#you can add something if ya like!!

[mischiefmodig]

Loki's posture shifted. Less from the intimating, to being pleased instead. He was glad to see that Badou was no fool... but time would tell how long this perception lasted. He nodded in agreement, with a smile following suit.

❝ Naturally, I'm many things in the world, and a man of my word is most certainly one of them. ❞ For being the god of mischief, there was little else important to him than the truth. Loki quickly turned on his heels, walking away to continue the evening.

❝ We shall meet again soon, Badou. Have a good evening. ❞ And with that, Loki continued into the shadows, bag in hand and a pleased expression on his face. His plans were just beginning.

\ / End.

He knows in that look that Loki believes in himself-- his powers, his mightiness above all of the lowly slobs here-- but Badou also wonders as far as he's risen, even here-- what it'll sound like when he falls-- SPLAT.

He'd get his neck broken if he likened that to watching a bug get squished, huh. Good thing he can't read minds.

"Fine. Yeah, whatever. I'll take the job. Just be good for the rest-- even your own shit."

At the very least he can wiggle out of anything dangerous while the-- God-alien, whatever, doesn't have his powers. Badou can run pretty fast.

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie, no other descriptions of reader given except mentioning hitting that spot just right)

Contents: lingerie, both are a lil pervy tbh, humiliation, crying, praise kink, sub!Eddie, this is literally just horny ramblings

18+ only

It wasn't every day you came back to your house and your best friend had broken in. Maybe, every other week at best.

Usually, Eddie would be high eating your snacks (you were thinking about getting a lock for the cabinets). Or he would be watching whatever show you recorded and tease you about spoiling it (you threatened to use the VHS to beat him over the head and strangle him with the VHS ribbon if he did).

But, you had no clue Eddie was even in your house today. His van wasn't parked in your driveway when you came home. His shoes weren't in a haphazard pile at the front door. You had 0 clue he was there.

Not until you heard a thump coming from your bedroom. Which, your first thought went to the knickknacks you had that someone could be stealing (they wouldn't cause to a normal person it was junk but to you they were memories).

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen (you weren't gonna die without a fight, besides you learned a thing or two from the horror movies Eddie made you watch). You quietly pushed your bedroom door open and-

Shit.

Eddie was standing in your room in front of your mirror. Miles of pale skin just on display, scattered with contrasting dark tattoos he had. Nothing on, save for your lilac lingerie.

The palest purple lace bra, you can see from the back isn't even clipped correctly, missing the hook entirely. But the color is striking on Eddie. The lace thong cuts high on Eddie's ass, and you try not to gawk at the little black heart tattooed on his cheek. Eddie's scars seem softer amongst the lace.

How often did Eddie do this? Come over and put on your lingerie? Stand in front of the mirror and rub his fingers over his one hardened nipple. You couldn't see from where you were, but you knew his cock was hard. He'd be leaking all over your underwear, marking them.

Eddie lets out a little moan and it ignites a fire in your gut. You lick you lips as you watch Eddie, which maybe makes you a pervert but really it is your house and he is wearing your clothes so if anyone is-

Fuck why is it so hot?

"So-" you clear your throat. Eddie let's out a screech (that you are pretty sure ruined your eardrums) as he whirls around. He tries to cover himself with his arms, curls in on himself. And Holy cow he is hard.

He is big, so big, the tip just peeking out of the waistband of the panties. You can see the pearly translucent precum already dripping onto the underwear.

"I- fuck, I'm aha listen I can exp- i can explain!" Eddie fumbles over his words. You blink a few times tearing your eyes away from his massive dick (oh it would feel so good it would hit every spot just right).

Eddie's face is red, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh Baby, no," you rush over, pausing when Eddie flinches. You gently put a hand out on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him into a hug, " It's- it's okay. Please don't cry." "Don't hate me." You gasp in shock, pulling back to look in his eyes," I could never!"

Eddie's eyes are wet, filled with unshed tears. His nose is turning a bit red, from embarrassment, shame, or sadness you can't tell. But his cheeks are such a pretty pink you think it'd look nice elsewhere on his pale skin.

Eddie hides his face with his hair, shuffling his feet a bit. "So..." you pause unsure how to ask it politely so you just go for it," I can see this is a kink thing...but like, what kind?"

Eddie shrugs," Wanted to feel pretty..." You frown," You are pretty Eddie." Eddie shakes his head and gestures to his abdomen," Not with these."

Eddie really should not be drawing your eyes any further south then his face. Cause your pulse kicks up and the fire inside you lights back up your spine. You can't help but notice his dick is still hard as a rock.

"You are too pretty." "Not really." "Yes!" Not-" You shove Eddie lightly, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the bed. Eddie's eyes widen in shock as he peers up at you.

"Don't talk about my best friend that way! You are too pretty. And handsome. Funny. So talented," You sigh and step forward, into Eddie's parted legs. Eddie leans up on his elbows and blinks rapidly at you. "You're so fucking pretty Baby." You murmur, hand reaching out lightly touching his thigh.

Eddie let's out a whine before looking startled at himself. You can't help but notice his dick twitch under the pale purple lace. "You like being called pretty?" You smirk. "Like when you call me Baby," Eddie replies softly.

You aren't sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are wrapped around each other. Your lips meet Eddie's without hesitation. His are slightly chapped but still soft, molding perfectly against your own.

You run your hand down Eddie's neck, to the pale bra strap and snap it. He gasps and you take the chance, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of weed, mint gum, and just Eddie.

Eddie moans against you, hips bucking forward seeking friction. You pull back, gasping for air. Eddie let's out a whine," No, come back-" "I ain't going anywhere Baby."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip. He hums as you kiss his jaw, lightly nipping at his pulse point. He shivers against you, hips bucking forward again. You suck lightly as you decide to give him some relief.

Your hand snakes down, grasping him firmly. You lightly squeeze through the lace, giving just enough friction as you move your hand.

"Look so good in my lingerie Baby, you should wear it more often." You murmur between kisses. Eddie nods absently, gasping and moaning beneath you. "Got a red pair that has some nice straps, you'd look so metal and so so pretty."

Eddie freezes, mouth falling open. His brow wrinkles slightly as he moans, pleasure overtaking him. His hips spasm, even his thighs twitch, as he comes. You can feel your underwear get soaked along with part of his stomach.

You stroke him through it, extending his pleasure until he whimpers and pushes at your hand. You pull back, smiling softly at his face. Eddie's eyes flutter open, darting down to your lips. "Kiss?" He asks quietly, unsure. You simply smile and kiss him again.

[capricioussun]

I was trying really hard to be normal abt that platonic reader fic but I can't bc I can't ever be normal n not angsty abt anything

That being said I think uf Papyrus has SUCH a difficult relationship to socializing and the way he’s perceived. Underground, half the monsters didn't take him seriously and the other half were scared witless of him, and even those who knew he was more bark than bite knew better than to let that determine how they approached him because of Sans and Undyne, too.

And underground that was good. It was good to be feared or respected or at the very least left alone. It was part of his and Sans whole bit to keep themselves safe and in the kings good graces (as much as they ever could be). A tenuous balancing act that kept them safe because their choices were safe or dead, there wasn't room for considering things like happiness or quality of life.

And then surfacing and all the complicated joys and grievances that came with it. The prejudice, the uncertainty, the incredible possibilities and opportunities.

Humans are stronger than monsters. If one human child can decimate them so easily I can't imagine what kind of threat an adult would appear as, and not only that by they hold all the political power as well. Monsters are playing by their rules to achieve any sort of place on the surface.

Not just their political rules but their social ones too now, and I can't imagine a Papyrus that doesn't struggle immensely even with social cues and rules they've grown up with, let alone entirely new ones introduced with tremendous consequences behind them.

And then stick that Papyrus in one of the highest ranking positions in charge of handling monsterkind's future on the surface. I cannot even begin to imagine how intimidating that would be.

There's so much at play, so much stress, so many expectations, he’s already had experience playing at being untouchable, but god, it's so different now, too, because he has to be strong, unshakable, but he can't be intimidating and untrustworthy. He has to inspire confidence, not fear, he has to be professional and diplomatic, but stubborn enough to get the job done. And it's not just his and Sans' lives on the line anymore.

Even with everyone else's help it's just...insane really thinking about how difficult it would be on Papyrus post surfacing and acting as Ambassador. His people are scared and cagey, but hopeful and at their most vulnerable, and now they're looking to him to pave the path ahead. Steel enough to forge the way, malleable enough to cushion against rough waters, but always sturdy enough to handle it all.

I'd imagine even without those pressures, even if he didn't become the ambassador, there would still be so much difficulty in changing his outlook on how he’s meant to appear to others. Striking fear into the hearts of others isn't really the goal anymore but it's been so long he’s not really sure what else he can be.

He’s been shaped this way by his world. Sharp and rigid, necessary when needed but unlike his guard armor he can't take it off. It doesn't protect him anymore. As a matter of fact, it hampers him.

