#this is a good bite sized chunk to start with

[anaconda-creates]

for those who have been asking about my ocs (thank you i love you), lets start with these little fact sheets :)

here are my main two guys, Angelo and Dare, doofuses extraordinaire. The story takes place in 1987 for reference. My favorite kind of characters are those that are both incredibly intelligent and extremely idiotic at the same time, so they are both that in very different ways.

The AIC (Anomalous Individuals Collective) is my play on SHEILD or what have you. Instead of a sleek government run initiative based on recruiting heroes and all that, it's one guy with a bunch of resources who built an underground network to find anomalous people and help them regain control over their lives. He has spaces for people to test out powers where nothing is going to get wrecked, he has housing and jobs (long term and in-between) for people who's anomaly suddenly uprooted their lives, and way more. He tends to discourage young people from believing the great power great responsibility lie, because (in most cases) they didn't ask for any of the great power and they don't know how to handle the great trouble they are eventually going to get themselves into. But for those who are determined to be superheroes, he makes sure they go out there as prepared as they can be. Oh, and he's also a former supervillain.

[cowgiri]

𝐖𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋���𝐑!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 who has a reputation of being an absolute brute in the wrestling ring. his size is intimidating, his strength is terrifying, and the way he carries himself on the mat is downright chilling. he's known for being the "villain" of the wwe, the heel who the crowd hates because of his rude mouth and complete disregard for the rules. it's not uncommon for him to take a steel chair to someone's back and break it, or even take a chunk of their hair in a lock and yank it so hard that they end up falling to the ground. others found scary but it made you horny. and that didn't go unnoticed by toji as he saw the sweet little ring girl squirming in her chair.  

𝐖𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 who is obsessed with you. he sees you around the arena and is completely drawn to you. he watches as you walk the ring, your tight little ass swaying from side to side. he can't help it as his eyes follow you wherever you go, wanting to get a glimpse of the rest of you.  he watches your full breasts jiggle in your bra, his cock starts to throb against the confines of his trunks. you have no idea he's staring at you. but it's hard not to notice the giant of a man watching you. his piercing gaze makes you feel something else too. something that makes you feel like you're drowning in the depths of his eyes. a strong desire that makes your pussy clench and your panties get damp. as if he can tell what you're feeling, a dark grin paints his face. 

𝐖𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 who thinks you are the only one for him. he knows you don't belong in this world. you're too pure, too innocent. but he can't resist you. no matter how hard he tries, he just can't seem to shake you off. he wants you for himself. in his arms, in his bed, under him, over him, against him, wrapped around him. he wants to hear you moan his name, feel your nails digging into his back as he takes you hard and fast. 

𝐖𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 who starts to tease you. during matches, he'll wink at you from the ring, his bulky muscles flexing as he pins his opponent. backstage, he'll pull you into a secluded corner, his hands roaming over your body as he whispers, "you like watching me, don't you, dirty girl?" the only thing toji loves more than teasing you, is fucking you. his rough hands on your hips, his cock deep inside you. it's never gentle, never tender. it's raw, rough, and primal. exactly how toji likes it. and god knows you're obsessed with the feeling of his thick cock inside you bruising your cervix. it leaves you gasping for air, desperate for more.

𝐖𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 who doesn't know how to do gentle. he loves to man handle you by slamming you down on the nearest surface, just so he can fuck you. his hands are always rough against you. grabbing, pulling, biting, bruising. everything about him is harsh and rough. he can’t forget how good it feels to fuck that heavenly mouth of yours. he'll hold your head between his hands and pound your mouth with his cock, watching in delight as saliva drips down your chin and pools at the base of his cock. his hands tangling in your hair, gripping your jaw in place as he fucks you like a slut. he doesn't care if you're gagging, or struggling for breath, or your eyes are watering. all he cares about is his own pleasure, and right now, that means fucking your pretty little mouth until you're nothing more than a puddle of mess on the floor. you're like a toy, something to be used and discarded when he's done with you. you should be disgusted with him, but you can't help how much you want him. how much you need him.

[screampied]

SLOW IT DOWNNN MAKE IT BOUNCY !? ☆

gojo, choso, toji, sukuna, geto. riding the jjk men so good that they whine for you

cw. fem! reader, whiney men, unprotected, cowgirl, reverse, car sēx, praise, shotgunning (geto), dirty talk, spanking, biting, breaking the bed, size kink, overstim, choking (toji), wc. 3.6k

an. ateez reference >.~

𐔌 SATORU GOJO.

“oh, someone’s gettin’ ngh, cocky.” he’d groan, semi-sweaty hands glued to both sides of your waist. gojo can’t even try to hold his whines because it’s not even seconds later and his head throws itself back in rapture. with a cute abashed expression spraying over his sour features, he swallows what’s undoubtedly the last few drops of his pride. “f-fuuuck, teasin’ me with these killer hips. ‘s no fair, baby.”

and as he speaks, watching you jerk and grind against him at a much more lively speed—gojo captures a nice chunk of your ass, gifting it an impolite smack. he’s so embarrassed that a hand of his covers his mouth. giggling, you gradually peel his hands away, kissing near the tip of his nose. “awwwh,” you coo in a seductive purr, barreling his fattened length inside of you. “don’t be shy, ‘toru. i wanna see that pretty face.”

“shut uppp,” he whines again, a pout immediately stretching over his sheeny-slick lips. your soft touch alone sends him electric shivers to meander all through him. his dick twitches from the sweet sweet friction before cereluan-pristine eyes of his roll their way back into the very ends of his skull. “ugh, you do it s-so good though. fuck me, f-fuck me please.”

with your arms flinging around his broad pent up shoulders, you lean in to bestrew a few kisses near the corners of his mouth. gojo’s rosé-colored lips tremor in longing for more of you. for more of your touch, more of your taste. the head of his cock pursues to mash against your folds, thwacking and thwacking away. “slower, baby?” you whisper against the very hem of his ear, giving it a little nibble to earn another wailing whimper from him.

“s-slow, yeah,” he holds your hips in place, having a race with his own breath—a mere competition. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. submissive, pinned down, and needy. with a three second clear of his throat, he groans, meeting your gaze once more. “don’t get cocky.. ‘m still the strongest ‘n i can flip you over ‘n h-have my way if—”

he gets cut off by your lips, his muffled moans pour right into your mouth and he purrs once a finger of yours strokes alongside his undercut.

another whine leaves from gojo’s lips the moment your fingers brush against there. his precious undercut. anytime your finger would drag down that part of his hair, he’s already a melting puddle. his face was flushed as you’re rocking back and forth against him. heavy drawing pants sneak out of his lips before he lets off a tremulous whine. “o-oh my god, ‘m gonna cum,” and he knows from the way his tip starts to repeatedly swipes against the insides of your sopping cunt. you’re clinging onto him tightly from the inside—a grip so tight that it makes him bite his lip, begging for more. after a while, leisurely—your lips comes to a slowing slow.“fuck, f-fuck me. ngh, think this pussy’s gonna kill me.”

“you’re so dramatic baby,” you tease, sneaking a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “mwah,” and he shivers from your touch. clammy hands of gojo’s grab onto your waist, pulling you further against him before he grunts against your ear. even his whines, they were so cute. he’s never felt more embarrassed. with his head tossing itself back, his eyes widen before he’s dumping a thick load into your needy cunt. “mhm, ‘s good,” you hum, panting yourself before you cup both sides of his face. who was once famously known as the strongest, was now easily able to be mistaken as the weakest . . especially whenever it came to pussy. your pussy. you titter, still feeling him trickle such gummed amounts into you. it’s so sloppy that it sloshes all around your beloved insides. “good boy.”

“f- fuck, say it again,” gojo sheepishly grins, laid back with your waist still in his tight grip. he’s all pussy drunk, the epitome of the word, really. a pout stretches against his lips as he waits for your reply, pretty navy blue irises doe at you before he pants.

“good boy, ‘satoru, my good boy,” you repeat, playfully flicking his chest back so you could go again. “let’s try that again, hm?”

“y- yes baby.”

𐔌 SUGURU GETO.

“s-shit,” geto whews, hurling an arm around the back of his reclined car seat. the mood couldn’t have been more perfect. you were riding him in his car, the view was so pretty. you were so pretty, the way you’re moving all against him—taking his breath away. the woodsy scent of geto’s leather jacket roams through the air as you creep a hand up into his biker white tee. “thaaat’s it, slow baby. slow, fuck me good, yeah?”

geto’s groans only makes your pussy throbs multiple by the second. a plump shaped blunt sticks from the side of his mouth, taking a few milliseconds to recover from his most recent puff. with bloodshot eyes, he can’t help but pull you into a deep kiss, blowing a few gusts of air into your mouth. as it travels, his tongue fervently gyrates against yours before you blow it right back into his. once you swallow, it tastes earthy and citrusy. as it aerates between each mouth, you moan, “s-suguru,” you moan, feeling his fingers prowl its way against your waist to the very undersides of your thighs. you made sure to go slow, slow and steady. geto’s for a sleazy grin, feeling the wetness of your cunt take him with all its might. “gonna cum soon.”

“bet you are,” he whispers, his foot tapping against the carpet floor of the parked vehicle. by the second—geto’s raspy moans start to get more vocal within each jiff that passes. as he’s still buried into your cunt, entangled with every inch of you, your speed arises with its own deliberate quickness. “fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna send me to a hospital with those nasty hips.”

“should i go faster—?” you coo against the shell of his ear, the tip of his cock kissing against your g-spot. it’s a tickling sensation that’s almost enough to make you drool.

geto grunts, his voice becoming a bit more trembly. with the way your body jolts against him in harmony, he’s feeling that familiar primal heat snake its way into the pit of his stomach. “slower, i- i like it when you’re slow for me, gorgeous.” and a hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs. you moan from his touch, vast pads of his fingertips ghosting against your skin. a hand of geto’s reaches towards his blunt and he takes another long deep puff. “ugh, ‘m hitting you in that spot. gonna milk me again, sweet thing.”

“don’t miss this time,” you whine against his neck, taking a few seconds to lick against his skin. geto hissed at the brief pang that entraps m his cock from the base down with such bliss. your cunt’s greedy, swallowing it whole with its entire being—never wanting to part. grabbing onto his large pointed shoulders, he’s just making you throb time and time again. a moistened tongue of his licks against his parted lips before he feels a clench. he’s so fucking thick, as you’re barreling his staggering length, repeatedly slamming down against his lap—you feel him starting to judder from underneath you. it comes in waves and he’s about to lose all kinds of composure with your movements. “come on, sugu. cum with me.”

“keep talkin’ to me like that ‘n ‘m gonna propose.” he jibes, though part of you knew your boyfriend was serious. “mhmnn, f-fuck, ‘s good. right there, right fucking there.”

by now, geto’s entire voice wasn’t the same as it was a few minutes ago. he’s whining, sweet cacophonies of “f-fuck me,” and “baby, ‘s good,” continue to spew out of his lips. in the background, obscene pressure continues to arise and alleviate inside of your own tummy—you’re swaying your hips against him at such force that not even gravity could keep up with the pull. the foam of the driver’s seat nearly wears itself thin before you toss your arms around his neck. “i know baby, give it to me. cum with me, sugu.”

“anything for you, sweet girl,” he hiccups, and that’s the last words he remembers murmuring before he shoots satiny ropes of cum into you. your hole flutters and within seconds, you end up finishing right after him. you both moan in unison, yet geto’s louder, he’s whining against your ear. with his head slump back, he’s barely holding onto waist now. geto’s body shakes as he comes undone, filling up your insides with such amounts of viscous seed. he’s panting, heavily. it’s so much that it dribbles from your pussy towards the crevices of your thigh. “s-shiiiiit,” he sibilates in a single breath, flicking his rolled blunt aside. with a low sigh, he leans back against the fleece made seat. “goddamn, baby.”

a smile purses against his lips, a timid one, but still a smile. above his lap, you’re still spasming yourself. you bring your rotating hips to a steady halt before you press a wet kiss against the edge of his wobbly pursed lips. “you okay, sugu—”

“marry me,” he cuts you off, wrapping his beefy arms around you. “i want you.”

𐔌 SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“tch, you’re such a pain,” he’d murmur at your first request to ride him on his throne. “but fine. get up here, woman. ‘n be quick, got things to do.”

despite his gruff tone and stern exterior, you’d make him chew his words in a way he’d least expect it. as sukuna preps you—getting you nicely soaked and wet, he aligns himself against your slick opening. you glance down at the upward curve of his dick and it was purely appetizing. he was already big regardless, but just fantasizing about taking him in his true form with his two cocks make your mouth start to pool with filthy, syrupy saliva. “f-fuck,” you’d mutter, ogling at the cunning grin of his stretch against his face in your peripherals.

bastard,

there was never a dull moment where sukuna ryōmen was not smug—he loved relishing your cute pornographic expressions. how you’re biting your tongue until it turns into chewing, taking every chance you get to suppress your cute little whines. “mhm, such a good girl. you take it quite well for a brat i must say.”

“shut up.”

“make me..”

two predictable simple words and you in fact do make him shut up — just with your salacious hips alone.

as sukuna’s lazily leaning back against the hardened furniture of his infamous throne—he was cocky, just talking and talking.

as you’re grinding your hips against his lap in a lewdly fashion, you nip a bit near his neck. he scoffs, a hand of his pulling your waist closer towards him. with each vigorous jostle, you’re starting to pick up the pace. he’s stuffed all the way inside, churning your insides up like butter. mixing all around your gripping walls with his fat cock, you moan—feeling the edges of his claws gingerly dig against your skin. your flesh, he’s grabbing a fair piece of your ass before he smacks it. the recoil makes him groan, your hips were a mere enemy, a force to be reckoned with..

“is that a pout?” you brush a thumb against his bottom lip, leaning in to kiss him but he growls. sukuna bares a single dang, and instead of it being intimidating, it’s just cute. ruby flared irises of his stare into you before he’s just lounging back against the chair. “f-fuck, ‘kuna. you don’t have to hide your moans, you know. ‘s just me.”

“shut up, girl.” he snarls, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. as you’re continuing to slowly rut back and forth, he gnaws on his lip like it’s candy. for a second, you watch as his eyes flicker. sukuna’s eyes switch to white and then he whines. it’s so faint that you could barely hear it, but he definitely slips out a whine. in a husky groan, he whines again— this time, it’s more of a sweetened whimper. “f-fuckin’ shit,” and he notices you slow down to openly stare at him. he glares but it doesn’t even last because as you’re keeping the entirety of his pulsing shaft warm within your tender walls, he whines again. “don’t look at me, ugh. i— phew, i need a minute.”

you pause, feeling his dick twitch inside your clenching before you have a teasing smug grin. throwing your arms around his shoulders, you peck a kiss near his cheek before running a finger down his chest, sliding past the fabric of his half-work kimono. “take all the time in the world, old man.”

“w- watch it.”

𐔌 CHOSO KAMO.

“don’t think ‘m gonna last,” choso blurts, starring at your gorgeous reflection through the mirror. you’d mention to him that you wanted to try riding him in reverse. he didn’t mind, he was more excited than anything. anytime you’d recommend a new position to try with choso, his eyes would light up. it was purely adorable—with wheezing breaths, he softly sinks his teeth into the margin of your neck. a lengthy tongue of his runs down your skin before he moans. “ngh, go s-slow like that, baby. ‘m hitting you so deep inside i think.”

and he’s just babbling to you, pathetic candied whimpers going into your neck as he sinks into your pussy raw. the concise stretch that shortly follows has your heart racing—head spinning, mind forevermore in a never ending loop.

“fuck, hold me choso. hold my hips, mhm,” and as your grinding significantly accelerates, you feel the sensation of your chest deflating. choso’s sputtering out cute inaudible whines into your neck as you’re moving your hips quicker. “touch me, good. good boy.”

“your good boy,” he immediately replies, taking a second to slink his quavering, reddened lips against the nape of your neck. each kiss he gives you stacks up before it turns into sweet, desperate sucking. choso moans, savoring the taste of your tender skin as you’re thrashing your hips against his. his throbbing cock consistently curls inside of your walls before he nibbles against your collarbone. “hngh, baby. your hips, you’re slowing down on purpose—aren’t you?”

with an airy giggle, you grab onto his knees for support. “should i slow down for you, ‘cho?”

“n-no, please,” he swallows. instinctively his big, bulky arms wrap around your waist. he’s giving you a gentle firm squeeze like a teddy bear. choso never wants to let you go—not now, not ever. he’s starting to hear the expeditious pumping beats of blood pulse through his ears, metaphorically slurping up your fervor, and he whines again. “f- fuuuck, that spot, gonna drain me. feel it, ‘m gonna cum. can i cum?” and he halts his jittery speech before whimpering against your twitching ears. “please lemme cum. don’t wanna b-be messy without my girl’s permission first.”

a breathy whine of your own leaves from your spit slicked lips before you kiss his cheek. “yes, baby. you can cum. ‘s okay,” and he pouts, a longing expression marinating against his features at your words. oh, if it was anyone who could turn him into a soft sap, it was you. you and your seductive, mouthwatering hips. choso brings his wrist over his face as you’re still maintaining a decent pace. his cock matches your movements in sync, piercing through every orifice to make your thighs tense in desire. nirvana, ecstasy, you feel everything coursing through your veins at once. choso’s cute whimpers were now all muffled from him trying to cover them with the back of his hand.

it was cacophonous—he leans back into a slump as you’re mashing against his body. hot needy bodies press back against each other in harmony, it’s so hypnotic. the insides of your viscous walls were smoldering with heat before he dumps right into you. it’s abrupt, a gasp snakes out from his throat as he’s feeling himself spit out such gobs of cum into you. you’re heavily trembling underneath him. it’s so much that it even costs near your thighs, dribbling down and it feels so sticky. you hum into his neck,

it’s so much—choso’s shaking right with you, strands of blackened hair running down his forehead, nearly occluding his vision as he’d still covering his face. “o-oh shit,” he whimpers, and he swallows, the air suddenly growing mute. he can hear the wet, sopping sounds of your pussy soaking in all of him before our of nowhere—it’s a ear splitting creak. choso’s so out of it that he doesn’t even realize nor acknowledges that the headboard collapses down. your hips were to blame, he doesn’t even flinch—instead, he pulls you into a needy kiss. it’s sloppy, he sucks against your tongue as you’re still keeping his dick warm. it’s twitching, convulsing within your hold. as tongues tango alongside each other, he grabs your hips. pulling away, he huffs. “more,” he pants, and you gasp once you’re suddenly now gently pushed on all fours. your ass gets shoved up by choso and his voice pitches. he’s still whiney, but he moans, prodding his leaky tip against your hole. “love you baby. but i-i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

𐔌 TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“can a little girl like you even handle me?”

famous last words—

it takes you a bit to adjust to toji’s thickset size, but once he’s all the way inside, his jaw tightens. your jaw tightens too. he’s quite the size with a fair amount of girth that it makes you feel a chilling snapping coil within you. you lean into him, smothering a few saturated kisses near his chin, his neck, and most importantly, his scar.

a sly smirk tug its way against his pink lips as he feels you show his slanted scar its deserved uninvited attention all while you’re jerking your hips against him. “you talk too much,” you inhale, the fullness of your lungs merely snatching the wind out of you. he couldn’t deny it though, your rhythm, it was enticing. rough big hands of his grip against your hips and you can see his adam’s apple bob once his head tilts back a bit. while the manly musk of toji’s cologne wafts through your nostrils, your pussy starts to constrict every few thrusts as he’s deep inside. he’s so big, his swollen sack repeatedly jackhammers and pummels against your soddened cunt before he starts to lean back more.

