hand snaking to your jaw, forcing you to watch as the High Lord prowls into the room.

“Which means all of that,” he emphasises as his cold, violet eyes burn into you, “is also mine.” Behind you, you can feel the exact moment her body looses its tension, muscles melting as his words slither over her, becoming soft and pliable.

Pure malevolence drips from him as he stalks forward, power thrumming in the air of your bedchambers, pushing into every nook and corner. “Surely you remember how to share,” he purrs, eyes on his mate. Despite not being able to see her, you’re sure her lips have split into a wicked grin. “Just warming our girl up,” she drawls, hand snaking again beneath your skirts; between your thighs.

Utter mortification paralyses your body as her fingers slip through your wetness, pulling away as she shows the High Lord how you’ve slicked her fingers. He cocks his head, a gleam in those violent eyes, a hellish smirk curving the edges of his mouth. He moves forward, lethally quiet, until he’s just before the table. Then he’s raising his High Lady’s fingers to his mouth, lapping at the slick coating them. Your mouth drops open at the act, petrified to your spot as his eyes flick to your own, a sinful grin glittering over his mouth.

His hand grips your jaw, tugging you against the table as his nails bite into your cheeks, “want to know how you taste, little lynx?” You don’t have time to protest as he lowers his mouth to yours, tongue licking and lapping over and into you as his teeth nip at your lower lip, dragging in it. He shoves his way inside, dominating in a way only possible for those born into terrifying power, and you can taste the distinctive flavour of arousal coating his tongue. “Like that?” He drawls, noting the hot flush on your cheeks.

You’re hardly able to speak as Feyre’s mouth opens over your neck, making you gasp, ravishing the sensitive skin. The High Lord chuckles, grip tightening to bruising as silver lines your eyes from his pain and her pleasure. “I think this punishment is rather fitting, wouldn’t you agree?” He drawls, continuing as if his High Lady’s hand isn’t snaking between your thighs again.

When her fingers land on your clit, you squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to not yield to either of them. The air shifts in the room, becoming heavier; denser. He’s not pleased with your refusal to answer.

The High Lord’s hand leaves your jaw, dropping to attend to himself as he unties the constrictions of his fine clothing. Behind you, Feyre’s dragging down your spine, slowly returning to her original placement. She pushes the fabric of your underwear to the side and you squeak. At the sound, their arousal becomes more prominent to you, invading your senses entirely as she presses her mouth to your inner thigh; teasing.

“Why are you doing this?” You pant, hating how breathless you sounds as you look up at the High Lord from beneath a narrowed brow. He grins maliciously, “because it’s our right. We rule over you. You are part of our property and have no say over what we do to you,” he drawls, one hand fisting in your hair, “isn’t that right, Feyre darling?” At his address, Feyre laughs, finally pressing her mouth over your pussy, enveloping you in the hot, wetness of her mouth.

The High Lord’s brutal touch strengthens as he feels you slipping away, “seems you’re enjoying my lady’s mouth,” he croons, applying a sudden pressure to lower you to the table, bringing you to level with his hips, “shall we see if you can keep up with her?”

You watch in horror - and with almost painful arousal - as he forces your mouth to his cock, pressing the tip just beneath the curve of your lips. “You can choose to do this of your own volition, or you can refuse, and have one of us slip into your mind to open up that pretty mouth,” he grins as a milky sheen wets your lower lip, the slit in his head beading with precum. “So which will it be? Because neither of us are stopping until you learn how to submit.”

Anger and arousal twine together sinfully in your lower belly, both simmering until you can’t differentiate between the two. Your upper lips curls into a snarl, “fuck. You,” you spit. Feyre nips at your clit, a small warning from her end that makes you wince. The High Lord’s grin widens and you can feel the blood drain from your face as dark, glittering talons scratch at your mind, piercing through until he has a firm leash on you.