Fear means safety but it also means distance. Loneliness. Bad first impressions and a lot of complex feelings when just his appearance alone is enough to make a stranger cross the street rather than risk walking past him.

So yeah I think whenever he meets ppl like Frisk who r just kinda immediately like 'umm. Ur my friend now we're having soft tacos for dinner' he is SO unprepared, and SO uncertain, but it's not fear so it's not safe but it's not like that anymore, right? It's okay to be liked. It's okay to be likable. Right?

And then that's it own whole cans of worms because uh oh! Looks like you don't actually know how to do that, do you! You've spent so long wearing that mask you don't know what's underneath it anymore. All the while having to try and gauge if it's safe to take it off yet, and not knowing what you'll find if you do.

[rustedleopard]

What do you think clover's family was like?

This is such a broad question that I wish you were a teeny bit more specific. Like, do you want a summary of canon or my personal headcanons or what? Eh, you know me by now, I'll talk about everything.

Canon Supported Answer: We don't know what Clover's life was like on the Surface besides it being implied to be Not Good. Starlo's lumpy and uncomfortable couch brings back unpleasant memories, yet they can fall asleep on it in seconds during nap time. Seeing the dirty dishes in Ceroba's sink/the Steamworks kitchen reminds them of their duties back home/that they never did the dishes without being told. Their hat was tattered and decomposing (as pointed out by Ace). They accept Martlet's offer to take them in in every version of a Neutral Run, even if it's an aborted No Mercy Run where they were gunning down every monster in sight, AND there is no option to deny it. They abandon their mission to seek justice for the five missing children and live with Toriel in every timeline that Flowey doesn't interfere in. In the Pacifist Run, somewhere in the Ketsukane estate (the kitchen, I believe), there's a line of flavor text that comes up about Clover wondering how everyone back home is doing but they also don't really care all that much. Heck, the fact that they chose to jump into a mountain that children were known to go missing in in the first place speaks volumes by itself.

There's little things too, like how Clover moves without making a sound, how they eat inedible stuff like packing peanuts and gunpowder, the fact that they're willing to take food out of the garbage, the way that they can just... give themself up at the end of a True Pacifist Run, etcetera, that could either be just a character quirk OR something that stems from their life on the Surface (why not both?). I could go on, but at a certain point I'd just start reciting half the flavor text in the entire game. I do think it is important to note that 1.) Clover is not very forthcoming about their life on the Surface. Everything you learn about them you learn from the flavor text. I think the only time they ever get asked about it is when Ceroba is accompanying them, and whatever answer/response they gave her (I imagine it was a Look™) had her backpedaling. So they're intentionally close-lipped about it. And 2.) You never learn any specifics about it. Who's raising them? Do they have parents? Siblings? Are they an orphan? What was an average day like for them? And on and on. This is the point where you can make up whatever you want about their life on the Surface, and so long as it takes into account what comes up in the game, you can come up with something solid. And this is the part that leads to.....

My Headcanons: Woof. Okay. I don't think too deeply about every little defining moment about their life on the Surface because I treat it more as scaffolding for their character. So don't expect a complete breakdown of every aspect of their Surface life. But here's the jist of it:

Clover was born to a single mother. Their father walked out on her just before they were born because their mother and father had a rocky relationship and their father wanted to bail before a baby would "trap him into the relationship" (they weren't married or even engaged, so it was easy for him to just... Leave. He never comes back). All the anger and resentment for the failed relationship that their mom felt rebounded onto Clover, because now she's stuck raising a baby she doesn't really want unless she's with their father and they're raising them together. Clover was supposed to be the baby that glues the relationship together, not what tears it apart. Their mom became negligent of them as a result.

As Clover got older, they would make bids for attention and affection like pretty much every child does, but their mom never reciprocated. They'd keep doing it over and over and holding onto hope that their mom would look at them and be the mom that she's supposed to be, but that hope would diminish each time they were met with coldness or outright indifference. Their hopes of building a connection with their mom evaporated when their stepdad entered the equation. Their stepdad saw their presence as competition/a reminder of his girlfriend's/wife's previous relationship and is an insecure enough man to let that bother him. So he really helps to push Clover further into the margins of the family/ruin their life. "Clover is old enough to walk home from school, they don't need their mom to pick them up." "Clover knows how to fend for themself, you don't need to end the night early to go back home and make them dinner. Stay with me a bit longer." "Clover doesn't need their own room. It's the responsibility of the older sibling to make sacrifices for the sake of their younger sibling. They can sleep on the couch." (Did I mention that they have a younger stepbrother? Because I hc that they do.) And on and on and on. They hate their stepdad and mentally call him "Mom's boyfriend/husband" instead of Dad. They don't really care for their younger stepbrother either, because (even though it wasn't intentional on the baby's part on the account of the baby being, well, a baby) he was leveraged as a wedge between Clover and the rest of their family.

They had to learn how to do things for themself like cook or clean or sign their own permission slips or bandage their own wounds or etcetera because they learned that they can't rely on others to help them. This fostered a strong sense of independence in them. It also made them a bit... odd in personality in a way that made making friends difficult (idk how to say that in a polite way; neglect does change your personality though). They wake up for school on their own, make lunch for themself and eat breakfast and do their morning routine then walk to school, do their studies, if it's a shit day they'll get into playground scraps with kids who are bullying other kids, they walk themself home and let themself in with the key that their mom gave them because the door is locked otherwise, they make their own dinner and do their homework without any help, they watch their Westerns on the TV, they tuck themself into bed. They skitter around the margins of the domestic sphere that is their mom's and stepdad's and stepbrother's lives like some sort of cockroach because that's the way that they've been made to feel. Their parents never hit them. Despite that, they were able to deeply wound Clover without ever raising a hand against them.

And part three of this post: How Do I Imagine Clover Feels About This? Well, I imagine that they feel nothing for their family. Not in a nonchalant fashion, but in the depressing "I can't even muster up the ability to care about you" manner. Feeling hate and anger takes effort; in a strange roundabout sorta way, feeling negative emotions means that you do care because you have some expectations that you want to be met and that anger is you trying to fight for them/your situation to be better. In contrast, feeling nothing is far worse because you no longer care anymore. You've accepted your circumstances. Why get mad about something bad that their family did to them? They're meeting the expectations that Clover has set for them, which are in the dirt. Whatever coals of anger or outrage they had within them have burnt to the ashes, there's nothing left to spark. They wanted their mom to be a mom to them but that was years ago at this point; they've moved on. They wanted a dad to be there for them, but he was never in the picture and the closest thing they have is the man that their mom settled with. They know that their familial situation is BAD, but because their family is all that they've ever known, they don't quite get the extent of how bad it is.

That's why they're fine with marching up a mountain known for having kids go missing in it: they have a mission, justice needs to be enacted. And if they die/go missing on this mission, so be it. It's not like there's anyone waiting for them back home.

[inamagicalhallucination]

my toxic trait is i get really annoyed when ppl make atsushi and akutagawa's relationship about dazai

[nina-ya]

Hi I just wanna say I love your writing so much 😭 it's so rare to find writers that can describe things in detail so well , came across your law fic and ATE THAT UP ‼️‼️ PLEASE KEEP THE GOOD WORK UP

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

You’re too kind what the fuck i really appreciate this I love love love you so much thank you waaaa

[liebelesbe]

also my new boss was nice and all but he did make a few. um. comments. I don't think he meant them to be sleazy but they absolutely came across that way

[samglyph]

every time i update my "what im reading" section of my bio its always late. i finished thornhedge over a month ago. i vaguely started compound fracture a week ago and am speed finishing it tonight because my libby hold is going to expire. in between those two books i finished a DIFFERENT queer YA book that i forgot to adjust the sign for mostly because i finished it in like. a day. and have been steadily getting through an ARC that i can't discuss yet, though oddly enough both of those involve vampires. its been a vampire heavy month for me.