“ya gonna do somethin’ about it or…?” toji sneers at you, lincoln green eyes never taking you seriously. stubby fingers of his dig into your skin, clasping against your hips as you swing back and forth. as you oscillate against him, he’s taken by surprise once you wrap a hand around his throat. “ooh. chokin’ me too? ‘s kinda kinky, baby. got some nerve, heh.”

“shut up, toji.” you moan, and his eyes continue to wander down your body. god, he can’t help but stare a bit. the way your perfect rounded your tits bounce against your chest. just perfect. his hands were all over you. your body even has somewhat of a gleaming glow, simply from the sunlight that ricochets off the window pane right above the two of you. your hips only then started to get increasingly sloppy,

the action itself turns him on. with an eyebrow raise, you lean in to kiss him. he chuckles darkly, allowing you to rummage your tongue against his.

as your warm body continues to collide against his in such a swift way, he groans in your mouth. you decide to be a tease, creeping a hand against his chest to play with his exposed, broad tits nipples. your fingers strum against it as you’re still shoving your tongue down his throat. with his dick still happily tucked inside of your gluey, grippy walls, he suddenly lets off a whine. “m-mhm?” and he pulls away from your mouth, a string of glutinous saliva snatches away from each spit-coated lips before he sighs. “fuckin’ girl. told ya how my n-nipples get me sensitive when you suck on them.”

“cover them up next time, slut,” you tease, bringing your lips to kiss near the bridge of his nose.

toji’s eye twitches—his pecs were all swollen and out on display, you even inch your head down to lick a stripe against his nipples. “mhm,” you’d hum, feeling his entire body shiver from the coldness of your tongue flick around his tenderly sensitive skin. he huskily groans once you position yourself back up, slamming your legs down against his lower crotch area for the nth time.

with how hard your body smacks against his, you’re sticking against toji like glue. adhesive and all, with your arms still flimsy and frail—you start to make your speed quicker. as your hips piston in pleasure, his low pitched moans start to get louder. “ah, f-fuck,” he leans back, spanking the right temples of your ass. over and over and over, his hand swats against your skin repeatedly like a broken record. “fuck me then,” bratty viridiscent pupils meets yours, and his voice was on the verge of being weaker than it already was. with his tone all cutely strained and timid, it was nothing like the usual toji who’s always haughty and cocksure. as his ravened brows curl into a frustrated furrow, he starts to grab your hips to get a more thorough angle inside of your puffy pussy. “wanna put me in my place? fuck me then,” and he whines again once you squeeze his left nipple, kissing the edge of his scar. “hmph. ‘s doesn’t mean anything though. ‘sides, if y’er g-gonna choke me, at least do it harder, h-heh.”

[comicaurora]

Hi! I remember you saying at some point (I think, on the podcast?) that just realizing you have ADHD helped you to deal with it because you found some practices and techniques to help it, even without medication - or something along these lines, do I remember correctly?

Can you tell, which techniques? I seem to be somewhat resistant to medication (tried all options we get in the country I'm in, and improvement is very minimal), so I'm interested what else can be done there just to make it manageable

Caveat that every ADHD person is different so what works for me might not work for you, but this is what I've found helpful:

Break up Executive Dysfunction and fight Time Blindness by SETTING TIMERS. I have a fitbit, and on days I can feel my brain being restless and uncooperative, I set a ten minute timer on it. When it runs out, I set another one, and so on. It buzzes on my wrist, so it's hard to ignore, but it's not gamebreakingly distracting so it doesn't ruin my mood if I'm on a work roll. A brief, tangible reminder that time is passing can help me snap out of a break period or, if I'm working, give me a feel for my rate of progress. I can also use that reminder to take stock of if I need to eat food, get up and stretch, or lie on the floor for a bit to reset.

Take SMALL, LATERAL BITES OF PROGRESS. If you're having a hard time working on something, feel out what else you might be able to make headway on. Maybe you've got some writing notes you could jot down to build on later. Maybe there's a tiny item on the day's to-do list you could cross off quickly. Maybe there's a text or an email you've been meaning to fire off, or you've got a mild itch to doodle something in a sketchbook. Any progress is better than no progress, and even if you're just on your phone on the couch, you can get a lot of good work done just jotting down thoughts in the notes app. The lateral element is also very important; if you're fixating too hard on the ONE thing you're SUPPOSED to do, you can trap yourself in a spiral of how it's what you're SUPPOSED to be working on but it feels IMPOSSIBLE. Literally let yourself do anything else. Don't trap yourself with "it's either doing your responsibility or it's NOTHING." Your work is not a plate of broccoli you're not allowed to leave the table without eating. Give yourself permission to un-imprison yourself.

Related, If there are external factors on the responsibility - like an outside deadline or a team of people you're working with waiting on your stuff - don't be afraid to let them know where you're at, or if you're uncertain you can make the deadline as stated, even if you think your "brain is not working" reason isn't good enough to justify the delay. Most people are extremely chill about it, and some of them will even offer to help or make it easier for you in some way. "Struggling with deadline" is not an ADHD-only experience. It is one of the most relatable human experiences, and basically everyone will be inclined to help you out.

ANY PROGRESS IS BETTER THAN NO PROGRESS. LARGE projects can feel extremely overwhelming because you know you can throw everything you've got at them for a day or even a week and it still won't be finished, and if you've got that shadow looming over you, you might sink into a malaise of "I can't finish it and that means I can't even bring myself to start it." The best way to fight that is to make ANY progress in ANY direction. Every large project can be broken down into bite-sized chunks. Anything feels overwhelming if you see it as an unassailable monolith. Work you do now is work you don't have to do later.

CHECKLISTS. It's hard to hold a large list of things that need your attention all in your head at once. It is unbelievable how helpful it is to just write them down somewhere obvious, and when you're done with something, CHECK IT OFF. Don't erase it, leave it visible that you FINISHED it.

Tell your anxiety to CALL YOU BACK. This one's weird, but when I'm stuck stressing over something, I've found it legitimately works to pull up my schedule and pencil in "worry about <thing>" for a specific date and time. My brain registers that SOMETHING has been resolved and nothing has been outright dismissed or ignored, so it settles down. When the time rolls around, the source of the anxiety is still there, but the feeling of anxiety itself has been drained out of it.

On a related note, this might not be an ADHD thing, but I've found it's very useful to Avoid Anxiety And Guilt Spirals by HOLDING COMPULSIONS AT ARMS' LENGTH. I picked this up from some readings on OCD, which is in the category of "I don't seem to HAVE this to a diagnosable degree, but some of the structures were at one point familiar to me." It's good to be aware that, if your brain keeps circling back to any given thought that distresses you, that is structurally an obsession, and if in reflexive response you have a desire to do a specific thing to mitigate that feeling, that is structurally a compulsion. This includes things like "I bet my friends think I'm annoying - I should message them something fun and casual to see if they still like me." Or "I'm worried about the state of the world - I should check the news so no new horribleness blindsides me." The compulsion might contain a sensible thing to do; checking in on your friends is good, keeping up with world events is smart. But done AS a compulsion, it reinforces the anxiety cycle. Even when it results in something neutral or positive, it only confirms that this innocuous thing is your only lifeline over a yawning abyss of terror and stress, because if this time it was fine, it must be because THIS time your vigilance Saved You. So you'd better do it next time, too, because there WILL be a next time, and you might not be so lucky twice, right? The way to stop this cycle is to weaken it over time by, when the obsession pops up (a random reminder of a stressor, an old fear) and the compulsion is prompted, do not do it, no matter how reasonable it seems. Hold the compulsion at arms' length, becoming aware of what the obsession wants you to do and why. Similarly, sit with the awareness of the obsession. You are having an unpleasant thought, but having a thought does not make it inherently meaningful in any way. It doesn't mean you're actually in any danger, any more than you were before you had the thought. It's discomfiting because it removes the salve of the compulsion from the sting of the obsession, but in the medium to long term, it withers the cycle at the root and makes the entire process loosen its grip. Then you can do things like talk to your friends and check the news without it being underlaid with the sting of panic and desperation; they are, after all, neutral activities with typically beneficial consequences, not lifelines over the abyss. It might startle you when, months later, an intrusive thought pops up that used to send you spiralling into misery for hours or days, but now it feels irrelevant - even absurd - and easy to disregard. It really does work, and it's surprising how many things you can untangle this way.

Avoid boredom time prison by HARNESSING HYPERFIXATIONS. My most controversial take, but I think if your brain is desperately hungry to do This One Cool Thing Today, it's a good idea to let it. Even if that means you spend the whole day drawing fanart or bingewatching a show or baking croissants instead of Getting Work Done, the benefits you reap from just letting your brain tap into the rare Infinite Dopamine Opportunity usually outweigh any and all work slowdowns that result from taking the impromptu day off. When your brain works in the ADHD way, your enthusiasm is a vital fuel to keep it running. You need to have energy and joy in your life, energy and joy to spare and spend on things that may not be inherently energizing. If you have the option to spend a day doing something ridiculously fun, fill up that tank and reap the productivity benefits for the next week straight.

[sageivyreads]

cornered dogs

Ghoap/street kitty hybrid!fem!reader

introduction: hello! ok i lied i have no idea when the smut is happening because i can’t figure out how to integrate it into the story yet so this might just become a slow burn if i decide to continue it. also i have no idea how to write scottish accents please spare me!! part one and masterlist

contains/warnings: 4.4k words, brief description of a dog attack, reader is drugged, morally gray ghoap, mention of wounds, slightest of angst and mildest of comforts(ghost is a little mean), kinda unreliable narrator reader, r is forced into a bath but it’s for her own good, r is nicknamed ‘Kitty’ since they don’t know her name, 18+, no smut.

reader description: reader is an adult woman. no mention of race or size. her hair is briefly mentioned as ‘messy’ and fur ‘matted’. no mention of hair color or length. she also has scars. able bodied and doesn’t talk, but she will eventually.

It’s misty and wet when the boys (only Soap, Ghost never went to bed) wake in the morning. Furniture is strewn across porches, newspaper soggy on driveways, windshield wipers are propped up in piles of snow atop the car. The storm last night was not even near the calmest. It seemed to have a goal to ruin everyone’s day.

Ghost and Soap have their separate thoughts of worry about you. Soap, when he saw the harsh wind out the bathroom window when he was brushing his teeth. Ghost, when he stepped out of his apartment building for his morning jog and saw the mess the storm had left. It rains and snows frequently where they live, you should be fine, they try to reason with themselves.

And you were doing fine. You’d found sheets of metal in the trash to place over your temporary home for protection from the rain. Which was a few old cardboard boxes smushed together with ripped blankets and tattered rags. You had a full belly for the first time in months the night before, so you’d be okay without food for a bit.

But it’s not like you had someone telling you the weather, and you were underprepared. The wind is so harsh it causes the metal sheets to entirely crush your little home. You just narrowly throw yourself out when it comes crashing down, your knees scraping against the pavement.

You’re heartbroken. Devastated, as you stare at everything you once had been destroyed. But you can’t even feel it, can you? Not when the frost is biting at your nose, warning you of the need for shelter immediately.

You stand from the gravelly road on shaky legs, hugging your arms tight to your chest. The black hoodie is your thickest layer, and you put it on top while hoping it’d absorb some of the rain. Hail is beating at your face as you start to wander, looking for anything you might be able to use for shelter.

Boxes, piles of garbage, trash bags, anything. You come across a dumpster and you think you could slip in the gap between it and the concrete wall. You’ll still be cold, but it’ll protect you from the wind and rain. It fucking stinks. Hopefully you’ll be able to stand the smell.

You proceed, crouching to shift some trash bags stacked against the wall to hopefully slip between. The sound of a low rumble, different from the thunder, makes you stand once more. You turn, and your heart turns cold at the sight you’re met with.

There’s a snarling dog in front of you, hackles raised and legs bent low to the ground as it takes slow steps toward you. Saliva drips from its mouth and mixes with the rain and oil on the street.

The footsteps of the mutt mix with the tip taps of the rain, but your screams don’t.

Your escape is not swift nor scarless. It’s messy, but even after being attacked, you understand the animal. When cornered, everyone is an enemy. You think yourself more alike a pathetic dog than whatever part of you is hybrid.

There’s a nasty chunk taken out of your upper arm, but it’s not too deep. You’ll live.

This whole situation has left you unbelievably startled. You’re soaking wet and shaking, but not from the cold. Your tears are warm against the skin of your cheeks. You can feel scrapes and smears of warm blood on various spots of your body, but you can’t see any injuries other than the bite on your bicep you were currently pressing on with your opposite hand.

Your teeth dig into the split on your lower lip, nose bridge scrunched up from the pain. You’re tired. So tired. Now that the life-saving adrenaline has worn off, and you’re cold, alone, and wet, you only think of one place to go. The only familiar place you have left, really.

It’s a struggle up the stairs of the fire escape with how severely your legs are shaking. You’re worried it’s too late to be wandering so close to people. The storm had started around three in the morning, and after losing your home, searching for a new one, and being attacked, you’d now guess it was around five.

The men in the apartment woke up early, you knew that. But you couldn’t think too hard right now, not when you were so scared.

Your hands shake and slip on the slick surface of the window ledge. On the fourth try, you finally pry it open. You climb inside as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and sinking straight to the floor.

You leave smears of bloody fingertips on the edges of the window and drywall. Your back is against the wall, head slumped on your knees where you hug them to your chest. You wish your mind allowed you to sleep.

It’s only maybe an hour later when you see a light turn on in the other room. But you don’t- can’t fucking move. You’re paralyzed. Even as footsteps approach, even as the kitchen light turns on.

One of the men, the one you hadn’t had encounters with yet, sleepily steps into the kitchen. He’s tanner than the other one, shorter too. He’s got a funky, overgrown hairstyle. Maybe a mohawk in desperate need of a haircut?

He reminds you of the sun. If it were a rowdy, messy guy who had a guilty pleasure in reality TV.

He makes it to the cabinets, the coffee machine, and the fridge before he notices you. Or, the fingerprints. There’s a mug currently being filled by an automatic machine by the time he catches red on his window. His feet stutter to a stop, a frown starting as his lips before his eyes lower to you.

His expression softens, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of you. Bloody, clutching your injured bicep, shaking, and soaking wet. Your eyes are wet and surrounded by puffy, pink skin. Your hair clings to your face, the way your clothes do with your body.

“Hi there, sweet thing.” he coos, stepping a few feet away to pull his coffee out of the beeping machine. “Looks like someone’s had a rough night, huh?” He places the mug on the counter before he slowly sinks to sit against the cabinet across from you.

You stare. He’s got weird hair and an even weirder accent. He’s weird. It takes so much energy to even blink, you can’t believe you’re still conscious. You’re terrified, your heart pounding in your chest and ears, but all you can do is stare.

He slowly nods, “Yeah, figured. You must be cold. Mind if I grab ya a blanket? ‘ah can turn the heat up, too.”

All he gets is a blink in response. He stands, slow and measured even as his knees click. “Sit tight,” he urges. You don’t move. He walks out of your sight for a few moments, coming back with a blue wool blanket.

He approaches until he’s a few feet away, spreading out the blanket like wings and tossing it over you as best he can with the distance. It lands on your knees, not nearly high enough for your liking. Your icy fingers twitch. You slowly grip the end of the fabric to pull up to your collarbones.

His lips twitch into a frown at the sight. He wants to swaddle you, surround you in soft blankets and shiny things like a crow would with its mate. Wants to run you a warm bath, and give you another meal. Hot, this time.

But he can be patient. He doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Do ye want somethin’ to eat? Are you here because you’re hungry?” he asks, crouching to sit on the floor against the opposite counter once more. He sighs as he gets nothing in response besides a twitch of your eyebrow and the movement of your throat swallowing.

“Maybe I could get ya something for that arm? If y’let me see, I can help.” he tries to assure you the best he can, but he doesn’t exactly want to be attacked for trying to help. This is his first interaction with you, and it’s already not going great. He gives you a sad smile, and you notice a muscle twitch near his forehead. The crinkle in his skin leads to a star-shaped scar on his temple. You wonder where it’s from.

Soap’s head turns as he hears a clinking noise from the apartment hallway before the door opens. It’s the man you’ve seen before, dressed in joggers and a dark black hoodie, which you think might’ve been grey before it got soaked from the rain.

He locks the door behind him, slips off his shoes, and steps further into the home. He doesn’t notice you immediately either, but much quicker than Soap did. His steps slow once he reaches the kitchen counter, eyes flickering over Soap on the floor, to the bloody window, to you.

His eyes scan you, flicking up to the fingerprints on the window, and the bloody hand clutching your upper arm. Your wet skin and clothes. The way you tremble, the blanket Soap must’ve placed over you.