You’re practically kicked out of your body, shoved to the forefront of your mind so you can only watch and feel as your mouth open, tongue resting on your lower lip as you drag from root to tip. Seconds later you feel a second presence filling your mind, pressing into every space available as the two occupy you.

You deliver small laps to the slit in his head, a groan coming from above you as he forces you through the movements of what he likes. Your nails dig into the table at the insane pressure filling your mind, as thought your skull will split open. Their presences retreat, leaving you grasping at the space of your own mind, returning to your body. ‘The next time you disobey we won’t be so kind.’ The High lord’s voice echoes through you, threat dripping from his words as he jerks at your hair, commanding you to meet his gaze. ‘Now,’ he drawls, grin growing wider, ‘open that mouth for me.’

Shame swarms your body, crawling beneath your skin as violet eyes watch as you part your lips, just as he asked. ‘That’s it,’ he goads, ‘keep behaving and this’ll be over in no time at all.’ The deceptive lilt to his voice tells you he’s lying through his teeth, putting that silver-tipped tongue to work.

‘Let me see, Rhys.’ The High Lady’s voice echoes through your mind, her tongue continuing to lap at your entrance. Her mouth drops down to your clit, oscillating nimbly over and over as the pleasure builds. Rhys’s hand tightens in your hair as he guides his cock into the hot, wetness of your mouth, groaning as he feels your tongue sliding with velvety smoothness beneath him.

An image flashes through your mind - courtesy of the High Lord. It’s from his point of view, with your mouth opened, lips poised to wrap over his cock, tongue positioned to cover your teeth as he pushes in. Your eyes are alight with fire, burning with flame as you hold his dominating gaze. Feyre moans loudly at the image, your own cheeks flushing more with the obscenity.

‘Keep working that pretty mouth of yours, little lynx,’ he calls, smirking wickedly as he pushes you further down, making your eyes squeeze shut as they burn. ‘Working so obediently,’ the High Lady drawls into your mind, her words laced with cruel mockery, ‘working so hard to please her High Lord.’

At her words, the sheer degradation, you feel a coil tighten, heat building in your belly. She laughs as she surely feels it, knows what’s happening to your body as a result of their cruel game. You feel yourself reaching your peak, the way Feyre’s swirling her tongue over your clit has you seeing stars. Yet just as you reach that mind fogging high, sharp black talons squeeze your conscious, suspending you in a state of almost.

A whine escapes your throat, crying onto his cock as the pleasure is taken away from you. The encompassing warmth of Feyre’s mouth leaves you as your eyes flick up to meet the cold violet of the High Lord’s. They’re flecked with cruelty yet heat is clearly roiling in their depths. A need for suffering.

‘Beg for it,’ the High Lord commands, and you really consider it. It’s so good. The way her tongue had been working you mercilessly; the way the High Lord had been using your mouth, releasing those delightful pleasures moans. ‘All you have to do is beg, and you can have it,’ he goads, pulling you from his cock. You flush with heat as the threads of saliva trailing from your mouth to him.

“I think she needs more, Rhys,” Feyre purrs, mouth gliding up the ridge of your spine to nestle at the junction of your shoulder and neck, nosing at the sensitive skin, noting the heavy arousal. “I think we should make her go again.” Her words are coated with cruel passion, her hand dipping down to cup your breasts, making you shrink back into her.

She bites at your ear, “don’t pretend you don’t like it, little traitor. You’re the one on the verge of begging for my mouth.” A soft moan claws its way from your throat as her thumbs graze roughly over your nipples. She looks up at her mate, “I think that’s a yes, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen marginally, turning to look at her as you try to shake your head but her hands are already grasping your hips, pulling you up against her and spinning you around, pinning you against the table. Then her mouth’s on yours, her hands snaking beneath your thighs as she shoves you up onto the table, settling herself between your spread legs as she devours you. Her hands slope down your spine and settle on the swell of your ass while your nails dig into the table in shock at the flavour of yourself on her tongue. So overwhelming.