[connormoving]

so close to being done with one step in the larger step in the larger step of the spreadsheet.

i ran out of space in the tags so im continuing them under the cut bc i wasnt finished... and if you let me finish i would of finshed my santance

anyways i have some countries like. the borders r pretty close to irl countries and i have them in my notes as x country but other ones i split them into like. just smaller subregions of the continent based on irl like. regions. like i split africa into . Madagascar + East Africa + Central Africa + Southern Africa + Western Africa + Northern Africa and its referenced off of maps where those r like. the recognized regions (well. madagascar is usually just counted as either east or southern africa but yk). but idk... im worried its a shitty thing 2 do i just dont know what else 2 do with it. maybe i should just use an actual world map instead since im going more realistic with like. the time periods and stuff. IDK i just rly wanna avoid the shit the sims does so much where it lumps a bunch of cultures together like. the chinese world in ts3 world adventures having a torii gate for the icon. -_- yk. the map was kinda superfluous anyway and more judt a way to visualize where the worlds we have were distributed + also was mostly influenced by that one ts4 mod which takes that more simplistic approach but maybe i can just step away from that and just go more realism based Its just hard bc i dont wanna like. lose the more like. silly isnt quite the word (itis kind of but not fully) ig i mean i dont wanna lose the abstraction kind of thing the sims has. but like. I am auite literally making a spreadsheet to get rid of some of the abstraction the sims has so what am i on about. IDK i just have been thinking abt it a lot basically... like sims im already making shit up and locking the sims to like real world history stuff it only makes sense to like. do the same thing with The world and not have it be abstracted. so yes that was a lot of words to say i think im just gonna move to thinking of the sims as living on Basically earth. In my personal the sims palace that ive made up. this is not to say i personally think of the sims as tkaing place on earth or anything ive just decided to do like. Bc this whole thing is basically an au im making anyway like. taking ts3 sims and making them be from the 1950s thats already Not what the game is like. so ill just make it a Realworld sims au. ok yay 👍 thats all sorry for talking sm abt something so pointless and also for not using a SINGLE paragraph break im basically just writing in this like i write in the tags (stream of consciousness) but the tags have the benefit of being naturally split up so yes i dont think anybody is reading this far. when i was little and playing skyward sword for the first time roughly 7-8 years old i got to the like trial on skyloft and i got so scared i smashed the cd so that i wouldnt have to do it . and then i blamed my dog for it. and i did this even tho lamp had JUST started a skyward sword playthru which idk if i knew at the time but i do feel rly guilty abt it. but i was rly scared. ok thats all

[missdynamighttt]

i am NOT done yapping about how in love husband! katsuki is with his dear wife.

you were curled up on the couch later that night, katsuki’s arm draped around your shoulders while you scrolled through twitter again. he was half-asleep, head tilted back against the cushions, soft breaths leaving his lips.

just as you were about to close the app, another tweet popped up on your feed— one that made you freeze.

original tweet: "yeah babe gimme a minute, js fighting crime rn"

underneath was a blurry, mid-action shot of katsuki during a recent mission. in one hand, his phone was visible, screen lit up, while his other hand was mid-explosion, sending a villain flying backward.

the kicker? he was grinning at his phone. not his usual battle-hungry, determined smirk. no, this was softer. goofy. a full-blown, lovesick idiot smile.

the kind of smile he only ever gave you.

"oh my god. katsuki," you whispered, shaking his arm. "wake up."

he groaned, cracking one eye open. "what now?"

you shoved the phone in his face. "explain."

he squinted at the screen, brow furrowing. his jaw immediately clenched when he recognized himself in the picture.

meanwhile, twitter had already decided:

- "hero of the year goes to dynamight for texting his wife while fighting crime."

- "bro’s out here fighting for his life and still prioritizing his girl. goals."

- "im jealous. getting a text back while he's FIGHTING VILLAINS IS CRAZYYY"

his mouth opened. closed. then he groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "shit. didn't think they got that on camera."

"you didn’t think holding your phone in the middle of a fight would get caught on camera?"

"i was multitaskin'!" his ears were bright red.

"oh, for fuck's sake," you huffed, half-frustrated, half-melting into a puddle of affection. "is this why you said 'one sec babe, busy' that one time like you were busy with, oh, i don't know, paperwork instead of fighting a damn villain?"

"i had it under control," he grumbled, running a hand over his face. "was just checkin’ in on you."

"checking in?" you echoed, laughing. "you were literally detonating someone with your other hand!"

he groaned. "s’not my fault. needed to text my girl. s'not a crime."

your heart stuttered. "while fighting villains?"

"yeah, well...ya texted first."

you blinked. "so this is my fault?"

"yeah," he crossed his arms, cheeks turning pink. "maybe if ya didn’t make me smile like a fuckin’ idiot, i wouldn’t get caught slackin’. you seemed excited over something... figured you'd wanna talk."

your heart stopped for a second, warmth flooding through you.

"you’re such a dumbass," you said softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. you leaned up, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into him. "missed me that much, huh?"

he huffed but didn’t stop you, his arms tightened around you, his embarrassment giving way to quiet satisfaction. "yeah, yeah. always miss you."

and the next time you texted him during work, you made damn sure to add:

"don't text back. fight the damn villains first."

he didn’t listen, obviously.

"they can wait. they know my wife is important."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley who learns the names of your stuffed animals. Quietly sitting on your bed as you introduce them, gaze locked on the soft stuffie in your hands. every time you pick a new one up his eyes stay on the previous one for a few seconds before trailing back to you. he gives the occasional nod, a gruff hum when you tell him where you got it from. he forgets to speak sometimes, seemingly dull gaze boring into you. he sits up a little straighter when you start to glance away thinking he’s lost interest, but no, “Does tha’ one get along with the big fella?”

Roommate!Simon Riley who wants you to talk about your plushies and knickknacks. he likes listening to you talk, listening to your voice, watching the way you gently handle your stuffed animals. it reminds him of the rare plush or two he had growing up, gnarly and hidden away somewhere forgotten, tucked away in a dusty box. they made him feel safe when he was little, something to hold onto, and seeing you carefully arrange yours makes his chest feel lighter. heart a little achy when you let him hold one in his calloused, rough hands. soft, thumb grazing over the fabric, smoothing over stitching

Roommate!Simon Riley who brings you a stuffed animal after he goes to the store alone. he’s learned your preference towards them, too plush, too firm, not the right material - a texture you can’t hold for long, he knows what to avoid. he doesn’t feel embarrassed standing in the kids aisle sifting through brightly colored toys, but he does feel some eyes on him. but it’s for you, and a little bit for him. “Simon, you didn’t have to—”, he silently loves when you say that, gives him the opportunity to respond, “Wanted to.”. he wants to make your day, add to your collection, see you smile and love on it. gives him an excuse to go back to your room and introduce the newbie

Roommate!Simon Riley who misses you when he has to leave on deployments. he knows you miss his presence, even when he scares you by not making himself known. that you miss the way he fills your apartment, bulky figure padding around from room to room. “Got ya this. Don’t miss me too much.”, as he hands you a new stuffed animal before he leaves. one that feels holdable, something you can cuddle with and squish. one with a recorded message, Simon’s gravely voice coming from the comically cute stuffie. he doesn’t look you in the eyes, hands shoved in his pockets as he stands in the doorway, “And don’t think that’s replacin’ me.”

“Thinkin’ of you, lovie.”, a small pause in the recording, his voice a little softer, “Take care of yourself.”

[lologoinsolo]

Main Masterlist, Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 2

Thinking about Simon with a runt of a kitten and it’s barely the size of his palm. Also thinking about the poor cashier that’s stumbling over her words when that hulking man has a kitten fisted in his palm and he just jerks it forward.

“U-Uh, sir, we can’t— I can’t keep that.” His eyes make you shrivel up and you delicately hold the little kitten in your hands. “We uh— the store can’t hold animals we only sell the stuff that animals need.”

He looks at you like that’s not what he’s wanted to hear. Granted you’ve had a couple people come up to try and surrender or drop of their animals like it’s a pound. “I need things for the cat.” He says and you feel like maybe you shot yourself in the foot.

You have a line piling up behind him but no one seems to dare speak up. Why would they when this guy could lay them flat out? Jesus what are they feeding this guy? Steroids and protein powders? You think before swallowing thickly. “I can… I can get my coworkers to—“

“No.” He reaches forward and you flinch when he picks up the kitten and holds it to his chest. “You’ll help.” Nodding off and he starts to walk leaving you dumbfounded and confused. He walks a couple steps before he turns to you with a ‘well?’ look on his face.

You hurriedly grab your pager and call for someone to go through the line while you help this guy. Leading him down the aisle for the litter and you list off the different types. “There’s crystal litter, wood pellets and those are pretty good when it comes to smell. We have tofu litter and that—“

“Does it need something fancy to shit in?” He cuts off the beginning of your speech with a huff. He sounds a mix of annoyed and amused with how you bristle from his remark. You’re tempted to leave, your manager can bitch later about you doing that butttt the kitten against his chest meows and you find that you can’t leave the little thing to suffer because their dad’s a right prick.

“Sir,” you take a breath, “the litter is moreso about preference. Do you want to hide the smell of their… ya know… poop better? Or would you prefer something that clumps or something that’s easy to clean?” You wait… and wait some more before he finally says.

“Pick one.”

You blink at him and he mimics it that bastard. He just stares the entire time you have this little contest. You’re starting to feel like you should’ve called out of work. You knew today would be horrible, your instincts never lie. “Okay,” taking a deep breath and spitefully picking the most expensive and heaviest litter that your store sells. You yank it off the shelf with a groan. If it’s hard for you to lift then he’ll probably have the time of his life having to lug this home. He doesn’t seem to care about the pricing nor the weight though as he grabs the litter from your struggling arms. He shoves the kitten back to your empty hands. “I—“ you stumble over your words, trying to come up with something but he beats you to it.

“Where’s the food she need?” Lifting it onto his shoulders, the muscles bulging as he holds that thing with ease.

