#which. fuck me man now i have one day to get stuff done. its fine cause i did some stuff but still. im exhausted and havent had a day to me.

[indiegame]

body let me sleep pls

[writingmeraki]

hazy eyes, clear thoughts I

a roronoa zoro imagine !

synopsis : in which letting your drunken mouth spill your sober thoughts leads you to a very unexpected consequence. ( read: everyone saw it coming except you and **** )

pairing : opla!zoro x gn!reader, idiots to lovers!

genre : disgustingly fluffy fluff, five tablespoons of angst and probable romance.

warnings : cussing, mentions of alcohol and getting wasted, zoro kinda mean, probably terrible humour, shit ton of giggling, also very all over the place but kinda cute? not entirely proofread, also lmk if I forgot to add any other warning !

author's note : well oh well, look we have another totally not self indulgent zoro oneshot/drabble/imagine n e ways I hit a sort of weird point of the series, I'm stuck but i am like 87% done with ch 1?? i hope I'll be able to do it soon enough ^^ tysm for ur patience !! let me know what you think of this! also PART 2?!? ( I need to know if people wanna read this randomness further 😆😅🤣👍🏽)

word count : 4.8k

gif creds !

 “Oh-kay! I think that’s enough!”

You frowned when Nami took the drink from your hand, whining in protest when she kept it further away which she knew your drunken self would be unable to reach.

“B-but it’s good, it’s making me happy!” You giggled as you pointed at yourself and then pouted, pulling your manipulative tactic, one you did a lot when you wanted something especially one you did when you were shit-face drunk. 

With large doey eyes, you pleaded at her, “You don’t want me to be sad right? I’ll be sad if you don’t give me- that.” You pointed in a direction you thought she placed the beer but of course, it was way off.

“See, you can’t even make out where I’ve placed the beer! I don’t care if it makes you upset and honestly, it was fun to see you make a fool out of yourself, but now it’s just…sad.” She sighed, a tone of sympathy as she finished her sentence,

“I know why you’re drinking and it’s not a good way to distract yourself from your feelings! Drinking worsens the problem!” She scolded you to which you now felt a small anger form within you.

“Well then, how else am I supposed to get rid of this dread and just stupidity huh? Being sober is a constant reminder!” 

“Your feelings aren’t stupid! You like him, I’d say even love! You can’t just assume your feelings are invalid not until you know how the other person feels!” Your best friend felt a rage you’d feel if you saw someone you care about demean their feelings, a sort of anger at them hidden with laces of sympathy.

“He doesn’t fucking care! He only cares about his promises and that’s…that’s his life, his own…way of living so it’s fine!”

“Feelings to him are just…distractions.” You gulped as you recalled the way he replied to Luffy when the Captain was teasing him about falling in love. 

[ a few moments ago ]

“Zoro, don’t you think you should consider finding a partner, don’t you also want to fall in love and experience all the magical things that come with it?” Luffy teased as you all sat around a barrel, deciding to just hang out after a busy day. 

Zoro had a beer in one hand as he took a sip and then rolled his eyes, you’d been seeing his reaction, undoubtedly your heart picking up its pace when you heard the question. 

“I don’t need love, or call it a partner if you will. I already have enough on my plate, all that so-called magical stuff is just a distraction.” He replied, with no hesitation which left no option but for the listeners to believe his words.

Just because he’d spoken his opinion, it didn’t mean it hurt less. You knew it though, from the start that Zoro was a determined individual. Despite having his own goals, he also cared about others like Luffy even though he didn't show it much, less that he said it verbally.

It was what made you like him in the first place. After all, what’s more, better than a man who knows what he wants, is determined to get what he wants, cares for those he considers his friends, and the bonus cherry on top being he was quite easy on the eyes too. 

A whole package indeed. 

And you didn’t even know when your supposed “I admire him as a person to look up to” turned into “Oh, I think I am in love with him.” 

But ah, that’s the beauty of love and all the magical stuff, isn’t it? You never know when you’ll be the one who finally falls into it.

That’s why, after hearing his words, you felt your heart sink just a little. Screw it, you think you felt it weigh a shit ton and sink to the very pit of your stomach. 

Nami, oh Nami, what a friend she was truly, because immediately her eyes darted to you after Zoro’s words and she saw your expression go down just as quickly as Zoro downed his bottle of beer. 

Luffy chuckled, of course, he would, the poor lad was just teasing in the first place anyway to irk Zoro and obviously, he didn’t know about poor old you’s feelings. 

I think I need to go. 

It sucked how you couldn’t refute against him. How you couldn’t yell that love is not just a “distraction”, love is something that makes one feel more…human. Love is a wonderful thing and how if someone were to experience it, it makes you feel….it makes you feel just happy at being in the presence of the one you, love. Just…love is not…it’s not-

“Uh guys,” You piped up after sensing the tense atmosphere, tense to you anyway since you felt like a seashell was clogged up your throat. 

“I’m gonna go…get some fresh air. Yeah uh- I’ll be behind if you need me.” You abruptly got up, smiling tightly at Luffy, purposefully avoiding Nami’s questioning yet pitiful look and harshly blatantly ignoring how Zoro’s attention turned towards you, about to question you too, his face showing the emotions he’d not show before 5 bottles of beer. 

Sighing quietly, you picked up the drink you’d been downing, still having an adequate portion in it and you thought about it, saying fuck it as you grabbed two more from the stack that was in the middle.

“Continue with…your shenanigans,” You turned around and let your emotions finally show on your face, words repeatedly swinging in your head as you tried to filter them out. 

It’s nothing but a distraction.

And now, a few bottles (2) and a whole lot of giggling later, you may have truly begun to take Zoro’s words seriously. 

“I feel sick, perhaps it’s my heart breaking, see it hurts here the most.” You groaned as you looked out into the sea, pointing to your chest, though inaccurate as you held your right side, the sun appearing as a blurry blight light due to your vision becoming hazier as you got more drunk.

Nami sighed at you, realizing you should probably just be made to go to bed, despite it being only a few hours away from actual nightfall.

“Come on, let’s go, you’ve thought enough,” She stood up, having been sitting beside you on a barrel while you’d been sitting on the same.

She pushed her hand outwards towards you, to which you giggled and you were pretty sure your cheeks ached now. 

“Namii~how do you have-” you pointed your finger out, counting the fingers “-ten fingers! On one hand?!” You continued staring at her hand in awe as she rolled her eyes, a small grin on her face, finding your drunken self a tiny bit cute. 

Suddenly you felt your world stumble as she grabbed you and pulled you upwards, you now decided you did not know how to walk and leaned your entire body weight on her. 

Now, Nami wasn’t a weak person but considering how you were more on the taller side than her while also being a bit more buff due to the immense training you did every day to practice your own skills, you did weigh more.

She quickly made you sit back down when she realized she couldn't possibly carry you, she needed help.

"Stay here 'kay? I'll be back." She told you to which you obediently nodded, which made a genuine grin form on her face.

Maybe she did prefer drunk you who'd follow her orders with no protests.

You looked back at the sea, the sun even lower than before, a type of golden shining on the blues that reminded you of a certain someone's earrings and oh, there it was.

Your thoughts slowly getting consumed by the moss head who despite drinking so much to forget was so embedded deep into your memory and probably heart at this point that even the slightest similarity you saw, be it colors or flowers, reminded you of him. 

Ah, that's love and all its magical stuff am I right? 

Sighing, she made her way back to where the rest of them were, the crew picking up on her presence,

"Where's Y/N? Weren't you bringing them?" 

"Well, for one they are SHIT face drunk, I don't think they are even conscious of where they are right now so I'll need to take them to bed but also, I can't carry them alone." 

She rolled her eyes at the stupidity of drowning yourself in your feelings, quite literally but she knew she wouldn't complain to the rest of them or more so she couldn't.

"Well I'm sure, one of us can help-"

"I'll help you carry them." Zoro interrupted your captain who was just about to suggest him. If there was one who could probably carry anything heavy too, it was him of course. 

Nami eyed him curiously, she did know he wasn't ready to do…kind deeds, not unless it helped him in some way. Though, she thinks, you may just be an exception.

He stood up and walked towards where you were, which was at the back, Nami followed suit to which he turned towards her.

"It's alright if you don't come, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to carry them myself." He said it and Nami narrowed her eyes, half out of suspicion and half out of spite after hearing the cocky undertone to his words. 

Proving that was one corner of his lips being turned upwards, forming an annoyingly handsome smirk that if you saw it, you'd probably be more on the brink of absolutely losing it.

"Take care of them and if they are hurt-" Zoro rolled his eyes at the over-exaggeration, and Nami knew that but as your best friend and a platonic soulmate at this point, she felt she had to say something. 

"I don't mean it that way, you know damn well what I mean." She told firmly, to which a slight confusion did flash in Zoro's eyes but he didn't make it obvious as he glared at her, ready to bicker.

"Nami!" Luckily, Luffy's timing seemed impeccable as he called her, to which she turned around, allowing no further talk.

Zoro just brushed off her words and moved to where you were.

Despite, Zoro admitting to never wanting a partner, it didn't mean though, that he didn't feel. 

He cared. He cared enough for Luffy to stick with him. He cared enough to fulfill a promise. 

And he cared for you too as he saw you sleeping soundly, laying your head on the ship, using your hands as a makeshift pillow. 

And yet, he somehow knew it was different. It was different from how he cared for others. 

He gulped as he moved closer, now being able to see your features being highlighted by the afterglow of the sun setting. 

It was as though you were the sun's favorite child at the moment, touching parts of your face softly, careful enough to not awaken you yet enough to rest on it to make it golden. 

The evening breeze couldn't have picked a better time to pass as strands of your hair messily moved, your face scrunching up in disturbance. 

He didn't even perceive how he'd reached you and was actually touching strands of your hair to push them back in place so as to not disturb your sleep. 

He wasn't even a gentle person, but he was using soft fingers with even softer touches to push them back. 

He figured he should in fact take you back to your bed, well shared bed with Nami. 

Deciding there was no need to wake you up, he moved beside you, putting one arm underneath your knees while the other looped just above your waist and below your chest. 

You blinked open your eyes when you felt yourself floating, it seemed like you were floating for a brief second, engulfed by warm clouds and a nice pillow that was-

You looked up and saw the side profile of someone. 

They seemed familiar. 

A glint of gold caught your eye as you put your left arm up and poked the earring, giggling as you saw it move.

"Wow, pretty," You think you'd seen it but your eyes being hazier than before after your mini nap seemed to only make your vision more blurry.

The sudden exhale and whisper down his neck almost made Zoro trip as he didn't really expect you to be up.

He was just near your shared room.

"Where are you taking me? Who are you?" You asked the important questions now, your mushed brain being able to form somewhat coherent thoughts. 

"You- you don't know who I am?" He asked you, confusion in his features and then remembering why you were lost. 

Right, practically wasted. And apparently memory loss due to being wasted.

He pushed the door open, as flimsy as it was, careful to not eventually break it down.

You looked around your surroundings, now even more lost as to where you actually were.

You squealed as he let you down, immediately realizing it was a terrible idea when you almost toppled over, unable to hold your own weight as he pushed his arm around your waist.

You held onto the man's shirt as you tried not to trip and fall.

"Here I'll just- I'll get you to bed." He guided you towards your bed, hand still wrapped around your waist as he looped yours over his neck. 

You plopped down with your eyes shut, your head began spinning when you almost tripped and you groaned in regret.

"Drinking too much was such a bad idea, like all my decisions lately." You put your hand on your forehead as you tried to rub the forming headache away. 

Hearing a walking sound, you peered your eyes open. Half-open anyways as you still couldn't make out well anything.

You could see the supposed stranger who'd help you till your bed was going to turn around and likely go but at that moment, you decided you didn't really want to be…alone.

Grabbing his hand before he moved away, you pulled him back with all your force. It didn't phase his movements much though other than him halting. 

Zoro turned back to you after deciding he should probably leave before he either said something he'd regret or worse, did something he'd regret. 

It wasn't his fault though with how…cute you looked as you plopped down, making him want to ki-

"Stay…please." You whispered to him, still holding onto his wrist as you blinked at him.

A familiar green color sat on top of his head but you figured it was a common color despite being sober you absolutely made fun of it when you could about how uncommon it was but also whined about how unfairly good it looked on him. 

The same him who looked at you in confusion and disbelief,

"You want me to stay, right now? With you?"

“Of course! I feel quite alone right now, maybe the company will make me feel better here.” You let go of his arm, the loss of your colder hand in contrast to his warm skin making him slightly frown. 

You pointed at your chest, surprisingly getting it right this time by pointing toward your left side.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Does your chest hurt or something?” 

There was a slight concern in his tone, one which made you giggle. 

“Not- not physically silly, it’s- it’s my heart, it feels like it’s been gutted- wait no too- too gruesome, it feels like someone just punched it and it broke.” As you blubbered about your heartbroken state, your words made him more curious and concerned.

He decided he should probably hear you out, after all despite not being a great talker, he’d consider himself a decent listener. 

Grabbing the barrel you used as a chair placed under your makeshift desk, he moved to sit beside your bed. 

“It’s ridiculous. I should have known there was no chance, but it isn’t like you get a choice sometimes on how you should feel about someone, it just…happens.” You spoke softly, as Zoro turned his attention toward you, wondering who was this person who’d caused you to feel so…sad. 

He didn’t realize it but he felt a slow anger build up, one he excused as frustration due to your mumbling but not one out of simply, probably, jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous of….this person because it sure as hell seemed as though you were deeply in love to have been feeling like this. 

Ironic.

“Why do I even like him?” Oh, he definitely did not want to hear you talk about him, he decided.

Screw being a good listener, he was already in a crisis when Luffy put him on the spot asking about whether he’d want a lover or not, and then him trying his best not to divert his gaze towards you, so instead he chose an option ( one he’d regret later on ) and gave a seemingly believable answer. 

Maybe a while ago, he’d have stuck to that answer, and actually no, he was sticking to it, quite well too.

That was until you stumbled onto the crew or more like in true Luffy fashion, were persuaded enough to stay. 

At first, he didn’t care enough. It was more so he didn’t particularly like you too. You were what he was not. Careless, overly enthusiastic at times, and way too optimistic for your own good. You looked to see the good in everyone, believing that there was always some sort of goodness in everyone.

Zoro found that stupid, knowing how reality was always different. Everyone is and will always be selfish for their own greed. He was too, he wanted to fulfill his promise and that was it. 

That was his goal and nothing else really mattered to him.

It’s what he thought would remain the same till he accomplished it but a sudden diversion came in the form of well…you.

He didn’t even realize it but the annoyance he’d get when he heard your lame jokes turned into him looking away from your silly smile to try and hide his own forming grin.

How he’d always automatically be looking for you if they’d stop at an island, choosing to follow you and dismissing Nami’s suspicious glances by saying you’d likely do something stupid that might put everyone in danger if left alone.

It was funny what this could make anyone feel. He didn’t ever feel like this, he didn’t even want to admit he was close to feeling but how long could a person remain in denial?

He was in love with you. 

He couldn’t simply excuse his heart racing at your presence as simply annoyance, he couldn’t excuse finding pretty flowers and them reminding him of you as well….yeah you get the point. 

That revelation honestly made him spiral into a sort of existential crisis. 

So he decided it was best to do one thing.

Ignore it. Ignore everything and simply wait until it all fades away. 

But silly him, he didn’t know one thing about love and he assumed it was something that fades away, yet there it was, in his gaze as it softened and in his heart as it sunk slowly like an anchor. 

Clogging his throat as if he couldn’t simply breathe when you admitted to being in love with someone, someone who wasn’t him.

Ah love and its magical stuff, yet why does he feel like it's more of a curse right now? 

He opened his mouth, and closed it again, resembling a fish and it felt like he wanted to say everything yet nothing.

They probably don’t deserve you. 

The thought resonated in his head, but really who was he to say so because did someone like you even deserve him?

Turning to face him completely, ducking your hand under your head, you blinked at him slowly, a grin forming on your face as you saw the stranger’s hair.

“You…you remind me of him, your hair, it’s that ugly color.” You softly giggled to which Zoro was left in yet a contradiction of emotions, whether or not he should feel offended or light over the sound of your soft giggles. 

Wait. 

“Come closer, I’ll tell you a secret.” He blinked at you, trying not to show any emotions and wondering if you’d ever even talk to him like this sober.

Deciding to follow what you said, something he’d never do if you were sober, he leaned in, putting one arm as support to hold him due to the slightly uncomfortable position. 

“I- don’t laugh at me first of all, it’s ridiculous, Nami says I’m being too much of a coward not saying it upfront.” You looked at him to which he nodded, in your mind you presumed it was reassurance and agreeing to not find you ridiculous.

Somehow, despite you not knowing who was in front of you, your heart was picking up in pace and you felt a slight nervousness, actually, you almost felt like throwing up.

As if you were just about to actually…

“I think, actually no, I am definitely in love with Zoro.”

…confess to Zoro. 

Good thing, Zoro had quick reflexes because he felt his arm slip and if it weren’t for those quick reflexes, he’d have fallen face-first into the ground. He sat up straighter as if what he heard had physically burned him. 

“It sounds ridiculous, falling in love with someone like him but he’s actually a very loveable person, at least once he begins to get more…more comfortable around you. He talks less, shows emotions or any reactions even less, always carrying around a bitch face- Nami says so- but-but he also cares through his actions like-like that one time he found Luffy’s straw hat when he thought he lost- he spent hours helping him look for it and trying to keep Luffy from crying and then, then this other time he stayed up all night when I got hurt and wasn’t able to sleep. And-and there’s sooo many other times he’s done, the small things, he cares for that.”