Soap stands to join him where he’s staring at you. “I found her like this when I came out for coffee this morning. She hasnae moved or talked.” Soap informs, giving you a concerned glance before refocusing on the other man.

All you do is observe as they talk about you. It feels like the cold has settled into your bones at this point, and you have a permanent brain freeze. You haven’t moved in so long, that you think you might actually turn into a statue if you don’t die from infection.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“She can’t stay like tha’. Gonna get hypothermia if she stays wet for any longer.” He digs into the pocket of his hoodie to drop his keys in some weird, wicker woven bowl before he starts towards you. You stiffen, fingers turning into fists against the blankets.

“Woah, woah, what’re ye doin’?” Soap quickly steps up with him, a hand on his arm and expression concerned.

Ghost’s face is blank as Soap stops him, but you notice a twitch on his lip. “I’m going to help her. What, you think she’s got fleas or somethin’?”

Soap scoffs, “How? ‘Cause she’s just gonna let ya touch her? She’s never even let any o’ us willingly see her, much less talk or touch.”

Ghost gives him a long look you can’t decipher, and huffs before he shrugs his hand off his arm and walks up to you. “What d’you think she came ‘ere for? She wants help and that’s wha’ she’s gonna get.”

He reaches down to grab you by your uninjured bicep and elbow, pulling you up to stand. He’s not the most gentle, but he’s not too rough. You stumble, legs shaky and stiff. You feel like rigor mortis is already settling into your muscles, even if you’re still alive.

“Simon,” Soap hisses, and you learn one of the men’s names. You try to step back toward the window, feet fumbling, but Simon nabs you back with a hand on your nape.

He doesn’t respond to Soap, one hand on your shoulder and another on the back of your neck as he guides you to walk in front of him.

The steps are forced and heavy like you’re some newborn calf who was learning how to walk. He guides you to the bathroom where he opens the door and walks you inside. You think your brain might’ve turned offline briefly, and came back on once you realized you were in danger (you aren’t). You don’t know what’s going on, and don’t remember how exactly you got here. What are you missing?

“You’ll be alright, love. We’ll take good care of you.” Soap tries to soothe, keeping up with the hulking man holding you. You glance at him, expression a little pinched. You’re still by the door and can see the living room through the hallway. You could still run. You’re faster than they are. Why are you trying to leave, again?

“Over ‘ere, Kitty.” the man you now know as Simon, says. He leans over the tub to start the faucet. Your eyes flick back to him but you barely blink. He sighs heavily and stands back to his full height. He takes a step and you take two backward, but he just grabs you by the arm and yanks you towards the bath.

His hand goes to the back of your neck again, forcibly shifting your gaze to look up at him. “Did ya freeze up there in tha’ little head of yours, too?” he huffs, lightly flicking your forehead with his free hand. You scrunch your nose, trying to pull away from him.

“No. You need a bath. You’re filthy and freezing.” he grumbled, pulling you to stand at the edge of the tub.

“Do y’need me to undress you?” he asks, keeping his face level with yours. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Why you aren’t running when they are practically in your face and telling you they’re going to strip your clothes off.

“Si, fuckin’ ease up a bit, alright? She’s clearly startled. Let’s leave her to get undressed.” Soap butts in, stepping further into the bathroom and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Is tha’ what you want? Do y’need me to leave? I’ll leave if I know you’re going to get in.”

You sniffle, the only noise you’d made during this entire time. Your lower lip wobbles. You refuse to make eye contact. The blood on your arm has mostly dried at this point but your hand is still clutching it. Your other hand is fisting the blanket around your shoulders, feet like stone on the ground. If they both left, you think you probably would’ve looked for the nearest window so you don’t have a response to that.

“Alright,” he huffs, straightening next to you. He grabs your cold hands, pressing them to his shoulders and shaping them into a grip. The blanket falls and you shiver. “I’m going to undress you. You can squeeze if I touch somethin’ you don’t like, or I hurt ya. Understand? Squeeze if you understand me.”

Your gaze flicks up to him momentarily, but you can’t read anything behind his eyes. Your fingers flex to the best of your ability, and you think you’re squeezing, but your hand is too numb for you to be sure.

The blood on your hands transfers to the black fabric of his hoodie, but doesn’t show.

“Good,” he nods, kicking the blanket out of the way from where it gathered at your feet. His fingers slip under the hem of your layers, bringing your- his, ripped hoodie above your head, as well as your thinner layers, gaze only briefly wandering over your body. He seems to focus more on the scars than your chest.

He only shifts your grip briefly to let the articles of clothing fall to the floor before putting them back. He continues with your shirt, pants, and undergarments until you’re bare. Your eyes have fixed themselves on a wet patch on his shoulders, afraid that if you move he might go further than you’d like.

“In the bath now,” he confirms, and Soap reenters the conversation to help when Simon gestures for it. They move you like a doll. Simon moves your grip to the side of the tub, Soap moving one leg at a time into the bath. He guides you to sit, and you shiver violently at the temperature change.

Your teeth start clattering. Or maybe they had always been. Your hands hug your arms, crossed across your chest to give you some kind of modesty. It’s not much.

“Johnny. The door.”

Johnny, you learn, stands from his crouched position to close the bathroom door. Something he’d forgotten to in his rush to help. There’s something wet dripping down your face, and it takes you a moment to differentiate whether it’s tears or water dripping from your hair. You think it’s both.

You can vaguely hear some sort of conversation, but your mind seems to blur it out. When Johnny reenters your sight, he’s only in his boxers. You’d probably be taken aback by the amount of skin discoloration- scars, that were on his body if you didn’t have more important things to focus on. Like why he’s nearly naked and getting into the bath with you.

Whatever train of thought you had started conjuring immediately splutters to a stop. He steps into the bath behind you, and you cringe slightly at the thought of your previous wet clothes sticking to your skin.

One of your hands grips the side of the tub, looking to prepare for an easy escape. Johnny’s arm comes around you to grab your wrist and slip it from the edge, gathering both of them to press against your diaphragm in one of his larger ones.

You start to squirm, feet slipping against the tub in your search for momentum as he pulls you back against him. “Easy, lovely. You’re alright.” he coaxes into your ear, wrapping his free forearm around your collarbones and holding you in a loose chokehold as he leans against the back of the tub and takes you with him.

You don’t necessarily fight it, but by the way, your fingers curl into your palms and your breath hitches and stutters, you know they know you’re uncomfortable. Your throat chokes around a whimper as Simon steps around the tub back into your sight.

“Shhhh,” Johnny hushes, settling his chin in the crook of your shoulder. Simon had abandoned his hoodie, now in a black, athletic, tight-fitting shirt. The long sleeves were pushed up to his biceps, a wet clicking noise drawing your attention to his hands.

He was rubbing a plain bar of soap between his palms, slicking his hands before his attention turned towards you. He sets the bar on the side of the tub, reaching for your left foot first. He lifts it out of the water and holds it steady as his hands rub the filth off of you.

You’re already warming up by the time he finishes one leg and starts on the other, only wincing every once in a while when he brushes a scrape. The problem is, you think the cold was numbing your pain. Your temperature is rising and with it your pain.

Your bicep burns now, and tingles in some weird way. The only time you’re adjusted is for Simon to have a better angle to wash you. Johnny keeps you still, mumbling sweet things to you every once in a while. You think you’ve blocked him out at this point.

You’d winced and squirmed a little when he rinsed your wound with water. You didn’t have much of a choice. Your shoulders relax slightly as he finishes and steps away. He hasn’t touched your hair, tail, or ears yet, which only made you worried more for what’s to come. After a moment he returns with a black plastic bottle you can’t catch a good enough look to read.

You watch, wary as he uncaps the lid and holds your upper with his free hand. His hand tilts, spilling the clear liquid over your wound where it bubbles and turns white. You scream, throwing your head back and feeling Johnny flinch as your skull knocks against his chin.

“Fuckin’- easy, easy. We’re not trying to hurt you, calm down.” Johnny tries to soothe you while your squirming increases tenfold.

Johnny never releases you, only tightens his grip and throws a hairy, muscled leg over your hips when your kicking becomes a problem. You squeeze your eyes shut, fresh tears slipping down your newly clean cheeks as your lips part on a sob. It stings, it fucking stings. Why did they do that? What’s wrong with them?

You think you get lost in the white, tight pressure of your eyelids for a moment because when you come back, there’s white gauze and bandages wrapped around your upper arm. You’ve stopped moving. Your lips are parted to let out panicked pants and the whites of your eyes feel irritated.

“Kitty,” Simon speaks so suddenly that your eyes flick up to meet his. A few strands of hair fall in front of your face and you flinch when he smoothes them back. “Relax. We’re not tryin’ to hurt you. You need to cooperate. You hear me? Don’t bite.”

He uses a rough thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks before he uses that same hand to pry your jaw open, watching as your eyelashes flutter rapidly. He holds your mouth open and uses his free hand to drip a few drops of water into your mouth from a glass cup you have no idea where or when he got.

You stiffen, confused, watery eyes locked on his. He then puts the cup on the bathroom counter and places two small pills on your tongue. You have ample time to bite him. You don’t, reason unknown to you.

He then closes your mouth and watches you closely as he tells you, “Swallow.” You do and can see the way he stares to see if your throat bobs. “Open,” he urges, and this time you do it on your own. When he finds nothing, he praises you with a quiet “good girl.”

“Pain meds. They’ll help ya feel better,” he adds before you even think to ask. You think your brain has been put on a backtrack or something since you stepped into their house. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the pain. But now all you can think about is how they could help you every day. Maybe not. They’re too overbearing. Right.

Simon leans over to reach for a bottle labeled ‘shampoo’, but stops when Johnny speaks up. “Si, maybe let’s leave that for another day. Today has already been a lot.” He pauses, and stares, which he seems to do a lot. He grunts in response, leaning over to unplug the tub.

‘Another day’ completely goes over your head.

Your hair is.. well, it’s a mess. You’ve tried to keep it somewhat short so it doesn’t have so much upkeep, but it’s not like there’s a free barber at every corner. the matted fur on your tail and ears you… don’t even want to talk about it.

“I’m gonna let go now, alright?” Johnny says next to your ear, tone soft enough it doesn’t make you jump this time. You nod hesitantly, the first type of communication you’ve ever given to them. He slowly releases you and Simon reaches his hands out for you to grab. You do, slowly, letting him help you stand and step out of the tub.

Johnny lugs himself out of the tub, grabs a towel, and excuses himself from the room. Simon wraps you up in a fluffy, gray towel, rubbing and patting at your face and shoulders until you’re mostly dry. And you kind of just.. stand there. Johnny comes back a few moments later, clothed and dry now, holding a few articles of clothing in his hands.

“Got some clothes for ya,”

Your gaze turns towards him, and you shiver and cross your arms across your breasts once Simon lets the towel drop. He holds a few things up to your body to see what fits best. He dresses you in boxers, one layers of pants, a short-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and a long-sleeved shirt.

You almost wish they had something warmer. Or a raincoat, maybe? But beggars can’t be choosers, can they? At least the socks they tug onto your feet are warm and fuzzy.

You let them move you around like a puppet on strings. One man slipping your arms into the sleeves, one man pulling boxers up your hips. Once they finish, Simon heads over to your clothes.

You watch as Simon picks them from the floor, Johnny adjusting your new outfit to fit you more comfortably, and shoves them right in the bathroom trash.

Johnny watches the way your expression drops as you look at him and shoots Simon a look. “Sorry, lovely. These clothes are yours now.” He tries to placate, his eyes soft as he looks at you. You frown.

“Right,” Simon grunts, “Hoodie got all ripped up. The rest are beyond saving. You’ll wear this now.”

Johnny places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you out to the connected living room and kitchen. You’re disappointed, but you don’t think you can be mad when they’ve done all this for you. You have nothing from before. Maybe that’s okay.

“Ye ready to leave?” he asks, riffling through a cabinet in the kitchen. It takes a moment before you nod. “Think the storm is dying down. You can stay until it’s over, f’you want.”

You shake your head, subtly, instinctively, stepping towards the window. “That’s alrigh’, won’t make ya.” he smiles, showing you his palms up before he takes a step back.

They don’t say anything. They seem to go back to whatever they were doing before you. Soap grabs his cold coffee off the counter and pops it in the microwave, a few beeps sounding out as it turns on. Simon has carried his hoodie back out from the bathroom and placed it on the coat rack by the door.

It almost seems too natural. Practiced.

Your feet feel cold and heavy when you take another step towards the window. You swear they were warm just a moment ago.

While you blink away some blurriness from your vision, you’re hyper-aware of the excess saliva gathering in your mouth. Fuck, please don’t throw up, you urge.

When your gaze refocuses on the window, the rain looks like a watercolor painting. The muscles behind your eyes ache. Your foot is taking another step before you permit it.

Your newly socked feet cause you to slip slightly, one hand snapping out and you just barely have enough time to grip the cedge of the kitchen counter. Your head pounds.

“Och, easy, Kitty.” Johnny gentles, coming up behind you and placing his now cold hands on your shoulders. You don’t know when you got so hot. Feverish.

“Let’s go sit ya down with Simon, yeah?” he asks, but it’s not really a question as he already starts to guide you towards the couch where Simon is sat. You don’t remember seeing him walk that way.

Johnny sits you on the couch next to him, who lifts an arm to coax your head into his lap. He pets his hand over your head, his fingertips feeling the heat of your skin as he brushes against your cheeks.

He pushes your hair back from your face and you let your eyes fall shut solely because of the intense nausea taking over you. Your lips part to let out slow, harsh breaths.

“I don’t feel so good,” you moan, voice slurring, fingers curling into a fist against the fabric of Simon’s pants. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“I know, love.”

notes: sorry for the abrupt ending! also i don’t mind tagging people so go ahead and ask if u want!

tag: @pagesfalling

[woodsfae]

For usamericans who may not know how to support decolonization and indigenous people in their every-day lives, may I suggest checking this list of native-owned businesses, curated and maintained by indigenous folks. There's food, candles, cbd pre-rolls, clothes, jewelry, hats, baby things, handicrafts, art, and hundreds of other useful and wonderful things. I check this list before I buy non-native owned as often as I can.

Also check out the native-owned (pulitzer-prize winner Louise Erdrich started it!) bookstore and press Milkweed Editions (dot org) for an amazing selection of books by indigenous authors. I recommend Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer (a collection of essays that will change your thinking if your mind is open at all) that's great for sitting down to read for bite-sized chunks. For book recommendations, check out this infographic!

Do you own property and want to support landback but still need a place to live? Odds are good that there's established precedence in your area to transfer its jurisduction to a local tribe and pay your land taxes and etc to them instead of the settler government!

Here is a list of charities and fundraisers for indigenous support.

Other ways to educate yourself and learn what indigenous people are working on nationally and locally is to follow indigenous people online! Many Native peoples on various social medias tag with #indigenous, #native, and by looking at those you will find many other tags and people to follow.

If you have extra cash, consider paying indigenous people's bail, donating to some of the causes linked above, or look for local initiatives to support in your own community!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Who Started It? Who Cares?

(Or, basically, if both Bucky and Steve are asleep when the shenanigans start, is it still considered somnophilia, or are they just too horny to function?)

Dim, cool morning light swims through the tangled dark kelp of Bucky's fluttering, almost-caught-together eyelashes as the delicate muscles in his face twitch and quiver. Slowly waking, his eyes open once, twice, and then a third time. Blinking, blinking, blinking. Blurry as the world is, so early this morning, Bucky knows by the pools of light spreading on their mused, rucked-up sheets that it is morning. The sun, beyond the cocoon of their calm bedroom oasis, sits just barely half on the horizon, curled up and purring like a well-fed cat. Friendly. Welcoming Bucky home.

Bucky's awake, teased out of sleep by seemingly nothing at all. Except, soon, the moment breaks and Bucky's lounging mind becomes roused enough from its slumber to know that, well, maybe one thing woke him up after all.

It's not so much that the mattress squeaks, silence pads his ears, and so that isn't what pulled him to consciousness. But, the way the mattress dips softly and shudders excitedly beneath Bucky's limp, heavy body says enough to compensate for the lack of sound. The way the bed quakes underneath him is loud enough, running its mouth to a rhythm almost musical. It's singing and Bucky's body is starting to hum a melody alongside it. Pulled out of sleep by the howl.

Steve's body is moving.

Rocking.

Grinding.

Thrusting.

Steve's big, impressive body is lying in front of Bucky's with his back flush to Bucky's chest while his lower half squirms and wriggles. 'Wriggles' might not even be a good enough word for it, though, 'cause, Jesus, his hips roll so smoothly that before Bucky even registers the encircled, warm fingers trapping his wrist, his body flushes hot.

Hot as hell.

Heat, sticky and pink washes through Bucky, sweeping him out to sea. Oh. Bucky doesn't flounder or struggle but lets the current lap at him instead. Every wave is a thousand tongues against his naked body. All his warming, fever-mounting skin is half-caught in the fisherman's net of their bedsheets.

Steve is grinding against him. Moving. His hips. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. His, his--

Oh.

It only just hits him. On a delay, after the tsunami of heat, he realizes that Steve has his hand--more accurately, his wrist.

Those lovely, entrancing artist's fingers are curled around Bucky's sleep-limp wrist, barely holding on. Steve's almost limp himself, but he's grasping just enough to keep Bucky's arm in place. And he's got ahold of his hand to hold it just so in front of his hard fucking dick, making Bucky give him a fast-asleep hand job.

That tsunami builds higher. The wave building. Crashing onto shore. He's so down for this, giving his hand away to Steve for his filthy desires. Any time Steve gets worked up enough to get a little selfish is so fucking sexy. The way he gets growly and rough with his teeth grazing his skin, unashamed as he leaves sizzling marks behind, taking chunks of him, biting him down to size to put him in his mouth or use however he likes. Fucking him. Sucking him. Torturing him. Anything he wants.

Anything.

Steve ruts sloppily into his captive hand, keeping his hand at dick-level for all these selfish, dirty proposes despite how Bucky's woken up. Normally, he would have some level of shame. He wouldn't just keep it up.

Jesus.

