#with so much to work with I toyed around with what I wanted to do

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ LUCKY GIRL. featuring d. sawamura.

↻ you might be a ditz, but daichi thinks he’s lucky to have such a pretty ditz as his good luck charm.

tags : panty kink, bimbo!reader, locker room, panty fucking, slight dubcon, overstimulation, squirting, clit stimulation, light dirty talk // wc. 0.9k

author’s note : sorry this one is so late (by like a day) !! work managed to finally bite my ass last night and i literally passed out the moment i got home. woke up, got tired and remembered i totally forgot to post this :( welp better late than never, i hope you guys enjoy this one (notes n reblogs always appreciated) <33

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

that fucking g-string. 

DAICHI will never understand why you decide to dress your absolute sluttiest when you’re attending his practices, wearing tiny skirts and tiny tops that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

it also doesn’t help that you’re sitting up in the stands either, because every time he looks up, he can just about make out the outline of your puffy pussy against the sheer pink fabric of your panties. 

fuck, he can barely even call them panties at this point. 

it’s hard to focus on directing the team when his girl is up there in the stands tapping away at her phone with her perfectly pristine acrylics that he paid for, showing off her miniskirt and a pair of panties that he also paid for. 

fuck you. 

“you tryin’ to get me bricked on purpose or what, babydoll?” he’s cornered you in the common room, backed you up against the locker with both hands on either side of your face. one of his hands come down to trail against your side, toying with the fragile string of your panties. 

you, on the other hand, stare up at him dopily, with not a single clue in the world what he’s talking about. “not sure what you mean, babe. you don’t like my outfit?”

daichi scoffs. “no, it’s not that. it’s just…” he twirls the string around his thick finger before snapping it back against your hips. “you’re distractin’ me.”

you’re such a fucking ditz, the way you’re looking at him. your lashes (fake) flutter as you stare at him, eyes wide as he plays with your panties. “i thought you liked these ones. i wore them for good luck.”

“i only need good luck at games, baby, not at practice.” does he have to spell it out for you? “turn around for me, angel. hands on the lockers.”

you obey, as always, presenting your barely covered ass to your sexually frustrated boyfriend proudly. daichi’s large hands push up your skirt and scope your ass, a low whistle escaping his lips as he drinks in the beautiful sight of his girl bent over for him. 

you may be stupid, but you’re his, and as long as that’s the case, you’ll do whatever he wants. daichi silently praises himself for landing such an easy catch as he pulls down his shorts and boxers in one fell swoop, latching his hands onto the meat of your ass. 

you only realise he hasn’t taken your panties off after he slips his cock through the seat. 

“baby!” your whine is shrill, but daichi pays it no mind. “this is my favourite pair! you’re g’na ruin ‘em!”

“i’ll buy you a new pair, doll,” he grunts, slowly moving his hips back and forth. he isn’t inside you but he’s inside your panties, and he relishes in the way the silk rubs against the underside of his shaft whilst your pussy drenches him from above. 

it’s sick. it’s nasty, so much so that daichi tips his head back and groans. 

he pulls backwards, and the girthy veins on his cock drag through your drenched cunt. he pushes forward and his tip just catches your clit, nudging it before meeting resistance at the silk front of your panties. it’s an amazing feeling, and he loses himself to it completely. 

meanwhile, underneath him, you’re mourning the ruin of your favourite g-string, but you can’t ignore the way daichi feels so hot and heavy against your weeping cunt, his tip nudging your clit and making you see stars. “o-oh, baby…”

“what is it, doll?” 

you bite your lip in embarrassment. “might cum soon…”

are you being serious right now? he’s barely done anything, barely even fucked you, yet you’re squirming against him, acrylics digging into your fleshy palms as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to focus on anything but the feeling of his mushroom tip poking at your clit. 

daichi regrets that he can’t be inside you when you cum, but god does he feel it. you let out another shrill whine when you climax, cunt growing ten times sloppier as you push yourself backwards to meet his thrusts. 

“want you- hah- want you to cum in my panties. please, baby.” your eyelids are flickering from overstimulation but you couldn’t care less, your empty brain now filled with the potent need to make your boyfriend cum all over you.