“You know. I think that was when I knew I loved him.  When he didn’t need to stay up, yet he did to make sure I didn’t die or something.” You finished with a soft giggle as memories of that day flashed in front of your closed eyes. 

Suddenly he felt way warmer than the room was. 

“I know, I know you’ll…you’ll call me stupid for loving someone who’s already in fact rejected me, not-not to my face of course but indirectly I suppose.”

Wait, what?

Rejected you?

How could he do that when- when he didn’t-

“I hate this! I hate the way I feel, it- it’s making me feel pathetic.” Your words slurred as you whined, using your makeshift pillow to groan into.

“Who said love is magical? It’s pathetic! It makes you stupid enough to have stupid hopes that only make you fly high until suddenly the actual reality crashes you down hard.” You spoke somberly, your words slowly fading out as you gave into the alcohol-induced sleep.

“Love is…pathetic. But- but I love him. So much. I love…you.” The last word came out as a hush as you exhaled, shutting your eyes and letting go of the pillow as you finally got knocked out. 

It pained him to see you call yourself pathetic…all while being the reason you felt that way. 

Zoro was conflicted. The contradiction of emotions making him all do,

Nothing. 

He was frozen. He couldn't say a word, couldn't raise his hand to rub your back to perhaps comfort you. 

His mind was in more chaos, your words replaying like a loop. 

And finally, he came to a conclusion.

I need a drink. Fuck, maybe even three. 

Perhaps if you were awake, it’d be a different reaction. Perhaps if you weren’t drunk, you’d have not said it. 

The idea of you then getting over him, probably because you’d think he rejected you indirectly due to his words. This left a more bitter aftertaste in his mouth and mind than the beer he just downed.

He left your side, deciding he needed a breather to process what he’d just been told. He made sure you’d be in a comfortable position, placing your arms to your sides and even draped a sad excuse of a blanket, one that you brought yourself of an old woman when you had stopped at an island and one you loved, sad excuse because it was very thin but apparently you couldn’t sleep without it. 

He had turned back to you, one more time, about to say something but he just sighed and turned around, walking away to where he was now. 

Now, almost halfway through the crate of beers, he still couldn’t get rid of the confusion. 

Did- did you mean it?

It was conflicting because for one you said it under the influence, maybe you’d even meant someone else and just said his name by mistake. He hated that, so he chose to focus on you saying it solely for him. 

“Why-just why are you trying to die of alcohol poisoning? What is up with you idiots drinking like maniacs today?” A voice said in both disgust and concern as she walked up beside him, facing the sea, and then looking at him, the concern being evident as she saw the conflict of emotions on his face.

She knew he wasn’t one to speak up, it was rather his body language and eyes that spoke what he felt. 

He just sighed, taking a smaller sip of the drink, placing both arms on the side of the ship, and observing the waves.

Nami truly wondered what could have happened until she realized. 

“Did something happen with Y/N?” She cooly asked, observing his expression and surely enough a change of emotion was seen with the way he suddenly stiffened up.

“Nothing remarkable–”

“Oh cut the crap Zoro, you look like someone stole your fucking swords and threw them into the sea.” 

Now he turned towards her, a slight look of horror while he narrowed his eyes at her,

“That’s oddly specific.”

“Won’t deny anything. But, don’t change the topic.”

“They told’ you something?” She figured she should just straight up ask it, put it out in the blue, out of the bad.

Zoro contemplated whether he should spill it, feeling like maybe it would be invading your privacy but even if he didn’t want to admit it, he needed some sort of advice. 

“They- uh told me they lo- well see-” He shifted his attention back to the sea, finding it hard to say it to her face without giving away much. 

Technically you confessed but also you didn’t? You ranted about being in love with Zoro and how you wished you didn’t, you did that thinking you were spilling it to a stranger but it was the man himself so is that a confession? 

“So they finally did it?” He turned towards her raising his eyebrows in question, “They confessed?” 

Now he was surprised but how accurate she was, “ They are too coward- no offense- to do it while sober so ‘figured from the way you look like” She pointed towards his face with her finger “They either kissed you, which doesn’t seem evident from your face not being smothered with lipgloss, they confessed.” 

He gulped from his active imagination flashing a picture of you kissing him and how-

“But why are you so freaked out then? Shouldn’t you be happy your silly little crush is mutual?”

“It wasn’t a confession. More like a rant, they thought I was someone else and they basically spewed it all, and wait what do you mean mutual- I don’t uh-”

“Oh don't give that bullshit now. I know- in fact, even a blind person could see how in love you are with them.” 

Zoro didn’t know whether to get offended or embarrassed if it were really that obvious. He exhaled heavily, clearly not satisfied with the situation still. 

“What if they don’t even remember? What if they begin to ignore me because they think I don’t like them?” 

“Well you did say you weren’t looking for a partner or so on, did you forget that idiot?” Nami shook her head as she rolled her eyes at him.

“I-well- It wasn’t intentional! I panicked!”

“And now this is your consequence. Though there’s a simple solution to this crisis which isn’t a crisis actually, it’s pretty straightforward.”

Now he was curious, a way to solve this whole catastrophe? 

“Since you think they’ll forget by morning, how about you confront them then?”

“In the morning, you clear out your feelings before you dumbasses end up avoiding each other to purposefully brush this aside and I swear! I swear if it gets awkward because you both won’t look past your egos, I’ll force you into the damn cabin and lock you there to talk.”

Nam smiled sweetly, yet a threat underlined beneath her final words and Zoro thought of the only thing he should do now.

“Fine then.”

“I’ll talk. I’ll…confess to everything.”

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023

feedback is always appreciated 💗

links : main navi ! | misc masterlist !

[jimmy-j-james]

Okay, I have this really long and angsty request for Ghost x male reader. Let me know if you're up for writing it and take as much time as you need, cuz when I say angsty, i mean it.

Ghost and Reader are dating, Reader is the team's chopper pilot and accompanies them on missions, picks them up if things get out of hand, etc. Before being sent on a mission, Ghost and Reader got into an argument about some silly stuff, during which Ghost, being the emotionally constipated man he is, said a lot of hurtful things to his partner. They were ignoring each other during the mission, as Simon was too proud to apologize and admit to his mistakes and feelings.

But then, as Reader was closing in with his helicopter to pick them up for evac, he was shot down and crashed, the pilot later presumed KIA.

Ghost felt guilty, he regretted the things he said and was miserable, as he lost the love of his life. A few months passed, the team helped him get through it. He was still mourning, but his friends made it easier to handle.

After nearly a year since the incident, during a mission, where they had to clear out an underground warehouse and get some important documents, Ghost got separated from the rest. As he tried to find them, he stumbled upon a closed door, with a chain and lock wrapped on its handles. He broke through it and didn't find the documents on the other side, but Reader.

Covered in blood, scars and bruises, handcuffed and hiding in the corner of the room, with a cloth tied around his eyes, shaking and crying as Ghost approached, scared that it was one of the enemy soldiers, about to hurt him.

The rest is up to you, as this is already too long lol. Hope it doesn't violate the rules, love ya!

WHERE THE WILD THINGS GO

- M!reader x Ghost

- Proofread:

- Genre: Angst (non-specified ending, so either angst fully, or angst w/ comfort)

- Synopsis: Request basically covers it. However, I decided to leave the ending more angst-like, though there is no specified ending.

⚠️Warnings: Heavy, detailed gore⚠️

Angst is happily inspired by the song breezeblocks, by Alt-J

@xweirdo101x your angst 🍽

════════════════

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’.” Simon firmly states, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in hopes it would calm his growing headache. This fight had been going on for near an hour now, with himself and his boyfriend, (y/n), fighting about the pilots possible promotion to field work. “It’s not safe for someone like yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Simon? Am I not capable enough to you?” He snarls in turn, frustrated and upset with the taller male.

“That’s not it! It’s just dangerous. Nothing you’d understand considerin’ your work.” He was far too calm for this argument, only further irking (y/n).

“Considering my work?” He gapes, glaring down at the Brit. “I’m not an idiot. I know the risks! You know what, I don’t see why this is up to you. This is something I want.”

“Fine! Go ahead! Get yourself killed, see if I care!” Simon immediately snaps back, causing (y/n) to flinch back.

It’s silent now. Only the sound of (y/n) holding back his cries, and Simon’s angered pants echoing throughout their quarters. Before the Brit can get the chance to speak, the shorter male is out the door.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon groans, taking his seat as he cradles his head in his hands. He had royally fucked up, and that much was clear. But, was he surely in the wrong? (Y/n) had no clue the risk he’d be making if he were to fully place his life on field..

Simon was just looking out for him. He clearly knew what was better for the man’s life. Why wouldn’t he listen..?

════════════════

The argument had clearly done damage, having the two avoid each other these past few days. (Y/n) had been happily spending his time with Gaz, a close friend of his.

Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by Simon, who scowled at the sight. Gaz meant well, he knew that, but in the time where he couldn’t get the attention of his own boyfriend, it was irking.

“Keep glarin’ like that and ye’ll burn holes into ‘is head, Lt.” Soap comments teasingly, though he immediately backs down as he’s treated with a similar glare. “What’s got yer knickers in a twist?”

“(Y/n) and I had a fight.” He states plainly, his eyes glueing back onto the man’s figure.

“A fight? Jesus Ghost, the two of you’ll be back together in not time.” He chuckles, clearly not understanding the severity of said fight.

“I said things I didn’t mean to… practically told ‘im I didn’t care if he died..” He pauses, taking in a sharp inhale, his eyes still refusing to move from the other “I didn’t mean it.. I just worry… I don’t- I can’t lose him.”

“Why don’t you tell him that after the mission, ay? I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Lt. You’re both just confused, love-sick kids.” Soap chuckles, nudging into the male with a bright flashy grin.

Ghost doesn’t reply verbally, but instead nods. His eyes finally manage to break free, moving to look towards Soap. “Alright. After the mission.”

════════════════

The given intel had been faulty, leaving Price to desperately call in for an evacuation as his men fought for their lives. “Captain,” (y/n)‘s voice eagerly calls through the radio, his words choppy due to the propellers of his aircraft “heard you needed some air support.”

“(C/n)! Glad to hear your voice, you daft muppet.” The captain teases in turn, glad to have his most trustworthy pilot ready.

“Gonna need you lot to get to a higher point, let’s say.. the water tower.” He grins behind his headset, knowing it wasn’t the most practical point, but who was he if he didn’t enjoy a little danger?

“On it.” Price returns, making a move to examine the area for said tower. “You heard ‘im boys, make it to the evac point, preferably without scratches.”

(Y/n) cackles, eagerly aiding them with few assisting shots. “Try not and get yerself killed, lad!” Soap, just as chaotic, shouts back through his own radio, watching the hefty aircraft glide through the skies.

It’s all fun and games to him, the typical action of attempting tricks with his plane, shooting down at those least expecting of him, and causing absolute misery for his team that prayed for their own safety.

It’s the point of which the team is at the water tower, and when he goes to pick up his boys, he finds himself panicked.

He’s been shot at. Multiple times, nonetheless, and it leaves him crawling down into a nearby forest. A plane on fire and only himself to try and safe him from death.

════════════════

“(Y/n)!” Ghost shouts out, watching as his lover is shot from the sky. His eyes wide as he sees the aircraft go down, followed by dark hues of smoke and a large fire starting up in the forest nearby. “We have to go for him, Price! We can’t just leave ‘im there!” He begs and pleas, looking to the captain hopefully, only to see the man shake his head.

“You know we can’t. That’s one life over multiple.” He strictly states, already calling in for a backup evac.

Ghost panics, frantically trying to push past to climb down the tower. He’s held back by Soap and Gaz, and despite them being just as upset, they knew the captain was right. One life lost was better than all of their lives.

“N-No! We can’t leave him! Don’t leave him! Price- we can still get him!” He cries out, desperately trying to escape their grasps. “Don’t let him die! I don’t- can’t lose him! Please..” Shouts turn to choked out sobs.

It’s out character. To see the Ghost sobbing and begging like a toddler pleading for a toy. He looks absolutely broken. Having lost everything yet again. A cruel joke from God.

He practically dies as he sees the explosion. It shakes the ground a little, and the small wooded area lights up with ash and fire. He gives up, dropping his weight into the two sergeants as he simply stares. He stares in horror and remorse.

He never got to apologize. He’ll never get to apologize.

════════════════

Months had passed. Ghost a broken man, a shell of what he had so generously built up to be.

He refused to speak.. refused to eat and sleep. Most hours of the day spent drinking or lying in bed without thought.

The team often trying to aid him. To provide the comfort he so desperately craved.. but nothing compared to the warm embrace of his lover that he oh so desperately needed.

Why hadn’t he just apologized and admitted fault..? Why hadn’t he just been a better lover?!? Fuck! Why hadn’t he just left the pilot alone in the first place? Nothing good came to those he loved..

════════════════

His pained breaths echo throughout the cell, wheezing and hissing in pain as he’s beaten black and blue. He’s drenched in various substances, alcohol, water, and even his own blood. Multiple forms of torture having taken place throughout the weeks.

He’s not sure how much longer he’ll live, nor does he know if his team would ever find him. He was on his own, alone and injured.

“Are you going to speak yet?” His captor scowls, holding his head up with a tight grasp to his hair.

(Y/n) only stays silent, his eyes rolling back in a dazed state. It seems to displease the other, earning him another hit to the gut, his head being thrown back before he’s spat on.

“Filthy rat.” He hisses out, turning to a small table of many surgical tools. The man holds up a pair of heavy duty scissors, a sinister smile on his face as he tauntingly tilts his head. He holds the scissors up to (y/n)’s hand, catching over two fingers. “You won’t be needing these anymore, now will you?”

There’s no time to reply, the blades slicing down to meet, clean through his fingers as he shouts in pain. He bites down on his bottom lip, holding back any noises as he stares at the stumps of fingers in pure horror.

“Are you going to speak now? Or should I take more?” He snarls, dipping the man’s hand into a glass of alcohol. A process he had done with every new wound. It earns a meek and choked whimper from the other, but he continues to stay mute.

He’s almost grown fond of the way his blood circulates the golden hue of whiskey. A cruel reminder that he was still alive and bleeding for the time being.

How long until they grew tired and killed him..? How long until Simon found him?

════════════════

Within the eighth month, Simon grew back into old habits. Requesting that he leave on a solo mission. And Price agreed. He gifted the lieutenant with a simple task for starting. A quick in and out of gathering intel.

He took the task with hopes. Praying that an overload of work would help him forget. Help him bury the past away and prevent these hauntings.

And so, he prepared to leave within the next few days..

════════════════

(Y/n)’s head lolls of onto his shoulder, expression glum and bloodied as he looks to his captor with amusement. His silence taunting, and he simply stares. It clearly angers the man, earning him another bone cracking hit.

It’s not a long break, having his hair roughly pulled at, head being forced back into place. Dazed eyes meet fierce ones. His captor scowling, a ghastly expression.

“Such a fuckin’ tough guy, ey?” He spits, grabbing some sort of pliers. A sadistic look crossing his eyes as he brings the tool towards his face. “See how fucking tough you are when I break you piece by piece.”

The pliers make contact with his eye, a discomforting touch at first, though slowly growing into a searing pain. He screams and thrashes in an instinctive panic. The tool works with ease, wiggling about within his socket, loosening his eye before pulling it right from its place within his skull.

(Y/n) is a sobbing, panting mess. His face far more blood soaked, and lack of eye nothing but a pulsating pain. He’s not sure how much more he could handle.

Yet desperately, despite his pains, he silently prays. Prays for his teams rescue. He knows they’re coming. They have to be! But yet, he can only hope.

════════════════

The warehouse is of easy access. A likeable cause that word of his presence got around, leaving for the group of terrorist to leave in a hurry.

It made the task easy. All he had to do now was seek out the documents he was sent for. But.. he stops in place, tensing where he stands. An eerie, yet familiar sound, calling out to taunt him.

Faint, broken sobs echo throughout the silent building. The sounds playing from beneath the floor. Beneath Simon’s feet.

════════════════

He’s far too gone. Sitting in a haze of pain and delusion. He prays over and over again. Begging for an escape, so be it death.

And when footsteps echo from above his abused body, he desperately sobs in hopes his saviour would hear him. His state of delusional thoughts leading him to believe it was an angel.. one here to take away his suffering.

He’d been alone in this room for near a day now, having been left behind as the group fled in panic. And no matter if this sudden appearance was good or bad, he planned to be found.

���═══════════════

Ghost is quick to act, searching out for the specific hatch. And he’s thankful it’s rather obvious. A small door hidden beneath a carpet, leading down to a door, seemingly a basement.

As he reveals the door, the cries grow louder. His body moving on its own as he rushes forward, hastily kicking down the door.

The the smell alone is awful, having him gag and grimace. But the sight.. his heart drops down, and his throat tightens into a panic.

Within the middle of the room, tied to a chair, his assumed K.I.A lover sits; beaten and broken, sobbing pathetically as his head hangs low.

“(Y/n)..” His words a hoarse cry, immediately rushing to free the man. He’s quick yet cautious, calling in for immediate pickup, alongside medical aid.

“Shh, it’s okay now luv.. gonna get you cleaned up.. fix you up, yeah?” He mumbles and soothes, rocking the wounded man within his arms. Though his words act as more a promise to himself than to the boy. “Don’t leave me.. please don’t go..”

He’s a mess himself, panicked and cautious as he holds the boy like he was broken glass. “Oh dove.. what have they done to you?” Simon whispers, noting his injuries as he rushes outside to try and get to the evac point. “Just stay with me.. stay awake luv.”