“Well she,“ you cough to keep from ogling too much. “Will need some kitten food and maybe some wet food later on. A good kibble would be good to add later on once she gets older,” holding the kitten up gently and her little green eyes blink at you. You prod softly at her teeth to make sure she can handle those foods. You’re hoping she’s not to young or she’ll need kitten formula. You then check her ears and see some red marks. Noticing the little black specs moving about her neck and you cringe. “And a good flea bath. Poor thing,” petting the little baby as you walk off to grab a flea comb. He’ll have to buy it anyways so you’ll make use of it now. You pick at her fur with the comb and squish whatever fleas that you find, you hate those little fuckers. “What’s her name?”

You’ve noticed he’s as silent as a grave this customer of yours. He’s hardly said a peep besides caveman grunts and nods. If it wasn’t for him nearly against your side then you would’ve thought he ran off. That black surgical mask makes him look like he’s something important. Maybe mafia or something possibly dangerous. But… he did come in holding this tiny kitten and isn’t batting an eye at the things you’ve been telling him he’ll need to get for his new pet. Perhaps he’s nicer than your judgement of him is.

You clear your throat, he probably didn’t hear you since he hasn’t tilted his head down. “Does she have a name?” You ask once more and he pulls to a stop, he had came back with a cart earlier when there were too many things for him to hold in his tree trunk arms. It was comical seeing him try to hold a litter box, scratching post, and various foods though.

He doesn’t answer save for the roll of his shoulders that looks like it could be counted as a shrug. You mouth an ‘oh’ before you mind your business. He probably just found her or he’s gonna foster and send her off. Better to not get attached…

You chatter off the things he’ll need to do. See a vet, get her spayed, make sure she has no health problems, the usual things that you mention to pet parents. The little thing in your hands is a curious thing, she wiggles about constantly. Eager to move and escape your hands and arms. Tiny tail flicking about and the meowing and pawing is cute, makes your heart squeeze when he plucks her from your hands and he holds her close. You push the cart along and stop at the toys and bowl aisle.

“Well,” you pull some toys off the shelf, crinkle toys and mouses that should help with those prey instincts. “She’s a sweetheart. I’d probably call her Bailey,” you smile fondly and his brows furrow at your advice. Grabbing the kitten shaped bowls and hurriedly putting them in the cart when you squirm under his eyes. “Oh uh, my brother always wanted a cat named Bailey. It’s a nice name but if you don’t want to call her—“

“Bailey,” he holds her up a little and the kitten paws at his face. Her little nails snag on the fibers of his mask and he pulls them off quickly. “Better than garbage, yeah?” He speaks to the kitten like a human. There’s a crinkle besides his eyes and you realize he’s smiling but when you catch what he said you drop this cactus scratcher you thought he should buy her by accident.

“Garbage?” You look aghast. You’ve heard all kinds of names but never something like that. Quickly picking the cactus scratcher back up and placing it in the piling up cart. “You’d call her that?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders again. “S’where I found ‘er.” Grumbling his reasoning. He glares at the kitten like she’s the cause of his problems. “Couldn’t sleep with’er howling and rummaging about. Made a mess that I had to clean.”

You blink a bit and now it makes some sense why he’s so… snappy? “Well… maybe she knew you’d get her if she was loud enough.”

He scoffs, “she bit and hissed at me.” He rubs his finger over her head and you notice the little red marks on his hands. “Feisty little shit shoulda left ya out in the cold.” She nips at him and he chuckles something deep.

You can’t help the smile that reaches your face. She plays with his fingers and he doesn’t flinch when she bites hard or digs her nails in. He just looks down at her with something akin to wonder and begrudged responsibility.

You pull him to your cash register and his kitten racks up a pretty hefty bill but he pays for it with wads of cash. You don’t speak on the weird crumbled bills nor the faint reddish brown color. You simply bag his items and put them in his cart. “If you need anything, sir. Come find me and I’ll help, okay?” You can’t believe you said it AND actually ment it. What can you say, you love cats more than people and that little thing won your heart as easily as she won his.

He gives a gruff nod and pushes his cart out with on hand. The kitten is pushed into his coat pocket to hide her most likely from the cold outside. She pokes her head out to give a complaint but he just gently pushes her back in. He leaves without waving and you’re left to wonder if he’ll come back. You kinda hope he does come back.

[nanamiskentos]

MY STRATEGY ✤ 呪術廻戦

SYN. ➤ You're a man-eater, and he's just a light snack. A.K.A how you're just driving these sorcerers wild. ૮ • ﻌ - ა

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Sukuna, Chōsō, Tōji, Hiromi, Naoya, Gojō, Kashimo

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, màting préss, oràl (m), food play (?), drunk séx, semi-public séx, bàckshots, breéding kínk, proposals, créampié, bathtub séx, jealousy, wall séx, ooc naoya, reader is called a slút, cowgírl, pràise kink, big díck gojo, face sítting, oràl (f), múnching

wc. tba

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) someone requested a jealous!naoya fic so i just incorporated it in this 😭 and as a returned reward for me, i decided to add kashimo so we actually won 😁

➤ GETO SUGURU

"Fuckin' soaking all over me, darling. I'm really g-gonna' –"

Frankly, much of this evening has become a blur for Geto but he can faintly remember seething at those useless cunts over at the temple, and at the stack of paperwork piling up on his desk (yeah, apparently running a cult involves a lotta' bureaucracy).

He had thrown aside the heavy violet gojō-kesa, rummaging away for a faded, dark hoodie and thick cargo pants. He remembers knocking at the door of your apartment, and doing his best not to fall to his knees when you sweetly answered the door, pulling him in by the hand.

And somehow, between that blurry haze and him desperately kissing his girlfriend like his very life depended on it, Geto had found himself a happy, happy man, with your pretty ankles twitching around his shoulders. Pressing deeper into you, so your thighs were knocked straight up against your chest — pressing right into the fat of your tits as he slapped his hips right up against yours in the meanest mating press possible.

Your hands are in the mood to wonder too, it seems. Trembling ever so slightly for the surefire hits that Geto delivers when his rummaging, girthy cock thwacks! into you, over and over.

But your nails are running over the traditional dragon design that licks and curls up his left arm, trailing over his upper bicep where the ink tapers off over his back. A tattoo, something from his early days, often hidden underneath the draping robes he dons at the temple.

"Thaaat's my good girl," Geto murmurs, running his tongue behind his teeth, jostling himself closer to you so he could sip at your pretty mouth once more. Slick strands of saliva glistening between your lower lip and his, violet eyes narrowed as he feels your pussy clench around him in such a dizzying way.

"M-missed you so bad, Sugu', all day." You're whining, cunt twitching and quivering, releasing dribbling puddles of slick all over the fresh bedsheets.

Geto just chuckles, nipping his teeth over the juncture of your collarbone, leaving a faint, bruised mark that is certain to bloom into pretty petals, "I know, think ya' might have missed me jus' a bit too m-much, hmm?" Dipping a fat thumb to roll at your clit, "Pretty pussy was already sticky n' wet for me when I got here."

How sweet. Geto's practically swabbing every inch of your insides with his cock, and yet, the mere mention of him knowing about your lovely fingers spreading yourself apart and playing with yourself has you flushing so beautifully. God, Geto thinks to himself, if he doesn't marry you, he might really just die.

"Look at ya', wish I could take a photo," Geto murmurs, and you can hear just how much he truly does love you. Your (mildly suspicious) enigmatic boyfriend with his titan-steel thighs, and choppy dark hair is whispering sweet nothings in your ears, professions of loves that you know will make him fluster and blush all the more sweetly later on, "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen in m' whole life."

Raking your nails past the hypnotising dragon tattoo, to claw at his rippling biceps. Crimson lines blooming in your wake, as crescent edges leave their mark in a way that makes Geto groan. "Gonna' cum for me, baby? Can f-feel ya' sucking me up, god."

The rhythmic clenches of your pussy, the sheer, powerful arc of clear fluid spraying over Geto's groin and drenching his cock are enough to make the man moan, loudly, and not giving a single fuck at who hears. He's only burying himself further into you, driving himself right home with each spattering drivel and swivel of his hips into your glorious heat.

"Good g-girl, takin' it all for m' like a champ."

➤ RYOMEN SUKUNA

"What the fuck has gotten into you? Been in the cellars again, have we? Now, what did I say about that, eh?"

It's rare to hear Sukuna so bewildered, but the fact that the King of Curses is allowing you to manhandle him, to push his beefy, four-arm form into your private chambers is sign enough that he's indulging you.

"Wanna' kiss you, 'Kuna." You murmur, catching your husband's faint look of surprise, russet eyes widening as you yank his shoulders down. Planting your lips to his, muffling whatever snarky comment was sure to leave his fanged mouth, "Didn't like how she was looking at you."

Sukuna pulls back, if only to briefly trace his tongue along the side of your neck, down those fine crimson robes he so loved to see you in, "Who?"

"That courtesan." You shudder as gleaming fangs nip at your soft skin, shoving Sukuna closer towards the plush, vast expanse of your shared bed, "She was all over you, 'Kuna."

"Ah, that's what this is. My lil' Queen is jealous," Sukuna's back hitting the mattress, looking far too priggish and self-satisfied with your envy, "They're courtesans, brat. They pour our wine, flitter around like gnats, it's all a part o' the job description."