Behind you, the High Lord groans at the sight. ‘Enjoying, High Lord?’ Feyre drawls, that taunting lilt returning to her voice. ‘It’s not kind to keep her all to yourself, darling.’ Then large, rough hands are gripping your shoulders, pulling you away from her mouth and slamming your back down onto the table, the High Lord grinning down at you as he shoots you an image.

It’s of you, as your are: lips swollen and puffy, glossy with saliva and cum while silver lines your eyes, hazy arousal dancing in their depths while your hair’s haphazardly strewn about. You look completely done for already.

A flush glows over your cheeks as you move to wipe your lips but shadows restrain you. While they’re at it, the loop beneath your thighs, pulling them up so your spread out perfectly for Feyre to daintily tap your clit, repeatedly. This time you do whine, attempting to close your legs at the sensitivity, your back arching.

She leans over you, fingers still perched atop the sensitive bud, “but you were so desperate for my touch moments ago.” She cocks her head, “what happened? Did you get cold feet?” Her thumb presses down on your clog and you shriek, legs attempting to curl beneath her to push away but you can’t. “Stop,” you cry, her thumb oscillating sharply at the sound.

The High Lady pulls away and you watch warily as they move.

Your stomach drops when the switch places.

The High Lord’s hands land roughly on your inner thighs, spreading you further apart, his cock gliding through your messy wetness, bumping your puffy clit. A moan crawls from your throat. Then Feyre’s crawling onto the table, swinging a leg over you as you’re met with her glossy heat, slick coating her thighs as she settles on top of you, just out of reach of your mouth. “Remember, this can end any time you want. All you have to do is plead,” she purrs from above you before she’s spreading her thighs wider, settling down on your face, wetness coating you instantly. She moans loudly, unabashedly, at the feeling, already winding her hips gently.

Between your legs you feel the High Lord shift, his thumb coming to brush over your clit as his tip presses against your entrance, one hand bracing your hip as he pushes in. Your back curves as he stretches you full, delicious, solid warmth pushing at you from within. A moan flies from your mouth and your can’t resist as one of them buries into your mind, forcing your tongue to start moving.

At some point, they leave, but you’re moving on your own, hands latching over the sweep of Feyre’s hips, lapping at the wetness between her thighs, desperate to have her coating your tongue. She moans, hips bucking as they wind over your mouth. Rhys’ thumb speeds up to a pleasurable pace and already that euphoria is building, returning to its original strength as he begins pounding into you.

Moans and groans are falling from your mouths, filling your bed chambers as they use you as they please.

Again, you hit your peak, and again, glittering talons squeeze at your mind, suspending you while they continue their ministrations. Your nails dig into Feyre’s hips but she only moans, grinding against your face more, dying for your tongue to unravel her as she practically fucks herself on you.

The High Lord uses both his hands to bite into your hips, pounding into you while slamming your hips back to meet his, throwing you effortlessly into overstimulation without giving you the overwhelming pleasure to ride it out. It’s just too much.

Your back arches, toes curl, your body automatically bracing to be thrown over the edge yet it never comes. They’re keeping you right on the edge, an ounce of pleasure more and you’d be free falling but you’re kept in your place: beneath them.

Tears spill down your cheeks when you feel Feyre’s finger glide between your thighs, playing with your clit. It’s so much but you can’t give into them. No matter what hel they put you through. No matter how much you enjoy it.

You yelp when Feyre pulls her hand away, tapping your clit harshly, your whole body jerking at the sensitivity. ‘Stop, please,’ you beg across that channel but she continues. ‘Beg for your pleasure. Beg for us to give it to you. It’s ours to decide what to do with,’ Feyre growls into your mind, fingers soothing over the stinging skin.

‘You’re being soft on her,’ a voice snarls, soaked in sin as you feel her hand being pulled away, enough for a moment of relief. ‘Let me.’ His hand smacks down between your legs and you scream, muscles tearing at the darkness binding your legs as pain sings through your body.