“Come on, just a little bit more..” he desperately pleas, practically stumbling along with how eager he is to rescue the boy.

And he does it, he gets to the aircraft, passing off his near dead lover to the many doctors. They work quick to hook him up to many machines, and the plane takes off..

It’s a blur of panic and desperation to keep him alive. Something Ghost himself isn’t sure of, considering his state of being. The heart monitors constantly changing.. too low, too high, normal, and repeat..

His body lies limp on a stretcher. And with a closer look at the damages done, Simon can only think..

He should have just apologized. Told (y/n) he loved him, that he was okay with the man joining the field… fuck..

He should have just been a better lover.

════════════════

© Copyright @jimmy-j-james, 2023

All rights reserved

do not copy/paste, claim as your own, post on different sites, or translate without prior consent from me

[tragicallycrispygirl]

It's been a few days of Slayer.

Fuck this guy.

Genuinely.

I think it took everyone (myself included) a few days to realize the bullshit you can get away with with him but like.

Fuuuuuuuuck

Here's a character with very very little movement! But we gave him a 14f forward lunging punch that covers most of the screen and will usually trade positively. Also he can break the wall on counter-hit with said punch at a little closer than MIDSCREEN.

Oops! Did you end up in the corner because you were forced to respect the moves that WILL lead to a 200 HP punish if you get smacked with one, or you got smacked and he got full screen carry? Fuck you! You will have to fight with everything you have just to GET OUT, and if you fuck up ONCE you are going through the wall and losing 200hp. Don't try to jump either, It's Late has a hitbox that reaches into the stratosphere and leaves him about +100 on air block.

What's that? He has 50 meter? you lose. you just fucking lose. the Mappas that are supposed to end pressure? RC them. Did he hit you with a Mappa? RC that shit for a guaranteed wallbreak, and potentially a Pilebunker loop. Did you get him blocking? YELLOW ROMAN CANCEL ITS HIS TURN NOW AND HES +10. (I have general problems with YRC, but Slayer really highlights them for me) I'd be fine with the meter thing if he didn't build meter so fast, but FUCK ME it's like he has a generator hidden in his coat or something that increases the bar when you aren't looking.

Full screen whiff punish that leaves you point blank at advantage. Fuck. You. Also it has a sweet spot, which is hard to consistently route into and feels a LOT like just a random "oh shit I won the round on that wakeup super lol"

Last Horizon is kinda cool, but it exaggerates the problem of "oops I got touched oh shit I'm dead" because you can get it off of ANY FUCKING NON-P NORMAL.

Its so weird that he's like this, though. I put in like 100 hours on XRD Slayer, and Strive feels extremely similar. What HAPPENED? XRD Slayer didn't do this! He didn't shut everything down! He ran some nasty fucking mix, sure, but he had very defined weaknesses. And sure, XRD Slayer gets preposterous damage with meter on stray hits, I'm not going to argue that, but it really didn't seem to happen as much as it used to.

I think the biggest problem, really, is Pilebunker. Pilebunker was never really a combo tool in XRD, unless you had meter or got very specific hits. But now? You can confirm that shit off of anything! Like, literally almost any hit!

Masters. Fucking. Hammer. +26 on block. Safe on whiff. Hitbox like a Behemoth typhoon. Ambiguous cross-up. I don't even care that it has a long startup, GOOD LUCK ACTUALLY SMACKING SLAYER OUT OF THE AIR! HES IN THE FUCKING STRATOSPHERE!

To be a little calmer, I feel Slayer's biggest problem is that he forces the opponent to take huge risks for little reward, while himself not being at a lot of risk for high reward. If he were to stay in his current state, with all the damage and everything the same, I think that every tool in his arsenal should be unsafe on block. That's probably very harsh, but something needs to be done. At the VERY LEAST make all of his moves borderline unsafe, like -4 -5 or something idfk man he's ridiculous

It sucks. I was so so excited for him, so excited to get to do cool stuff with him, and the stuff he does is cool! But he's just, so, so strong. So fucking strong. I said a few days ago that he was "lower-mid top tier," but I was just clearly not thinking straight. Slayer is potentially the strongest character in the game. Sure, whatever, he has lackluster defense, but good luck actually getting him in the corner, WHERE HE CAN STILL GET A STRAY HIT FOR AT LEAST 150DMG AND ADVANTAGE.

I don't even know how you'd fix him, honestly. Half his damage numbers or some shit idfk man

[frenchfrywrites]

Mammon's Morning Sickness

MINORS DNI

Dom(ish) top amab gender neutral reader, sub(ish) bottom pregnant trans man Mammon, pregnancy kink, emeto, piss, cunnilingus, mommy kink, daddy kink, demons having animalistic traits (purring, chirping, etc)

Terms used for Mammon: chest, tits, tdick, clit, pussy, cunt

Thank you to @arloheart for the commission!! Such a delight to write (haha. rhyme), thank u very much for the support <3

It's the second day in a row that you've awoken to the sound of Mammon throwing up in the bathroom. You pull yourself from the comfort of your bed, and join him where he is on the floor, hunched over the toilet.

He whimpers and groans when you wrap your arms around his waist, placing gentle touches on his upset stomach. You kiss his shoulder, holding him through it, until his body finally decides it's done.

"I dunno whats the matter with me," he pouts, slumping his full weight against your body. You rub comforting circles into his skin as you think.

"It's not something you ate?"

"'m not Beel," he huffs. You pinch him and he yelps, giving you an accusatory look. "Listen, I swear it's nothin' I ate! I've been eating all the stuff I normally do," he whines.

"No other symptoms?" you ask, feeling his forehead for a fever. Mammon shakes his head,

"Nope," he pauses to consider something, "I mean, shit there's been some kinda weird things." You hum, urging him to continue. Mammon makes himself more comfortable in your lap before continuing, "like okay, I had a really shitty headache a couple've days ago, n' I've been peeing a lot? Plus my periods late, and ugh," he folds his arms in front of his chest, "my tits have been killing me."

You consider this for a moment. None of these seem very strange on their own, but put together...

"Mammon-"

"No fuckin' way," he cuts you off. It seems like you've come to the same conclusion. "No fucking way," he repeats again, his eyes wide. You give him a sheepish look,

"I mean, it wouldn't hurt to do a test, right?" Mammon nods his head,

"Yeah, of course, we gotta-" he rises to his feet quickly, then lets out a little hysterical  breathless laugh, "right now, we gotta get one right now." He's grinning from ear to ear, quickly brushing his teeth to remove the taste of any remaining bile.

The two of you, giddy and filled with adrenaline, practically skip to the nearest drugstore. Mammon makes you pay for the pregnancy test, which is fine by you because you notice the way his hands shake as he picks it up.

"I can't wait til we get home," he tells you, yanking you towards the back of the store.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" you ask, and Mammon doesn't even answer, just drags you into the bathroom with him.

He shoves his pants down and sits on the toilet, hastily opening up the package. It takes him a while with his nerves (or excitement. Likely a mix of both), but he's finally able to pee on the pregnancy test.

The next three minutes that pass by feel like hours.

"Um, so," Mammon starts awkwardly, "if it's negative, that just means I'm sick huh?"

"Suppose so," you say, "do you... want it to be negative?"

Mammon chews the inside of his cheek, squirming from the question.

"No, I think. I think I want it t'be positive," he finally says. You smile, leaning down to kiss him sweetly,

"I do too," Mammon smiles, leaning in to kiss you again.

"'kay even if it's negative, we'll make sure it's positive soon," he laughs, a flush working its way to his cheeks. "Has it been long enough?"

You check your phone and nod. Mammon squeezes his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking down.

"Pos-" he laughs, looking up at you with wet eyes and the biggest smile, "positive!!" he squeals, thrusting the test into your hand.

You're able to catch a look at it for a moment, while he yanks up his pants, before Mammon crashes into you, wrapping you into a hug.

"Oh I love you, I love you," he cries, "I'm gonna have a baby, yer baby!"

You kiss him, all the while still holding his piss covered pregnancy stick.

There's a few minutes of tears; happy, excited, coming-off-adrenaline type tears. You hold and kiss one another until there's a knock at the bathroom door, and you're reminded of where you are.

There's a lot to do, a lot to say, but for now the two of you rush back, holding hands and giggling all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

-

Two weeks pass and you're still waking up to Mammon's morning sickness.

"Morning sweetheart," you greet him, joining him on the floor as you often do. Mammon groans, lifting his head from out of the toilet.

"Did I wake ya?" he asks sadly. You hum, rubbing his hip with one hand, and his little baby bump with the other.

"No," he breathes a sigh of relief, and then dry heaves, "how long have you been up?" you ask.

It takes Mammon a moment to answer, a wave of nausea causing him to hold his mouth open, drool dripping from his lips as he waits for something to come up. Nothing happens and he swallows, then says,

"Dunno, like half hour maybe?" your heart aches from how long he's been alone. "God I had these crazy dreams, ya wouldn't believe, 'm gonna have t'tell you about 'em," he gags, then heaves again. You figure he'll have to tell you about his dreams when he isn't being cut off by his nausea.

You're nearly certain it won't happen, but it does, suddenly. Mammon manages to throw up as you rub his clenching stomach, quietly savoring the soft feel of his skin under your fingers. Your cock has started to fill inside your sleep pants, but you pay it no mind in favor of comforting him.

"Ugh," he moans when he's done. "I think that was the last of it," he says, but the two of you stay in front of the toilet for a good couple of minutes to make sure.

"Oh no," Mammon says after a moment, and you think that means he's going to throw up again. It's only when you hear the sound of liquid hitting the tiled floor that you look down. He's wetting himself, unable to make it to the toilet even though it's right in front of him.

"Aw baby," you coo, rubbing his bladder gently. "There you go, let it all out, this is completely natural," which is true, because the new weight of the baby has been pressing against his bladder a lot these days.  

"'kay," he breathes, "feels good." You groan, letting your hand drift from his belly to his pussy. Mammon whimpers, leaning back into you.

Touching him through his wet— getting even more wet with each second— pajama pants, you press your thumb against his clit. Feeling his stream through the fabric, you listen to the way that Mammon's breath hitches. Your cock twitches as you rub circles around his hardening tdick.

Eventually he stops pissing, and the two of you are left sitting in a puddle on the bathroom floor while Mammon writhes, purrs, and moans from your touches.

"Wait, wait," he gasps. You stop your touches, "my knees hurt," he whines, and as soon as he says it, you feel a numbness in your legs.

"We can move this to the bed," you mummer seductively. Mammon whines,

"Yes, please," and with that the two of you rise to your feet. Mammon peels off his drenched pants, leaving them in the puddle to deal with later. You're both far too needy and desperate to be bothered with it now.

With sticky legs, Mammon scurries to your bed, lying himself down on his back, spreading his legs for you.

"You sure your stomach's alright?" you have half the mind to ask as you settle in the space he's made for you. Mammon huffs,

"Yeah 'm fine," he then gives you a smug look, "you'd like it even if I did get sick on yer bed anyways," and fuck, you can't argue with that.

Instead, you lean down to kiss his belly. Mammon lets out a noise similar to a squawk in surprise, like he hadn't expected you to kiss him there, like you haven't already kissed his growing belly a million times since he started to show.

Looking up you can see him staring down at you with anticipation and giddiness, his bottom lip trapped between his little fangs. You don't want to tease him much, but you can't resist the urge to lay at least twenty or so more kisses along his brown skin.

And of course, you have to give his tits a little attention too. They've been getting more full, and more sore with each passing day. You wrap your lips around his nipple and suck. Mammon cries out, because the sensation boarders perfectly on painful and relieving. You cannot wait for the day he starts leaking milk. He lets you suck and play with his tits for a while, getting so worked up over how sensitive they are.

"Ungh, please?" he whimpers eventually. You look up at him, cocking an eyebrow. Mammon flushes, then brings a hand to his mouth, and chews on the skin at the tip of his finger for a second. "Please, can ya eat me out already? Please?" he finally asks outright.

Smiling, you kiss your way from his chest, to his belly, down to his pussy. Mammon continues to chew on his finger, a clear sign that he's excited about what's to come. You kiss his inner thighs before giving his cunt any attention. His skin is sticky from his drying piss, and you're unable to stop yourself from licking the taste of it between kisses.

Above you, Mammon makes an assortment of noises, from chittering and chirping to little high pitched and breathy moans. When you eventually reach his cunt and lick between his lips, Mammon lets out a garbled pronunciation of your name.

"Yes, yeah, please, more?" he babbles, and fuck he's so wet you can't help but dive in. As you bury your face in his cunt, lapping at his hole and sucking on his clit, Mammon melts into the bed.

His legs wrap around you, his thighs clenching against the sides of your head.

"Feels good, you're so-oh good at this, it ain't fair," he whines. Instead of pulling your head away from his cunt to laugh at his comment, you purposefully scrape your teeth against his tdick.

Mammon hiccups, his legs squeezing tightly around your head, pushing your face further against his pussy.

"Yes, do that again, mommy please, gonna make me— ooh— cum, I'm gonna cu-uh!" you cut him off by again grazing your teeth lightly against him.

With a choked moan Mammon cums from your mouth. You happily lick up the slick that gushes from his pussy, practically devouring him.

Your lips find his clit again, and you suck on it, relentless even as overstimulated whimpers fall from his lips.

"Hurts," he moans, twitching in your mouth, "mama, I want yer cock."

His begging reminds you of how uncomfortably hard you are. Finally pulling away, you lick your lips, then pull back so you can get a good look at Mammon.

"Fuck, look at you," Mammon flusters under your gaze, "aw no need to get shy daddy," you coo, leaning down to kiss him. He kisses back wrapping his arms around your neck to keep you there.

"I really want ya," he pulls away from the kiss just enough to say. You groan and kiss him again before pulling back.

"Just have to get you opened up darling," you explain when he whines at the loss of your touch. He pouts as you strip your pants off and find the lube. That pout quickly dissipates when you lube your fingers and press them against his hole.

"Still feeling okay daddy?" you ask, pushing two fingers into his slick cunt. Mammon clenches around your fingers,

"Good," he breathes, "feelin' good."

You hum, smiling to yourself as you make quick work of stretching him open for your cock.

Mammon squirms a bit under your touch, but he's completely relaxed, opening up nicely for you.

"I'm ready," he whines, "c'mon n' fuck me mommy," he gasps. You curl your fingers and he chokes out a rushed, "please, please."

"That's better, daddy," you purr, and Mammon trills happily. You pull your fingers out of him slowly and gently, and then fumble for the lube.

Quickly slicking your cock with it, you hiss at the rush of pleasure that hits you as you touch yourself. In turn, Mammon whimpers, staring you down, unblinking, with his bright gold eyes.

He's already made it very clear that he's ready for you, so rather than ask him if he's feeling okay, you hold his thighs and align your cock with his pussy.

"Yes," he whispers softly when he feels your tip press into him, maybe speaking more to himself than he is to you.

Mammon squeezes and flutters around your cock as you slide into him, sighing contently, and purring up a storm.

"Oh," he gasps, when you're finally balls deep inside of him.

A question of whether or not he's okay is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't get it out before you feel a hot liquid splash against your skin.

"Oh," you muse, watching as Mammon wets himself on your cock. "Oh daddy, baby, Mammon," you moan, impulsively shallowly thrusting into him. "Was it too much? Too much in your belly, pushing against your bladder?"

He nods erratically, "yeah, ungh," you reach down to let your fingers be drenched in his piss, "fuck."

Mammon opens his mouth, inviting you to push your fingers into his mouth. He moans at the taste of his own piss, squeezing tightly around you.

You start fucking him in earnest, the two of you so worked up by him pissing all over your cock that neither one of you pay any mind to the puddle soaking into the sheets beneath you.

Mammon gurgles and drools around your fingers, clenching his soaked pussy tightly around you as you fuck him nice and deep.

Your arousal has clouded your brain, and all you can think about is how lucky you are to have Mammon under you like this. He looks so good, all wet and needy and belly swollen with your child. In the haze of your lust, the pace you've set is unrelenting, but Mammon takes it all and more, rolling his eyes back in ecstasy as you re-angle your hips and brush against his walls in a way that has him moaning and squealing around your fingers.

If you weren't chasing your own pleasure, or only thinking about how good you want to make him feel, you might have realized just how far into Mammon's mouth your fingers had sunk. You may have pulled back, and let him suck on your tongue if he wanted his mouth full.

Instead, your fingers slip, and suddenly Mammon's gagging, yanking your fingers from his mouth, and twisting so he can heave, then puke over the side of the bed.

You stare, in awe, faintly registering just how wet and tight Mammon got as he vomited.

"Fuck," you whisper as he pauses for a moment (making sure nothing else will come up), before laying back down on his back, sinking into the plush pillows under him.

"Are you okay?" you finally find the words that have been on the tip of your tongue. Mammon lets out a groan, shimmying his hips around at an attempt to feel you moving inside of him again. "Mammon, babe, I'm so sorry, are you—"

"Swear t'fuckin' christ, if you don't keep fuckin' me I'm gonna kill ya," he whines, his voice rough and scratchy. You wait a moment, checking for any little sign that he wouldn't be okay to continue. Upon finding none, you start moving your hips again.

He moans happily as your hips find the rhythm they'd set earlier, and before you know it, he's back to purring.

Your hands clutch at his thighs first, holding him open so you can look at your cock stretching and fucking his cunt. They wander, from his soft thighs, to his hips, and then finally you're rubbing his hard clit.

"Ungh-yes, yes thank you mommy," he gasps, twitching around your cock. "Close, close, gonna cum— please, can I?" you groan, feeling yourself getting close to climax as well.