And because Sukuna truly can't resist himself, riling you up even further, "Besides, are you really surprised they're makin' stupid eyes at me, heh? I mean, look at me, I'm allll muscle and – mmph!"

In the short time that Sukuna took to gas himself up and rile up his pretty wife, you had already managed to snake your hands into the loose waistband of his wide pants. Clawing the fabric down absurdly broad, muscled thighs and undoing the thick, black knot holding his garments together.

A gentle peck on the upper-stacked of his two sculpted cocks has Sukuna suddenly glaring right down at you. All four eyes suddenly glazing over, "This is the game you wanna' play, brat? Really? 'Cause I can – fuck!"

You're pressing the flat of your tongue, the textured muscle right against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his absurdly long, girthy shaft. Ensuring that the second of his cocks doesn't feel left out, beginning to pump it slowly in the other hand.

"S-shut up, and let me do this." You're muffling around the smooth, taut skin at the very tip, beaming red and weeping the more you lave at it, "Wanna' taste you, 'Kuna."

"Heh, if I ever say no to that . . there's a knife in that wooden chest over there. I'd want you to use that on me, 'cause I'd hafta' be out of my damned mind to —"

There's a faint frazzled jump, a whine, colouring Sukuna's tone and you can tell that he's doing his best to muffle the sound. Determined to keep at least some dignity for himself, dark claws come to settle in your hair. Keeping that same steady pace to bob your pre-stained mouth up and down on the upper of the two shafts.

"Ouh, I was gonna' send those courtesans away, you k-know, if they were makin' my wife upset," Sukuna snickers, both cocks engorged enough that you really have to put in an effort to stretch both your hand and your mouth over them, "But if t-this is what I get outta' it, then they might jus' stay."

You glide your mouth away from Sukuna's cock with a loud pop! Giving your husband an unimpressed stare as he flounders, scowling, "Okay, m' sending them away. Was o-only a joke."

You can taste salty beads sinking into your tongue, and if you angle your head just right, you can press your head down enough for blush-pink hairs to tickle at your nose. The scent of him, the taste, the feeling of his hot n' heavy inches weighing on your tongue — you can feel a hot pulse beginning to jump up between your legs.

When it rains, it pours. When Sukuna climaxes, it. . also pours.

You know that there is no way you could possible envelop that much of his seed, but you lick gently at the spurting ropes of white, thick and opaque release. Feeling splatters paint all over your chin, your chest and the edges of those gorgeous robes Sukuna gifted you for your name-day.

"Wanna' climb on, brat?" Sukuna's peering down at you, and you can take some satisfaction in the flustered blush that he is furiously trying to hide, lolling his head away from your line of sight to little avail, "Still got another cock if ya' wanna ride. Gotta' fill ya' up so the whole estate can know that what my wife wants, she gets."

➤ CHOSO KAMO

Yeah, so introducing Choso to the idea of Friday night drinking? Probably not your most. . strategic decision. But after a gruelling day of training, and an even more excruciating day of self-restraint and not throwing yourself immediately at your boyfriend, you figured a good bottle of red, two glasses and a quiet evening on the wooden deck were well-earned.

So, now, here you are, perched in his lap, watching that wine-kissed flush bloom across his pale, clammy cheeks. His hazel eyes roam over you, shy, as berry-red stains his lips, and you lean in to sip the taste right from your favourite source.

Oh, and you're both utterly naked, training robes discarded in crumpled piles on the outdoor deck. Normally, you'd be a bit concerned that someone could turn the corner and find you perched over Choso's bare thighs, but the hour has grown late and you're on the far end of campus.

Thus, there's only one other massive factor to really consider here. And massive, well, that's an understatement of the century.

Choso's surprisingly relaxed like this, milky thighs flexing as he props you up, pulling you closer to him, but what really grabs your attention is the gleaming, red shaft that must be agonising by now, prodding right at your core. Right where you're balanced over the fat tip.

"No-one is gonna' walk past right?" Choso's blinking, dark lashes so long that they almost brush his lower brow as he flutters his eyes up.

You giggle, tilting the wine glass in your hand so more wine spills over the rim, dribbling down your bare form. And Choso, ever the greedy one, follows the slow trickle, laving his searing lips over your skin, right down your collarbone and over your breasts to lick up every last drop.

"Nah, and if there is gonna' be anyone, it'd be like. . a curse that got past the curtain." You're hiccuping, tracing faint lines over the edge of Choso's jaw, "And we'd have bigger problems anyway."

Your eyes are trailing downwards, to the curl of dampened, dark hair right over the base of his thick cock, and Choso scoffs, "You're about to say something lecherous, aren't you?"

"Wanna' give me a bigger problem, then, Cho' ?" Batting your lashes ridiculously at him, but even the half-curse can't resist how his heart is pounding, leaning in to plant a sweet curse on your lips.

"Are you sure?" Choso's gentle hands rolling over your spine, softly ghosting over your bare back that pebbles in the cool night air. Mahogany air tickling at your cheek as he situates large, soft palms over your waist. Swivelling you around so his impressively carved line of abdominal muscles are pressed against your back, and his breath ghosts are your ear.

"Gonna' be a biiiig stretch, sweet thing." Choso murmurs, planting a tender kiss at the nape of your neck, and god, he was not joking for the sheer girth often manages to catch you unaware each time.

But he's eager to help out, thick fingertips trailing over you to paw at your slick folds, spreading them apart even wider. He's murmuring something and you strain to here it, but you think that he's gasping, "I think I'm gonna' cum. Early, again."

You giggle, knowing that he flushes a vibrant shade of strawberry-red each time that he busts his load in you this early. For that faint, mere kiss of your arousal and your cunt's pretty walls against his cock is enough to make the half-curse shudder and swear as he spills glossy fillings right up in you.

"It's okay, Cho', you can – inside, you know."

"R-really, lovely? Inside, yeah?" Choso doesn't need further encouragement because he's already groaning, and you're already feeling wads of buttery cum drip down your thighs, feeling your hips twitch and shudder as the half-curse is determined to make up for this. Running his fingers along the side of your clit in a determined V-line, flicking gently over the swollen nub.

You're dazed, feeling the sudden build-up from your own orgasm creep up over you. The wine going straight to your head and making every cell in your body so tingly, and sensitive.

Watching with faint fascination at how fucking filthy this all is, the sopping leak of Choso's creamy cum dribbling out from under you, mingling with the blood-red drizzle of the wine still plastered to your thigh. A faint, pale shade of pink that has you aching to swipe your fingers through it, bringing it to your lips. And it has Choso groaning, cock hardening alll over again in you.

"You're going to be the death of me, sweet thing."

➤ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"Yeahh, arch ya' back for me like that, beautiful."

And fuck, Toji swears that if he had not been ass-naked, and there had been a ring in his back pocket right now, he would have whipped it out to propose to you, right then and there. Because, god, he's so truly in love with you, and the way that your pussy is a killer.

Capable of rendering an assassin dumbstruck, slack-jawed as he does his best to attach himself to reality once more. But all he can feel is the tight slick of your cunt clenching once more around him, the plush of your ass bouncing back to meet the base of his wide cock. Skin slapping so filthy and sticky against the trail of dark hair pattering down his abdomen.

Two wide palms searing into your skin, scooping him right up so his deliciously long cock can curve and glide right through your pussy. Bullseye! Right onto that sweet spot that makes you keen, and claw and whine, "Toji – right there, fillin' me up so good."

And you always know the right things to say because that rough, lil' scar on the upper corner of Toji's mouth is twitching, fighting off the dopey, love-struck grin that plasters itself on his face. Fighting the rising blush that threatens to make itself visible on his back, neck and ears.

He's a grown man, for fuck's sake! But never has he ever felt something so disarmingly charming and incredible as this, caging you in his arms as he pounds his hips into you, slap! slap! slap!

"We should get m-married, right? Right, doll?"

Toji doesn't even realise what he's babbling, too intent on feeling every inch of your walls, every sticky divot that he can press his inches into but god, he means every word that's falling from his slack lips, "M-marry me, doll. Gon' get ya' a diamond ring, anything ya' ask for, just say the word to ol' Toji here."

At first, the buzzing in his ears is so loud, so goddamn obnoxious that he cannot make out what droopy, muffled words are falling from your glossy, beautiful lips. But he strains his ears to catch them over the sound of his hips pistoning themselves against your skin, strands of translucent gloss stringing and snapping.

"W-wanna marry you too, Toji!"

For all of Toji's hard work in the sweltering gyms in the shitty basement of his apartment complex, his vast, muscular arms suddenly lose their strength. Everything in his broad, heavenly carved body turning into jitters, heart dangerously leaping up into his throat at just how much he loves you.

There, he said it. And now, he thinks he'll never be able to stop.

Emerald eyes not even sure where to focus on, the bounce of your tits that he can spy from underneath your glorious arch, the soft bounce of your ass against him, or the beautiful curve of your spine, "Loveee ya' doll, gonna' give you the whole package, I swear."