How worked up must he be then? How long has this been going on? Has he spent hours agonizing over every sleep-twitch, waiting for Bucky to wake up, throbbing harder and harder, anticipating every minute that that will be the minute Bucky wakes and teases him for getting so hard, you dirty fucking dog. What a pervert, fucking my hand even when I didn't give you permission. Bastard.

Bucky's whole body ripples like the surface of a pond, a stone thrown into the middle of it. Suddenly, he can't resist sneaking a little grope, just for himself, squeezing his just-woken hand around Steve's cock.

Steve lazily, shamelessly moans to himself, grinding looser, rough around the edges at the pleasure gets to him.

Steve's heavy and hot in his hand, dripping into his palm, leaving him so slick and wet it can't be contained. Steve's pre-cum rolls down his wrist and spills over the sides of his palm, getting stickily onto the sheet.

Fuck, he loves this dick.

Bucky squeezes a little harder, so unspeakably turned on to have a handful of cock. He could purr. Damn, he's so fucking tempted to drag his hand down and get a feel for those full, taut balls, but, clearly, Steve's got a craving this morning. He needs attention to his dick. Bucky will take a detour a little later... much later. After he gets this fat dick in him.

Unable to stand the thick silence for another second, Bucky groans, his voice rough with sleep, "Christ, Rogers, can't you jus' get in me, already? We're too old for this kinda teasin', darlin'," Bucky can't stifle his deep, vibrating chuckle, "jus' gimmie that dick."

He's expecting to hear an answering laugh, getting some quick snark back that turns into kissing and kissing that turns into licking into each other's mouths and filthy licking that turns into moaning, mouths wet and open, lips-to-lips, useless and too hot to properly lock-lips any longer. Bucky isn't expecting--

"Huhh?"

--the big, dumb oaf to jolt sluggishly under his arm, the weight of it draped around his waist, hand cupping his way too fucking hot cock, but not restraining him. Leaving him free to push his hips forward boldly while his empty head lulls back, a sexy, sleepy little grin on his lush mouth, slurred words groggy as ever, "ohhhfuh-fuck," his throat clicks as he swallows, throat thick, tongue too big for his big mouth, "g'mornin' to you, too, Buck."

It takes a minute to register in Bucky's head, he's a little preoccupied with the cock in his hand, okay?

But the pause is long enough to give Steve's big mouth room to run farther, "have your way with me, why don't ya," he murmurs through a jaw-cracking yawn.

Wait.

He was fucking asleep?

This whole time?

"You dog," Bucky growls, overcome with a cruel kind of arousal, venomous and coiling. He's ready to pounce, his claws are out. He's hissing, groping cruelly at Steve's fat, twitching dick and pushing his own erect cock straight into that fat ass. "You, you--" he pants, losing his train of thought to honey-thick arousal "--you don't get to blame me for this. You fuckin', you took my hand and were humping me! Don't turn this around on me."

"Dunno, don't you want me to turn it around or is it one of them times--two times a year--you wanna do me?" Steve, the son of a bitch, snarks back, twisting the curved length of his pale, gorgeous throat around to narrow his eyes at him.

Staring, hot for it, he flickers a look down to his mouth.

Bucky snarls and then they're just fucking devouring each other.

Teeth and lips and tongue.

They're helpless. They can't even keep their hands off each other when both of them are fast asleep. They're gonna be here, twisted up in bed, until the sun is hanging high over the horizon.

Jesus.

[idyllicwillowtree]

God Eddie, You're So In Love With Me.

Genre: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader, fem!reader, angst/fluff, hurt/eventual comfort, friends to lovers

Summary: Being in Hellfire, you’ve been exposed to your fair share of bullying. One day, Jason takes it a step too far.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: bullying, anaphylaxis, poisoning, no physical descriptions of Y/N so you don’t have to look like Dustin, reader wears makeup, reader uses she/her, reader has a peanut allergy, reader is called princess, swearing

Author’s note: I got this idea from an episode of Freaks and Geeks (which is an awesome show I totally recommend). Peanut allergies weren’t so common in the 80s so that’s why Jason is so ignorant and dismissive about it.

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, I was hibernating.

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Part 1:

Eddie proudly sauntered into first period with his head held high and a smirk on his lips. His mouth was watering in anticipation. He plopped himself down in the seat next to yours, wide eyes and a wicked grin plastered on his face, an eager hand open towards you.

“Wow Eddie. It’s 7:29, you got here with a minute to spare,” you said as you leaned over to grab the bite size Laffy Taffy from your backpack to place in Eddie’s hand. “I think this candy reward system is really working.”

“Of course it worked, it was your idea after all. But today’s a special day, I was definitely not going to not be here,” Eddie said with too much energy for this early in the morning. He stuffed the yellow taffy into his mouth and chewed it like a happy 5 year old, wiggling in his seat with excitement.

“Are you talking about the photo?”

“Yeah! Hellfire finally gets a spot in the yearbook. We shall finally leave our mark on this cesspool we call a school,” Eddie said through the glob of candy in his mouth. He swallowed the treat harshly as he got a good look at you, “you look great by the way.”

“Yeah?” you said shyly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You started fiddling with the hem of your Hellfire shirt, “I thought I’d go with a bit more eyeliner today.” 

“Yeah, you did a great job princess.” With the excuse of admiring your eyeliner, Eddie was able to take a moment to study your features. Your gaze stayed on your hands, picking at a loose thread.

“God, Eddie. You’re so in love with me,” you said with a teasing smile. 

Eddie barked out a laugh, dimples on full display as he tried not to let your words affect him too seriously. 

“Great, the flirting freaks are back at it again.” Jason remarked from a few rows behind you. Both of you turned around in time to see Andy dramatically fake gagging.

Before you could hurl an insult back at them, Eddie took notice of what Jason was snacking on.

“Hey asshole, you can’t eat peanuts in class.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna stop me, Munson? You?” Jason said through a full mouth, spitting out chunks as he laughed obnoxiously with Andy.

You simply rolled your eyes at Jason, annoyed with the jocks and their willingness to tease and fight so early in the morning.

Eddie’s grip tightened on the back of his chair. His white knuckles caught your eye and you reached out to sooth him, hoping he wouldn’t start a fight he couldn’t finish. The second your hand landed on his, the tension in his shoulders deflated and the fire in his eyes was snuffed out as he sent you a reassuring smile. 

Jason waved around his ziplock tauntingly, “Seriously freak, let’s see if you can actually take these from-”

“I’ll take those,” Mrs. O’Donnell said as she walked in behind Jason and snatched the bag. “Mr. Carver, you know you’re not allowed food in my class, let alone peanuts.”

“But coach said we have to protein-load before the game tonight,” Jason wined.

“Too bad. Some allergies can be very serious,” You shrunk in your seat as the other students turned to stare at you, knowing you were the one she was referring to. “You can get these back after class,” Mrs. O’Donnell said as she rounded the corner of her desk to address her students. “Now, everyone, please open your textbooks to chapter six.”

You, being the diligent student you were, immediately followed orders. Eddie on the other hand didn’t even remember to bring his book bag to school, but at least he got his candy. 

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

“I’m serious guys, I might have a crush on Mrs. O’Donnell now,” Eddie said to his bandmates as they sat in their unofficial assigned seats in the cafeteria.

“Just because an older female authority figure agreed with you and shut down Carver, doesn’t mean you should crush on your teacher dude,” Gareth said, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Besides, you already have a crush,” Jeff added with a teasing smile, the metal on his teeth catching the fluorescent lights.

“Are you guys talking about my sister?” Dustin said while throwing his lunch tray on the table, taking a seat next to Eddie. The rest of his sheep following close behind.

“No-”

“Yes,” all three of the older Hellfire members said in unison.

Eddie shot them a look that would’ve shut them up if the metalhead’s pale cheeks weren’t tinted pink. 

“Gross,” Dustin added.

Mike’s brows did their signature furrow under his dark bangs, “I don’t get it, why doesn’t he just ask her out?” he said, purposefully ignoring Eddie’s presence at the table.

“GROSS,” Dustin repeated, hoping the subject would change. 

Eddie was right there with him, picking up a pretzel and hurling it at Mike’s head, “I’d rather not share the complexities of the friendship-to-relationship pipeline with a baby freshman. And I. Don’t. Like. Her.” He growled, punctuating each word with a pretzel.

The metalhead’s angry scowl melted off his face at the sound of your laugh echoing through the high ceilings of the cafeteria. You were standing near the entrance with your Wonder Woman lunchbox in tow, tilting your head back as you chuckled at something Robin Buckley told you. 

That was until Jason and his entourage of goons followed him in.

He had that damn bag of peanuts in his hand, swinging it around mockingly. Eddie watched as you became tense, eyes wide and glossy. You are practically hiding behind a fuming Robin.

Before the blonde could hurl her trumpet case at the jocks, Eddie stepped up behind you both, placing a ring clad hand gently on the small of your back to let you know he was there. 

With his hand grounding you, you finally found your voice, “seriously Jason, if I come into contact with a peanut I could die.”

“Oh come on,” Jason said through a chuckle, “you’re that much of a freak that a little peanut is enough to kill you? I think you might be overreacting just a little.”

“Actually,” Dustin said as he came over to stand next to Eddie, “Anaphylaxis is incredibly dangerous. Allergic reactions to the proteins found in peanuts are cause by immunoglobulin E antibodies and can trigger severe inflammation and-”

“Dude, even her brother is a fucking dork,” Andy spat.

“Hey, don't talk to him like that,” Eddie said, stepping forward. You have always admired his fierce determination when defending your brother and the other freshmen. It’s part of what drew you to him in the first place. But this time there was no snarky comeback to Jason’s bullying. The severity of the situation on top of the jocks’ disregard for your safety was just pissing him off, making him uncharacteristically no-nonsense. 

The group of letterman jackets erupted in a chorus of ‘oooohs’. The leader just licked his lips, eyeing Eddie before smirking at you.

"You know, you might be pretty if you actually tried." 

It doesn’t have the effect on you that Jason had hoped, you could care less if he thought you were pretty. But before your athletically inexperienced friends could take on the basketball team, you plastered on your best fake smile. 

“Thanks Jason, see you guys later,” you said as you pulled your friends away leaving him confused and unsatisfied by your reaction.

“What the hell, you’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” your brother protested.

“He’s never going to change, Dustin. I might as well play into it since he’s just trying to get a rise out of us.”

You wave bye to Robin as she went to sit with her band friends, all of them decked out in their extravagant green and yellow uniforms. Eddie slid Dustin’s tray away from the spot next to him so you could set your lunchbox there and sit at his left hand side. Dustin was muttering something about losing his seat but still scooched down, knowing there was no use in fighting it. Eddie always had you right next to him.

The next few minutes of lunch went by rather smoothly. Groups of students were taken out sporadically to go to the photo room and get their yearbook club photo taken with Nancy. Occasionally, you’d catch Jason sending you angry glares but you just ignored him in favor of listening to your fellow Hellfire members. They were rambunctiously throwing out theories about tonight's campaign while Eddie just sat there with his version of a poker face, not willing to spoil anything with a teasing grin plastered to his mouth.

His eyes connected with yours, feeling you staring at him. The moment he looked at you you bashfully lowered your eyes to the cup of applesauce you were stirring around. Eddie kept his gaze on you until Nancy walked up behind him.

“Alright Hellfire, you’re up,” Nancy said with a smile. 

This was the first year Hellfire club was getting any sort of recognition in the yearbook. Previously, the teachers and students didn’t want to draw any more eyes to the alleged cult and their leader. Now that Nancy worked for the school, she played a big part in securing a photo for her brother’s club in the yearbook. Even though Eddie never liked conforming to frivolous High School expectations, he still felt honored. It was his last year after all (hopefully) and he wanted to make his mark.

You and the rest of the Hellfire members left your things at the lunch table and walked out of the cafeteria for the yearbook room down the hall. Your open applesauce was forgotten about as you followed Eddie out.

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

Your shoulders were still buzzing after taking the photo. Eddie had thrown his leather clad arm around you, pulling you closer to him, while his other hand did the sign of the horns. The smell of his cologne and the texture of his battle vest overwhelmed you so much you hoped it didn’t show in the photo. Although, the smirk Nancy sent you tells you it might have.

You and the rest of Hellfire sat back down in your original seats, besides your leader. As expected, Eddie had a lot of things to say in honor of your club getting recognized so he opted to stay standing.

“Hear ye, hear ye! Rejoice, for this day shall be etched in the annals of history as a testament to our unwavering spirit and valor!”

Going back to your lunch, you scoop up the velvety applesauce to resume eating. Expecting the familiar taste of sweet and tart, you flinched at the salty crunch and swallowed it on instinct. 

“Let it be known that we have weathered the raging storm of schoolyard bullies, and emerged victorious! Our banners flying high, unfurled in the winds of destiny,” Eddie continued, not noticing your trepidation.

You frowned at the tickle in your throat that only continued to build as you tried coughing discreetly. The rest of the boys grinned, believing this was your way of hinting at Eddie to wrap up his speech.

“Let us raise our voices in jubilation, for today, we have proven that nothing is insurmountable to those who believe in their cause!” Eddie looked to you, hoping to see you looking up at him and smiling that way you do whenever he uses his renaissance voice. Instead he met your panicked eyes.

“Hey Henderson,” Jason called from across the cafeteria. “What happens now? Should we call an ambulance?” Andy shoved at his shoulder playfully and chortled alongside Jason.

Panic gripped you as you connected the dots.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, “call an ambulance.”

Part 2

[tactical-jellyfish]

Injuries (drabble)

Warnings!: Injury described, canon-typical violence (you know, like war). Nightmare. Comfort. Off-screen kiss on the cheek. Swearing. [~2.2 k words]

Beneath your haunches, the ground is trembling with the force of the cracking bullets in the air, vibrations blasted through tainted oxygen so hard that they infect cracked concrete and really test your hearing protection.

The firefight is one of the nastiest you've seen yet. A concerning amount of the fire you hear is decidedly not cover fire, cracking off the (former) concrete pillar and it's collapsed sibling that are turning out to be nearly-perfect cover, even if there's more rebar and mesh than you would like.

Your comms are trying, poor things, but there's little to be done, and you know it when Gaz's voice cuts as he tries to relay orders to you. Or, hell, maybe they were orders, you couldn't hear shit through the static either way

Boot soles grit against sandy concrete as you try to bite out a return message. Position compromised, you try, but the words don't leave when you see what looks like a medium-sized stone tossed over your barrier.

"Fuck!"

You try to run, but the comm's wire (and with it, your hearing protection) is snagged, pulled out by a burr of rebar breaking through the pillar's surface, tangled hopelessly in the mesh.

There's no time, and still, you try.

Always assume that a grenade tossed at you has two seconds or less till it does its best to turn you into red mist.

You had forgot.

And still, the blast is never quite as small as you think.

There is no pain in the immediate seconds after, and you silently thank deaf ears in the heavens for adrenaline, until you spot a movement a few meters away, peeking out from a corner.

It's automatic. Your rifle bends to your wills, a machine that is operated by an equally robotic entity. One of blood and one of metal. The way real warfare has been for thousands of years.

A body hits the floor, but you don't hear it, you see red painting the forehead, leaking through a too-weak helmet. You hide behind the more upright of the pillars, before watching another assailant burst from the corner, shoulders shaking as they grab their dispatched colleague by the shoulders, shaking them helplessly as though to will life back into their body.

Once more, you take a shot, and there is no miss.

It's a somber thing, but there is no time to offer condolences or sympathies, not when the broken box of your comms finally figures something out and flashes a yellow pinprick for you.

Evacuate ASAFP. You May Or May Not Be Important Enough To Wait For.

A twinge hits your arm as you lower it, and a wet warmth floods the area, but there's little time for that now. Having a chunk of grenade in your arm is preferable to being dead, by far.

Running has always been good for you.

You've never liked to sit still, not at work. The movement is what prompts the blood in your veins to pump, your heart to follow with hummingbird-fast beats. The burn in your lungs, it's what makes you real.

But, at the same time, the ache in your arm has taken time to grow as it stains your uniform with a deep red, forcing a sharp pain up your nerves and into your brainstem with every thump of your boots against the cracking ground.

You switch your rifle to your non-dominant hand, but it does little once the high of adrenaline starts to fade, and your foot also starts screeching its protest, weakening with each forced stride, no matter how much you push forward.

The helicopter is already raring to take off, and you try to shout out to your team, but you can't hear yourself.

Your foot hits the floor one last time, and flash of agony is so intense that it forces what should be another cry from you, but once more, no noise hits your ears.

Knees buckle, fabric is scraped off with skin in tow, and your damaged body lays heavy on the ground.

Another boot appears in your peripheral, and you try to look up.

Just before the face comes into focus, a particularly nasty gush of blood leaves the wound in your arm, and takes your vision with it.

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

The floor beneath you is inky black, and cold.

A boot thuds down right before your face, and Price's face comes into focus, bristly bearded and bristling with rage.

His voice booms from seemingly everywhere around you, like you've been plugged into a surround-sound system made in hell.

"Rookie, whot the hell were you thinking, going in like that? You knew your coffin'd be empty if you died, right?"

It's so loud your ears are already starting to ache, the noise piercing every fiber of your being and rocking your cells with the vibrations, tearing your muscles apart from the inside.

A sharp sting spreads through your foot, but your neck refuses to allow you to look as muscles lock up, and another face steals away your attention, even as the pressure mounts.

"Ah, Cap, they're green. Might well bury'em alive. Sae's the time, aye?"

Soap's face is different. Low-sitting eyebrows pinched down, but a wicked smile present on thin lips, practically reveling as the floor seems to swallow you whole.

You know the laughter you hear, but it brings no comfort when you see Gaz cackling next to the Scot.

God, he looks so pretty when he laughs, and it does nothing but twist the knife when you watch him lean against Soap, before looking down at you.

"It's alright, luv. Some people just... don't make the cut. Way of the world, innit?"

The comfort is false, you know it is, but your damaged heart takes it anyway, to somehow make believe that it's not your fault, that you had just aimed too high.

When Ghost appears, there's no more defense you can give yourself.

As usual, the only thing you can see is his eyes. Light brown like mud that's just about to crack, honeyed when the light hits just right.

He says nothing, but he turns away, and some part of you can't allow that, even as the room starts to pivot on some axis you can't see.