"Yeah daddy," you lean down, kissing his collarbone affectionately, "hah, cum for me, baby," Mammon lets out a high keen, clinging to your skin, his nails digging into your skin, "make my cock even more messy."

And that's all it takes. With a squeal of your name, he cums, letting out hot, staccato breaths as you fuck him through it. You're close, but it's not until Mammon starts to wind down, nuzzling his face between your shoulder and neck and chirping happily, that your orgasm crashes over you.

"Mammon," you groan, fucking him full of your cum. Mammon kisses all over your skin as your climax wracks itself through your body, petting your skin and clinging to you tightly.

Once you come down from your high, you pull out slowly, and fall next to Mammon. He nuzzles himself into you, purring when you wrap your arms around him, and hold him close.

"Love ya," he murmurs softly.

"I love you too," you say, kissing the top of his head.

You lay there for a while, and you know Mammon could fall asleep like this— despite being absolutely covered in filth— so you're the one who's gotta take the lead here. You tap his hip gently,

"C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up."

His legs are wobbly and weak, but the two of you make it to the bathroom, where you plan to absolutely smother Mammon with care. As soon as you deal with the mess you left there earlier.

-

"When is this supposed to end?" Mammon whines, his head buried in the toilet as he makes his way through another bout of morning sickness.

"Somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd trimester," you answer. In response, Mammon groans. "Hey," you start, pinching his belly playfully, "y'know I'm gonna make you feel better after this, right daddy?" He lifts his head, giving you a wicked smile,

"I can't wait."

[gren-arlio]

You guys voted Something Random, I love and hate you at the same time.

In that case...Y'all know about JUMP HERO? Welcome to...well, rambles about some random things.

(Da Satan Plant. As of writing this I just hit 51 followers. Wow.)

Hey all, Gren here. I know its been a bit since I've properly posted, and frankly, you're not wrong at all. Life's been busy, and with the rate I'm going at (going to college and whatnot, middle of the school year shenanigans,) there's no way in hell I'll be able to keep the once-a-week posting that I've done. Maybe for summer, but I dunno yet.

Also, life's been hitting me HELLA hard recently, so motivation is also not there. If YKYK.

Which leads to an announcement that I made before: I won't exactly be posting weekly anymore. I'll just... post whenever I feel like it nowadays. Adds a lot less stress for me, and I'll be able to send dumb shit about Puyo and Madou here. Ya know, like a normal blog. You might get 3 posts in a week for all you know.

But enough on that. I'm here to ramble. This won't be a Waku Puyo Extras thing or whatever, literally just things I wanna show and explain some nonsense. There's no formula. Enjoy.

----

I've been working on this stuff since April of last year, and it's been going decently well, people partially know my works. Now, what in the world do I want to show y'all this time around, since I got free will?

Well for one, I'd you've been following my work for a bit, you'd know about the pain that was finding Madou Sugoroku content, that game was so elusive to me that I was convinced it wasn't real for a period of time.

Uh, yeah. It's real. Very, very much real. And man do I love the style of the game. It's so dang pretty. I'll mention gameplay some other time, I'll cover it another time, but today's not that day.

Also. Arle's fit.

It's basically Schezo's clothes but it looks so damn good. No complaints here. Though I do wonder how she got it.

I do want to mention the Pairs though. Arle/Satan is fine, Witch/Draco have been paired since like Saturn, Schezo/Incubus at least have Waku Puyo, Minotauros/Rulue is obligatory, but what the FUCK is going on with the pairing of Sasori Man/Zoh Daimoh? The fact they got two word names?

I do wish that Draco just had a little bit more than what she has currently. I love her, she's a funny person and whatnot, I just wish there was...more, you know?

She's been a character I've been wanting to cover for god knows how long, it's just I've never had enough unique things to talk about with her. Lotta the stuff is things we do know, or Puyo Puyo Tetris [2] sorta just making her beauty obsessed.

Least in Waku Puyo, she has some comedic scenes, canonically being able to make 5 chains and confusing Schezo at least 3 times. And in the manga, she bounces off Rulue and Minotauros decently, her fight was fun to read.

(Don't ask how Rulue learned Shadow Clone Jutsu)

And for a second, let me say that the designs in this manga are top-notch. Witch's redesign is nice, Rulue's looks really good, Draco's design is great, Schezo consistently has the best clothes, and Lagnus... somehow looks even better.

Oh yea, speaking of Draco, let's look at someone who sorta kinda maybe perchance looks like her but is actually from JUMP HERO.

... I'm awful with transitions. We're talking about the series. Sorta.

So, JUMP HERO. Series made by Compile, unknown to a lot of us.

(Nexus image)

Frankly, I want to cover this game sometime. It seems so...interesting. The characters, the gameplay, the story, it all seems so interesting to me.

People like Billie Be Babine, Margarita Linda, (the black and red folks in the front), Sugar & Oligo, they all seem so damn cool. Oh, and that Penguin is some fella named Ivan. He has a reeeeeally long last name.

Oh and that robot guy is like 2 years old canonically. Needed to mention that.

This is Sugar and Oligo btw. They seem fun to talk about sometime.

(Nexus image)

The game feels so heavily unexplored. I want to see it sometime. When? Whole other story.

But with that, I think this'll end my small ramble about nothing. Thanks for reading.

Adios.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 5

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 4 🍂 Part 6

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Mostly fluff, some frustrations (we're still remodeling, folks), but we're getting there.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: @keanureevesisbae congrats on 43k! You are doing so great ❤️ I am proud, girrrrrl ❤️

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn

“Matthei- I’ll spell it for you.” As you did, you picked at the already raw skin around your fingernails nervously. It had been almost ten weeks, and the furniture you’d had shipped was supposed to have arrived weeks ago. Instead, as was evident from the absence of, well, furniture, it hadn’t arrived. In its place, you had received the very unwelcome phone call that the shipping container ‘had been misplaced’, and that you should keep in touch with such and such company to see if they could get it back for you. In other words: ‘We lost your shit, please see to it that you somehow find it.’ Now, you were on the phone with a new company every other day, for at least an hour, being jerked around like a fool, and no one was giving you any information. You were seconds away from throwing your phone through the kitchen when Sy knocked. He was here so often now that you’d just given him a key.

“Lara?” He whispered, but you raised your hand at him to shut him up. He mouthed the words ‘what’s going on?’ at you, which landed him another dismissive gesture.

“Fine, I’ll hold,” you said when the lady on the phone asked you to. You put the phone on speaker and slammed it down on the table before making a break for the coffee machine. “Coffee, Sy?”

“Always,” he answered. You could hear the grin in his voice. “Sugar, are you alright?” As you waited for the coffee to brew, you brought Sy up to speed on the whole Furniture Fiasco.  

“Long story short,” you finally said after ranting about the situation for fifteen minutes, “all my stuff ended up in Kazbukmenistan or wherever.” The whole time, you were still on hold. Sy asked for some details, and you gestured at the folder that was open on the table. He took a quick look through it.

“Hand me the phone,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but you weren’t inclined to indulge him.

“Sy, you don’t have to…”

“Hand me the phone,” he repeated, only this time, it really wasn’t a question. As much as you hated it when men tried to boss you around, something in his voice shut your Girlboss-attitude right up. The woman you’d been on the phone with finally returned.

“Miss, I have some bad news,” she said. Sy raised a finger at you to keep you quiet.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, she’s not here right now, what’s the bad news?” It was that voice again. The phone-lady was clearly taken aback by the sudden change on the other side of the line.

“The container that the furniture is in, can’t be found in the system,” she said in her phone-lady voice. You hated the phone-lady voice. All you’d been hearing over the past six weeks was phone-lady voices. And one man who had had the audacity to tell you ‘I’m sorry, little missy.’ You had kindly told him to fuck all the way off.

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but that won’t do.” Apparently, that voice had an even more stern variant, and apart from making you want to immediately do everything he told you to, it also turned you on big time. “I understand you’re just doing your job, but somewhere down the line, someone didn’t. Now I’m gonna need to know who that was and what they did or didn’t do that they shouldn’t or should have done, so we can get this mess sorted.” It took him twenty minutes to get someone on the phone who actually seemed to know what was going on, and another ten to get them to promise to give you an answer by the end of the week, or else a reimbursement for the shipping cost, and the cost of your things.

“Thirty minutes,” you said, “it took you thirty minutes to do what I’ve been trying to do for six weeks.” You just couldn’t believe it. Tears burned behind your eyes as you vowed to yourself to scrap the words ‘I don’t need a man’ from your vocabulary forever.

“I’m just a little more comfortable barking orders, that’s all,” he said as he gently laid a hand on your shoulder. The kindness in his voice, his eyes and his gesture broke you. You were exhausted from the move, the remodeling, your classes, dealing with the phone-ladies and their stupid voices, and from sleeping on a horrible air mattress. Tears flowed freely and you cursed yourself for your stupid behavior.

“C’mere, Sugar,” Sy said softly as he pulled you into a hug, “you look dog-tired, you know that?” You knew you felt it, so you weren’t surprised you looked the part, but it still mad you feel embarrassed. A tired look wasn’t a good look, and something inside you wanted to look good for him. Or, you know, not for him, but just when you were around him. Okay, fine, for him. He let you cry for a while, and you had to fight to not lose yourself in the warmth and strength of his embrace. Eventually, you were so fed up with yourself and the way you were acting that you managed to force yourself to stop crying and broke away from his hug. You felt two strong hands on the sides of your face, and thumbs wiping the tears off your cheeks.

“You know what works wonders for all that frustration?” Either that sounded strangely sexual, or you were imagining things. “Tearin’ up some carpet. C’mon.” He actually managed to make you laugh. It wasn’t completely genuine, but it was a start.

Sy handled the first corner of the first room carefully, because neither of you had any idea what was underneath the carpet.

“Shit,” you heard him say from where you were standing. That didn’t sound good, did it? “Sugar, I’ll still buy this house from ya.”

“What is it?” The way he was talking to you right now sure kindled your curiosity. As it turns out, some ‘degenerate’ – Sy’s exact words - had dared to carpet over some beautiful hardwood floors. You checked the other rooms first, before tearing the rest of the room up, because curiosity had really gotten the better of both of you. It wasn’t necessarily surprising that you found the same floorboards in the other rooms, but it was still exciting. One room had some seriously ugly vinyl underneath the carpet. Strange. You urged Sy to check underneath that, too, even though he wasn’t initially planning on it.

“My bad, baby,” he chuckled, “you were right.” When he said the word ‘baby’, your heart rate somehow slowed down and sped up at the same time. Over the past few weeks, you had barely gotten used to ‘sugar’, and now this? It took a lot more than you cared to admit to calm yourself back down.

Now that you knew what you were dealing with, it was time to deal with some of that aggression. You found out quickly that taking out your aggression on a carpet was easier said than done. The material was stiff, and heavy, and so thick that even your small-people rage wasn’t enough to give you the strength to cut through it. But you had Sy, who was in all aspects much better equipped to handle this stupid carpet. That didn’t mean you didn’t almost kick him out – twice – because he made you mad when he couldn’t stop laughing at the way you struggled.

“Next time, Syverson, I’m telling myself to leave, and you can do this by yourself!” You yelled after the second time while you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Who the hell did he think he was?

“Sorry, Sugar, wouldn’t want ya to go,” he said with a wide smile on his face. “I could use a drink, though, I’m runnin’ a li’l hot here.” For some reason – to torture you, to show off… you had no idea – he decided to prove his point by cleaning the sweat of his face, except he didn’t have the common decency to use his hands. No, of course not. Sy just had to use the bottom of his t-shirt. And now you were left standing there with nothing else to do but look at Sy’s abs. Okay there were other places to look, and you could have just turned around and made a break for the kitchen, but your brain made those abs a priority, because dear God were they amazing… Strong, defined, a very non-disgusting amount of hairy, sweaty and… God you hated how Jules was always right.

“Fuck, I’m dead,” you said as you slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table. You had found it at the side of the road and begged Julie to take it to your house. It shouldn’t have been here for as long as it had. You should have been in possession of your furniture by now. Every joint in your body popped when you moved, every muscle protested. Even picking up your phone to order a pizza felt like a trip up mount Everest. Sy handed you a cold coke from your fridge and grabbed himself a beer. You laughed at the ease with which he did it. Sy truly had a habit of making himself at home. Strangely, it made you feel more at home, too. He was really great to have around - especially when he wasn’t offering to help you with something – and you missed him when he was gone. You ordered the pizza and hung up the phone, sinking down into the chair even further, letting your head hang back.

“Ow,” you groaned when something in your body made a very concerning noise.

“You need to get yourself a decent bed, Sugar,” Sy said. His voice was serious; he was really concerned. “Now.”

“What if –“ you started, but you got no chance to finish your sentence.

“If they find your stuff,” Sy said while clearly trying to keep his voice friendly, “you’ll have an extra bed for a guest room. You have plenty of space for plenty of beds. You only have one back.” He was right, and you knew it, but you couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight.

“Sy-“ Again; no chance to finish. He stood up from his chair and walked around the table to stand behind you. Hands landed on your shoulders, strong fingers pinched your muscles, making you wince.

“That don't sound too good, Sugar,” he said, “so you can get a new bed by the end of this week, or I’m buying you one.”

“What, you want me in bed so much you’d buy me one to make it happen?” The words were out before you realized it. Fuck! You were the one who fucked it up by saying he was a friend, right? Sy was over you by now, you were sure of it. Why were you flirting with him? Badly, too, but that was just the only way you knew how. His fingers tightened on your shoulders until it started to hurt a little. “Sugar, you have no goddamn idea,” he said hoarsely before walking to the door to collect your pizza.

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

Finished! Score in a few days - I have a friend I've been talking about these with every week and I kinda wanna talk to him first. He's not choosing my score or anything, but I think the back-and-forth will help me get my thoughts in order and decide where to leave it. Because as it stands I think I'm between 6 and 7 - and 6 sounds low after all the praise I've given (and am about to give) but then part of me wonders if it isn't just that I'm surprised how much it improved over the first season, like if that surprise factor isn't the main reason I'd want to score it a 7. We'll see where I end up with.

Anyway, good last episode. It had an extra 5 minutes in length which really benefited it, because it meant we got to see quite a lot of plot points and character moments come to nice resolutions with wiggle room for cute scenes as well. Felt really fucking bad for the twins though man, the dead one's corpse being puppeted around by Gates was fucked up, and the sister not being strong enough to even enact revenge and going down in seconds actually made me upset. We get to see Kaname restore Sousuke's faith in himself more or less, that was pretty nice, although honestly I could've done with at least less of the slapstick. The ensuing fight between Sousuke and all the Venoms is pretty dope, I haven't spoken about it much but yeah no KyoAni mecha action is really good lol. The final setpiece is really sick - Gates in his own Venom is holding another AS hostage, and Sousuke charges up this insanely sick looking punch, stops right in front of the hostage, and then Lambda Driver fuckin makes the punch go through the hostage completely safe. It's absolutely dope as shit. A level of excitement I never thought this series could offer me. Just really good all around.

And then yeah, Sousuke's back in action, knows what he wants, and all the villains are dead. Couple scenes of various emotional catharses, Sousuke's still staying with Mithril because we wouldn't have much of a show otherwise but he lays down the law, has the full support of Tessa, her moe anime waifu scene here is actually earned because she's been a character up to this point, it's all just pretty good. If I can be honest I was actually thinking about watching Invisible Victory and I still might - but Second Raid so neatly wrapping up most of its stuff makes me think I'll be fine even if I don't. It's really just Tessa's brother that's a variable here, but we'll see what I decide to do.

But yeah, that's me done. Mostly. I'll watch the OVA tomorrow. That was definitely good - I don't think I have too much to say that isn't just spread throughout the other posts I've made, but I mostly had fun here. The series takes itself seriously and has pretty strong plotting and lots of good character moments, which is all you can really ask for. Villains weren't great this time around, I didn't really talk about him ever but I don't think I liked Gates at all, him jacking it to small animals is almost too bizarre an inclusion for the series, but hey. Craziest thing I can say by far is that I am largely endeared to the characters now, which was an unfathomable concept to me back when I finished the first season. Even Fumoffu only got me liking Sousuke, Kaname and the like still pissed me off. Actually being able to point to the characters and say "yeah I liked them" goes so hard. I think I'll call that the end of the post. Like I said, OVA tomorrow, Invisible Victory is a maybe, and then uhhh I mean that's it. Although as one final sidenote, the OVA is the last Kyoto Animation thing for me. Insane.

[littlestarlost]

Ten Great Cover Songs That Aren't "Hurt" By Johnny Cash

I have a spotify playlist called "Total Coverage" and it's where I put the covers I collect. My parameters are strict but, I feel, fair: the song must be covered by a band that does its own material (so no covers-only bands), and they have to do something more interesting with the source material than slowing it down on piano and/or ukulele. There are over 100 songs on the list by now, and I do go back to add more when I find them, but apropos of nothing but my desire to procrastinate here are ten of my favourites, in no particular order, which are NOT the same old covers you see on every single covers list.

1: "Bittersweet Symphony" Originally by The Verve, covered by The Knocks and Foster the People

This track ended up on my most-listened to list of 2022, because it fucking rules. The original is fine, but there's something about how Foster the People elevates the vocals that just makes it catnip for my ears. It's great.

2: "Rosanna" Originally by Toto, covered by Weezer

I'll never forgive Weezer for what they did to "Africa", also by Toto. That cover sucks balls and I hate it. But equally as appalling is how great their cover of "Rosanna" is; they turned up the grit on the guitars and infuse it with edge and energy that the original simply lacks. Goddammit, Weezer.