“shit, is that what you want, babydoll? want me to cum all over your favourite pair?” even though he isn’t inside you, daichi swears he can feel your cunt clench, and so he speeds up, tip bumping your overworked clit over and over and over until-

you cum again, but this time it’s even messier than the last time, your juices all but spraying everywhere and staining daichi’s shorts. he pulls out of your panties just in time to jerk himself over the curve of your ass, translucent white ropes of his release painting the hot pink silk of your panties and dripping down in between your thighs. 

he’s lucky enough to catch you just before you crumple to the floor, and as he admires his handiwork, daichi comes up with a wicked idea. 

“don’t wash these, baby. want you to wear them to my next game.” he can almost imagine the silent look of shock forming on your face. 

“for good luck, right?”

PREVIOUS : BITE ME ft. miguel o'hara NEXT : SURVIVAL ft. sniper mask

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© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. chain divider by @/cafekitsune

[formulawolff]

jealousy, jealousy - t.w.

pairing: fem!reader x dbf! toto wolff

word count: 2.1k

warnings: age gap, smut (oral - male receiving!), questionable power dynamics, cursing, vague toxic vibes from toto, allusions to sex, slight choking, poorly translated german, dominating vibes from toto for sure, writer has no idea how university in europe works, dad's best friend! trope, reader is lowkey a little brat, dirty talk, yadayadayada

a/n: here is the highly anticipated second part of sunbathing! and yes, it is loosely based off of jealousy, jealousy by olivia rodrigo. i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the first part! <3

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no matter how hard you tried to shake it, it lingered.

it was always present, nagging away, gnawing at you. nearly consuming you whole.

it kept you awake at night as you tossed and turned, your mind wandering, wondering what could have been.

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what could have happened if the two of you were alone that day. how he could have made you feel. how he could have fulfilled every single one of your sleazy, dirty, downright sinful fantasies.

how he could have fucked you like the whore you were for him, aching for some sort of relief from the fiery desire burning within.

you were desperate. desperate to replicate the way he touched you that day. desperate to hear that sickeningly sweet lust dripping in his words. desperate to squirm under his intense gaze, his mocha depths picking you apart.

no toy in your nightstand drawer even came close. there was no porno that could even recreate the memory. there was nothing that could satisfy the craving.

the craving to feel toto wolff spread you open and tear you apart.

ever since that summer afternoon, you maintained your distance. you stayed as far away as possible, ensuring that you remained upstairs whenever he came over for a couple drinks. you would purposefully only pop into your dad's office if you knew toto was out. there was one morning where you fibbed that you had an upset stomach, just so that you didn't have to tag along for another dinner on his luxurious yacht.

of course, you didn't want to avoid him. but you knew you had to.

simply because the mere sight of him was enough to bring you to your knees.

although, missing numerous grand prixes did have it repercussions.

while your dad was in the garage, you would be at home in bed, scrolling endlessly through social media. in turn, a nasty, unsettling feeling began to bloom, only growing with each passing weekend.

and that feeling was jealousy.

to put it simply, you were envious of the girls. how they were able to prance around the paddocks every weekend, donning the latest designer clothing and sipping on the finest champagne. giggling among one another as their boyfriends zoomed past. gossiping about everything and anything, from their sex lives to which one of their manicurists perfected the glazed donut look.

you longed to be with them, to join their elite status as a formula one wag. you ached to be that it girl, strutting into the garage, unbothered as tik tok pages buzzed and tabloids raved.

yet, with the man you had in mind, you knew it wasn't attainable.

not in the slighest.

there was no world in which you would be toto wolff's girlfriend.

it simply was never going to happen.

and facing that fact? fuck, did it have you spiraling.

it left you dejected and defeated, wanting nothing to do with anything and everything related to formula one. the sport you once loved was now a stark reminder of what you could not have.

an innocent dream crushed by the harsh weight of reality.

however, your withdrawn nature did not go unnoticed. by the third or fourth weekend spent home alone, your father decided it was time to "go out and socialize!" and "keep your mom company while he was at work."

you couldn't fight it any longer, either.

you had to attend the hungarian grand prix.

whether you liked it or not.

of course, your father was oblivious. he teased you, wondering if it had something to do with that "verstappen boy" or "that chuck leclerc fellow." although he did not press, you knew that he was aware it had something to do with a boy.

well, not just any boy.

a man. a fifty-two year old man.

his best friend and boss, at that.

so, here you were, using your mother as a shield as the two of you hung out in the garage. with carmen mundt and lewis hamilton's mom, nonetheless.