You try to reach forward, to plead, but your voice doesn't work, and your legs are stuck, sinking into the black with no foreseeable way out, rotating faster and faster, a bug spiraling down into the drain.

A grating, long BEEEEEEEEEP floods the space around you first, painfully high-pitched and absolutely unbearable because it seems to match exactly with the ringing flooding into your ears.

You're certain that there are a few specific parts of your body that ache, but in the haze of painkillers, it's a simple dullness.

That being, until hands are on your shoulders.

Price stands above you, brows pulled down in worry, lips tuned in a stiff frown, and he speaks.

"------! - ------- --- ---- ----! --- ---- –"

He pauses when he watches you fail to acknowledge what he's saying, staring up at him with a pinch in your brow, eyes calculating as always, but now trying to put together what he's saying.

"-- --. ---, ---- -------! ----'-- --- -----."

Price's head follows a movement you only catch the tail end of. A body leaves the door, walking quickly, but there's no squeak of boots on linoleum.

His hand is under your chin, then, gently guiding you to look back up at him, baby blue eyes full of sympathy, a fatherly sort of concern that looks oddly welcome on his weathered face.

Price is slow to move, making sure you watch as he gently takes the plastic cup from the crappy nightstand beside the stiff bed your body lays on, taking a mock sip himself before holding it out to you.

Something is wrong, but you reach out a lead-heavy arm anyway.

It doesn't work very well, but thankfully Price catches it before it can spill.

It's humiliating, sure, but you still sip when the plastic rim kisses your parched lips.

You don't look, but if you had, you would see John smiling, reassured, ever so slightly, that you'd be alright. Not quite the v-shape you had come to know, but close enough.

You smile back, in turn. Weakly, but you do.

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

Soap spends a good deal of time in your room, in the first few days.

It's like he refuses to let hospital food actually be eaten by you, with how he keeps on bringing over his leftovers and heating them up in the microwave down the hall for you.

The first time, it's soup. Then, a stew, a little thicker, with some bread, which is followed by a simple sandwich.

But that's not all. He's joking with you the whole time, smiling as you come back into being a person again.

Yet another day, and the door opens.

The trial hearing aid planted in your ear does little to muffle the ringing that has become characteristic since your injury, but when the hinges squeak, your tired head snaps over to the Scot in your doorway.

"Fuck. Simmer down some, hen o' mine. Don't stare at me like that. I got ye sumthin'."

Your curiosity is met with a chuckle, and a small, wrapped package being set into your lap. After a few seconds of stillness, he gently prods you to open it.

A book of sudoku, crossword, and other puzzles. "To pass the time," Johnny says fondly. "Gotta keep the brain sharp, I'm sure."

He's sat beside your bed, and for once, you dare to do something new. You reach for his shoulder with an arm, and pull him into yourself.

That's the first time you have the balls to hug someone you work with.

He hugs you back.

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

The diagnosis is only half shocking.

To you, that is still much too shocking to be comfortable, but Gaz, by your side, is much more active than you, in the discussion.

"Nerve damage? To what, specifically?"

"They can recover, right?"

"Would you recommend surgery or physical therapy? Both?"

"What's the timeline before they can have a re-evaluation for service?"

John had insisted that someone went along with you, and the Lieutenant was out training with Soap. So, that left Gaz.

He's a very good patient advocate, really, and at some point, you start looking at him in his seat beside you instead of paying all your attention to the doctor.

The white light is the pure opposite of flattering, but he manages to look good because of course he does, he's Gaz.

Brown eyes suddenly snap over to you, and his lips turn down slightly in concern before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, jostling you just enough to call you back to reality.

"What? What's- is something wrong, Garrick?"

Your voice is a little rougher than usual, not properly pitched as per usual, but enough.

He sighs lightly, but starts to smile softly when he does.

"Your hearing aids are in, right luv?"

"Y- I- I think so?"

"Ringing or no ringing?"

"It's- mate, it's not supposed to go away for a few weeks, I don't think."

Your voice is a bit more practiced, that time. Better.

The doctor, across the desk, pauses in her scribbling on the notepad (you're sure they think they're writing something, but there is no way that those are words), and looks up at you.

"Dead right. I'm glad you're well-read on your condition."

Her voice rings out once, and in the quiet, an alarm rings.

"Shit. I am so sorry, we're running over and I need to get to my next appointment. I'll see the pair of you again in a week, alright?"

You nod, but Gaz, on your side, seems just a bit ticked by the ordeal, but he takes you with him, already whisking you off into the café to get you some actual food.

And hell, if you kiss him on the cheek when he drops you back off at your room for the night, that's alright. Your little secret.

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

"I swear to God, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Lieutenant."

Your punches hit the bag repeatedly as your words bite from your lips, sweat-coated and annoyed.

"Not until you hit your previous times, sergeant."

Ghost, bastard he is, is training you again.

Sure, you're out of physical therapy now, and sure, you do want to train, but he's just such a bastard about it.

A particularly hard swing is where you focus that annoyance, and the bag very nearly comes back for your face.

He stops rocking on his heels, and the relative silence is soon broken.

"Good for the day."

He declares, and you look back up from the red, padded synthetic leather, brows furrowed.

"What?"

"You wanted to be done for the day, right? You're done."

You stand, confused and maybe a bit upset, hands still wrapped up tight.

"No, I want to earn being done for the day. I was annoyed with you. Those are different."

There is a shift of the fabric of the mask you see, indicative of some sort of real facial expression.

"You're going to do just fine, rook."

His voice is warmer, this time.

[torueater]

GAME OVER ⭑.ᐟ

⋆ ꩜ ⋆ pairing: toji fushiguro x reader

synopsis: semi-chronically online assassin fiance Toji happens to hear about game controlled sex toys - an instant buy. it's not hard to get you to agree to trying it out with him with how interesting it sounds. you win if you don't cum before the round end, easy enough feat. till he lands shot after shot and you realize winning hadn't been an option in the first place.

wc: 5145 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

content: fem!reader, foul language, sexual themes, porn w/ a plot (kinda), sex toy usage, dirty talk, praise, unprotected sex, light degradation, fingering, cum eating, spanking, multiple orgasms, manhandling, overstim mentioned, established relationship, teasing, mutual pleasure, masturbation, pet names, fiancé toji, fiancée reader

a/n: first time writing full on smut 𖤐.ᐟ reader dialogue in italics. have fun!

reblogs/comments vv appreciated if you enjoyed! okay bye! ᓚᘏᗢ

You can't exactly say that you're surprised to see the whole thing set up already by the time you’d gotten home.

Toji had drawn reference to the newly released system in passing more than twice at this point, it and its ability to be hooked up to a good chunk of compatible first person shooter games. A lot of ‘Think about it, baby’s and ‘It’ll be really fun. Y’re too stressed from all that working.’ Which is true, yes – but letting him control a toy inside of you without regulation? You can’t say it doesn’t get you a little hot but… you’re a little fearful for yourself, imagining the amount of orgasms you think he’ll try to get out of you. You know better than to accept the sly man’s offer but you love him too much and it sounds far too fun, so here you are!

Toji leans back against the couch of your shared room, all smug, eyes hot on you as you eye the gaming seat hesitantly. The setup isn’t exactly novel -- a vibrating dildo a little smaller than him with a piston mechanism, strapped to the leather of the seat of one of your chairs pulled from the dining room. You bite your lip and cast him a glance, eyes going right back to the toy, noting that it’s already lubed up for you. Of course he’d known you’d cave for him. “C’mon sweetheart. I already set it up for ya. All you gotta do is sit.” He gestures a broad hand to the seat, smirk lifting the scarred corner of his mouth.

Your pulse is already a quick throb under your skin, eyes rolling to feign exasperation as you murmur something about him being ridiculous. “You’re so impatient, seriously.” Lifting the silk of your slip up over your ass you balance yourself in the chair, eyes on him as your fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties. Just to sink down oh so slowly. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely, baby.” The stretch of your walls around the size stings less than you’d expected it would with the lube on the toy and your own wetness. Unfamiliarity doesn’t mean that all this doesn’t excite you just a little.

The rules are simple, more in your favor – you win once you last till the game ends. An orgasm is an instant loss. No harm, no foul.

The chair’s leather is cool against the heated backs of your thighs, left to sink down to the hilt first try since you needed your hands to work your controller – he couldn’t leave you out of the fun, could he? It was simple, your shots would slow the movement and vibration of the toy, his shots do the exact opposite. All good and clean fun. You feel the drop of his gaze to where you’re split and connected to the toy, easier to slide down a little more with the spurt of slick that leaves you just from his attention. "Ugh. Baby, jus'...start the fuckin' game already." You whine, nose scrunching up, eyes narrowing in his direction.

“Who’s the impatient one now?” His amusement is so palpable that it’s sickening, apparent in the twitch of his lips, the idle tap of his fingers on the controller. Like he’s leaving time for this to all settle for you. Letting you realize the weight of the situation and how you’d gone and fucked yourself over. Letting your assassin fiancé control a sex toy you’re connected to via a shooter game? Really? He's much better with knives and daggers, them being his preferred weapons but you know better than to underestimate his skills.

“Comfy? Straps need adjustin’?” His voice is all teasing, eyes dropping for just for a second to eye your center again, hum low in his throat. He pushes off the chair when you don’t answer fast enough, stepping into your space, fingers hooking under your chin to tilt your head up. “Gotta answer me or I won’t know, sweetheart.” The coo is almost condescending sounding but the underlying fondness isn’t missed in the slightest, his dip to smack a kiss to your balm layered lips proving all your thoughts. “Y’nervous?”

The way his rough thumb strokes slow over your jaw makes it hard to verbalize your thoughts, so a little nod is all he’s granted. Cute. “You’ll be fineee,” he assures in a drawl, though the way he says it doesn’t feel entirely reassuring. “Just a game, yeah?” A pause, very deliberate, before he adds, “'Sides, I’ll be real gentle on you.”

─────────────────────୨ৎ─────────────────────

Yeah gentle. Gentle till that first shot lands not even a minute into the game. The piston isn’t the one to fire up but the vibrations do, a steady low buzz of the girthy plastic pressed into you that has your breath catching. Low enough to feel good but not enough to distract from trying to make shots (yet). Your bullets hit more inanimate objects than actual targets., groan leaving you at your poor skills. “Couldn’t let me get a shot in?” He hums like he’s thinking about it, shot ringing out from the speakers and the increased buzz of the toy telling you he’d just made a shot, “Nah. Said I’d be easy on you, not that I'd hand out free shots.” What would be the fun in just letting you sit there unaffected?

The mechanisms of the piston starting up is slow, but it makes you jolt anyway, eyes a little wide as you glance down – enough of a distraction for another pop! of the in-game gun and then it’s pistoning a little faster. “Wait- That’s not fair! I wasn’t even-" Another while you’re complaining and your breath hitches. Your grip on the controller tightens, moan caught in your throat as the stiff tip of the dildo batters into one singular spot that gives into its pressure, hips tilting to angle it away. Toji’s already loading up his next shot, barely allowing you to catch your bearings before the next impact comes, and – fuck. His aim is merciless. Precise.

You think you’re a little stupid for even thinking this would be an even playing field in the first place.

“Too fuckin' easy,” he mutters, shaking his head like this is all just a little disappointing, like he’s not reveling in your little reactions. The next shot lands and your body jolts, moan spilling past soft lips, but Toji barely acknowledges it. “Baby, cmon. You’re not even tryin’.”

How he expects you to try when you can barely catch your bearings is beyond you! You grip the controller, attempting to prove him wrong. Your fingers press into the joystick and it shifts, character racing forward, finger holding down the trigger button and just letting the gun rip. Dirt flies up where metal bullets collide and ricochet, sound of firing blaring from your speakers. 0 fucking headshots. “Fushiguroooo!”

He does laugh at that, glancing over at you, glint in his eye more than amusement. “I’m not even shooting right now. Go on, go shoot someone.” He at least puts down the controller for now to give you a fighting chance, your fingers shaky as you reload the gun, move off in search of at least one person to shoot at to slow this toy down. You’re left to keep your hips angled, balancing yourself almost uncomfortably since both your hands are occupied. It's not long till the opportunity presents itself, fumbling to line up the gun to the target and you shoot!

And somehow miss.

“Wait- no.” Your eyes are wide as they flicker over to his, lips parting, “One more try? You love me, right?” He’s laughing at you again, head shaking, back to moving through the map like he’d made the game himself. “I do, but nope. No second chances. Maybe you just like losin’. You want me making these shots, don’t you?” More deliberate shots -- since when had he been so good at this fucking game?? The vibrations you can handle for the most part, they’d stopped rising a couple shots ago but the toy is quite literally fucking you, changing angles to batter into your plush walls.

Molten heat prickles at your skin, slick a sticky, pooling mess between your thighs on the seat, a mix of frustration and a building orgasm curling hot in your gut. Your fingers tighten around the controller, knuckles protruding, but it’s hard to focus, even harder to keep your hands steady when every impact makes your body betray you. "Wait. Oh my goood, you don't need to g-get a headshot every-" You squeak, bowing forward, hand freeing up from the controller to grab at the seat handle, "time!"

“All that whining -- mm, oh my god, stop hittin’ headshots, baby—” His voice goes all pitched and breathy, an exaggerated imitation of you. He just finds it so funny, you’re so cute. “Think I’m about to win by the way.”

The blood under your skin is molten, hand lifting to flip him the bird. “I’m actual going to strangle you when we’re done here.”

Toji doesn’t think you know how much he’s getting off to this. His too gorgeous fiancée saying his name in a whiny voice, getting fucked proper on a stupid little toy every time he makes a well-aimed shot. It’s too fuckin’ easy and all your antics have him stiff as diamond against the front of his sweats. “You kinda suck, baby. Thought you said you were good at games?” Yeah, games meaning Stardew Valley. Minecraft, maybe! He knows this!

You try hard to get your breathing under control, try to keep yourself from sliding down the length of the plastic that feels so much like your bastard fiance’s who’s currently torturing you, but also not like him at all. Every fidget, every strained sound – he catches it all. “Oh god, I hate y-you.” You’re a whimpering mess, hips rocking on their own, barely able to keep still really. A random rise in vibration slams into you like a boulder, controller falling from your hands and clattering onto the wooden flooring with the sharpness of your buck. “Nng, Toji-“ He clicks his tongue all low and condescending, glancing sideways at you, hand sliding down to squeeze and adjust his rapidly rising bulge. “Y’know every time you miss it’s gonna speed up right? Now you’ve gone and dropped your controller. S’like you want me to keep making shots back to back.” Your head falls back against the back of the chair with a soft thud, inches away from being fucked out as you squeeze your thighs together – his name a drawn out moan as it makes the situation worse. “Ah..haah- Baby, please.” You at least try to reach the controller, legs extending, feet trying to reel it in. Bowing forward to get it is out of the question because you’re sure it’ll press right where he wants it to to have you cumming. A quick way to fucking lose.

“So fuckin’ cute. Keep whining baby, come on. You look so pretty right now.” You take the risk and lift off minutely, bowing to grab at the controller quickly. He at least waits for you to miss again before he shoots, another point gained just like that. “Fuck. Bet if I slid my fingers down there right now--” His voice dips, low and rough, shot ringing out again.

You’re a little teary eyed now, more focused on the building pressure in your gut, hand straying from the controller to toy with your neglected clit. A press into the bud with your thumb has your eyes rolling, hips rocking into the pistoning toy, eyes fluttering as you imagine warm flesh and the familiar weight of big, slightly rough hands bouncing you instead. “Tojii- Toji, ahh. ‘m g’nna cum.” You know what’s incoming, you know the pace is only going to pick up the longer you sit there like this, not even trying to make more shots. You want it, you can already feel your climax building and you want it so fucking bad. Fuck winning this game between you two, it’s not like there’s any prize to be won. He growls out a curse, another shot making you cry out again, hips grinding helplessly against the seat without meaning to. "Look at you.” he purrs, "Can't even play a fuckin’ game without me gettin’ you all wet ‘n needy. You’re dumb on that toy already.”

His gaze drifts over again just to catch you in the act, sure he’d cum untouched right in his sweats from the debauched sight. “Come on, doll. Open your eyes. Lemme see you.”

And when you glance up at him—eyes glassy, lips parted, so fucking desperate—it’s like he can’t help himself. “Fuck it. C’mere.”  He’s tossing his controller aside to get to you and tugging you off the toy before you can do it yourself, huffing, tongue swiping over his teeth. “Got me all hard from just watching you. Grinding on it like a slut, being all noisy.” His words come out rougher, sure he’d gone and lost his head because of you. The thick, corded muscles of his arms flex as he pulls you up his body, your legs looping around him almost instinctively.

Your orgasm is staved off temporarily, but the need is still there, the craving for a filling only he could give. “Mm, are you gonna fuck me now?” Your head presses up the side of his head, panting lowly, arms banding around the back of his neck as he drops himself onto the couch again with you on top, panty clad core warm against the thick length straining against his sweats. “You think I’d just leave you there to cum on that stupid toy?” Absolutely fucking not. His hands don’t remain in one place at all – one up under your slip dress, other on your ass to rock you over his bulge, grinding you to smear your wetness.

“Cute fuckin’ thing,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw like he’s got all the patience for extra foreplay when you can both tell that he doesn’t. You both don’t. "Didn’t think I’d make you cum like that, right? Heh. Nah. Wanted you in my lap from the start."

The toy hums in the background with the game being remaining unpaused, fingers slipping past the soaked gusset of your panties, calloused pads of his ring and middle finger smearing slick across your slit, finding you embarrassingly wet. “Fuck, baby.” His voice breaks on the word, eyes narrowing at the filthy find. “Could’ve asked earlier. Would’ve gotten you off that toy and fucked you if you’d just asked.”

The two fingers prod at your slit, breaching your soppy hole without warning. He groans at your jolt, at how you bow into him to whine and pant into his neck. Immediately you’re fluttering around the intrusion of his thick fingers, the chosen pair barreling inside you. He loves how wet you are, how you dampen the digits with every inch he sinks inside your pussy. “Yeahh, that’s it. That’s it,” He coaxes your orgasm out of you in sharp pumps of his fingers, lips dragging against the shell of your ear. “Wanted t’finish right? Gonna make you cum on my fingers, doll.” His fingers are mean as they batter in your walls, your gyrating hips held in place by his free hand, fingers working their magic. They curl in a come-hither motion inside you, angle into the soft spot that gives away to pressure, one he finds easily like he’d put it there. The umpteenth call of his name in that reedy voice makes him chuckle, low and mean in his throat.