3: "Jackie and Wilson" Originally by Hozier, covered by Jazz Morley

The golden rule of Hozier covers done by women is that you cannot, under any circumstances, change the pronouns of the song. Hozier writes about women like a lesbian, and either you respect that or you shouldn't cover his stuff. This version of "Jackie and Wilson" is gorgeous and lush, Jazz Morley's voice is great, and she sings it the way it should be sung: sapphically.

4: "Freedom" Originally by George Michael, covered by Christine and the Queens

As my friend Jill put it, somehow this is chill as hell and goes hard as fuck at the same time. Christine and the Queens needs to do more stuff like this; recontextualizing gender and sexuality is basically their bread and butter.

5: "Flagpole Sitta" Originally by Harvey Danger, covered by Elohim and AWOLNATION

This is the only reason I know the lyrics to this song and it's worth it. It's a very Lana Del Rey approach to the tune, with twinkling piano and sultry vocals, and it works incredibly well.

6: "Higher Love" Originally by Whitney Houston, covered by JR JR

Another one that I've listened to so much that it's crept into my regular rotation. Indie pop boys taking on the greatest voice of the generation might not sound very good, but as an OG hipster I can tell you that this is exactly the sort of bright poppy nonsense we ate the fuck up in 2012.

7: "I Think We're Alone Now" Originally by Tiffany, covered by Billie Joe Armstrong

I think Billie Joe always wanted to be a pop princess girlie, and now that Green Day is in the "whatever the fuck we want" phase of their career, he gets to do great covers like this one. Takes a somewhat dated classic and makes it sound absolutely timeless.

8: "Needle in the Hay" Originally by Elliott Smith, covered by Vanessa Carlton

As someone who had both an Elliott Smith and a Vanessa Carlton phase, this is just good synergy for me. But also, more women need to do covers of Elliott Smith. Let's get a trend going. He deserves to be reinterpreted that way.

9: "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!" Originally by ABBA, covered by Zachary Staines

This man really took a disco classic and made it sound like the best Ed Sheeran song that Ed Sheeran could never do. Outstanding.

10: "I Love You Always Forever" Originally by Donna Lewis, covered by Betty Who

I can't believe Betty Who didn't originate this song. It's literally perfect for her. A+, no notes.

[strawberrydykke]

man i was in a CRAZY situation this weekend. really long story i just think writing it down will help me process.

my dad and his fiance went to vegas. my dad's fiance's son comes home around 8 with his girlfriend. they immediately get HAMMERED.

they're being kind of loud and i'm tired but whatever. eventually they start arguing. i'm getting more and more concerned, it's really loud and they've been arguing for like an hour. my housemate is yelling at her that she's ruining his birthday (it's not his fucking birthday). at some point he starts wailing, throwing a full on toddler tantrum. i hear things being slammed and thrown. I start hearing the girlfriend say "give me my phone and keys, let me out of the room." at this point i'm like FUCK. Its getting to the point where i have to intervene and I'm trying to think of a smart way to go about it without making things worse for this girl.

my dad calls me to check in. apparently my housemate called HIS mom to tell her that his girlfriend is being insane or whatever. so now both of our parents are involved when they're just trying to enjoy the last day of their vacation. my dad tells me not to get involved but i'm like. yeah, no promises. right after this i hear her say "you threw me to the ground!" and he's just like, "you were acting up".

finally they both come out of the guys room. gf goes to the bathroom, my housemate comes to the living room to tell me that his girlfriend is acting crazy. i stay super neutral and just try to get information out of him. how much have you guys been drinking? 4-5 shots. have you guys had any water? do you want some water to sober up? no. how about your girlfriend comes and sits with me in the living room so you can both calm down? no. he goes back to his room.

i wait outside the bathroom. the girl comes out, she's obviously crying. i ask her if she's okay, if she wants water, if she wants to hang out with me for a bit. she says she's fine, goes back to his room and they argue more. after like 20 more minutes she comes back out and asks me for some water. i convince her to come sit down with me. tell the guy to take a break.

my cat comes up and crawls into her lap and she just breaks. i try to keep it light so she feels comfortable with me. she's super drunk and can't drive home, i offer to let her sleep in my bed or stay in my dad's room with the door locked. offer her some pj pants. offer her some food. we talk about her cat. I ask how old she is. she's only 18 and at that moment i just know that i need to protect this poor girl. i start asking about the situation, let her know that i'm on her side and i want to help. she really wants her phone and her keys, which my housemate has taken from her.

i go talk to him. he says he won't give him her phone because she's going to call the cops. i go talk to her and ask if she wants to call the cops (and i would have let her use my phone) but she says no. i tell the guy that. he still refuses. she wants to call a cousin to come pick her up but she doesn't know their phone number. i go back and forth a few times trying to get her stuff.

she starts asking me if i've ever been in a relationship like this. i can tell that she needs connection. i tell her about how my mom was abusive to me, but that i got away and things are better now. she tells me that she never knew her dad and has no idea what a healthy relationship is supposed to be like. we talk about relationships a bit more. she really wants to go home and i really want to get her out of this situation.

i go to my housemate one last time. this time i'm done being nice and trying to play along. i tell him that he needs to give me her stuff or i'm going to call the cops. he tries to leave the house WITH HER THINGS and i have to physically block him. he finally gives her her stuff.

i try to convince her to wait and call someone to pick her up, but understandably she wants to get the fuck out of here. i convince her to wait a second so i can grab my housekeys and walk her to her car. i tell her to drive safe and give her my phone number, call or text me for any reason.

the housemate comes out and starts RIPPING at the passenger door. i thought he was going to break the handle. he keeps yelling, demanding she lets him in and drives him to her house. she pulls out, ignoring him, and he walks in front of her car trying to block her. she pulls around him and he jumps on her fucking hood. i start dialing the police but this girl is fucking awesome. she keeps driving and he falls off. he starts trying to open the door again and she just takes off, and he chases her car down the street.

the fucking housemate calls an uber to take him to her house. i text her to warn her. then i go to sleep because it's 1am at this point.

yesterday my dad and his fiance come home. my dad and the housemate get INTO IT. he threatens to fight my dad which is kind of funny. this guy is a few inches taller than i am (5'6). my dad is 6 foot, 240 pounds, and RIPPED. also he lives rent free in my dad's house. honestly i really want him to get his ass beat.

my dad shoves the guy and then the fiance gets pissed at my dad. they've been arguing on and off since then. the atmosphere in the house is super tense right now.

i feel really stressed. i came here to get away from domestic violence and yet i end up right in the middle of it. i'm really glad i was there to help that girl but i'm also super shook up. yesterday i was super agitated and dissociated. today i'm just stressed out. the girlfriend called me and i missed it. i feel super guilty about it. i called her back and left a voicemail so hopefully she calls again.

i also feel super uncomfortable around this dude that i live with. he's pissed at me for getting involved. i'm pissed at him for being abusive. it's bringing up a lot of past trauma for me. stuff with my mom. stuff with one of my dad's old girlfriends. her son abused me and she blamed me for it and for ruining their lives. i'm stressed out that something similar is going to happen with the fiance. the mommy issues are issuing.

i want to go to the middle of nowhere and scream to be honest

[chl3borzoi]

SOOOOO i blocked my sister

Youre entitled to not like family after theyve done shit things.

Yes, my sister was a great resource when i was i my preteens letting me live with her during the summer, and for getting on my brothers for their behavior when i was in my early early teens but by that point it was kinda far too late

The thing that did it was on Thanksgiving last year she came with a woman weve never met before thats shes only known for 4 months saying theyre getting married in 2 weeks and moving to texas immediately after.

Our brother and his partner brought them out to lunch and tried to say hey we think youre going kinda fast you should take more time to get to know each other etc. They flat out told him theyre not invited to the wedding. Then when she gets home after that, she comes downstairs to find me and tells me theyre getting married, and she leans in and whispers "you're inviiiiteeeed~"

Shes in her early 30's

The thing is our MOM couldnt even attend because it was such short notice. And the marriage place couldnt get the shitty zoom stream to work. Our mom had to watch a recording of the service.

I looked out the deck window and saw her lying on her back on the porch watching the video and I knew her heart was broken.

Like. Christ im gonna put it all out there

I could tell stories of how my sister used to make me cry as a child, too. And where our parents failed to parent and the eldest should have taken the place of responsibility and etc she didnt give a fuck and YES a child should never have to act a parent role thats shitty but she was 15+ yrs old she shoulda fucking known better. (I have literally my entire family to blame for almost all of my issues, But still. During my crucial years i really do feel she did not care, and it didn't help that between me and her we have 3 THREE brothers who (one of which legitimately hated me ) too)) I DIGRESS

She let our childhood home turn into a jungle because she was too busy sitting in sweatpants smoking pot and drinking starbucks and begging our mom for more money to be put on her account,

(its all torn down, now too.)

We havent spoken very much,

Mostly just snapchats here and there

And a few days ago she sent me a chat on here saying shes revamping her account and wants to be active on here, so i blocked her.

Not only because i want tumblr to be an escape from personal real life shit but because i don't really wanna communicate or be reminded of her selfish dumb behavior.

Shes extremely hard to communicate with in person, too. Literally! I feel like im crazy trying to explain it. Shes so slow... it feels like trying to have a convo with her sometimes it feels like shes unintentionally gaslighting you. I know that sounds dumb but im fuckin serious.

She was so helpless when we helped her move, too. Pacing back and forth and fretting over all her shit (we're a packrat family yeah but holy fuck shes gonna end up being a fuckin hoarder) and me and our mom were just lifting stuff and carrying it out like :/

Sheesh

I don't hate her or wish her or her wife any ill will, its just. Fuck man. Walk in, break our moms heart (as if it isnt already broken after all the shit weve been thru as a family...) and act like everythings fine and perfect.

Also I literally witnessed my sister do/say this to her wife

"Hey, -blank-, come fight this pokemon go tournament for me."

Like

?!?!?!??!?

She was like "okay :D" but still thats so fucking bizarre

[goosessideblog]

FORGOT ANOTHER ADDITION TO THE ASK THINGY

you gave me Ridder I offer Muschio

If you forgot

I DID FORGET COMPLETELY IM SORRY ROBYN I TOLD MYSELF I WOULD ANSWER THE ASK(S) AND I FORGOT.

um. well :3 yeah PEBBLE TIME.

favourite thing: big fan of how the reveal about him being leonid was done!! it was very nicely paced and written props to weaver. of course it goes without saying i love everything about him but this is my favourite off the top of my head

least favourite thing: this is more nitpicky than anything but i’m sort of sad that he (or the demon, rather) broke character, per se, when talking to wes? i’ve always been a huge fan of overly formal/polite villains so i would’ve loved to see their conversation keep that politeness especially when they start physically fighting. not to say the moment when the facade fell wasn’t cool as fuck though, easily one of my favourite parts of the scene.

favourite line: chapter 26, panel 43:

Yes. Of course yes right good everything's fine hello. Hello good afternoon. I'm fine. It's all fine. A psychotic murderer is about and stalking around our home and an army of magical sprites may descend on us at any moment to turn us to electric ash and I can't stop thinking about the smell of death but everything is fine it's fine chin up Pendle old fellow look on the bright side no need to fear.

brOTP: honestly? huge fan of him and ridder. yes they’ve never interacted but this isn’t going to stop me. they both take comfort in the whole song-and-dance of social customs and manners, i think it would be very fun to see them talk, especially with ridder being a fan of the strategic side of things. they’d bounce off eachother very nicely i’d reckon

OTP: you know me robyn. its wespendleona. pendle has (at least) two hands and with what he’s been through he deserves both of them held. them :]

nOTP: since divequest doesn’t really have a fandom i guess i don’t really have any? i am yet to see a dq ship i can’t get behind, especially a fanon one.

random headcanon: his third set of arms is actually vestigial! he isn’t quite a spider but he isn’t much of a regular bugfolk either, he’s more somewhere inbetween.

unpopular opinion: again. dq is a fandom of 6 people. i don’t think it’s possible to have an unpopular opinion as of right now

song: i WISH i had one, alas i don’t think of divequest characters from the perspective of songs much. perhaps i’ll come back to the one day, maybe

picture:

moving onto the man the myth the legend. muschio!!

favourite thing: how clever he is at times. it’s especially clear in the recent few updates, which have been SO fun to read. sure some of his plans are stupid and sure he doesn’t harbour the most emotional intelligence but god can he be slick when the time comes. i love him

least favourite thing: i’ve never been much of a fan of his uh. glaring attraction. to many of the women in the series. i do think it’s a pretty iconic trait and it does fit his character but i’ve just never had much fun reading it, unfortunately.

favourite line: i don’t know if this counts, but like half the things the voices say? the suggesters are funny what can i say. as for actual lines in-comic he says so much stuff i don’t have the energy to sort through and pick my favourite right now. he says a lot of fun things

brOTP: him and dompag!!! i am a firm believer in the headcanon dompag has managed to befriend everyone in the vault and acts as a shoulder to lean on, which i reckon muschio could really use. muschio has many problems and dompag has been shown to be a very good problem solver, as well as making up for the emotional intelligence muschio lacks. i think they work great together

OTP: again. i’m a very obvious person. muschio/ridder has planted itself in my brain since the hot spring scene and it has not left since. what am i gonna do? say no to childhood friends to strangers to enemies to friends to lovers? scoff. i’m better than that

nOTP: same as for pendle, i don’t really have one? he has a personality that pairs well with most characters and i don’t really have much reasoning to dislike any ships with him.

random headcanon: ok buckle up it’s volto biology time. as an amphibian he doesn’t exactly fare well during the colder seasons and tends to be far more sluggish and far less focused, as well as practically clinging to any heat source he comes across. if he had the choice he would sleep through winter completely but since he can’t so much as catch a nap he doesn’t really get that luxury.

unpopular opinion: divequest six-person fandom strikes again

song: THE MAIN CHARACTER BY WILL WOOD!! this man and his protagonist complex. i’m going to tear him in half

picture:

[bewitchingfanfiction]

MCYT (2021/11/27)

Techno’s leg shook uncontrollably as he and his brothers waited to get their blood tests done. The waiting room was actually fairly empty, which he couldn’t help appreciating.

“Mate, stop shaking, you’re fine.” Phil insisted gently, sitting next to him. He was reading one of the magazines.

Techno didn’t respond.

Wilbur clasped his hand in his own. “Look, if you can’t do it today, we can try some other time.”

“No way!” Techno snapped. “If I don’t do it today then it’s…it’s just lame. Everyone else can do it, I should be able to as well.”

Tommy frowned, glancing up from his phone. “We handle things differently, big man. I’m a wreck at amusement parks, and those are supposed to be fun!”

“It’s not the same thing.” Techno protested stubbornly. “I’m older than you and…and your fear is from big crowds and people, mines because I’m weak.”

“You are not.” Phil sighed. “I told you to not say those things about yourself.”

“Well it’s no fun if I just think it.” Techno deadpanned.

Just then, the nurse came in and called out Techno’s name.

“Alright, let’s go.” Phil sighed, standing up.

The nurse frowned. “Family isn’t allowed back.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

“You’ll get in my way.” She explained.

Techno grew tense and subconsciously shrank behind Wilbur, his grip on his hand tightening.

“Well, that’s not an option. He has bad anxiety and needs us with him.” Wilbur protested in annoyance.

The nurse huffed. “Then just one of you. Seriously, this place has thin rooms.”

Phil frowned. “Are you gonna be okay, mate?” He asked Techno.

Techno felt like his mouth was stitching shut. All he could do was nod wordlessly.

“Alright, let’s go.” The nurse told them impatiently.

It was no surprise that Wilbur was the one to go with him.

The nurse took them back to one of the rooms, where Techno saw the horrific chair he’d have to sit in.

He hated those chairs. You sat by yourself in them and then an arm came down, almost like it was trapping you in.

“Sit here.” She told him, looking at a clipboard, likely with his past info on it.

Techno trembled as he stared at the chair, it was like his mouth filled with blood. His gums were burning up in his mouth from stress.

“Take your time, mate.” Wilbur assured him gently.

The nurse huffed, already setting out the stuff she’d need onto the counter next to the chair.

For a solid minute, Techno didn’t move, he barely breathed.

The nurse scowled at the boys. “I have other patients, you know. I’d like to get this over with.”

“C’mon Techie…let’s sit down.” Wilbur mumbled softly to him, gently guiding him to the chair.

Techno hesitantly sat down, and the nurse wasted no time putting the arm down to keep him from getting up.

“Alright, put your arm out.” She deadpanned.

Techno stuck out a trembling arm and watched as she began to wrap his upper arm with a rubbery band.

But that’s when Techno noticed the needle on the counter beside her.

His eyes widened in slight horror and a gasp forced its way from his lips.

“Alright, here take this.” She told him, setting a rubber ball in his hand.

But the more she talked, the cloudier Techno’s brain felt.

She was saying something to him, but he wasn’t hearing her.

“Excuse me, could we slow down a bit? This is all going very fast.” Wilbur chimed in, noticing his brother’s distress.

The nurse crossed her arms in annoyance. “Like I said, I have other people. I can’t wait around all day. What’s wrong with him now?”

Wilbur scowled. “He has major anxiety with doctors. Your snippy attitude isn’t making it easier.”

The nurse frowned and snapped her head towards Techno, which made him flinch badly, whimpering a little as his curled in on himself in reflex.

And then, to make matters so much worse, she fucking reached out a hand and touched him on the shoulder.

“You are okay!” She told him rather strictly, as if more demanding he be fine than trying to assure him he was.