"so, how is university going?"

a delicate voice floods your right ear. blinking, you realize that it was carmen trying to speak, heat flushing into your cheeks as she giggles, your mom chiming in.

"she's been a little spacey today, so you might wanna make sure her antennas are adjusted correctly."

"mom!" you hiss, eyes narrowing into slits. however, you suck in a breath, turning to carmen, "i haven't started yet, but i am excited about this semester! i have a lot of classes online, so i can work while i travel."

"that's great!" carmen gushes, her lips forming a radiant grin, "i understand how difficult working on the go can be at times, but i have full faith that you'll have another great semester. your dad informed me that you were quite the scholar."

"oh please," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "i'm not that-"

"guten tag miene damen. i hope hospitality has been treating you well!"

your breath hitches in your throat as that brassy voice fills the air, his thick accent seeping into every word.

"toto!" your mom rises to her feet, wrapping the team principal up in a tight embrace, "it's nice to see you!"

"wie ich sehe, hast du den kleinen mitgebracht," the team principal shoots you a wink, folding his arms across his chest, "it's nice to see you, again. i don't think i've spoken to you since-"

"the afternoon we went out on your yacht," you finish, heart thudding against your rib-cage as he nods, "i've been a bit busy."

"is that so?" toto arches a brow, his tongue swiping along his lower lip, "busy with school or?"

"preparing for the semester to begin," you respond, a shiver running down your spine as he maintains eye contact, "i begin my last year of university in a few months."

"very good," the team principal clicks his tongue. tilting his head ever so slightly, he shifts to your mom, "would you mind if i stole her for a few minutes? i don't think she's gotten to see the upgrades we've made to the car."

"oh please," you mom waves a hand, "you know i don't mind!"

"well," his attention floats back to you, his elbow extending, "would you like to see the car?"

"sure," you mumble, your knees nearly buckling as you stand, "as long as i'm back before the first session."

"i'll have you back in no time," giving one last wave to the women, you hesitantly accept his gesture, linking your arm with his, "you better make this quick."

"is that right?" he counters, "you can relax, you know. you don't have to be so tense."

exhaling, your shoulder droops, "sorry. just a little nervous."

"you of all people know i don't bite," as the two of you weave through the garage, he chirps greetings to members of the crew.

as he strolls through a door, you realize that you were not looking at the new cars. in fact, the cars were in various pieces, the engineers tinkering away as you passed by them minutes ago. he was leading you in the opposite direction of the garage, deep into the paddock, far away from your parents.

"the cars were in the garage you know."

toto clicks his tongue, his gaze directed toward the sprawling labyrinth of hallways and doors. his pace picks up, and for a moment, you find it a bit difficult to keep up with his lengthy strides.

yet, he doesn't speak, eventually coming to a halt in front of an office space. he pauses, shoving a hand into his pocket. fishing out a lanyard, he flashes a badge in front of a black square. at the top of the device, a light beams green, the lock turning.

his hand wraps around the handle, pushing the door open. he draws the blinds, taking a brief moment to scan his surroundings, ensuring that the two of you were completely concealed.

swallowing thickly, you shift in place. the air is still, thick with tension as toto turns on his heel, coming face-to-face with you.

in that moment, you swear there's a crackle, as if there was some sort of electricity. a hand cups the back of your skull, bringing you in close.

"where have you been?"

his inquiry is harsh, almost as if he was scolding you.

"home," your lip trembles as he studies you, taking in every little mole, every little scar, and the way your eyes glimmer in the dim light, "i've been at home."

"avoiding me or avoiding the what ifs?"

"both," you sputter out, the word thready as he leans in even further, your mouths only millimeters apart, "i was scared if we saw one another again, i would put you in some sort of fucked-"

"you're adorable," the team principal coos, tilting your head back, "absolutely precious."

"why do you say that?"

the tip of his nose brushes against yours, his voice merely a whisper.

"because no matter how badly i want to fuck you right now, i still have some sense of control."

"then what are you going to do?"

"feel those pretty little lips around my cock. get on your knees."