“Making a mess all over my hand, sweetheart.” The tightening of your inner walls around the teasing digits gives him a slight pause, grinning splitting on his lips, sharp canines grazing at the edge of your ear lobe. “Y’close already? Seriously gonna cum from me playing with your pussy a little bit?”

You don’t care, you don’t care at all if it’s too fast and you’re holding him tighter, fingers in his hair, “Uh huh. Gonna cum. ‘m gonna cum, baby.” It’s a paced cry squeezing around, sappy sounds of his fingers driving into your cunt just as loud as your cries, slick sounds filling the room embarrassingly loud. “So noisy. Just so fuckin’ cute.”

You try to warn him again but his mouth’s on pressed hot to your ear, low and filthier words beating you to the punch: “Couldn’t keep up in the game so the least you can do is cum all over my fingers like a good fuckin’ girl. Go on.” His thumb presses into your clit, finally, and you’re a goner. Tight, firm figure eights that he knows will make you fall apart.

It’s too much, too good. Your breathing stutters, body tightening, heat coiling so tight in your stomach it hurts. “Yes. Mm, fuck. Yesyesyes--" Your back bows, voice cracking before your words die entirely on your tongue. Your hands tug at his inky strands, tits crushed to his chest as the heat in your abdomen bursts outwards, black spots eating at your vision as you gush on his fingers and make a mess on his lap. “F-uck! Tojiiii-”

It's an effort not to cum with you, not to blow in his pants like a fucking untouched virgin. “There it is, pretty. Keep your eyes open f’me.” He croons, watching you break apart with a lidded, hungry gaze, your hips rolling helplessly into his palm. “There’s my girl.” Your face hides in his neck as you ride it out, fingers slowing to ease you down from your peak, thumb flitting over your clit with the lightest pressure as to not overwhelm you. “Good girl. You’re so good, aren’t you?” His lips are firm against your temple, fingers pulling out with a wet slosh, moving up to press into his mouth and onto his waiting tongue. His groan has you whimpering again, hiding your face, pussy clenching weakly around nothing as he sucks his fingers clean of your sweet cum. “So sweet all the fuckin’ time, I swear.”

His hands return to sweep up and down your back in light strokes, a contrast to the way he’d just pulled that harsh orgasm out of you. He wants to give you a bit to catch your breath, he really does. But then your mouth is near his ear and you’re rocking on his lap like orgasming less than 2 minutes ago isn’t enough – he can’t help the rise and fall of his hand against your ass. “Stay still.” He wants to give you a minute but he really can’t help but move you around like you weight absolutely nothing, fingers at the edges of your slip to tug it up and off. His shirt is next, abdomen bare and chiseled as ever. Your face is down in the leathery seats of your couch before you know it, spine curved – head tilted just enough to see him behind you as you suck in eager breaths. “C’monnn..” You call, hips wiggling, watching the hasty tug of his sweats and briefs in one go. "Here I am worrying about your sensitivity.” His voice is rougher, teasing replaced by something raw, heavy. His glans is a ruddy blushing colour, dick sporting an angry vein up the side, a little too heavy to stay rod straight. Precum decorates the pretty tip, a steady stream leaking down the length of him as his palm wraps around himself to give a couple tugs. “Sensitivity my ass, you fucking love this.” His free hand smacks down on your ass with a solid, harsh smack, biting down into his bottom lip as he gives you a once over. You’re all eager, hands moving backward and up to tug at your panties to help him, stopped with a swat at your ass again, dick pulsing at your whine. “Didn’t ask you to take them off. Hold onto the handle of the couch.”

Your thighs are all shaky, fighting a whimper as you wiggle your hips back at him, not being filled feeling like actual torture. You follow the thinly veiled order, both hands grabbing at the handle of the chair, cheek pressed into the cushion. “Mhmm. Okay.”

He tugs it down himself, as much as it needs to be to get to your drooling cunt but enough that it isn’t properly off. Your slick coats his head as he notches the bluntness of crown against your leaking slit, hand that’s not guiding his dick pulling the softness of your cheeks apart so he can get a proper look. Your pussy practically tries to suck him in, fluttering around the tiny intrusion, making a mess on his head. He doesn’t push in though, likes to drag shit out as usual. He does a couple swipes of his fat head up and down the length of your clit to gather wetness, pulling back to stroke his cock and smear your nectar down the flesh.

You’re whining again, nails clabbering at leather, biting into it. “Please. Toji, I need it.” You’re so breathless, he’s such a sucker for you that he almost presses into you right then and there, but he holds off again, slapping his heavy tip against your clit--hand on your lower back sliding down to deepen your arch before he’s returning it to your ass.

“It or me? Just need my dick, don’t you?” Your denial is quick, breaths coming heavy, so wound up that it hurt. “Need..oh fuck. Please, I need you. Just you, I love you s’much and I need you.” Of course he knows you need him, knows you want his cock just as bad – you kind of want to wipe that smirk right off his face. He likes the teasing and all but he can’t exactly let his baby beg forever, can he? The press of him inside has your jaw slackening, palms flattening against the couch hand before you hold on again, a sigh of his name leaving parted lips. “Uh huh. Just..mhmmm..” Your hips push back, his hands bracketing both sides to help you, walls stretching to accommodate him as he sinks in slowly. “That’s it, push back on it. Take it, sugar..”

His praise fuels you, spurring you to rock your hips back against his. He’s so deep already, thick and pressing against spots that make your toes curl. Grinding down, you whimper when your clit brushes against the coarse hair at his base. “God…you’re so.”

You’re not sure how it feels new every time, how it feels like he finds a different place to hit. His pelvis is flush to the softness of your ass, low strands of his pubes grazing skin as his hips roll. “So fuckin’…good all the time. Hugging around me like I don’t fuck you.” His hips pull back minutely just to bottom out again, your sounds mingling in the air, grip on your hips tightening. “Feels so good. So good, Fushi’. Gimme more..”

His hands pull you back as his hips drive forward, helping you move with him, forcing a rhythm that’s all his own. It’s deep, it’s well paced. “Know better than to fucking..” His angle changes slightly, pushing his head up into your sweet spot, hips pumping a little faster, enough to have you getting teary, nails curled into your fist to keep the leather safe, “..beg like that. You know what it does. Knows it makes me want to do this to you.” He figures you like it, do it on purpose for just that. You do. This time too. Your body bounces and slides against where it’s pressed, little ‘oooh’s and ahh’s’ unabashed and noisy, barely muffled by pressing your face in the seats.

Toji’s the one pulling all the stops here, hands everywhere, holding you in place to pump faster into you. So much for lasting, with how he’s drilling into you there’s no hope for lasting more than a couple more minutes. The smooth glide of your cunt around his cock is utterly intoxicating, every stroke pushing against your silky walls, stroking fire into your veins.

He slows and pulls back, just the tip staying inside and you think you’re granted a moment of respite – till he’s bottoming out again in a quick, hard thrust, hands leaving you and crossing to hold your hips on either side, pulling you back harder into him. Your moans get more audible, wet pap pap pap of colliding flesh loud in the midday air. “Haaah- Right there. Right there, yesss.” You choke on your praise as you cry out, hips pushing backward to fuck back into him, his groan loud as he just lets you. “That’s it. That’s it baby, you’re so close. Look at me.” You try to, head tilting out the leather, glossy eyes up on him. They flutter, they close. A hand leaves his hip to cup your jaw, tugging you up so your back is flush to his hard chest, angle deeper as he keeps pounding you. “Need t’see you. You gonna cum, sweet girl?” He knows you are, knows your tells just as good as you do. Your nod is rapid, breathing heavily, near babbling as your hands claw at his thighs, rocking down into him harshly to speed up the snapping of that tightness in your belly. “Almost there. We’re almost--Fuck. Just a little bit more.”

He sacrifices the hand holding your face, using it to rub your clit in harsh circles again instead, pleasure reaching its peak with the stimulation paired with his head on hits to your spot. His balls feel heavy with his impending orgasm, pressure at the base of his spine enough to drive him mad. He fucks up into you harshly like he’s trying to stamp the shape of his length in your walls. Even with him trying to time it properly, he knows it’ll be a little off but it’s just as good as anything else.

Your head fits into the space left when his head tips back with his harsh groan, column of his throat exposed. You crane your neck to kiss and suck at the skin as best as you can, running your nose along his stubble. Anything to stave off your orgasm a little longer, though you instinctively rock down harder despite your wanting to hold off. He swallows hard, muscles flexing where they hold you as he fights for control. “Cum, baby. Come on, keep bouncing. Make a mess on my dick.”

And that’s all you need really -- good encouragement and him playing with your clit and you do exactly as he asks – you make a mess. “Haah-- Fuck, I love you. ‘m cumming-” You twitch in his hold, moans barely muffled by his hand clumsily pressing over your mouth to quiet you a little, murmuring praise in your ear as a rush of slick leaves you in a gush around his pistoning cock, connecting stands messy as he fucks you through it. “Good..good fucking- Shit!” He can’t even praise you properly at this point without losing his breath, muscled arms banded around your waist as he aids you in your bouncing, fucking you past overstim and into another rapidly building orgasm, hand angled to keep playing with your clit. “S-Sooo deep. So deep.” Your words are broken in your pleasure, thighs shaky, barely able to keep your thoughts straight. Toji drinks in your cock-drunk ramblings, angling your head again and silencing you with his lips.

 “One more. Jus’ one more. I’m right there with you.” More inaudible curses leave his lips, grip on you getting harsher as his thrust pick up, orgasm drawing closer and closer. “Mm, inside. Inside, baby.” Your voice carries an airy quality, fighting to keep your eyes open, to stop the quiver of your thighs from the immense pleasure coursing all through you. “Cum in me. Please.” His control snaps with one involuntarily tighten from you around him, hips pushing up to hilt himself before he’s bursting at the seams, head in your neck as he groans into against your skin. “Fuck, whatever you want. Gonna give it-- shit-- all to you.” Your 3rd hits like a collapsing row of dominos, only drawing out his orgasm as thick, creamy ivory spurts stuff you full. Deep, full moans have you warm all over and quivering in his hold, rocking to prolong both your highs, his nails biting into the skin where he has you held.

The air is heavy, thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Toji’s tilts your head to him again, current kiss languid and enough to make your toes curl in your post coital state. “Mhm..” Her pulls back with a breath, second kiss warming your nose, the underside of your eye. “Love you too by the way.” Your smile is all languid, laugh airy. Humming lowly as your head tilts to kiss him again, shorter this time. You didn’t say it to get one back, but you love it all the same. “I know. All your little kisses won’t stop me from getting back at you for this. You won this time.” He knows that well and good, smiles into your cheek at you picking up on his ulterior motives. “Well aware. Don’t go giving me any hints though, I’ll get hard again.” His fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, sat there connected with him softening up inside you, ring of escaped cum pooling around the base of him. “Let’s go clean up then.”

And you two are up, facing each other again, arms around his neck and feet locked behind his hips. Praying gravity spares you two till you get into the tub. You really don't need mess on the floor.

“‘I’ll go easy on you’” he says." You huff, shaking your head. Nothing about that was going easy on you. "You’re such a liar.” Your fingers toy with his inky, slightly overgrown strands. Twisting, twirling.

He smiles again, a kiss to your temple his apology. “I promise I'll go easy on you next time. Help you make some shots.”

At the dirt again, maybe.

a/n 2: yeah idk what kind of proofread I did the first two times mb y'all!

[screampied]

can u pleasee do jjk mens fav positions ? or have u already done that

‘ CARTWHEEL ON THE D!CK ☆ ! ’

starring ꒱ geto, gojo, shiu, hiromi, choso, sukuna, toji ?!

@WARNINGS. fem! reader, praise, dirty talk, mentions of breeding, full nelson, missionary, (rev) + cowgirl, prone bone, size kinks, overstim, tummy bulge, face riding, impact play, shotgunning, squirting, till the bed breaks 18+

TOJI ✰ DOGGYSTYLE

“down, girl.”

with the pitch of his tone— that was how easy it was for him to have you arched over, bent over his wooden desk. your pussy was still sopping from earlier, needing a moment to get over your most recent teeth-shattering orgasm. toji prefers missionary too but he mainly loves doggystyle just so he could peer a few peeks at your ass. so cute, he smears his swollen tip against your saturated entrance before groaning. sloshes of cries die out from your folds as he’s ogling at how you’re so eager to swallow him up. leisurely, his fat, throbbing tip makes its way into you and he yanks the back of your tank top. “tojiiii, ‘s not gonna fit again,” you gasp, a broad free hand of his grabs a good chunk of your ass before spanking it. you moan from the sting, the pulse it gifts between your legs couldn’t have been any more embarrassing. “so f-fuckin’ big.”

“say that everytime ‘n ya still take it like a good slut,” he growls, feeling a hot sensation burn near the tips of his ears. you’re so feverish inside, he bites his lip before shoving you further against the desk. one single thrust and your life flashes before your eyes. his cock metaphorically splits the inside of your cunt open, having your lips pry apart and you hear that sinister snicker of his from behind you. “ugh. gotta be careful with you though. with a pussy this wet, might fall in love, heh.”

toji’s speed was always simply relentless—your chest would continuously thwack against the furniture, bump after bump occurring. it’s so loud, his dick pivots and reaches so deep, it rummages through every single orifice and you repeat your whines for him again and again.

“f-fuuuck, toji,” you’d babble out, the same words spewing out your lips on a constant never-ending loop like a mantra. full balls of his occasionally tap against you. with your legs parted, you’re all sprawled open for him. toji knew the layout of your pussy— he had to. with a sharp piston of his hips, his thrusts start to become more vigorous. you could barely match let alone keep up with his pace.

with doggystyle, toji was simply animalistic,

one of his favorite things to do was to wrap his thick fingers around your throat, putting his face up close to yours. “awww, babygirl. ‘s too deep? want me to go slower for you, baby? i can go slow for the pretty girl.”

he’s teasing you—pitching his voice in that faux caring tone, he drags his tongue against your neck and you whine, whimpering out a, “f-faster, fuck me faster, ‘toj.”

“well excuse me. then shut up ‘n take this dick,” and his words punctuate through every part of his dialogue. rough emphasis on his sentences—you gasp, feeling the crown of his cock prof against your g-spot. a scratch through your brain surges and you were already stupid. “take it like it’s yours,” he gruffs, his voice lowering a bit. your gummy walls squeeze against him tightly and it makes him suck his teeth. so soft, fleshy mounds of your ass gets grabbed by the rough hands of toji. throughout each spank he gives you, it rings in your ears like wedding bells. it only encourages you to fuck back against him quicker, making haste. “yeah, fuck me back. take this dick like ya own it.”

you’re hitting back and forth against him, feeling the way toji steadily pries open your pussy with the fat, plump head of his dick. he grunts, pushing your head back down into the sheeny polished desk until it’s smushed against the plethora of scattered papers. “t- toji, right there, right there please.”

“i know the fuck where,” he snarls, feeling his thin nostrils flare— it makes him a bit vexed with how easily your cunt takes him. swallowing him up, he can’t help but stare at how well you’re taking his mean backshots from behind. a big hand of his is still yanking onto the very back fabrics of your tank top before he quite literally tears it into two. “oop. my bad,” he snickers, hearing a cute gasp come out of you. he’s still balls deep before you whine.

“toji, my shirt !”

“yeah, what about it.”

you frown, he’s still deep into churning your guts before you speak with each moan butchering the delivery of your voice. “what do you mean what about it, that was a gift!”

“girl, chillax. i’ll get ya a new one.”

he doesn’t.

GOJO ✰ PRONE BONE.

“shh, you don’t gotta talk when you’re bent over for me, angel,” he’d hush you, and he brings a thumb near your puckering hole to daub the remnants of his sticky, glutinous cum back into you, preventing it from spilling back out again.

you whine, feeling every deep thrust he presents you. he’d just gotten done with filling you up to the brim—yet he doesn’t stop, he’s hungry for more. a hand goes over your mouth, a lustrous sheet of your own slobber paints the palm of his hand in response and he hums. gojo favors prone bone because he likes the closeness of your body against his.

it’s like doggystyle but better,

with your sundress lazily pulled up, he’s got better access and your tummy continually caves in. gojo’s so lengthy, you were still surprised he’d even manage to fit. it was a tight fit but he managed, plugging up your sweetened aperture. warm breathy pants fan against your skin and you whine, his hefty base repeatedly trouncing against your cunt. he was so up close to you, his weight pressing into you so deep that you’re at a loss of words. “s—satoru,” you whimper, feeling his tip stimulate against your most tender spots. each breath you had became more shaky, you were already pumped full of ropy, viscid amounts of his cum from before. your words were a bit muffled but he could still make out your adorable mewls. “so f-full.”

“well yeah. wouldn’t want ya to be empty,” he fake frowns, giving your ass an abrupt spank.

you bite back a moan by sucking your teeth, feeling his shaft reach even deeper angles. he’s got your pussy opening over and over, you’re drooling by this point, being met with slow yet deep hits. it’s primal for a few seconds once he pulls out - only to pull back in, then out again. you start to babble, hating whenever he did that.

gojo was a menace, he wanted to make you beg for more—you feel a fervor wash over you before your maw dangles open. the moment he pulls his dick out, he stares in awe at the thick volumes of cum exuding out of your flooded entrance. “oh, look at thaaaaat,” he sings lowly, staring at the mess painted between your thighs. he’s got the smuggest grin, watching such satiny ropes dribble down your slit. “my my, she’s just so pretty! look at how full she gets too, fuckin’ sloppy.”

“f-finish fucking me, ‘toru,” you pant in heavy breaths, already missing the fullness his dick supplied.

still, you’re over here arched over like some slut. a few cold whiffs of air wafts against your skin and you moan. you hear him sneer out a, ‘awww,’ before he brings his leaky tip back toward your swollen folds. it was so messy, unkempt and shimmering with his seed. gojo grows quiet, smearing his fat reddened tip against your pussy to hear the wet sloshes it creates. “pleaseeee, finish f-fuckin’ me.”