But the strict voice and contact only made Techno curl further in on himself. Everything felt like static, and overly bright. He felt like he was more watching what was happening, rather than being there himself.

He vaguely noticing Wilbur making a lot of big gestures with his arms, and maybe speaking? But he couldn’t hear any of it.

The next thing he knew, he was being moved out of the chair and guided somewhere.

When the world finally seemed to return to normal around him, Techno noticed he was in the car with his brothers and father.

“Hey, mate. You finally back?” Phil asked gently, eyes filled with concern.

Techno blinked and slowly looked around. They were sitting outside of the office.

“That woman was atrocious. We told the front desk that we’d come back another time and would like a different nurse.” Wilbur huffed.

“…’m sorry.” Techno mumbled.

Tommy leaned against him. Techno relished the comforting feeling. “Nothing to be sorry for. Wilbur told us about her. She was a dick.”

“Next time, we’re all going back there, I don’t give a fuck what they say.” Phil snapped protectively. “I’m sorry I listened to her in the first place.”

Wilbur pulled Wilbur into a protective hold, running a hand through his hair as he rested his chin on the top of Techno’s head. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her sooner.”

Techno leaned into the touch, nearly purring like a kitten. Wilbur just felt so warm and safe compared to the doctor’s office. “Wanna go home…” He mumbled.

“Of course, mate.” Phil chuckled softly.

They went home, already fully prepared to pamper Techno for the rest of the evening until he could sleep comfortably.

[ruubric]

The Upside of The Unrequited

warnings: swearing, a tinsy bit of suggestive language, unrequited love

summary done badly: Mitsuya is in love with you, but you're dating Pah. Told from Mitsuya's perspective.

irrelevant fact: a shrimp's heart is in its head

"Damn, that's a sexy dress," the girl mumbles out loud, staring at the beautiful bride to be on the TV, wearing a skin tight v-neck wedding dress. "Her mom might actually kill her. Do you see her eyes practically bulging out of her face right now?" She snickers.

I scoff, "it's not that great. I can see fraying seams from here."

She nudges my elbow, "nah, bitch. This is some fine work here. Look at the gems. The glitter. The sparkles."

I give her a look, her brown skin looks almost pale in the ghoulish blue light coming from the TV in the dark room. She looks so invested as she stuffs her face with pretzels. "You do know that there's more to designing clothes than just gems and glitter and..." I mock shudder, "sparkles, right?"

"Maybe to you, mister jaded-designer. But I want to sparkle like a motherfucking firework at my wedding." She hesitates for a moment, "y'know, if I ever do get married."

Right. The younger woman has been dating our mutual friend, Pah, for years now... with no sign of proposal anywhere in sight. She would've done it herself, naturally, but Pah hasn't exactly made it clear the direction in which the relationship is heading in. Also due to us all being in a literal gang, novelties like weddings and starting families are a fucking dream for people like us. We can't risk doing that shit, some people could die or get hurt.

It still doesn't make it any less painful though.

I've always wondered if she regrets helping us found Toman when we were younger... Maybe if she hadn't, she'd have a real job, and family, and would've gone to college to be a music teacher like she really wanted.

I look at her. She's also deep in thought, nervously biting her lip and tapping out a rhythm on the pretzel bowl. Damn it. I hate seeing her like this.

"Well, maybe...*when* you do get married... I'll make the wedding dress for you," I grin at her.

She perks up, like a sunflower in the middle of a sunrise. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm," I nod.

"Can it not be white though?"

I splutter playfully, even though it actually hurts to hear her even insinuate getting physical with Pah... or with anyone else that isn't me. "What? Are you trying to tell me something, young lady?"

"Nooo," the girl cutely wrinkles her studded nose at me. "I just think a white dress is boring as hell. I wanna wear something different."

"But still with gems and glitter?" I raise an eyebrow in amusement.

"And sparkles. Never forget the sparkles," she points at me with a big beam. Before giggling, "what do ya think, mister designer man? Can you do that?"

I lock eyes with her big brown ones, that look to me so damn earnestly. That I remember years ago, in a similar moment: watching shitty reality shows and eating snacks on her couch at her parents' house, how we looked into each other's eyes... And I was going to tell her that I had fallen in love with her.

Only for her to admit her crush on Pah. The tip to the triangle.

I remember how she giggled and covered her face when she told me, practically gurgling like a drain. I remember feeling my heart being ripped from my chest because I knew Pah felt the same... I mean, sure he wasn't giggling and gushing, but he sure as fuck was blushing and stuttering.

I remember how Baji and Kazutora gave me sympathetic looks when I told them about what had learnt that day.

"Who needs girls, right? They're a waste of time anyway," Baji had said in an attempt to cheer me up.

"Baji, she's literally our friend," Kazutora had pointed out. "And... I mean, she is really hot--"

"You're not helping!" Baji snapped.

He had been right that day, Baji. Who needs girls? I certainly didn't, all I needed was her. The foreign girl, who spoke cutely broken Japanese and had hair that curled around her face like a woven halo.

Of course, the two got together soon after. And my heart died a little every time I saw them exchange secret glances during meetings, every time I saw them link pinkies and whenever she rode on the back of his bike.... I couldn't help but wish it was me she was pressed against, and wrapping her arms around.

Their skinship was always very subtle... which convinced me that Pah knew about my feelings, which sucked. I wanted him to be happy without thinking about me.

Because at the end of the day, they were still both my friends, and I wanted them to be happy.

And still do.

In the current day, I flash her a weak smile. "Of course I can, what do you take me for?"

She beams and turns back to the TV. "What about a strawberry printed dress?"

I snort, "you're going to a wedding, not your fifth birthday party."

She stuffs some more pretzels in her mouth, "now, that would be a valid excuse if I wasn't talking to Takashi Mitsuya."

"Huh?" "You can make anything look good."

I look at her. In her bonnet and oversized shirt with mustard stains down the front. And yet... she still looks like an absolute goddess. "Ditto," is all I whisper out.

She turns to me, her eyes shining in the light of the TV, big and earnest, and her lips shape to say something.

But her words are lost to the click that signals the opening of the door.

"Babe, I'm home."

It's Pah.

I quickly get off the couch, she looks a little taken aback as she distractedly calls back: "yeah, I'm in the living room."

Pah peaks in, seeing me, he smiles: "hey, Mitsuya."

"H-hey, Pah."

"Are you staying for dinner--?"

"No. I have... I have to do something, so I should go."

The pair both blink at me in unison. "Oh...uh, okay."

That night, I ride all over town, simply trying to clear my head. I guess that was the something I had to do.

####

"So... this is it, huh?" Draken asks from his place on the chair, looking up at the strawberry pink dress that I had spent months working on.

I take a step back and look at the dress in the middle of my studio.

The soft delicate cloud skirt of the dress cascades to the floor is paired with the strength of a strapped corset. There is a lace sleeve to the left that plays with symmetry a bit, and ends in a fingerless glove style. I had made a belt that looked like a golden arrow curved around her waist (her weapon of choice) and of course, the dress had its fair share of glitter, making it shimmer even under the dim lights of the studio.

"Yup."

I feel Draken cast me a cool look, "how long did you work on it?"

"An embarrassingly long time for someone who doesn't love me back," I say nonchalantly though tears prick at my eyes.

"So you knew Pah was going to propose?"

"He would've done it eventually." I shrug, "he's not that much of an idiot."

Draken stands and pats my back comfortingly. "If it's any consolation, she's gonna love it when you show it to her tonight."

I nod.

And that mere action shakes the tears and whispers out of my body.

[duskholland]

Ritual || Boxer!Tom Smut

boxer!tom x reader — smut.

summary ↠ with the championship fight less than two weeks away, tom adopts a series of frustrating pre-match rituals.... based off the request ↠ ‘boxer!tom refuses to have sex for two weeks before a big match then he wins a belt and becomes the top boxer and his s/o patches him up like she does after every match, but it quickly turns into really intense victory sex with dom!tom’ I changed a couple bits but this is pretty much the same :)) warnings ↠ this gets very, very smutty. for that reason, 18+ pls !! extended nsfw warnings are beneath the cut but this spirals into v intense smut. so just. watch out pls. word count ↠ 8k a/n ↠ I almost died when I wrote this. truly. I felt a piece of my soul leave my body. sheeeesh. anyway uh... this was a lot of fun to write! I found out so many fun facts about sports psychology whilst researching this, so thanks boxer!tom for enlightening me on the fun world of pre-match-rituals. enjoy!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

extended nsfw warnings: fem masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of vibrating egg, edging and denial, dirty talk, reader definitely has a pain kink (...): biting, spanking + hair pulling, face-fucking, dom!tom, rough sex™️, shower shenanigans, doggy-style, unprotected sex — please wrap before you tap if you do this irl thank you very very much !!

*:·ﾟ✧Ritual ✧·ﾟ:*

Thump. Smack. Thump.

Tom’s fists rain down over the punching bag, and there’s a metallic clicking sound as the object goes spinning in the air. You watch as he pirouettes around the bag, dodging its movements between swings, getting in hit after hit after hit. He slowly works his way around the object, his face screwed into an expression of empowered determination as he alternates which bright red glove he uses to pound against the fabric.

You sigh, loudly, the sound dying in the near-empty gym. There’s just something about Tom in the days preceding a fight that makes you squirm.

He’s different. Still the man you know and love so effortlessly, but heightened in the most attractive ways. His senses pull sharper, his jaw carrying a firm line to it, his eyes like roaring fires. As Tom pounds his fists against the bag, his sweaty brown curls stick to the top of his forehead, contrasting the bright pink tones staining his cheeks. You watch the muscles in his arms tense and flex, pale skin on display due to the tight black vest that clings tightly to his torso. You know if he turned around properly, you’d be able to make out the sunken lines of his abs, packed rigidly with muscle.

You bite your lower lip, stifling a moan. You find Tom attractive enough under normal conditions, let alone when he’s like this: eyes glowing with determination, body burning with passion as he takes swing after swing at the punching bag like he’s got a personal vendetta against it.

“Having fun?”

You startle, clutching at your chest as you turn around to look at Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s sports psychologist. A frown instantly springs out across your mouth, and you reach up to begrudgingly take the bottle of water he offers you.

“I hate you,” you grunt. You sit up a little straighter before leaning back against the wall. You’re waiting for Tom to finish his workout, sitting on one of the benches in the gym. You’d started out the session sparring together, but you’d called quits after twenty minutes against him. Unlike Tom, you don’t have the biggest fight of your career in two weeks—and, honestly, you enjoy watching him like this more than you enjoy trying to keep up with him in the ring.

Harrison frowns as he drops to sit beside you, nudging your shoulder.

“I’m wounded, love,” he says, smirking at you. “What have I done this time?”

You roll your eyes. “You know exactly what you’ve done, Haz.”

Harrison raises an eyebrow, tutting. “You know this is for the best, Y/N.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Fuck the best.”

When Harrison had joined Tom’s team at the start of the season, he’d come boasting all the new sciences of a young university graduate. He’d suggested Tom adopt a series of rituals to help him focus before a big match—small things, initially, like taking cold showers and limiting the time he spends on his phone. Yet, as the competition has progressed and Tom has risen further and further up the ranks, the rituals have grown more intense, more focused. It’s reached the point that now, two weeks before the big match, Tom has reached his final form. As instructed, he visits the sauna every other day, receives daily massages from the most esteemed sports therapists in Europe, drinks multiple cups of pure, fresh herbal tea a day. There are no distractions—his phone is permanently on silent, he’s cut out naps, he’s eliminated music. No distractions, no impurities, no sex.

No sex, because according to Harrison, nothing gets adrenaline rushing and frustration festering like an extended period of denial. No sex, which is a problem, for you, because Tom has never looked as fit as he does now, launching himself at the punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. His biceps flex and bulge and you have to cross your legs as you tighten your grip on the water bottle.

“He’ll win,” Harrison mutters, lowly. You glance towards him, taking in the sight of the older man with his face doused in the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym. “He’s good. Got the best form I’ve ever seen.” He lowers his voice, glancing at you shrewdly. “Don’t distract him, alright? He’s on fire.”

You grumble something incoherent beneath your breath before sighing and sitting up straighter.

“It’s fucked that you get to decide when I get laid, Haz. You know that, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, cheeks blushing a light pink. “Uh, well, I didn’t actually know that he’d go through with that part of it,” Harrison admits. “But if it works, don’t knock it. He wants to win.”

You sit back, resting your shoulders against the wall as you groan. “I want him to win, too,” you say. You look down at your fingers, playing with some of the rings sitting behind your knuckles. “I think it’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

Both of you look back at Tom, who’s ditched the gloves. You watch him talk with his coach, running a hand through his sweaty hair as he nods, looking focused as he listens to the pointers and tips. You release a relieved sigh as Tom’s coach pats him on the back and walks off, leaving Tom to pick up his towel and his bottle before sauntering over to you and Harrison.

“Hi.” Tom tosses his stuff onto the bench before reaching for your hands. He pulls you up easily and quickly, causing you to squeal as you find yourself in his arms. He’s hot, his entire body flushed with the sweaty, adrenaline-filled afterglow of a good, long workout, and you laugh as he dives down to kiss your neck, soft curls tickling you. “Missed you, darling.”

He works his way up your neck, nibbling softly at your skin before pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your chin, and then, finally, your mouth. It’s light, but then you push against him eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you moan happily as you enjoy the feeling of Tom, his skin warm and flushed, his pulse vibrating against you, and his mouth, coming over yours again and again.

“I’m right here,” Harrison mutters, speaking up from behind you. You groan, give Tom a final kiss, and then begrudgingly pull back.

“Sorry,” you call out, stepping closer to Tom as you turn your head to look at Harrison. Tom’s arms come around your waist, and he holds you nearer, humming as he presses his face into your shoulder. “You can always leave.”

Harrison rolls his eyes as he flips you off, causing Tom to chuckle.

“Y/N,” Tom mumbles, voice fond. “Harrison can stay if he wants to stay. I was thinking we could all go get dinner or something.”

To your relief, Harrison is quick to shake his head. He pulls on his jacket as he looks between you and Tom, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as they twinkle with amusement.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave you both alone. I think Y/N’s had enough of me, anyway.” He’s teasing, and you all know it, but you still throw out an easing pout as you shrug.

“Night, Haz,” you say, leaning further into Tom, who echoes your sentiments. As soon as Harrison’s gone, Tom spins you in his arms, his brown eyes bright and glowing with adoration. He kisses you again, and you sigh as you melt further into him, the spark in the pit of your stomach roaring back to life as Tom’s tongue teases your lower lip.

“Come shower with me,” Tom murmurs, hands roaming your back. He pecks the side of your mouth a few times as you hum.

“I can’t,” you find yourself saying, though it pains you considerably. Tom abruptly stops his kisses.

“Why not?” He pouts, pulling back to stare at you. He looks a little bit like an injured puppy, eyes wide with hurt. He squeezes your waist for emphasis.

“We’re in the two-week window, Tom,” you remind him. You reach up, lightly cupping his very hot, very sweaty face, in your palm. “You know we can’t.”

He groans, then dramatically lets his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you let him pout and rub his back.

“I love you,” he says, after a moment. He pulls back, kissing your neck briefly before sighing. “Thanks for putting up with this.”

“It’s okay.” You bite your lip, tilting your head to the side as you examine him carefully. “It’s kind of hot. You get so frustrated.”

Tom just narrows his eyes, staring at you with an expression mixed between amusement and frustration.

“Go on, champ,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “Go shower so we can go home, yeah?”

Tom begrudgingly steps back, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he’s going to try and change your mind again, but he doesn’t. As much as you know he wants to drag you into a steamy cubicle, his desire to win his match is stronger.

“Be back soon, darling,” he says. “Don’t miss me too much.”

———

The days burn by slowly.

About a week in, you find yourself snapping. You always try to adopt pseudo-chastity with Tom, feeling a little guilty every time you sneak your hand between your legs and chase the highs he can only dream about finding. Yet, you end up reaching breaking point and giving in to temptation one evening, alone in your flat. Tom’s out late at the gym, at the point in the regime where he’s spending most of his days hauled up in the large building, and you just can’t help yourself: you’re so horny.

If you asked him to get you off, you know he’d agree, never wanting to deny you anything. Tom loves you, loves watching you fall apart for him, loves the power trip that comes with knowing your pleasure is in his hands, but you’d just feel too mean. His refusal to have sex in the lead up is as much psychological as it is anything else—you know he finds energy in the ritual, finds aggressive, fiery hormones in the fourteen days of denial. You’d never want to put him in the position where he got tempted to break, no matter how badly you want to cum.

So, you decide to take care of your ache yourself. Or, at least, you try to.

You start off strong. Teasing yourself over your panties, drawing your fingers over the front of your covered sex. You let your eyes flutter shut as you think about Tom, recounting some of the last few sessions you’ve witnessed at the gym. You think about him, his biceps flexing and curling, the subtle curves of his long, slender fingers, his mouth. His features blur, and you find yourself moaning as you dip your fingers beneath the soft cotton and start to stroke your folds. You circle your clit for a while before dipping down to your entrance, touching the pool of your arousal and groaning as you wet your fingers. As your arousal starts to build, you tease your clit, accompanying the action with your other hand after a while. It feels good—so, so good—as you tease your g-spot with your fingers, keeping your thumb on your clit, edging, and edging, and edging, and—

You can’t cum.

A frown settles on your face as you start to grow frustrated. You try to change things up, slowing your movements, letting the high ebb away before trying again. Instead of reaching climax like you crave, you find yourself resting on the edge instead. You’re aroused, your cunt throbbing, your clit tingling, but you can’t quite get there. It’s frustrating.