He doesn’t stop after just one, he keep going, barely giving you a few seconds to recover before his hand is smacking back down, each one harder and more painful than the last. ‘Fucking beg for me to stop. Try it.’ He taunts, your nails slicing into his mate as she moans louder.

‘Please, stop.’

‘You can better than that.’ He growls.

‘I can’t!’ You cry, ‘please! Please just stop! I can’t do this!’ The stinging stops, and you nearly cry again with relief as Feyre shifts above you.

Rhys sends an image down the line: Feyre sat atop your mouth, his cock pounding into you, his High Lady leaning over as saliva drops from her mouth to perch atop your clit, her fingers rubbing soothingly over your tender sex. ‘Come on, pretty liar,’ she goads, sweetly; menacingly, ‘beg your High Lord and Lady for pleasure.’ You manage to hold back, using the entirety of your will power - what’s left of it - to refuse.

Across the bond, you watch as she grins, ‘unless you want me to let Rhys have his way with you?’ She pulls away, and you feel it as he raises his hand, preparing to smack down.

‘Please!’ You cry out, halting his movements. ‘Please, I’m begging, please don’t. Please give it to me!’ Tears roll down your cheeks as Feyre moans above you, riding your tongue as her high approaches. The High Lord laughs darkly, hands returning to your hips to slam you back against him.

‘Uh-huh? You want us to give you some pleasure? You’re sorry for even thinking about disobeying us?’ The words are painted with malevolence, lethal threat lying beneath them. ‘I’m sorry,’ you plead, ‘I’ll never think like that again. Just please let me go.’

The talons that had been holding you pull free, pleasure erupting across your skin, flooding your senses as your nerves are set alight, practically glowing with euphoria. You feel Feyre’s heat fluttering above you as she comes on your tongue, releasing herself onto you. The High Lord continues pounding into you, seemingly harder, chasing that high until he’s spilling inside of you, hot cum filling you to the brim as your back arches, nipples peaking.

Your mind takes a while to clear, muscles spasming with the force of your pleasure, after so long of being suspended on that edge.

The High Lady’s fingers have returned to your clit, rubbing soothingly as she raises her hips from you. Your tongue laps over your mouth, tasting her release, revelling in her flavour. ‘Look at you,’ she taunts, peering between her legs, ‘so good. So fucked out.’

Her gaze lifts to her mates, ‘do you really think she meant that?’ The line in clear, a hellish grin dancing over the High Lord’s mouth as his eyes flick down to you, hands tightening on your thigh.

‘I think we should make sure,’ he drawls and you feel as he hardens against your already sensitive walls.

‘Make sure she knows who she serves.’

[otomiyaa]

[Drabble Reupload] - Bringing this old drabble back to life.

“Welcome home! I thought I was never gonna eat!” Korra exclaimed when Asami finally entered their shared apartment.

“Sorry, market was crowded.” Asami placed the bag with their food for lunch on the table and gave her hungry girlfriend a kiss.

“Wait. What the hell are you wearing?” Korra asked, pulling back and gazing at the T-shirt Asami wasn’t wearing when she left. A cartoon-ish print of Korra’s face was on it, with the text ‘Happy Avatar Day!’ above, and ‘Love and respect Avatar Korra!’ under it.

“Avatar Day? Where’d you get that?” Korra laughed and she playfully tugged at the silly T-shirt.

“There was a special stand at the market. I never knew today marked Avatar Day, but I like the shirt,” Asami said, giggling at the foolishness.

“I never knew either. They could’ve told me,” Korra said, and they both laughed at the random stuff citizens could come up with nowadays.

“But I’m glad you’d wear that with my face on it.” Korra pulled Asami towards her and wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging her and rubbing her face against her own cartoon-face that was on the shirt.

“Haha of course!” Asami returned the embrace and held her tightly.

“I remember something Tenzin said though! I think they celebrated Avatar Day officially in Chin Village. Avatar Aang had his own little adventure there. I think it was something like.. the day the Avatar was not boiled in oil? They also ate unfried dough!”