Each phrase puncuated by the heavy thwack! of his weeping tip against your cervix, pressing right up against where he's hoping his seed will take, "Gonna' make ya' my wife, my gorgeous wife." Sweeping a muscled arm beneath you to find your sensitive clit, pressing right at the sensitive bud, "Gonna' fill this pretty pussy up so good, wanna' see you allll round and g-glowing for me."

"Fuck, I'll even pay that s-shitty clan a visit, eh? Make 'em hand over the family ring, just so I can see it on ya' finger." God knows that those little shits don't need it, that pretty band of emerald that Toji can already see in his mind's eye, gleaming on your ring finger as he presses gentle kisses to your hand.

The very vision of you with your belly round, gleaming like the fuckin' sun itself, has Toji shuddering, planting his knees further into the mattress so he can jostle you even closer for a good fill. His wife, yeah, she'll get only the best.

Groaning as he feels wrinkled skin tighten, before thick ropes of sloppy, pearly cum shoot out from his angry tip. Overflowing in droves as he continues to buck his hips against yours, watching as your squelchy, puffy folds take up every single drop.

"I'm all yours, doll. I mean it."

➤ HIROMI HIGURUMA

"This was what you wanted . . angel?" Your husband coos, spreading his thick thighs (deliciously dusted with fine, dark hair) further apart, so you can slot comfortably in-between. So you can press your naked back to his bare chest, letting the warm water of the tub gently soothe that miserable ache in your bones.

"Mhm." You sigh, letting your head rest back against glistening, creamy skin, "Been so long, 'Romi. You're always soo busy with work, baby."

The man behind you sighs, rubbing gentle hands down your pebbled arms, pressing soft and loving kisses to your neck, "I know, and m' sorry. Wish we could find more time like this, my love."

You can hear the apologetic tone in his voice, frowning at the idea that he must believe that you're truly upset with him, your beautiful and wide-eyed husband, "I'm jus' glad you're now, and. . .uh." You shift back slightly, hoping that he gets the hint from where you're pressing up against him.

"Aw, angel's all needy now?" Hiromi laughs against the shell of your ear, "Ah, I shoulda' known you were gonna' start squirming like this. Gorgeous lil' thing."

You feel his large hands wrap around you, exploring and wandering your chest. Pinching, flicking and softly caressing the sensitive skin, his large nose brushing against your neck, "Bet you want me to go even lower, am I right?"

"Please."

Your husband never lets you down, never leaves you dissatisfied, for his quick fingers are already dancing over your abdomen before dipping in between your legs. You squeal at the sudden contact, the damp pads of his thick fingers brushing against your folds, and the water lurches in the wide tub.

"Careful, now. Otherwise, we're gonna' have to clean up the mess after," Hiromi chuckles, but he seems just as eager to let his fingers explore you. To play you masterfully, nipping at every nook and cranny of where you're most sensitive.

He's even gasping in faux-surprise, baritone chuckle giving way to a marvelled rasp, "And so wet already? Barely even touched ya', and your pretty cunt's all slippery for me."

"What can I say?" You slick back a little against his chest, head falling lower as you squirm to help him find the right angle, "It's never as good when I do it with m-myself."

Hiromi's sudden grunt amuses you, your stoic and clever lover suddenly envious from the mere mention of him missing the sight of you pleasuring yourself, "Always gotta' play some games, don't you, angel?"

He doesn't wait for your stuttering response, a wide finger already breaching past your glossy entrance, brushing against your inner walls as heat licks greedily at your groin, "S-soo good already, baby."

"Jus' be patient, and let me do more," Hiromi mutters, his lips pressing to the juncture of your neck. Another finger joining the first, your walls clenching down on the welcome intrusion. He begins to set a steady pace, pistoning the digits in and out, and again, in and out of your pussy in a way that makes breathy whines fall from your open lips.

"Gorgeous." And it's his honest, love-struck praise that makes you flush, a rough thumb brushing over your needy clit, gentle swipe proving that sometimes less is more, "Spread 'em a bit wider for me, love."

And you comply, thighs shifting wider, muscles trembling with the bulk of Hiromi's fingers smearing your slick arousal back and forth over your folds. A soft and breathless whimper escaping as the pleasurable ache deepens, "Wha –"

The trembling, excited question beginning to fall from your lips, just as Hiromi slips his fingers out of you, prompting a whine that's quickly silenced by him pressing the sweetened digits past your lips, "Had to stretch m' wife out there, now taste."

You gasp around his fingers, feeling something far heavier, and wider prod at your entrance from behind, keening as Hiromi lifts you ever so slightly higher so the flushed mushroom-tip of his cock can easily slip into your cunt, curving deliciously up into your pussy.

So perfectly snug as your husband stifles a loud moan, bucking his hips up, water pooling over the edges of the bathtub, "We're gonna' be making that m-mess, angel, so hold on."

➤ NAOYA ZEN'IN

Oh, you are so in for it now. For you've never seen your petulant husband like this, never this riled up, not with such a wild and burning edge. The short walk from the feast hall to your private chambers felt like a blur as he hadn't even spared a second glance back, dragging you from your seat on the finely-woven tatami mats.

"Tch', keep up," Naoya's snapping, golden eyes darkened with a heavy haze that you suspect the sake may have played a role in. His long, dark lashes flicker against flushed, peachy cheeks as Naoya grips your wrist with a hand that's searingly warm.

He doesn't even glance back to see if anyone still lingers in the dim hallways, no, he does not even care. And Naoya's not quite sure why you suddenly do, "Oh, so now you wanna' see if someone's around? Didn't care sooo much when you were practically draped over that man's lap like a slut, right?"

One hand roughly swinging the screen door open, and another stroking over your pulse, pushing you in. And well. . you would be lying if you said that this didn't fill you with some form of glee. That this hadn't all been a part of your plan for the evening to provoke the Zen'in heir, to get some reaction from your husband,

But god, you certainly had not expected this. Hadn't expected Naoya to press the full weight of his toned form against yours, to have you right up there against the wall with no shame. His clever hands are skimming under your verdant robes to scoop strands of slick, heavy arousal between thin fingers, all while sharp fangs nip at the shell of your ear.

"So, my wife was just that desperate for attention. . wasn't she?" Naoya's scoffing, batting amber eyes at you as his tone takes on a bratty, raspy pitch, he sounds ruined. "Were ya' just really so needy t be fucked, like this? Couldn't even wait 'till the feast was over, and now m' gonna' have to explain this to everyone, yeah?"

Naoya's always oddly chatty when he's running his hands over you, mouth running wild and desperate. His fingers have torn away beautiful, new emerald-green silk robes, pinching and tweaking your swollen clit between clipped nails. Scoffing and snickering when you buck your hips into him, whining his name.

"Ha! As if m' gonna' let you have this easy, you think I'm just gonna' give you my cock now, like you weren't just whorin' yourself allll over that sorcerer's lap – heh, he must've been thinking it was all the wine." Naoya snarls, already tugging at his own dark haori, and the thin waistband of his pants, "He should have asked me then, I coulda' told him just how cock-drunk my wife gets when she's lookin' for my attention."

What your husband has lacked for in wide girth, he makes up for in length, and he takes some (really fucking annoying) egotistical pride in knowing how to wield those inches. He's using his warm hands to hold your thigh up — to run the angry, pink tip down your dewy cunt. Hissing when the tip snaps on your weeping entrance.

The first few inches has you keening into him, not caring about how this is the man that you profess to love on some days, and vow to poison with arsenic on others.

Naoya's patting your cheek with short taps of his manicured hands, bullying his cock further into you, "Hey, wifey. Pay attention now, look d-down. This is what ya' wanted, right?"

And you do look down, gulping at the sight. His veined cock being enveloped by your swollen, puffy folds. And each time that your husband teases and draws his cock out in heavy strokes, well, it comes out glistening and creamy. And it's clear that Naoya is amused by your dazed giggles and sighs, but even he isn't above the sheer pleasure that your pussy gives him, shaking his head of sandy, soft hair.

"Ouh, take a look at that, she's l-loud tonight, isn't she?"

And you profusely flush, hearing the pap! pap! pap! echo through your quarters, the slick thwacks! of his cock sliding in and out of your heat as you mewl. And Naoya almost, just almost, looks fond of you, his wife, pressing a shaking thumb to the pad of your lower lip, pressing down as you nip sharp teeth around flesh.

"Pretty, p-pretty lady," Naoya babbles out, probably without even realises that he's paid you an accidental compliment, loose strands of flaxen hair brushing against his forehead as he leans in to press a filthy kiss to your lips, "Wanna' go one more time on the bed? O-or how 'bout the hallway? Everyone can hear how I make ya' scream."

➤ GOJO SATORU

"Oouh, you just make everything so much better for me, baby." Gojo's laugh rumbles from his bare chest, snowy lashes fluttering over creamy, flushed skin as he presses his back further into the plus mattress.