You’re so caught up in your irritation that you miss the loud slam of the front door, too absorbed in the sounds of your wetness to hear Tom’s yell of greeting. Your eyes are shut as your boyfriend enters the bedroom. You’re not aware he’s home until you hear him tutting, his voice stacked full of amusement and lust. Your eyelids flutter open, and you find yourself looking at him, wide-eyed like a deer stuck in the headlight.

“T-Tom,” you whimper, your movements stilling. You have your legs spread wide open, two fingers buried in your heat, your other hand draped over your bud. A shy smile finds its way across your lips as you batter your eyelashes at him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your boyfriend, drowning in a black hoodie and tight blue denim jeans. His hair lies in fresh, air-dried curls, his eyes dark pools of lust. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tom repeats, imitating your tone. He pushes himself away from the bedroom wall, walking towards you like a lion stalking his prey. You whimper when he reaches down to touch your leg, sliding his hand over your shin teasingly. His eyes glint as he hears you, gaze fixed on the spot between your legs where your hands have stilled. “Oh, please don’t stop on my account, darling,” he teases, smirking. “Keep going. Just because I can’t have fun, doesn’t mean you should have to suffer too.”

You bite your lip, recognising all too well the teasing glint in his eye.

“I can’t,” you admit, shifting around on the mattress as Tom kneels on the end of the bed. Both of his hands are on your legs now, slowly, teasingly, dragging his touch up your shins. Your breath hitches as he slowly works his way up, dipping his head so he’s able to kiss each of your knees, his lips warm and tender.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

He’s lying down, settled between your legs, slowly kissing up the inside of one of your thighs. It’s hard to concentrate with him so close to your centre.

“Can’t get there,” you mutter, slowly pulling both of your hands away from your mound, leaving you exposed. Tom leans up, raising his eyebrows until you offer him the fingers you’d had buried inside your entrance. He hums as he sucks on your fingers, the sight of him making you moan softly. “I get so close, but I can’t get over the edge.”

Tom licks at the tips of your fingers before releasing them, smirking slowly. “What a shame,” he drawls, sounding the opposite. Both of his hands go to the soft sides of your thighs, and you let him pry your legs apart. He’s so close to your cunt that you can feel his warm breath fanning out across your bud, your folds, your entrance. “Looks like neither of us can cum this week, hmm?”

Before you can reply, Tom drops his head and buries it between your legs. You cry out, sensitive from your edging, your clit throbbing as you feel his tongue, warm and wet, circling the bud. His hands push your hips back down, holding you firmly in place as he moans, drawing his mouth all over your sex.

“Stay still, darling,” he murmurs, voice thick. He glances up at you, a wild look in his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me have a little taste.”  

Your eyes roll back, and you try to lie as still as possible. Tom’s fingers slip into your cunt, exploring your passage, curling up against your g-spot as you whimper.

“So good,” you moan, already feeling your climax twitching in the pit of your stomach. One of your hands goes down to grab at his hair, digging into his curls and keeping his face exactly where you need it, and the other fists the sheets. Your chest rises and falls, your heavy pants mixing with the sounds of Tom’s fingers, fucking your wet heat, and his tongue, teasing the life out of your tender clit. “Please, please.”

“Hmm, you don’t want to cum, do you?” Tom’s words are coupled with a gradual slow in his pace, and you feel your orgasm drifting away as he stills his fingers. He laps over your clit a final time before sitting up a little straighter, looking at you straight on as his chin glistens. “If I don’t get to cum, it doesn't seem fair that you do either, does it?”

His voice is hypnotising, and when his free hand goes to rub warm circles on your inner thigh, you find yourself nodding, transfixed.

“I- I guess.”

Tom smirks, dropping his lips so he can kiss your clit, lightly.

“Are you going to wait for me, sweetheart?” He asks, pink lips puffy and inflamed.

You bite your lip. “Tom,” you whimper, frowning when he lets his fingers pull away from your heat. You watch as he licks his digits clean, still with that wide, confident smirk on his face.

“Hm?” Tom kisses your thigh. “I can make you cum, if you really want to, darling. Just thought it might be nice to do this together.” He rolls both of his hands over your legs, battering his eyelashes at you. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while. Just think about how good it’ll be to wait until next Saturday.” He pushes himself up your body, anchoring himself with a strong arm either side of your head as he suspends himself above you. Tom kisses you, roughly, but only for a moment, letting your lips pull apart when he feels you trying to slip your tongue into his mouth. “Let’s do this together, yeah?”

You hum, thinking on it for a moment, but the scent of his cologne and his fresh shampoo scramble your mind. You find yourself nodding, distracted by the glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you agree, rolling your eyes when he grins. “We’ll do it together.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses you, grinning against your lips. “This is going to be fun.”

———

If you’d thought the sex ban was difficult to cope with in the first week, it only gets harder in the second. After giving Tom the green light to have his way with you, he seems to channel all his frustration into you—or, more specifically, into making you as frustrated as possible. He teases you, makes you squirm, beg, cry, letting his mouth wander over your sex or his fingers explore you, any time, any place he feels like it. He never allows you to roll over your edge, just watches, usually smirking, as you try to convince him to let you climax, only to kiss you, softly, and pull away each time.

It happens in the locker room—he pushes you up against the metallic lockers and slips his fingers into you, whispering gentle words with sinful intent.

“Gonna stay quiet for me, darling? Cunt feels so desperate... So tight, so hot. Fucking snug around my fingers, aren’t you? Shh… I know, I know. Feels good for you too, doesn’t it?”

In the showers, when you’re both hot and steamy—Tom drops to his knees and slings one of your thighs over his shoulder, nuzzling his face into your heat.

“Wish I could taste this pussy for the rest of my life, love. Tastes like paradise.”

It even happens in the gym, when he pushes a vibrating egg into you and enjoys teasing you, never warning you before he ups the pace of the bullet, watching with that signature mischievousness on his face.

“Don’t get all shy now, love… I can see the way you’re squirming for me. Bet you’re making a mess in those panties, hmm? Yeah… You can’t hide from me.”

It drives you crazy—beyond crazy. If you thought you’d been mad at Harrison before, you’re practically incandescent with rage by the time fight night comes around.

As your frayed arousal combines with the nerves of the big night, you find yourself alone with Tom, half an hour before the most important match of his career. Your priorities have shifted, your mood sobered by the situation.

“Visualise it,” you murmur, voice soft. You roll your hands over Tom’s shoulders. “Think about how good it’ll feel to hold that belt in your hands.”

Tom hums. He’s sitting on one of the hard wooden benches in the locker room. You’re kneeling behind him, occasionally dropping your lips to kiss the top of his head. After months of supporting him before a fight, you know exactly what he needs: you, touching him, grounding him. He doesn’t like distractions so near to the fight, which is why he has his eyes closed. Whenever he opens them, it’s only to look at the bright red gloves settled in his lap. You know that he appreciates you, even when he’s unable to vocalise it, too lost in his thoughts.

“You’ve trained your whole life for this moment, Tom. You deserve it.”

It’s a mantra. Harrison had taught it to you. Small words of affirmation, repeated softly over the lead-up, speaking them into existence. Tom hums, listening intently.

“You’re going to win,” you speak, your own eyes shut. You focus on the feeling of his shoulders, packed firm with muscles between your hands. “You’re going to win, and then you’re going to fuck me.”

Tom shifts, his posture straightening a little, and your eyes widen as you realise you’ve let your inner thoughts interrupt the ritual.

“I don’t think that’s on Harrison’s script, darling,” he mutters, voice amused.

You reach forward, drawing one of your hands over his forehead. Your fingers play with his hair, and you scrunch up your nose as you chastise yourself for your deviation.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Just fucking horny. Your fault.”

“Mm, sorry.” Tom grunts when you pull on his hair a little harder, and you repeat the action. “Fuck, love.” He groans louder and tilts his head to the side, exposing the pale column of his neck. “Give me a hickey?”

You oblige, dipping your head so you can rest your lips on his neck. “Where?” You ghost your lips over varying points on his skin, teasing him with light nibbles.

“There,” Tom mutters. One glance at his face confirms he’s still got his eyes shut. When you give in to his desire and start to suck a deep hickey to his skin, he grunts and reaches up to grab at your hands, squeezing your fingers roughly. “Shit.”

“There you go,” you say, voice soft as you pull back.

“Thanks, love,” Tom mutters. “Want to wear it in the ring. Good luck charm.”

You bite your lip, your centre throbbing as you listen to him. You kiss the mark, stained dark against his skin.

“You’ve got this, Tom,” you whisper, redirecting your lips to his ear. His neck prickles with goosebumps when you kiss his earlobe, softly. “You’re going to win, then you’re going to come back, and we’ll celebrate together. Okay?”

Tom’s still holding your hands, firm and eager, and you smile against his neck when he squeezes them.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll win. I’ll do it for you.”

You kiss the back of his head, his soft curls gentle against your cheeks.

“Love you, champ.”

He coaxes one of your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palm.

“Love you too, darling.”

———

The atmosphere sharpens when Tom gets out to the ring.

It’s a big match. The press is here, the fight streamed live to thousands of people across the world. As Tom strides into the ring to take on his opponent, you settle at the side of it, looking up through the ropes with Harrison by your side.

Tom starts off strong—a few hard jabs here, some quick punches there. He dodges and rolls, his bright red gloves raining down over his opponent. Yet, both Tom and his rival are the best of their class, so it’s a nail-biting half-hour spent with your fingers crossed, eyes trained on your boyfriend as he throws everything he has into the ring.

When they break halfway through the match for a few minutes of respite, you’re quick to slip up into the ring and assist Tom’s trainer as they patch up his injured hand. Tom doesn’t say anything, his teeth frozen in the hard white mouth guard, but he squeezes your hand before you step out again, and you know he’s still in there.

The second half only gets more intense—both of them knowing how close the match is, and adjusting accordingly. Tom and his opponent are more reckless, more brutal, and you watch your boyfriend take risks he’d promised to never try to take. It leaves you an anxious mess, but you can’t help but watch him in awe.

Tom’s time in the ring is a performance, beautifully violent, elegantly composed. Spit sprays, sweat drips, blood rolls. He’s loud—very vocal, his sounds almost brutish. His eyes glint black, brown curls stiff with sweat, face on fire. You find it incredibly attractive to watch him in his element, not just because he physically looks incredible, but also because he’s so utterly committed to his trade that everything else fades away. His passion burns, scorches the ground, ripples over his opponent, and in the end, Tom rises, and his rival sinks.

It’s close, and though you have the suspicion that your boyfriend might have snagged it, you hold your breath until it’s confirmed. Your grip on Harrison’s hand is so tight that he curses, but you don’t release it until the MC yells Tom’s name as champion and thrusts his arm triumphantly into the air.

The arena explodes. Your ears ring as you clap and cheer, tears of pride pooling in your eyes. The first thing Tom does is turn around, looking at you with an expression of elated shock on his face. Then, after accepting the belt and speaking a few hurried words of thanks into the microphone of the leading journalist, he comes straight to you.

“Tom!” You exclaim, shaking from emotion. It’s a blend of adrenaline, pride and nerves, cooling your body, making you quiver. Tom reaches down from the ring and grabs both of your hands, jerking you up to him. You dodge past the ropes, almost tripping in his haste, but he grabs you.

Still with the bright stage lights blinding the ring, Tom sweeps you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hot hands burning into your waist. You release a loud noise of surprise, taken entirely off-guard but rolling with the punches. Tom pushes you back against the ropes of the ring as your hands curl into his sweaty hair, and your brief hope that they’ve stopped broadcasting live is set aside as Tom comes closer, caging you in with his buff arms. It’s messy and dirty, his tongue twisting against yours, lips firm, intense, but it’s everything. As you let go of the tension you’d been harbouring all evening, another very prominent emotion burns to the surface: arousal.

“I fucking did it,” Tom breathes finally, forehead pushed to yours. He sounds so proud of himself that it makes you smile, tears reappearing in your eyes as you nod.

“You did,” you confirm. You pull on his hair and push him back so you’re able to see his eyes, dark and hungry. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, and then kisses you again, with so much intensity it knocks your breath from your lungs. When he pulls back, he uses one very hot hand to cup your cheek, holding you tightly.

“I have to do some interview shit,” Tom says, grimacing. He tilts his head at the championship belt, which now lies on the floor of the ring, discarded. He’s smirking as he brings his gaze back to you. “Meet me in the locker room? Ten minutes.”

You nod.

“Don’t be late.”

———

You wait for Tom in the team’s locker room, taking the time to lock all of the side doors that lead out from the room. His team has been around the two of you for long enough to know that it’s best to give you a wide berth in the few hours after Tom’s won a match, but you can never be too sure. Once you’re finished with that, you go to the liberty of pulling off your shoes, your jumper, and all the jewellery you’d put on for the night.

Then, you wait.

You wait, and you think about how magnificent Tom had looked as he’d fought, arms flexing, jaw set firm in a focused grimace. You rewatch the scenes of him thrusting the belt into the air, yelling elatedly. You think about how fucking mad he’s made you feel over the last two weeks, edging you and denying you, over and over again. It feels as though you’ve been permanently aroused for seven days straight, and now is no exception: just from spending all evening ogling him, you can feel your arousal wetting the front of your panties.

“Fuck,” Tom exclaims, suddenly bursting into the locker room. You turn around to watch him sling the championship belt over his shoulder as he hurries to flick the lock on the main door, knowing the routine as well as you. When he gets it, he turns and stalks over to you, picking up into a jog. “That took so fucking long,” he groans. He throws the belt away and pulls you from the bench, pushing you until your back bumps up against one of the metal lockers. Tom grins, his nose pressing to yours as he smothers you, hands back on your hips, forehead to yours, breath spreading over your face. “Couldn’t wait to get back here and see you.”

You draw your hands over his back, feeling his muscles tense and flex.

“Just see me?” You ask, ghosting your lips over his.

Tom tightens his grip on your waist. “No,” he mutters darkly. He kisses you, only for a second, but very hard. “Couldn’t wait to get back here, rip your clothes off, and finally give you everything you deserve.”

“Everything I deserve?” You raise your eyebrows, running your hands lower. “I think you deserve more, baby.” You smirk against his lips. “You just won the biggest fight of your life.”

“That’s true…” Tom steps back, only for a moment, and you watch as he reaches beneath the waistband of his gym shorts and grunts. A second later, he pulls out the hard protective cup that shields his lower half from injury in the ring, and he groans, loudly, his forehead pressing to yours. “I’m so fucking hard, darling,” he whines. He steps closer, and you feel him, stiff as a rod, pressing into your thigh. “Need to get it out of me.”

You nod, your head moving back as Tom runs a hand over your throat and tilts it to the side. His lips attack your neck, biting hard kisses to the side of your throat that make you moan, your pulse feeling strong between your legs.

“Shit,” you curse. “Get in the shower.”

Tom sucks a harsh hickey just below your ear before pulling back to wiggle his eyebrows. “The shower, eh?”

“Yeah.” You step out of his hold and start to tear off your clothes, your skin rippling with heat. “Gonna suck you off.” You fling your t-shirt to the ground and roll down your jeans, watching as Tom does the same. “Then… Then, you can fuck me… Shit, I’m definitely going to need you to fuck me.” You throw your bra aside and then push down your panties, the waistband rolling in on itself due to your speed. “I’m so wet, Tom.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Tom says, eyes taking in your bare form. “Been dreaming about feeling you again, love.” He finally pulls down his boxers, and his hard cock springs out. “Two weeks is far too long. Get over here.”

Tom grabs your hand and tugs you into one of the wide shower cubicles. Both of you curse as he turns the valve and the water comes out freezing cold, but the stark contrast to the raging fire burning up your insides is nice.

You kiss him for a while, as the two of you get soapy and Tom washes away the grime. His skin is soft beneath your hands and the noises he makes as you massage his dodgy shoulder would be erotic enough without the presence of his cock, hard and leaking precum, resting between your thighs. You make out for a while, savouring every moment and enjoying the fact you’re now able to kiss him for longer than two seconds without worrying about exciting him too much. It’s still just as intense as before, but less hurried, and more passionate—Tom’s fingers pushing your damp hair out of your face, water droplets rolling down your figures. To be so bare in front of him and have him so ravenous for you makes you want him more than anything.

“Get back,” you murmur, pushing his shoulders. Tom obeys, his body pressing against the yellow tiled wall. You run a trail of kisses down his torso, paying attention to both of his pecs before his abs, then his v-line. Your knees bend, and you kneel on the floor, kissing up his thighs briefly before finally taking him in hand.

“Fuck-” Tom yells. His hands wind into your hair, flat palms grasping at your skull when you drag your tongue over his tip. “Been so long, love, I won’t last long at all.”

You hum as you tenderly lick over his head, absorbing his salty precum and moaning at the taste. “I know,” you say, your hand slowly tugging his length. You give his tip a chaste kiss as you blink up at him, smiling innocently. “I don’t want you to last long. I want you to cum down my throat.” Very slowly, you envelop his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head gently. You pull back after only a few moments, needing to add, “Want you to fuck my face, Tom.”

Your boyfriend moves one of his hands to your cheek, his voice strained from the way your hand is pumping his lower shaft. “Are you sure? Might not be gentle.”

“Yeah.” You nod your head too. “Want it rough. ‘M so fucking horny, and so are you. Want you to make my throat ache tomorrow.”

Tom curses, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so sexy,” he whines, slapping your cheek gently. “Thank you.”