“say pretty please,” he coos, purposely sinking just the fattened tip inside before wresting it back out. he does it over and over, imagining your cute little pout displayed on your face from frustration.

you whine out a sweet, “p-pretty please?”

“pretty please what?” he whispers, strumming a thumb against your throbbing clit. he was edging you, your whines—despite them falling onto deaf ears, you whine again. gojo simpers, trailing a hand down your sensitive spine. “c’monnn. i have no idea what you’re saying please for, angel. you could be saying ‘pretty please can i finish?’ or ‘pretty please can i—”

“pretty please finish f-fucking m-” you grumble, although it sounds more like a desperate moan. even your words backfired on you, he found it so cute how you tried to maintain a rough exterior with your voice but end up failing miserably. you wanted him to finish so bad that you start to swiftly grind against him with your ass still raised up. he loves hearing you like that, so whiny and needy for more—yet once you were about to whine out another needy plea, you hear a sudden snap.

instantaneously, your initial reaction was to flinch and as you peek up—you spot the the wooden headboard snapping in half, the box spring shortly following to collapse. gojo’s still buried balls deep and he doesn’t even realize. only then does he start drilling his fat cock into you at a much quicker pace and you gasp, bawling the sheets into your hand. “s-satoru, fuck fuuuck.”

“oh damn the bed broke,” he sighs, barely acknowledging your moans—you’re so close to your release, feeling the sharp stabbing twist of his hips and he makes you fuck right back into him again and again. with a hand sneaking its way to tug at your hair, he leans up close to your ear before purring low. “hm. that sucks,” and as his hefty cock jackhammers into your loose cunt for the nth time today, he cheeses. “but uh, you’ll buy me- i mean us a new one right? riiiight?”

GETO ✰ REVERSE COWGIRL.

he loves whenever you ride him in reverse—your ass just throwing back against him, it drives him crazy.

with strong, ripped arms wrapped around your waist, a breathy pant leaves his lips and he‘s panting, his mind's racing and racing as he’s awaiting for your finish to peacefully come.

geto groans, you’re taking in every inch of his fat cock, you grow dumb quickly and your brain starts to spiral within seconds. “f-fuck, more. throw that ass back against me harder, wanna feel you.”

geto’s smooth words couldn’t have been any more seductive against your ear. big hands of his drag towards your tummy, his touch sending you shivers constantly before you moan. you’re jerking back against him with your mouth pried open, dilated irises glancing at your pathetic reflection of the mirror that stood in front of you both. “s-suguuu,” you moan, leaning back until your back presses against his bare chest. his warmth makes the butterflies in your tummy whir around at such a speed,

everything about your body was just enticing.

the way you just grip around him drove him wild. steadily holding his dick hostage with your saturated, gummy walls — it drives geto to the first street of erotic insanity. he’s haphazardly buried balls deep, the jaggy smacks that go up and down all due to your sweet hips makes him go mad. lengthy musses of black strands gets caught in his face and he gnaws on his bottom lip. a mucilaginous white ring that coats around his full base sticks against your skin the more your movements rises its tempo.

he’s panting right with you, hot puffy breaths of air leaving each lips, he wraps a hand around your throat before tenderly skimming his thumb down your passageway. making you almost twist your head to stare at him, he whispers, “easy. don’t cum on me yet, gorgeous. can ya wait jus’ a little to be messy for me?”

you frown a bit, pretty spit-glossed lips pursing together into a sweet pout before you whine once he reaches a pivotal certain spot. sage-colored boxers of his was lazily pulled down near his perfectly sculpted pelvic bone—even that was unintentionally sexy, all for a good fuck.

“but— but i can’ttt,” you whimper, feeling the familiar juddering sensation mash all into you.

“wait for me,” he whispers, a hand rubbing against your tummy. you pause your stuttering hips, leaning back into his touch. geto attacks the entirety of your neck with sugared kisses. he’s so tender, you gasp once he feels against the outline of his bulge. “mhm. you feel me here, don’t you pretty? ‘m so deep in you, fuck.”

your pussy’s voluntarily tightening before easing up and you let off soft mewl. “suguru, don’t stop,” and your plea was so sweet. he holds your hips firmly in place before pecking a honeyed kiss near your nape. with how lewd the angle was, you made sure your knees were planted forward as you slouched all the way back. he stuffed your walls so full despite how you brought your eager hips to a saddened halt. his girth wears you thin, you moan once he then brings two hands to squeeze against your tits. so handsy, a finger of his swipes against your perked nipple and you whine. “wanna finish riding you, sugu please.”

“my love, you’re going to. don’t be such a baby,” and that’s only once he turns you around—you inhale a single breath, meeting his pretty face and he pulls you into a deep kiss. geto’s kisses always tasted to candied, so honeyed with nothing but love and affection.

“oh, but i love you,” he says between kisses, leaving your face with multiple targets. he watches your expression turn shy, even leaning in to kiss the soft bridge of your nose. “mwah,” he concludes in a weary breath, holding onto your hips again. you hover over his tip and he grunts, knowing you wanted to ride him again. “always know how to- make me fall more ‘n more in love with you. messy girl,” and a dimple pokes against his cheek once he lies back. “my good messy girl.”

SHIU ✰ COWGIRL.

“ah ah, let me finish my cigarette first,” shiu would hum in a soft low tone, watching you hover over his exposed tip.

he was shirtless—dark cerulean blue boxers pulled all the way down by you and a lit cig sticks out from the left part of his mouth. he shoots you a sly smile, watching the pout on your lips grow as you didn’t wanna wait for him. you needed him carnally, he flashes you a similar coy grin before wrapping an arm around you. “fine. you never listen. i spoil ya too bad, sweets.”

“shiu, want more,” you’d whisper, and he groans once he feels you align himself against your needy hole. you felt the head of his cock scrape against your entrance—a few spurts of pre-cum coat against your folds so slickly. a hitched breath gets caught in his throat before he leans back, manspread. “wanna smoke with you.”

“hm,” he hums in a more form of a question. he’s got quite the length to him. he grunts, feeling the squelches your cunt makes in retaliation. the entire scenery of it all was so crude, he’s amused. with that cute expression of yours, he wants to buy you anything in the world. shiu rubs a hand down your back, easing you to take him fully before you moan at the stretch. “you wanna smoke too, darlin’? ‘s that what y’er tellin’ me?”

“y-yes,” you whimper in a cute plea, rocking your hips once he’s all the way in. he fit perfectly—nice and snug like a key fits a lock.

shiu had such dangerous girth to him too, your mouth desperately opens as you feel every inch. you even feel a slight upward curve he had, something as small as that made you throb—even the vein that runs down the center of his dick, you felt the twitch inside of you. he raises a brow, hazy eyes focusing on your every move. your moves were always so slow it was simply hypnotic. leaning up close, you press a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “kiss me.”

“now you’re just gettin’ greedy, baby,” he purrs, inhaling a single puff of hot smoke again. you watch with dilated hearty eyed pupils, and he cups your chin. “very well, open that mouth f’me.”

glossy lips of yours part, he pulls you in for a sultry wet kiss but before he does that, he blows the smoke that was in his mouth right into yours. you whine, bottom lip quivering as it pours right in so easily. the taste was smoky, despite it being literal air, you could still taste it.

shiu’s got half-lidded eyes staring at you, a smirk curling on his lips before he finally gives you that kiss you direly craved. it was deep, you’re still slowly hurtling your hips before he brings two hands to fondle with your neglected breasts. you mewl into his mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of smoke and a dash of mint. his tongue curls against yours, flicking his cigarette away onto the ash tray before pulling you closer. he tastes so intoxicating, a hand squeezes your ass firmly before he groans—you being jittery against his hips has his head spinning.

“s-shit,” shiu phews, globules of sweat racing down the sides of his face. with an almost flustered, out of breath look, he speaks in a soft tone. “you .. you want more, don’t ya sweets? guess y’er not finished with me after all, huh?”

“lie back, shiu,” you breathe in short breaths, softly pressing the clammy palms of your hands onto his bare chest. bristles of curled chest hair prick against your skin before he leans further back, slyly smiling at your sudden dominance. he watches as you pick up his thin cig, sticking it between your own teeth as your hips roll against him in mirroring unison.

“yes ma’am,” he smiles, a hand gripping onto your ass before giving it another spank. “do whatever ya want to me, sweets. ‘m all yours.”

SUKUNA ✰ FULL NELSON.

with full nelson—more than anything, sukuna likes to leave his favorite girl feeling stretched.

so stretched to where you can feel him reach the very deep pits of your cunt. he leaves you with ropes of his cum oozing out of you, he can’t help it — especially with a size he has. a thick shaft with staggering inches, every time he pumps another load into you, you’re drooling for more.

“oh, you’re so weak today,” he huffs out in a single breath, watching your lifeless body just dangle against his lap.

your legs were held above your head and within minutes, pretty eyes of yours were on the verge of rolling way back toward depths of your skull to see only splotches of pure black. you’re a whiny mess, barely able to synchronize with his rigorous pace. his front forearms has your legs in place, another is strumming the calloused tips of his fingers against your jittery hips. he’s so deep that you can feel the bulge of his dick extend through your tummy. a hand of his grabs your chin, pulling down on your bottom lip. “my, i’ve got such a such a sloppy girl,” he points out, brushing a thumb against your lips that was glistening with sweet spit. “with an even sloppier pussy.” and a hand of his reaches down to spank against your folds. you whine, feeling your entire body heat up from something as simple from his notorious touch.

“su— sukunaaaa,” you’d whine, basically being treated like a rag doll. a perfect way to capture your physical essence. just being thrown around, he punctures everywhere inside of your goopy walls, making his cock get known between your heat. your moans only grow louder until he shoves two fingers into your mouth. fluttering lashes lower before you happily suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue against his digits and he cackles. “mphmmm.”

“good girl, suck on them. use that little mouth for somethin’ more important,” and with each bounce of your hips, your brows furrow in pleasure. a jumbled of nerves that rest inside your stomach continues to build up—you know that particular feeling approaching and it was pure bliss. a brief twinge of a sting resides near your entrance as he hits against a spot that leaves your eyes widening. he found your secluded g-spot. a hand of yours squeezes onto the curses’s thigh and he hums in amusement. “oh, i found that little spot didn’t i, pretty?” and his pace quickens ever so slightly, hefty dick slamming into you time and time again. “this— pathetic spot . . riiiiight fuckin’ here?”

his breath was hot, all up against the soft lobe of your ear. with his deep voice alone, you’d cream all over his cock without any sorts of shame. jocularly, sukuna seeps his fangs into your neck, a low guffaw following from the back of his throat. you sucked on his fingers until you gag as response. you then pout as he pulls them out, stringy webs of saliva following his two digits.

“i-i’m gonna cu—” and your words get interrupted by the goading prod of his cock thrashing against that same spot. your mouth grows ajar and a sweet raw moan exits from your lips. you’re so at disbelief that you end up gushing all on his lap yet he doesn’t even notice you squirted until you look down.

“hmph,” sukuna scoffs, one of his arms reaching down between your legs. he smears his stubby thumb against your entrance, feeling how doused it was with your slick arousal. taking you out of the flexing minacious position, he turns you to face him now. prodding a thumb between your now swollen folds, he delves a finger inside before pulling it out, only to pop the same finger into his mouth. you watch, tremulous breaths leaving your mouth and he smugly smiles, taking pride in your embarrassed state.

“how sweet,” and as he laps up the mess on his fingers on his own tongue, he grabs your chin again, pulling you into a kiss. you whine, returning the gesture almost immediately. you’re needy still, grinding against the king’s lap—his dick that was laid against him flat, so thick and even more full. he snickers between the kisses, holding you close and you taste yourself on his mouth. after a while, he departs away before grumbling. “off. you made a mess on me, woman,” and he crosses his arms, a pout on his lips. “don’t just sit there. clean it off with your tongue, i’ll wait.”

HIGURUMA ✰ FACE RIDING

“a-ah,” he lets off a soft sigh, bringing a few kisses towards your inner thighs. you bring up you want to ride his nose and after that moment, it easily becomes his favorite position. he’s gentle, making sure to attack near the very sweet crevices with his lips. with an amused, jocular raise of a brow, he runs a thumb down your sopping wet slit. “aw, you wanna ride it, dontcha? you’ve been starin’ at my nose all day, sugar.”

with a twitch of your lips, you shift your weight that’s barely hovering over his mouth. “yes,” and hiromi’s got nothing more than tender smile— he knew what you wanted, ride his face but most importantly, ride his nose. “i just— i don’t wanna suffocate you with my thighs though, ‘romi. want you to be able to breathe.”

he ambushes your folds with a multitude of kisses before a sly grin forms against his pink sheeny lips. “you won’t do such a thing,” he reassures you, and you whine once he creates a single licking stripe near your entrance. “there there, just lay it on me, sweetheart,” and his voice couldn’t have been any more soothing— it’s alluring, each syllable that drags out of his mouth has you pulsing continuously. dark irises stare into you before he blows softly against your cunt. “give it to me, sit on my face ‘n enjoy the ride. i got ya.”

higuruma’s all laid back comfortably against the bed—he’s ready to feast, the moment you finally sink your quavering weight down onto him, his tongue makes a quick greeting. you bite your lip, the cold texture residing on his tongue makes you squirm a bit. “f-fuuuck, hiromi,” you whine, peering your eyes down and his hooded lids were already growing low and heavy. two rough hands of his grasp tightly against your ass, occasionally brushing his thumbs against your warm skin. his movements were slow but precise—he makes sure to allow his tongue to rummage all throughout your pussy. just a single taste and he’s already craving for more.

you’re addictive,

as you’re still trying to flutter your hips over his mouth but he only pulls you further down. you moan, feeling the slickness of your cunt rub against his nose. it slides against the bumpy bridge of it and he groans. with rough pants, he breaks away every few seconds to give you a praise or two, “thaaaat’s it, ride it jus’ like that, sugar.”

he had to multitask from breathing through his mouth and nose—you had him going feral, his tongue knew no bounds. it swirls all through your entrance before he starts to suck against the pulsating nub of your clit. that particular spot does something to your brain. higuruma studies your moments—every jolt your thighs does he watches, how sensitive, how needy you were. all from a few licks, the feeling of his nose prodding against your cunt was a soft gnarled texture. it tickles a bit at first before you’re left with moaning repeatedly. “hngh, so good, ‘romi. don’t stop p-please.”

he shoots you a sneer, a thumb of his snaking towards your clit to play with it also. the nerves you felt in every part of your clit makes you stupid. perspiring hands crawl into his hair, getting a good grip of his strands being lightly tugging on it. “m-mphm,” he likes that. whenever you’d give his hair just the slightest pull, it drives him crazy. you resume to grind your hips into his mouth, slowly. your rhythm despite how it wasn’t as fast as he initially wanted has him hard. higuruma feels the strain in his black work slacks the more your sweet whimpers reverberate across the entire room. the walls were quite thinx yet he could care less. if anything, the only thing that mattered between was your preciously candied pussy. his favorite treat—a dish he’d continue to ask for seconds.

strands of his hair tangle within your fingers, the vigorous buckling of your hips barely have hi time to process. he’s so sloppy, the slight curve of his tongue explores all inside the entrance of your saturated entrance and a whine dies out your throat. “m-mh, more ‘romi. your tongue’s so good,” and your voice remains to shake—you were sensitive, not before long the entire middle part of his face was covered with a sheet of your arousal. so soaked—you couldn’t help but drench him a bit, his stubble becomes glistening in your heat and he moans. you taste sweet, with low eyes he makes eye contact with you for a moment and the butterflies that reside inside your tummy makes you pulse. he feels the pulse in his mouth, stimulating every part with the tip of his tongue. he lays it flat, allowing it to ferret everywhere before he reaches there.

that sweetened g-spot—the moment his tongue shows itself towards your most precious slick orifice, he leaves it a few sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, long black lashes close as he shows your spot the utmost signs of affection. after all, he wanted to make sure he tasted all of you.

CHOSO ✰ MISSIONARY.

“don’t hide, please,” choso whispers, rutting between you. two big hands of his strokes your cheek, making sure you return his beatific gaze. dark gentle pools of eyes intake your alluring beauty before he moans into your neck. “you’re so w-warm. i love you, love makin’ you feel good.”

“i love you too,” you breathe, moaning quite a bit yourself. your voice was sweet, laced with some kind of addictive sound that makes his ears twitch whenever you speak. choso loves missionary because of how intimate it is. skin to skin, body to body—he loves the hot warmth your own body provides him every time. he’s way more vocal than you, he can’t help but suck against your skin as he’s stuffing you full of guiltless inches. “fuck,” you’d wheeze, rubbing the back of your ankle down his back. you feel him shiver at that, his face turns flustered before he reaches to hold your hand. in bed, choso was always a needy baby. he desperately wanted your touch, without it he felt like he’d die. perhaps he was a bit of a drama queen whenever it came to affection, but he was your drama queen. “choso, don’t stop your moans, baby.”

he grows quiet once you notice. the main reason he went to suck against your tender neck was to stop his whimpering whines.

he was always so embarrassed about them—so insecure.

he was forever so sensitive, the way you clamp down on him makes his breath nearly get caught in his throat. “but-” and you shyly smile, squeezing his hand tighter as his hips quicken. he’s about to finish early—you were quite familiar with his timid body language. it always gave him away. you pull him in for a quick chaste kiss, crimson lips of his mashing against yours and he pouts. once you pull away, he wants more. choso leans for a kiss and you kiss back, kiss after kiss. he feels the tip of his cock reach all sorts of mew depths within your walls. he’s clouded, feeling a rushing wave of crazed nirvana over take him sweetly. “i’m too noisy.”

“i like when you’re noisy,” you reassure him, and you visibly watch him melt into your hands. he’s so cute—you’ve got his heart throbbing, you’re so tender and patient with him that he’s falling more and more in love. choso’s tempo slows down a bit and he feels a concise spasm in the undersides of his thighs. he moans at your tenderized compliment, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

he’s still holding onto your hand, stubby fingertips sliding against yours. his touch—a perfect way to describe it was that it was hot, parching. you made him feel hot in every way and he never wanted the feeling to stop. “you can be a little louder, ‘cho. ‘s just you ‘n me.”