You sigh, and it's a happy, content sound that makes something awfully soft settle in Gojo's chest. You're pressing soft kisses to his reddened, twitching mouth, melding yourself to his lips.

"Now, c'mon, off!" You tug at the black silk wrapped around his eyes, curling your fingers into the smooth fabric to just yank it down. Your eyes meeting Gojo's lazy, pleased gaze as you do. He's just so smug like this, knowing that he's got you naked in his arms. You can see his jewel-blue stare appreciatively run over your bare form, his favourite sight in the entire world. A veiny hand pulling at the curve of your ass, pushing you further on top of your fiancé.

"And to think I was in such a bad mood earlier, baby," Gojo murmurs, tapping his muscular thighs. A silent indication for you to hop right on, hovering your dripping core right over his angry, weeping tip. "Thought I was gonna' have the worst day ever, the higher-ups fuckin' with me and all. But how could I ever forget m' pretty baby waiting at home?" Each sentence delivered with a soppy, sweet kiss to your smiling lips.

"Thaaaaat's it, there we go," Gojo snicker as you slowly lower yourself over his considerable, fat inches. And the strongest is just so amused, watching you bite your kiss-stung lips, struggling to keep the wanton moans in, but you're not letting him off that easy. For the second, the very second that your hips meet the base of his groin, slick seeping into that thatch of white curls, you're giving him a thick squeeze.

"F-fuck!" Gojo wheezes, white strands of hair falling back against the pillow as he does his absolute best to not lose the last semblance of iron composure. But the way your gorgeous, tight cunt is wrapping him good, he fears the game is long over before it even began.

Yeah, he considers himself a pretty lucky man.

"Ya' good, 'Toru?" You giggle, threading your fingers through tousled, frosty strands, feeling Gojo practically purr from underneath you. He's cracking a stormy eye open, pressing his mouth into a thin line, "Yeah, girl. Never been b-better."

See, Gojo Satoru was a. . .practical man. Well, no, scratch that. He was the strongest, but when faced with your dizzying, maddening grip — he feared that there was no power or technique on this planet that would be able to help him.

"Have you gotten bigger, 'Toru?" You plant your shaking hands on his broad chest, nose scrunching as you stifled a weak sniffle at the sheer magnitude of the delicious stretch. Trying to keep your head smart on your shoulders, but god, it's just soo difficult when you can feel every veined-inch throb and pulsate in the gummy walls of your pussy, his second-favourite girl.

Gojo just squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that if he were to crack cerulean eyes wide open, the sorcerer would immediately bust a fat load at the sight of his wife's naked form, and that's not to mention the magnetic pull of his gaze to your chest. He's gasping as you begin rocking forward, setting your own comfortable pace that already has him seeing stars, "Wha', bigger?"

"Yeah, s-so much bigger, each time – each time, I swear." You're mewling, words tumbling right into each other. And that, that mere sight of you struggling to accomodate to wide girth of him. . .well, that is almost enough to have Gojo busting a thick wad of seed into you.

Shaking fingers come to pinch at the fat of your ass, gently tapping it for good measure, "Don't say stuff like that, wifey. M' already s-sensitive." Gojo's huffing, admiring the way that you roll those killer hips faster now, gliding around his thick cock in gooey, filthy circles, and taking every inch of him so well.

You laugh in uneven, frayed bursts — trailing a single finger down the handsome line of his jaw, feeling his pulse jump underneath for he's so in love. "So much better than that stupid m-meeting, right?" Arching your back just a little more on top fo him, so the probing curve of his cock is brushing gentle kisses on your insides, swabbing over that rough patch of nerves that has you suddenly gasping and keening.

Gojo threads a quivering hand at the nape of your neck, so you can feel the cool band of his wedding ring brush at your skin. Bringing you down for a messy kiss, all so sloppy and desperate, "Y-yeah, so glad I left early, heh. Just knew I was needed here, c'mon, baby. Arch for me a b-bit more."

He feels dizzy, lightheaded and he know he must look a whorish mess. His staff uniform already scattered somewhere on the floor, having been discarded in a desperate trail on your way to bed. Dark blindfold having slipped under his face, and ice-white hair dishevelled in raked tendrils. Sticky strands of his pre-cum and your glossy arousal pulling away with each slap! slap! slap! of your pelvis against your hips.

"Think ya' can go a bit f-faster, baby?" Gojo runs his large, warm hands over your chest. Cupping your tits with calloused palms, and pinching them in a way that makes you squeal, "Or how 'bout this? Just move back a lil', yeah, up. So I can feel you here."

Here being in-between your thighs slapping against his, your swollen clit absolutely aching for his attention. And Gojo, duly, delivers. Rubbing furious, tight circles over where you needed the most, sending you hurtling head first into a dazzling orgasm that has you shaking in his beefy, muscled arms.

The rapid, pulsing clenches of your pussy have Gojo seeing visions of wedding vows and golden rings, amplified only by how his own ground-shaking orgasm washes over him and runs him senseless, your tight walls milking him dry for all he's worth.

Thick, glossy ropes of white seed shooting out of his tip, steaming and searing as they fill you right up, pressed right up against your cervix. And in such greedy volumes too, for you're leaking sticky cream all over your aching, shaking thighs.

"You should keep going, sweets, ride m-me as much as ya' can," Gojo gasps out, feeling the overstimulated sensation of your cunt clenching as you writhe on top of him, "If you can make me cry, m' gonna' marry you tomorrow."

➤ HAJIME KASHIMO

". . .What did you just say?" You gape at the teal-haired sorcerer, eyes wide as Kashimo suddenly seems to find the floor far more interesting than you. His heel dragging against the ground, scuffing the pristine white of his boot.

Kashimo just clears his throat — once, twice, then pointedly looks anywhere but you. How adorable, you think, watching as he turns away from you, tugging his cream martial robes apart. "Do not make me say it again, dove."

"Baby, if I didn't hear you right the first time, then. . ."

"Just sit on my face, please."

You're grinning, far too sweetly for the medieval sorcerer to keep his cool, "Say less, 'Jime." Almost cooing at the vibrant red flush climbing up Kashimo's back.

It's a once-in-a-blue moon spectacle, the bratty warrior genuinely conceding defeat for his wants. No smug, fanged grin nor insufferable gloating. So, as you watch him practically collapse onto your bed, limbs sprawled and cyan hair pooling around his head in a tangled mess, you clench your thighs subconsciously, already feeling a bit light-headed.

There's a gangly lurch in your steps, a sway to your balance as you're peeling your panties away from damp thighs. Stepping out of your underwear so you can inch just a bit closer, watching as Kashimo's eyes widen. Turquoise eyes, the same disconcerting shade as his glossy hair, widen — glazing over with something far more familiar to you. The same look in Kashimo's eyes when there's a battle that he has to win, and this endeavour warrants no less ambition in him.

"Come here, girl, let me – ouh," Kashimo's voice has hardened into a needy rasp, his eyes not leaving your mound even once, pupils trailing after a single droplet of slick tearing down your thigh. He's hastily slamming his arms forward, wrapping your thighs up in his tight hold.

Laving his sharp, pink tongue over that droplet and groaning, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he's mouthing soft kisses over the gentle, plush flesh. Catching any more stray strands of slick before the main meal.

But there's a very slight hesitation in your movements, the faintest uncertainty as you hover with aching muscles over Kashimo's torso. Gnawing on your lower lip, contemplating whether you should actually —

"What's wrong, little dove?" Kashimo frowns, scarred hands reaching out to hungrily envelop your thighs, dragging your sopping cunt closer to his chin.

"Are you sure you want me to, uh, –" You're gesturing to his face, trying to convey that you're suddenly having second thoughts about suffocating the sorcerer with thighs around his head, and Kashimo seems to glean your thoughts, clicking his tongue, "Silly, aren't you? Jus' sit, I have you."

"What if you don't want to – . ."

It is a rare thing to see Kashimo smile, a genuine grin without the promise of bloodshed or storms afterwards, but he's snickering now, eyes hazed over with an even rarer fondness. Sharp, toothy fangs peaking out from underneath cherry-lips, "I cannot even tell you how much I want you to just let me have a taste, right now."

And god, he certainly was not exaggerating for the very minute your aching cunt met his lips, Kashimo was drinking you in like a man starved. Teal lashes fluttering closed over his blissful expression, those magenta-lightning marks at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stifles back a heady moan, "Mmph. . holding out on me with this. How did I go s-so long without – "

You don't even hear the rest of his desperate, pussydrunk words. World already turning into a bright mush of vibrant colours and sounds around you, streaks of blue and lightning-hot white across your eyes. The slick, filthy sounds of your sopping heat dripping over Kashimo's chin, dribbling down onto his neck.

The very tip of his long tongue prodding at your entrance, already slipping past your pussy's ring of muscle, "Fuuuck, 'Jime, feels so, soo good." Unsure on where to even place your jittering hands, settling to run them past the hem of your top. Slipping the fabric off and away, so you can cup your tits, and grip the sensitive flesh.