You consider telling him that it’s almost as much for you as it is for him, but then you decide that the sight of his cock, flushed red, leaking precum, is your number one priority. So, you loosen your hand on his member and remove it completely, then soften your jaw and start to take him in your mouth, deep-throating him like you’ve ached to do for two weeks.

Tom’s fast to use his leverage on your head, guiding you with shaking hands. Both of you know that all you have to do to tap out is press his thigh, so you let him use you however he needs. Tears pool in your eyes as he fucks your mouth hard, his tip hitting the end of your throat until you gag. The lewd sounds mix with the pounding of the shower against the tiles and Tom’s grumbled groans that spiral up into the air.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he says, voice raspy and light. “So good, sweetheart, fuck. Such a pretty mouth. Feels so bloody good.” He breaks off for a moment, and you feel him shifting around on the wall, indicating he’s near his peak. “So messy too, fuck. Missed this. Watching you on your knees, gagging on my cock.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you deeper, groaning loudly as he does so. “Fuck, I’m gonna blow. Gonna cum all down your throat. Shit, shit-”

Tom stops moving your head as he yelps, one of his hands curling into a fist and hitting back against the wall as he cums suddenly. You swallow around him, pulling up until your lips are at his tip, and your hand goes up to pump the rest of him through his orgasm. His entire body shakes, releasing the pent-up frustration that comes with so long in denial, and you take joy in the light whimpers he deposits into the air as you suck on his tip, cleaning him up.

“Holy…” Tom grabs your hair and pulls you back up, slumping against you instead of the wall as he pants. After taking a moment to gather himself, he pulls back to look at you, his thumb coming up to play with the beads of his cum that stain the corner of your mouth. “Made a mess,” he coos, pushing his seed onto your tongue. You grin as you suck his thumb further into your mouth, delighting as he curses. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart. You really are.”

You release his finger with a pop, shrugging. “How was that?”

Tom groans again, the sound almost orgasmic. “So good,” he mumbles. “Been so long, darling. So, so long.” He kisses your face, dusting your cheeks in light, loving kisses. When he pulls back, his eyes are a little darker. “Bet you’d like to chase that high too, wouldn’t you?” He accompanies his words with a sly hand, slipping down between your legs. When he feels your slick, so pronounced it’s coating your inner thighs, he tuts, smirking. “All this for me?”

You nod, whining breathlessly as he slips two fingers up to toy with your bud. You feel like a livewire—strung out and pulsing, white-hot. Unlike him, you’ve had some stimulation over the last two weeks. Just, you’ve also been cruelly pulled away from the edge, every single time.

“Just for you,” you agree. Your face drops forward, and you find yourself biting Tom’s broad shoulder as he curls two fingers into you with ease.

“You’re so hot in here,” he mutters, “and so wet, too. Fuck, love. You’re dripping down my hand.” When he angles his digits up to caress your g-spot, he strikes it immediately, and you moan noisily. “There you go, baby. Shh. It’s okay.” Tom fucks your tight heat, gradually unravelling you. “I’ve got you.”

Your moans come out strangled, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers as your high builds quickly. It won’t take much to push you over the edge, and as much as it pains you—

“I don’t want to cum on your hand, Tom,” you manage, your voice betraying you by splitting into a whimper. “Want to cum on your cock.”

Tom slows his fingers, but he keeps thrusting them into you, just too slowly for you to peak. You groan, your centre pulsing as he keeps you burning near the edge, his lips on your neck again. He gently kisses up to your ear, mouth feather-light.

“Are you sure?” He coos, nibbling at your earlobe. “Feels like you want to cum.” When Tom adds his other hand, two fingers gently stroking your tender bud, your knees almost give out. “Can feel you clenching around me, Y/N, naughty girl.” He kisses just below your ear. “If you want something, you know how you need to ask for it.”

You’re all over the place, your eyes squeezed shut, sweat breaking out over your forehead, your cunt clenching and releasing every other second. You’re so close you can almost taste it, but you try to exercise self-control.

“Please, Tom.” It takes everything in you, but you manage to stand up straighter again, looking at him straight-on. His eyes dance dark with power and lust, his smirk unmoving as he thrusts his fingers a little faster. “W-Want you to fuck me. Been waiting so long, don’t want to fall apart if it isn’t with you behind me. Please, please, please, please-”

He cuts you off with a hard kiss, and finally, Tom pulls his hands away. He runs them both through the stream of water before reaching back to clumsily turn off the valve.

“I fucking love you,” he tells you. “Couldn’t deny you anything. Not really.” Tom takes your hand. “C’mere.”

Tom carefully pulls you over to one of the wooden benches. After draping a towel over the wooden slats, he pushes you down onto your hands and knees, his fingers spreading your legs. You whimper as you feel his cock, hard again, refracted in the interlude he’d constructed with his hands working you into insanity. Your knuckles clench around the slabs of wood, and despite already feeling the ache in your knees, it only spurs you on. You love the pain, love the visible, throbbing reminders of Tom, and he knows it just as much as you do.

“Look so pretty like this, darling,” Tom says, voice drifting through the air. Both of his hands go to your ass, roughly massaging your skin until his right hand slaps down across you, stinging bright hot. He repeats the action when you moan loudly, the slapping sound ringing out through the air. Each time his hand falls over you, you only grow hotter. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered in water from the shower, you’re burning up. “G’nna let me take you like this, eh? Fuck this tight little pussy, like I know you’ve been dreaming of.”

When Tom lines his tip up with your entrance, you find yourself clinging to the edge of the bench with your fingers.

“Yes,” you beg, backing up against him. You feel like you might dissolve into a mess of arousal, tears, and desperation if he doesn’t satisfy you soon. “Please.”

Tom runs a hand up your back, fingers drifting over the line of your spine. He drops his lips and kisses the lower part of your back, so delicately it makes you quiver.

“Okay,” he says. “G’nna give it to you good.”

He enters you quickly and easily, and you almost lose it from the first thrust alone. You’re so slick that Tom’s swift in pulling back and then slamming back into you, his hands holding your hips back and in place as your arms wobble and your figure loses control. You drop your head between your arms, the blood rushing to your skull and making you feel light-headed as he rocks into you, over and over again, giving you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Tom,” you gasp, your breaths heavy and inconsistent. It feels indescribable—the final denouement of your time apart. Each drag of his cock through your heat has you reeling, your walls quivering and clenching and trying desperately to keep him in, keep him nudging your g-spot, stimulating your passage. You’re moaning louder than you’ve ever moaned before, the coil in your stomach building and building without warning or direction.

Behind you, Tom seems to be enjoying it just as much as you. His libido strong and healthy and his body pumped full of pre-match adrenaline that it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he’s being so hard and purposeful in his movements. His groans are like music to your ears, small grunts of affirmation that he too has missed the paradise that unfolds when you join together.

“So fucking tight, angel,” he rasps, again letting his hand fall over your ass. He soothes the skin with his palm, and then he repeats the action two more times. “Feel you clenching me every time I do that.” He pinches your hip with his other hand, and you find yourself biting your forearm, embarrassed by how loud you think you’d moan if you were able to. “You love it rough like this, don’t you, darling? Mm… I know you do.”

It’s a dizzying blur of skin on skin for a while, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge on multiple occasions. It’s as if your body is holding back though, waiting on Tom to near it too before you’re able to fully let go. Almost sensing this, he reaches down and shoves his fingers in your hair, roughly tugging you up until your back is pressed against his front. The angle pushes him deeper, and your eyes flood with tears as you find yourself unable to comprehend just how good it feels.

“Y’like that?” He rasps. Tom drags a hand down to your clit, able to access it better now that he’s holding you so much closer. His pace is slower, but he’s going forcefully, his head hitting your g-spot every time. “Fuck, darling, I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching like that.”

You whimper, your chest heaving.

“Yeah,” you moan. His name pours from your lips like a prayer, rising in desperation as you slip back down, hands grabbing at the slats of the bench as you hold on for dear life. “Fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Come on,” Tom urges. “Do it. I want to feel you squeezing my cock so tight, like you always do. Always makes me lose it, doesn’t it, love? Shit, you’re so perfect. Go on. I’ve got you. Get my cock nice and wet, and I’ll fill you up. You’d like that, eh? Feeling me cumming inside this pretty pussy? Come on. You know what you have to do.”

It slams into you, pouring down over you in waves that submerge you entirely. You feel boneless but also rigid at the same time, your jaw slack as your vision blurs. Pleasure ripples out from your centre, dousing your aching cunt in relief that feels so sweet, only growing richer and more fulfilling when you hear Tom grunt and feel his cock pulse in you. You come together, bodies moving in sync, perfectly, despite the time apart, and it’s so good that it takes you out of it completely.

You’re so absorbed in your climax that you end up drifting, opening your eyes a few moments later only to find yourself lying on your back, staring up at the bright white lines of the locker room ceiling. Your eyes blur with tears, but just for a moment, because then Tom’s palm swims into vision, drifting above your head until he finds the right angle that blocks out the light.

“Hey, darling,” he coos. He brings one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Are you okay? Lost you for a second.”

A very lazy, content smile finds your lips.

“Yeah,” you say sluggishly. You ache all over, but it feels incredible. You’re buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a session like this—after you’ve let him dismantle you completely. “Are you okay?”

Tom nods, his wet hair flying everywhere. “Fantastic,” he confirms. He glances down your figure, then offers you a soft smile. “I’m going to take you home, run you a really, really nice bath, and then we’re going to cuddle.” He drops your hand and instead cups your face in his palm. You nuzzle into it. His eyes are so soft as he gazes at you tenderly. “You’re so lovely, Y/N. I love you.”

You smile softly. “Love you too.”

Tom leans over you and kisses your lips, very gently, before shifting his mouth all over the rest of your face. He goes from one cheek, over to your forehead, down your nose, to the other, before circling back to your mouth. By the time he reaches there, your smile has grown to a grin, and you feel grounded enough to reach up and loop your fingers into his hair.

“Thank you,” he says, speaking earnestly, “for always being here for me. For supporting me, and putting up with all my crazy ideas, and being incredible, always. You are my inspiration, and I love you more than anything.”

You feel your heart throb in your chest, and you have to focus really hard on stopping the swell of emotion from leaving through your tired eyes.

“Any time,” you say, nodding to emphasise your point. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Whatever you might need, I’ll do it.”

Tom’s warm brown eyes meet with yours, and the smile on his face shows no sign of leaving.

“All I need is you,” he says. His lips come down to yours, softly, just resting there. “All I’ll ever need is you.”

—

———

:)) I rlly like this tbh. I hope you do too !

please let me know what you thought by hitting up my askbox or dropping a comment/rb...? thank you thank you!

masterlist and taglist can be found in my pinned post :D

[avintagekiss24]

Hi! I don't want to start anything on here and am always willing for civil conversations. At this point there's so much I've found out about Seb (besides the video he liked, the tommy lee thing, and the girlfriend thing) that I feel so guilty if I would continue to support him. I love him sm but it just doesn't look good rn. He is associated/follows an organisation (for helping veterans) that has posted a blue lives matter flag picture and who's co-founder has sexual assault allegations against him, and worked with him in 'The last full measure'. His friend Paul Walter Hauser has done blackface in the past, and when called out on it he just listed a few people that also did blackface. There's more, I found a discussion on here that I can link. I seriously don't support "cancel culture" bc I don't think it helps anyone but there are just a lot of 'mistakes' and shady people that can be linked to Seb, I wish it wouldn't be that way. I honestly don't know what to think about it anymore.

Hi! I’m also open to having civil conversations and I don’t believe you’re trying to start anything. I really do think this situation of dragging up a four year old video and taking it completely out of context is harmful not just to Black people, but to fandom/activism in general. This is gonna be long because I’m going to take your points one by one, and I want to preface this by saying that I will not answer any derogatory, sideways asks pertaining to this subject. I will delete every single one and will block your silly ass. I’m not going to argue with people who think I’m blindly supporting Sebastian because I’m just trying to get fucked by him, or people who think I hate myself and am trying to appease some white man.

So, on with the discourse!

The video he liked - this video was taken completely out of context and that is my main issue with this whole situation. It was not a video of a white man saying that he thinks he should be able to say the n word as everyone claimed it was. They were quickly debating on whether or not it's okay to say in rap lyrics. He was told no, that's not okay, that's never okay and they moved on from it. That's it. End of story. That somehow was twisted into a click bait style headline of "Sebastian Stan likes a video of a white man defending his right to say the n word" when that is absolutely not true. My other issue is that people are more upset that Sebastian liked the video than they are about the white man in the video literally saying the n word. So, do you really care about the use of the n word like you're claiming? Cuz if you do, you'd be more upset at the white man that said the word than you would be about the white man simply liking the video. Or, are you just using this as an excuse to grandstand against a white man you don't like?

The Tommy Lee thing - Sebastian Stan playing Tommy Lee does not make Sebastian Stan a bad person. Is Charlize Theron a bad person for playing Aileen Wuornos, a prostitute who started murdering men? Is Leonardo DiCaprio a bad person for playing a slave owner? Is Edward Norton a bad person for playing a nazi sympathizing racist? Actors play bad people. That doesn't mean that they themselves are bad people. 1990's Tommy Lee was a bad person, but that should have no bearing on who Sebastian Stan is or his character as a man.

The gf/Paul Walter Hauser thing - Why are we holding Sebastian accountable for what the people around him are doing? Again, why are we more upset that Sebastian is associated with people who have done questionable things than the specific people themselves? I'm not going to speak on the kimono wearing -- I'm not Asian. It's not my place to say whether or not its offensive because it's not my culture, but she posted that picture and attended that party before she started dating Sebastian, quite possibly before she even knew him. Same with Paul. I think that black face thing was long before he knew Sebastian. Now, if Sebastian was defending these actions, going around saying "I think it's okay for white women to wear Kimono's" "I think black face is fine" "I think white people should be able to say the n word" then we'd have a different story, wouldn't we? But that's not what we have, and that's not what he is doing. He is not responsible for the things his friends do or have done in the past just because he's more famous than they are, and he is not required to speak on them. Let's put it this way -- would you be comfortable having to be responsible for something a friend of yours did before you knew them? Would you want to have to be forced to answer for your friend when you yourself had nothing to do with the questionable behavior?

The organization that supports the military/blue lives matter - Sebastian cannot control what message that foundation puts out and it does not mean that he is or is not pro-police himself. There is not enough concrete evidence -- if any evidence for that matter -- that Sebastian is a blue lives matter supporter. Did Sebastian donate before they put up the blue lives matter post? Or after? I don’t know, cuz I don’t follow him that closely, but if he donates before they come out with a particular stance, that means he should be held accountable for that? I know I donated to an organization once and they turned out to support something that i’m 100% against. That means I’m a bad person because I couldn’t see into the future? Another point, how can we be certain that Sebastian saw the blue lives matter post in the first place? I know I’m not online 24 hrs a day, I miss posts all the time and I’m just an average person. I make three or four tumblr posts a day, and I’m gone. I have to play catch up on social media, and even then, I still miss stuff. So I’m sure the same happens to a working actor. As for the co-founder, I don't know who this person is and would rather not get into any allegations against them because I don't want to trigger anyone who comes across this post. If Sebastian knows about these allegations, is a willing participant/supporter of this person then yeah, that's pretty shitty, but we don't know the inner workings of this friendship/acquaintance/work relationship. We don’t know how close they are or if they even still speak.

I’m a pretty big fan of Don Cheadle. He’s a stand up guy, he’s a great actor, he’s funny, he’s political and stands up for what he believes in and in a very public way. I support him. Don Cheadle is also friends with Chris Evans, RDJ, Mark Ruffalo, and Letitia Wright (just to name a few). Chris Evans has a bipartisan forum that highlights/promotes right wing politicians, RDJ defended Chris Pratt during the whole “he’s the worst Chris in Hollywood” crap, who’s technically done black face, and who once said to a female reporter “nice tits” when she walked into the room, Mark Ruffalo just walked back his support of Palestine, and Letitia Wright retweeted/supported an anti-vaxxer/anti-trans Pastor who equated an ingredient of the covid vaccine to the devil because it contained some parts of the word Lucifer. Does that mean Don is now a bad person because he’s friends with these people? Why isn’t he getting any heat for his friendships with them? Why isn’t he being held accountable for what they’ve done and said? Oh right, because he’s not a white fave. So people don’t care one way or the other, which brings me to my next point. 

I can guarantee you that if Sebastian’s gf or Paul or this co-founder were not associated with Sebastian in any way, nobody would give a shit about her wearing a kimono, about Paul doing black face, or about the co-founder/organization being blue lives matter supporters and in that lies the actual problem. Being critical of people and their actions should be consistent and should happen all the time -- not just when they interact with your white fave. That’s when it becomes performative and looks like you just want to be able to show internet people that you follow/support/stan unproblematic celebrities, when really, you don’t care.

I think the moral of this post is that I think it's unfair to hold a complete stranger to a standard that I cannot hold myself to. I also don't view celebrities the way most teenagers/twenty somethings do, and that’s because when I entered fandom we didn't have social media, so I grew up with a wall between myself and said celebrities. There is no wall now with the presence of social media. "Fans" nowadays have a weird ownership feeling over celebrities because they can read their personal thoughts or view personal pictures and think that they have this personal quasi-friendship with them. I can't get on board with that. I prefer having the wall and I still keep the wall.

If supporting Sebastian makes you uncomfortable, then by all means, stop supporting him. Just make sure you are making this decision for yourself based on credible sources and concrete evidence and that you're not letting this fake woke activist mob make you feel uncomfortable. Internet activism means nothing unless you put your money where your mouth is in your real life and 90% of the social justice internet warriors do not. Real activism is bigger than changing your avi to a black square.