“That sounds ridiculous,” Asami said, pulling back from their hug.

“You know what sounds better?” she added, smirking at Korra with mischief, and Korra gave her a curious look.

“Avatar Day, the day…. the Avatar was not tickled to death!” Asami’s hands were suddenly positioned on Korra’s sides, and before the Avatar could have suspected the attack, her playful girlfriend managed to force out a string of cute giggles from her.

“H-huh whahahat?!” Scrunching up her nose from giggling so much and frowning in confusion, Korra was soon reduced in a sweet girly giggle fit. 

With her own arms still wrapped around Asami all she could do was squirm as her sides and ribs were squeezed mercilessly, which was not ideal with those sneaky hands clawing at her sensitive torso.

“Waitwaitwait!” Korra gasped out, and probably just to tease, Asami stilled her hands for a moment.

“Hmm?” she hummed teasingly, hovering her hands above Korra’s still unprotected sides. Korra quickly moved her arms back so she could free herself from Asami’s grasp, but not planning to let her go that easily, Asami pulled her tightly against her.

Now with her arms pinned between Asami and herself, Korra squirmed uncomfortably and giggled in anticipation.

“Not tickled to death you say?” she brought out, and Asami smirked and nodded, reaching out to her sides again and making Korra cackle as she continued the tickling.

“Yup. You’re the almighty Avatar, so you wouldn’t die from a little tickling would you?” she taunted in a baby voice, and Korra squealed loudly. The tickle struggle soon turned into a wrestling match that ended up on the floor, with Asami pinning Korra down, her hands skillfully reaching out to find each of Korra’s tickle spots: hips, sides, ribs, knees, underarms.

“AHAhaa A-Ahaahaasami!” Korra laughed, and the hand she had been using to push her strong girlfriend away - in vain - slowly raised, trembling and fist clenching.

“Na-ah, you remember the rules. No bending indoors,” Asami scolded before Korra could even do anything, and she removed one hand from Korra’s ticklish body to grab her hand. Forcing her to unclench her hand, she traced a finger down the palm and Korra giggled adorably.

“B-but this is unfahahair!” she giggled, squirming and trying to pull her hand free.

“Someone’s got ticklish hands! That’s a new one I should remember.“ Asami smiled sweetly and kissed her hand.

“D-done now?” Korra asked breathlessly, and she errupted in more sweet giggles when Asami fluttered her fingers from the palm of her hand up her arm, scribbling all the way towards her underarms. The closer she reached that one very ticklish spot, the more Korra’s giggles increased in volume.

“Nohoho Asami! Stop! W-what have I done to deserve this?” she giggled, still desperately trying to squirm away from her evil girlfriend in her Avatar Day - shirt.

“Being cute, that’s all.” That awful tease. Asami returned to the more ruthless tickling, fingers attacking Korra’s underarms like there was no tomorrow, and eliciting the loudest, shrieking laughter from the young woman.

“HEHEHE STAhahap!” Korra kicked and thrashed, but Asami had pretty good experience handling her, so she tickled her until she could barely breathe.

“There. Now I’m hungry,” she sighed, and she planted a sweet kiss on Korra’s half parted lips and got up to stuff the food she bought in the microwave. Korra panted heavily and got up on all fours, her whole body trembling from the after-giggles.

“M-me too…” she said as she picked herself up, and she practically jumped on Asami from behind, her legs wrapping around her waist and arms around her neck like a crazy monkey.

“Korra?!“ While Asami stumbled forward with her on top of her, Korra blew raspberry after raspberry on the back of her neck, and sometimes used her teeth to nibble. Asami exploded in a laughing fit at the ticklish torment on her neck, and she stumbled through the room to shake Korra off.

Looked like they weren’t getting their lunch anytime soon. But that was just an average day in their fluffy lives together, just a ticklish day marked as Avatar Day.