You see Kashimo's eyes crack open, and a faintly muffled whine reaches your ears, murmured encouragement of just how much he's enjoying the sight being groaned into your wet, glistening pussy, "Soakin' allll over me, little dove. Heh, tryna' drown me?"

You buck your hips over his face with greater force, feeling the bridge of his sharp, handsome nose brush against your clit as you squeal, "Shh, shh, m' already c-close."

"Already?" Kashimo's tastebuds determined to soak every drop of you in, as though you were the sole thing in this world quenching his thirst, "Always t-take suchh good care of you, right? You gotta' s-say that I do – that it's m-me making ya' feel like this."

"You, y-you, 'Jime, only you." You whine, knowing exactly what Kashimo wants to hear, what you truly believe, how he's the only being able to coax such mind blowing pleasure from you. The only one to have you perched over his mouth, gliding yourself back and forth over his glossy, swollen tongue.

"Good, heh." And you suddenly fear that you had grown too complacent, to willing to believe that this would not be another one of Kashimo's battles.

Because the sorcerer's gaze is suddenly all the more focused, laser-sharp with his eyes on the prize, your tacked clit throbbing for attention from his lips. That look when he's capable of going multiple rounds to prove that he can win, and will win. You briefly wonder if there will be any sensation left in your twitching legs by the time Kashimo is done.

"We can do this all n-night, little dove."

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ ────────

you’re 5 minutes into your first round and to be quite honest, you’ve never been more sure that fushiguro toji and his god given ability to dirty talk is something you’ll take to your grave.

you’d been with other guys before, ones with a nasty habit of running their mouths during sex. ones that’d grab you by the neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how tight you were, how they couldn’t wait to fuck you again.

toji is entirely different. nothing, and i truly mean nothing, compares to that old man when it comes to mouthing off in the bedroom. he’s formulating sentences you never thought possible, spewing stuff that would have you clutching your pearls and running for the hills any other given day.

you’re holding onto your composure by your teeth hearing him say the things he does, thighs and arms burning as you rock back and forth on his dick.

“take what you need pretty. uh huh, keep fucking me,” he chuckles, winding a fist into your hair to pull you back onto his cock when he notices you trying to crawl away.

you honestly don’t think you can take it anymore. if the way your guts were currently being pummeled into oblivion wasn’t enough, the way he’s talking to you right now has you in crisis.

it’s all too good, suspiciously good, and embarrassingly enough, you think you might be nearing your edge only 7 minutes after making it to his bed. your arms fail you as you try to crawl up the bed and away from the too-good feeling currently frying every wire in your brain.

“awww, you runnin’ from me?,” he laughs, letting your hair go to cage you in from behind, two solid arms settling on either side of your head.

your words escape you each time you muster up a response, eyes rolling back and he takes over again, shoving you face down and absolutely destroying that special spot tucked away inside of you. toji’s like a furnace, cooking you alive with the heat the radiates add his abs and chest.

“told ya you couldn’t handle it,” he teases, watching you writhe under him. “not with this dick.”

you feel something wet—a tongue you realize— traveling up the base of your spine and tapering off at your neck before solid teeth clamp down on the skin there.

okay, wow. fuck. you realize he’d lapped up the moisture settling in the dip of your back, licking the sweat from your skin like an animal.

“gonna let me taste every part of you? hmm?” he says in that too sweet voice you only hear when he’s teasing. he lets go of your neck with a pop to admire the bruise his bite leaves in its wake, sucking another one right under it for good measure.

you fall over the edge with no warning, so overwhelmed with pleasure that your mind and body continue to work separately.

the sound toji makes is beautiful. low, long, and guttural. radiating from the deepest part of his chest like a fan, and for a minute, you think he might be feeling the same overwhelming pleasure you are.

“ughh-hah don’t move, don’t move,” he whispers over and over, massaging the fat of your ass while your body flutters around him. you feel something viscous leak out of you, dripping down the seam of your heat and onto the sheets.

“when the fuck did you have time to cum?,” you finally muster. you don’t think you’d be able to move if your life depended on it, limbs sinking into the mattress like tubes of jelly. you really can’t move once you feel 200 pounds of laughing muscle settle on top of you, keeping you grounded like a paperweight on a measly little envelope.

“what, y’ quitting on all of this?” he laughs, gesturing up and down himself so you know just how irresistible he thinks he is. the worst part is that he’s right, just based off of how hard he’d rocked your world in the last 10 or so minutes.

you feel invigorated by some stroke of a miracle, pressing back on his still-leaking dick as a silent invitation.

“what, more? y’need more of me you little minx?” he laughs, grrriiiinding his tip right up against that fleeting spot you would have never been able to get to on your own.

and just like that he’s back to fucking you, pulling you into him like a toy at that same perfect pace.

“bite me hard if y’ want me to stop, you hear me?” he commands, shoving your face back into the pillows once he sees you nod.

[lvrsfilm]

Lieutenant Simon Riley has a favorite nurse. She's sweet as sugar and polite, stitching up every bloodied soldier with gentle words and touches so light they barely feel the push and pull of the suturing. Appreciative, whether they return the soft conversation or not. He likes the way she floats around the medical wing, the way she smiles softly at everyone, even him. He's sure she knows what he's been doing, but she isn't stopping him, so he assumes she doesn't mind.

Every morning, without fail she gets up and comes into the wing in a different colored pair of scrubs. A new color every day, never the same one twice in a week. She sits at the front desk or at another station somewhere around and sips a can of ginger ale through a straw, pretending she doesn't see Simon's eyes on her while she works.

"Wha's it t'day?" Simon says gruffly as he approaches her, bypassing the other nurses almost completely. "Blackberry," She says softly, looking up at him and displaying the can. He takes a look at her scrubs, and of course, they're a dark purple, matching the can. It suits her, he thinks. Not an obnoxious shade, one that matches her skin tone well. "Good?" He asks her, like he always does. "Not my favorite,' she says as she sets the can back down. He hums lowly in reply as his eyes linger on the fabric of her scrubs, the way the cloth dips over her soft curves.

"You hurt?" She asks him cheekily, "Or just taken an interest in the medical field?" He grunts, pulling his eyes away from her scrubs and meeting her own. "Nae," He says lowly. "Just passing by," he adds, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. Or reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothing, or tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

He doesn't know what else to say, wanting to keep her attention on him. "Suits ya," He ends up saying softly, trying to sound as gruff as possible, but his eyes are trained on hers, his hazel eyes staring into her own irises. "The purple." He grumbles, cursing inwardly because why is he acting like he's never spoken to a pretty bird before?

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She says sweetly, a nice red tinting the apples of her cheeks. Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next. Small talk hasn't ever been his strong suit, but walking away feels wrong, like cutting a thread that’s barely started to weave.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks again, but this time there's something softer in her voice. A note of genuine curiosity, her hands stilling on her keyboard. "You don’t usually linger this long."

He scowls—not at her, but at himself for being so obvious. "Dinnae know I was bein’ timed," he mutters, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You’re not. Just... noticed, is all." Her gaze flicks over him, quick and subtle, like she’s trying to piece him together without openly prying. She's familiar with Simon, knows how private he is. "Busy morning?"

He shrugs. "Same as usual. Training, Paperwork."

Her lips quirk upward in a faint smile, but there’s a shadow of worry behind her eyes. "Sounds like you could use a break."

"Aye," he says gruffly, a hand leaving his pocket to scratch at the base of his balaclava. "Reckon this is it."

Her smile softens at that, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken that presses against his chest, and hers. He wants to say more, to keep her talking, but the words are tangled up in his throat.

"Y’know," she says after a pause, "I think purple might actually suit you too."

His brows furrow softly, squinting at her a bit behind the mask, and for a split second, he wonders if she’s teasing him. But her expression is sincere, her eyes glinting with a quiet kind of amusement.

"Me?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t reckon that’s in regulation."

She shrugs lightly, leaning against the desk. "Wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe a mask or something. Just a little color." There’s a playful glint in her eyes now, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

"Don’t think I’d pull it off," he mutters, though there’s a faint warmth creeping up his neck, hidden by the black fabric.

"I disagree," she says softly, and the weight of her gaze feels heavier than before. He looks at her then, really looks, and finds himself rooted to the spot.

"You always this cheeky with the patients?" he grumbles, trying to mask the fact that she’s gotten under his skin.

"Only the ones who hover around the nurses' station without a good excuse," she quips, her smile widening just a fraction. "But I don’t mind. You’re welcome anytime, Lieutenant."

His heart gives a traitorous thump at her words, but he swallows it down and grunts in reply. "I’ll hold ya to that," he says, his voice rougher than he intends.

As he turns to leave, her voice calls him back again, soft and lilting. "Oh, and Simon?"

He stops dead in his tracks. She’s never used his name before. Slowly, he turns his head to glance at her, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

"Next time," she says, lifting her can of ginger ale in a mock toast, "you could at least bring one of these to share."

His lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low. "I’ll see what I can do."

And as he walks out of the wing, he finds himself already wondering what color she’ll be wearing tomorrow.

[kurooh]

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”