“you s-sure?” he whines, mending your cunt with a new shape from his jagged thrusts. he was so big, you had to constantly gnaw on your lip to conceal your own indecent noises. with a low voice, he still sounds as sweet as a kitten—his darkened brows twitch, awaiting for your answer whilst he prepares to gift your pussy with another precious gift of cum.

you have a soft smile. “i’m sure, baby,” and with a smeck, you kiss the pale temple of his cheek. choso’s heart was racing miles a minute. the moment he ends up finishing, he doesn’t hide his moans.

this time, he ends up giving you a deep kiss while his orgasm mercilessly pulls out of him. it leaves him breathless, tumefy lips of his gets swollen from each contact your own lips makes with his. he was always weak for your kisses, he’d go crazy without one.

“good boy,” you whisper, feeling his seed trickle all inside of you. hot sticky ropes, your legs snake around his slim waist, forevermore pulling him in. “let’s stay like this forever.”

“we- we will,” he mewls out, a gasp of exhaustion snatching out of him, he’s just on top of you, resting his head against your chest — still inside of you, plugging you in fully. choso’s voice was a bit raspy, strands of his hair tickle against your skin before he kisses your breasts. “i’ll never leave you. we’ll be together f-forever, princess.”

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Apple Cider;; CJH

Word Count;; 1.1k

Genre;; Fluff, Neighbour AU

Pairing;; Jongho x Reader

Summary;;

Jongho is the most selfless man you’ve ever met. Without hesitation he’s made what could have been the scariest experience of your life much more comfortable and one hundred percent less lonely. It only makes sense that you’d repay all his kindness with a home-cooked meal… now if only you could get your racing nerves on board.

“Warnings”;;

Awkward dorks in love, just cuteness overload tbh!!

Notes;;

Day Twenty-Two (Holiday Lights) of the KPOP Christmas “Drabble” Challenge!

Someone please pray this scenario into existence for me y’all, though I’d probably combust on the spot

Part of the set of fics I wrote before my hiatus but this one is still so good!!

Main Masterlist | ATZ Masterlist | 25 Days of Christmas

A loud clatter against the panelling of your home draws your attention outside. Through the frost-lined window, you catch sight of your neighbour’s shoulder. He’s armed with a coil of lights. They hang off his bicep as he reaches overhead. Despite the chilly weather, he’s without a coat. The sleeve of his shirt hugs his muscles in all the right places.

Tearing your eyes away from your much-too-handsome neighbour, you busy yourself with the fresh-baked cookies waiting to be decorated. You made them with Jongho in mind, and they needed to be your best creation yet to truly express your gratitude. He’s been your knight in shining armour ever since you moved into the neighbourhood. Even something as tedious as wrapping the entire house in Christmas lights right after he did the same to his own home goes by without any expectations or complaints.

By the time the front door swings open, the kitchen smells delicious. Sugar, spice and everything nice lingers in the air. Puffs of steam swirl above the two piping hot mugs of apple cider tea. Wiping your hands clean on your apron, you double-check the small meal you’ve prepared. Everything is in order.

“All done,” Jongho calls out from the entrance hall, clapping his hands together. His boots echo against the hardwood floors with each step. Standing at the kitchen’s threshold, he clears his throat. “You’re officially festive. Let me know if you need any decorations set up, too, okay? Those little motors can be a hassle.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” you say as you carry the small plate of treats to the dining table. Without missing a beat he jumps in to help, taking the mugs as he follows you.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, you’re a lifesaver.” Offering him your best smile, you lift your shoulders in an awkward shrug. “Would you like a cookie?”

He laughs, nodding. “That would be nice, as long as I’m not imposing.”

“No, no, no. Please, sit. I made them for you, anyway.”

“You did?” His eyebrow quirks but he sits, grabbing one of the smaller cookies. It’s malleable in his large hand, soft and squishy as he breaks it into bite-size chunks. Within seconds of trying your baking (for the first time no less!) his eyes widen and the corners of his lips lift into a concealed smile.

Resisting the urge to jump up and down, you pop into the kitchen to grab a dessert plate. This is going well! There’s no reason to worry. You just need to bite the bullet and ask him over for dinner… not a big deal at all, it’ll be easy! With a determined exhale, you roll your shoulders and stretch your neck side to side before gliding back into the dining room.

“It’s the least I could do.” After you place the little ceramic saucer on his placemat, you gesture toward his mug. “I hope you don’t mind tea– oh, you look cold! Should I turn the heat up?”

His already pink-tinged cheeks flush deeper. Shaking his head, he swallows down his food. “I’m okay. Everything is perfect. Thank you.”

You can’t hold back your relieved sigh. “Good. That’s good.”

A beat of silence passes and once more your nerves start to rumble. If you can’t even manage to keep the mood light over a small bite, just how will you survive a full meal? And aren’t you standing too close to him? You can smell his cologne: smoked oak and pine needles. It’s strong and bold just like him. The longer you drink him in, both into your lungs and into your memory, the less you want to leave.

Falling headfirst into his vast, warm eyes, you open your mouth to pop that little question you both need yet fear the answer to. He leans a little closer and your gaze drops to his plush lips. They’re dry from the cold and a jolt of guilt gnaws at you. It isn’t a matter of asking him out but repaying his kindness. It’s the least you can do.

Determination renewed, you’re ready.

“Your apron is cute.”

His words hit you from out of left field. Taken aback, you glance down at the festive design and grin. “You’re cute.”

What?

What?

Short-circuiting and overwhelmed by the embarrassment surging through your stunned body, you gape at him.

“Cute?” He frowns, looking down at his plate. You flounder for a moment, unable to form the necessary words to remedy the situation. It isn’t until his ardent eyes chase away your worries and a wholehearted smile returns to his face that you still. “Not handsome? Strong? Manly? Just cute?”

“Well,” you trail off, wringing your hands together. “You’re quite handsome and very strong, that goes without saying. But you’re gentle and kind, too.”

Hiding his expression in the hollow of his shoulder, he waves away the compliment. A few crumbs fall onto the plate as he rubs his hands together. He takes a long sip of his now-cold tea before smacking his lips and mumbling out ‘that’s good’. Taking great lengths to avoid eye contact, he observes your light fixture as he stands. Worried he’s found something that might require repairs, you lean toward him to get a better look.

Before you can stop yourself you bump into him. His stance is firm and steady. Unfortunately, yours is not. Losing your balance, your hand flings out to grip his arm. His muscles flex beneath your touch. Your chin presses against his chest as he turns to catch you. Once more his cologne surrounds you. With nowhere to look except up, you watch his features soften from alarm into concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Just admiring the view.”

Jongho shakes his head, cheeks rising as he grins. “Cute.”

“I’m never living that down.” When you’re back on your feet and you’ve ironed your apron straight from the sheer friction of your overzealous hands, you nudge his shoulder. Once more he doesn’t budge. “But seriously, what would I do without you?”

Instead of an answer you receive a boop! on your nose.

While you stand blinking away your confusion, one of his pinky fingers brushes against your outer palm. His voice is tender as he asks, “Can I take you out for dinner tonight?”

Thrown deeper into bewilderment, you stammer and splutter. “You can’t ask me that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I was go– I had a plan, and now you… I was going to ask you out!”

“Then I accept,” he says, cupping your chin. Warmth blossoms everywhere his skin meets yours. Pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, he lingers until his touch ingrains upon you. Even when he pulls away you feel the softness of his lips. “How does eight o’clock sound?”

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and following!

Thank you! – ♡ –

[catboybiologist]

i just started following you recently and i’m a trans woman that hasn’t come out except a few people. haven’t started transitioning at all yet. i kinda want to just start hrt and then come out once it starts affecting me physically. i feel like that’ll make it less of a shock to people…? idk. does that make sense? or is it silly? sorry if you’ve answered questions like this before but since i started following you i really stared admiring you and hope to be as open as you so i respect your opinion.

You're so good!

This is actually an approach that lots of trans people take! Loosely, you'll probably hear it called "boymoding"- taking HRT while still presenting as a "man" in your day to day life, for a small amount of time until you come out.

Lots of people find this approach nice. In fact, its what I did. I didn't come out at large until 9 months on HRT, and even then I had a break from work, so I wasn't interacting with people as usual as a woman until I was over a year on HRT.

It's useful for several reasons. One, oftentimes its hard to know when the exact "right moment" to come out is. But HRT takes a while, and involves some "startup" time to get right- so oftentimes, boymoding while taking HRT is a good way to stop delaying HRT, and start hunting for the right moment to come out. Two, lots of people find that it helps them come out because it makes it seem more "real" to the people around them.

And I could keep listing off reasons. But the biggest one is this- it fixes your analysis paralysis and fear. You don't have to transition all at once. Take off bite sized chunks. And starting HRT without social transition is one way to do that.

If you want my further advice, I actually started telling people I trusted one by one while I was boymoding to make coming out later seem less overwhelming to me. I told them something like "hey, don't worry about this yet, but I'm transitioning and started hormones. I don't know exactly when I'll come out, but don't be surprised when I do." It helped a lot to know I already had people around me that knew about it.

This is very common. It's not silly at all.

[riptides-n-roses]

tear you apart - jon moxley (18+)

⛧ pair: jon moxley x reader

⛧ tags: @cyberdejos2 @88changemymind @reigns-prophecy

⛧ warnings: really really really rough sex, unprotected p in v, t1t-fucking, aggressive throat fucking, blood kink (jon bites so hard you bleed), oral (m! and f! receiving), creamp1e, bruises, marking, as always minors should not interact ♡

⛧ i think with how many matches jon has where he's bleeding everywhere should have more ffs about him in that way.

⛧ jon is aggressive during sex. he takes his anger out on you in a way that makes you beg for more (no plot)

♫ tear you apart - she wants revenge

⛧ word count: 1.2K

Jon's kisses were rough and hot, his calloused fingers forcefully grabbing your face to hold still. Your whines made him hard, trying to beg for him to be gentle. 

"My good slut." He muttered, pressing his lips back to yours. He was mad about something. You could tell he was based off the way he handled you. It didn't bother you. You found it hot whenever sex was angry with him.

"J-Jon..." you started. 

"That's not my name. Correct yourself before I do." Jon ordered, making his way to your neck, kissing roughly.

You whined, feeling his teeth bite into your neck. 

"D-Daddy..."

"Fuck that's my good little slut." He purred, taking his free hand to one of your exposed breasts, playing with it so harshly. "You're going to be a good girl for me. Understood?" 

"Yes daddy..." you replied, feeling his teeth let go of your flesh. Jon smirked, admiring his work on your neck, slight blood leaving from where he bit into you. 

"Get on your knees." his tone full of demand. You immediately obeyed him, his bulge right against your face. He was amused from how innocent you looked in front of him.

"Such an innocent face. Too bad I'm going to ruin it..." he laughed. You watched as Jon took off whatever clothing was left on him, his cock already hard from biting you earlier. Your mouth watered from the sight of his throbbing cock. He rested his cock between your breasts, slowly thrusting between them. He grunted as you squeezed your breasts together creating more friction against his length. After a few thrusts he paused, having another idea.

Without any warning, he grabbed a chunk of your hair, and pushed his dick in your mouth, his tip reaching the back of your throat. His grunts were intoxicating, feeling yourself getting wet between your legs.

"Fuck...You're so perfect, princess." He grunted, his grip tightening around your hair, your throat abused from his thrusts. 

You gagged from his length, his thrusts getting faster - he was getting close. Small tears forming in your eyes as you kept eye contact with him. 

A low growl escaped his lips as he came down your throat, forcing you to swallow every drop of him. As he rode out his orgasm, he ripped his cock out of your throat, allowing your throat to rest. You choked, looking up to the 6'4 "man - his eyes still have the same stare as he did before. To your surprise, he was still rock hard - you knew he wasn't finished with you just yet.

"On the bed...now" 

You immediately laid down on your back on the king-sized bed, the sheets red as wine. You were nervous as Jon crawled on top of you, flattered that you were afraid of what he was going to do next.

"Fuck...you're so cute when you're scared." His tone, full of lust and hunger. 

Your breath shook, you've never seen him so angry before. You couldn't dare ask him why he was being so rough with you. He looked you up and down, unamused to see your legs closed shut.

"Open your legs." He ordered, impatiently waiting for you to obey his commands.

You immediately opened them, giving Jon a good view of your glistening cunt. He hummed in approval before positioning himself between your legs. 

"Such a pretty cunt..." he muttered, latching his warm tongue on your clit, roughly sucking on it. 

You whimpered from his touch, it was gentle but his grip on your thighs was hard. His icy blue eyes never leaving contact with your face - making sure you were enjoying how he manhandled you. 

"You like how I eat this pussy, slut?" His tone was playful, his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

"Y-Yes, daddy...Oh fuck" you sobbed, throwing your head back as he sucked away on your cunt.  

He chuckled, his grip still tight against your thighs as his tongue slid up and down. You whined when he stopped, stopping you from cumming all over his face. 

"Such a greedy whore..." he grumbled, "I oughta fuck the brat out of you."

As he positioned himself again, he grabbed your sides hard. You gasped loudly as Jon pushed into you without warning, his length already hitting your spot hard. 

Your eyes were blurry from small tears, as he thrusted hard into you, his knuckles turning white from grabbing you. 

"You're such a good whore." His grunts were low and deep, stopping his grip on your sides and swiftly replacing them with your neck, limiting your intake to oxygen. You gasped from his tight grip, his thrusts getting faster and deeper, your walls tightening around his lengthy cock. 

"D-Daddyyyy..." you couldn't talk much, it was intoxicating to him on how small you were under his grip. His stare was sinister, biting his bottom lip as he pushed in and out of you.  

"Yeah that's it...take every inch of my cock" He was satisfied with your pleas to let his grip on you loosen. His grunts turned you on even more, your eyes rolling back from the raspy waves of pleasure hitting your body.

Jon finally let go of his grip on your neck, allowing you to breathe, his thrusts still hard and deep in you, he put his full body weight on top of you, your arms wrapping around him, digging your nails into the flesh in his back. You definitely wanted to mark him back, making any woman know he was yours. 

"Fuckkk...you feel so good, baby." He groaned, his thrusts becoming faster. He really enjoyed when you roughed him up back. You whined feeling him sink his teeth into your neck, you loved when he bit you or caused any markings on you. It reminded you and everyone exactly who you belonged to. You were for sure going to get asked about those teeth marks on you, but you didn't care. 

You shut your eyes tight, whimpering from him fucking you rough. It wasn't unusual for him to but you prayed it wouldn't be the last time. He always made you discover new things about yourself when he did. 

"Look at me." He grabbed your face, making you open your eyes to face him. He pressed his lips against yours, your tongues fighting for dominance. You moaned from his tongue being in your mouth - he growled, biting your bottom lip really hard, drawing small hints of blood - you know that's going to scar later on.

Your stomach tightened, feeling yourself getting closer to cum. It was already a lot for you to handle all at once - Jon being aggressively rough with you as he fucked you, his obsession with biting you and limiting your air passages. 

"You gonna cum?" He asked, his thrusts getting sloppy "You're gonna cum with me. Got it, slut?" You whined from his commands, not being able to hold your need to cum any longer.

"Yes, Daddy...Oh fuck...I'm cumminggg" You sobbed into his neck as you came all over his dick, your nails digging into him - Jon following behind, groaning loudly as his warm seed bursting in you. As you both rode out your high, Jon kissed you roughly - his cock still buried in your cunt.  

"Good girl..."

[disgruntled-detectives]

hi! are there any readings you would consider vital for a gentile wanting to learn more about judaism (or anything to avoid)? i would so appreciate any recs or advice you have, but please dont feel obligated. i hope you are well and thank you so much

Hi! Thank you so much for asking!

So here are some websites I wholeheartedly recommend for people who are curious about Judaism and want to learn more, but may not know much. It's where I started when I first started learning more about it.

Myjewishlearning.com

Jewfaq.org

I also super recommend the YouTube channel BimBam! A lot of it is geared for children, yes, but like a child, you are starting from scratch. There's a lot of really good information absolute beginner information given in bite size chunks.

Here are some books I recommend! A lot of these are super dry. I'm sorry in advance.

Essential Judaism by George Robinson (it's a bit of a tome, but it's really FULL of information)

The Jewish Book of Why by Alfred Kolatch

To Be a Jew by Rabbi Hayim Donin

Living a Jewish Life by Anita Daimant

To Life! by Rabbi Harold Kushner

Settings of Silver by Stephen Wyler

I also thought Judaism for Dummies was pretty good. I know a lot of people disparage the For Dummies books, but it was a pretty user friendly book of basic information.

Any recs I missed Jumblr??

[glowettee]

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡Falling Behind? Here’s How to Make the Most Iconic Comeback‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

✨ You’re not failing, you’re just recharging. Everyone falls behind at some point—it doesn’t define you, babe. What does define you is how you bounce back, and trust me, you’re about to glow. Let’s map out your comeback era:

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

1. Accept and Assess

Take a deep breath. Falling behind doesn’t mean you’re failing at life—it just means something wasn’t working.

Identify why it happened. Was it burnout? Lack of clarity? Over-scheduling? Awareness is key to fixing it.

2. Clear the Slate

Write a fresh to-do list. Start small—list just 2–3 priorities to tackle today.

Declutter your workspace; an organized space = an organized mind.

3. Divide and Conquer

Break big tasks into bite-sized chunks. For example: Instead of “Study Chapter 5,” try “Read pages 1–5, summarize key points.”

Use timers to stay focused—Pomodoro technique works wonders!

4. Set Soft Deadlines

Be kind to yourself while staying accountable. Instead of rigid deadlines, set “goal dates” and reward yourself for meeting them (a cute latte or face mask is a win).

5. Glow Up with Grace

Celebrate small wins—finished a section? Highlighted key notes? That’s progress, babe.

Forgive yourself for falling behind. You’re human, and the only thing that matters is that you’re showing up again.

💌 You’ve got this, queen. Comeback energy looks so good on you. Reblog if you’re ready to glow again. 💖