"t-toto," you stammer, fighting a moan as his mouth drifts down your jawline, planting sloppy kisses down your neck, "i-i don't know if we should-"

"just say the word and i'll walk you right back to mommy and daddy."

adrenaline courses through your veins, your mind scrambling to form a response as his fingertips glide along the waistband of your jeans, tenderly stroking along your heated skin.

the angel on your shoulder was telling you to walk away, to end it right now before it grew into something more.

yet, the devil was a little bastard, reminding you that you finally had him alone. the filthy fantasies that clouded your dreams at night could finally be fulfilled.

and who knew how long it would be before an opportunity like this arose.

it was now or never.

licking your lips, you lower to your knees, the coolness of the concrete littering your limbs with goosebumps. toto dips his head, prompting you to proceed.

"show me how much of a good girl you really are."

bringing your hands to his slacks, you hastily undo the buckle of his belt. hooking the waistband of his boxers, you slide them down, eyes widening at the sight before you.

his hardened cock, far larger than your fantasies, was before you, stiff as the blood pumped through it. his tip was a rosy pink, tinged with the glow of lust. there were several veins prominent, wrapping around his length.

sticking your tongue out, you swirl around his tip, humming as his legs shake momentarily, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. his chest rises and falls, breathing ragged as you begin to take him in your mouth, lashes fluttering as one hand wraps around the base.

"that's it," he pants, fingers tugging at your roots while your cheeks hollow out, "you take it so well. good girl."

spit begins to dribble from your lip as you begin to bob your head, your hand pumping along his length. with each stroke, you can feel him tense, his jaw clamped tight.

you can feel the bruises forming as obscene noises bounce off the walls, the team principal's grip loosening by the second. you're soaking wet, the juices pooling between your thighs as his head falls back.

fuck, did you like this.

no, you loved it as he shuddered against you, his voice breathy, barely audible.

"y-you're going to make me cum. f-fuck you're going to make me cum."

seconds later, you feel it.

threads of cum spill down your throat, his hips bucking against you, "good girl. get every last drop."

pulling away, you swallow, the team principals' hands finding yours. fingers intertwine together, helping you to your feet.

"come here."

mouths mold together, the kiss blazing with passion. a tongue slides along your lower lip, delving in. it's pure bliss, breathing life into your lungs as he brings you in closer than you ever thought possible.

the tender moment is brief, leaving a tingling sensation that buzzes all the way down to your toes.

"we will finish this," eyes interlock, a finger sweeping along your jaw, "i promise."

"when?" the inquiry tumbles out, "when will we see each other again?"

"as soon as possible," he murmurs, "promise me something though, schatzi."

"that is?" you arch a brow, wondering what could possibly come next.

"promise me that you won't let another man near you until i get to finish what i started."

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master taglist: @ts1m1kas @joalslibrary @bxuzi @swifth0lic @dounib67 @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @invictax @pretzelsarenice @lizxoxeth @marknolee @f1kenzzz @statuewoman @jeannealicette @chuxk-lerclerk @manianoola @lokideservesahug @noooway555 @vimayxo @p3rcyp1g

[zweiginator]

hi not to be insane but if you wanna elaborate on the Patrick/Art vibrator thought I’d love you forever and ever

being patrick's girlfriend and art is a virgin and much too nervous to go up to girls and ask them out. plus, patrick can tell he has a massive crush on you. he's always flustered and stumbling over his word when you're around. staring at your ass enough for patrick to raise his eyebrows at him.

and one day art is just lonely and sad. he feels inadequate as a college student with no experience under his belt, nobody to go on dates with. so he sulks enough for patrick and you to notice.

patrick hands him a new beer, asking if everything is alright.

it's then that he realizes art's eyes are a bit glassy.

"i just am jealous of you guys i guess." he shrugs and you and patrick exchange a glance.

"why is that?" you ask him, moving closer to him so you can rub his back.

"just what you guys have. i want that but I'm embarrassed 'cause i don't even know how anything works and im a vir--"

you know art is a virgin; patrick told you that in confidence. patrick cuts him off.

"you'll find someone. I promise you you will." he's bad at this kind of stuff, at comforting. but you continue to rub art's back and patrick moves next to him as well, mussing his hair.

"i'm not gonna know how to even do anything." he sniffles and patrick can tell that he really is upset. he really does feel inadequate and patrick knows of at least four girls with a crush on art but god he wouldnt even believe him if he told him about it.

so patrick offers to show you a lesson. nothing crazy, but just the basics. just to make him more confident. patrick asks you if that would be okay. you don't know what he means, but you suppose it's fine.

except you don't expect to end up leaning against your boyfriend's chest as patrick pushes your pajama shorts down, kissing your neck. art watches intently, mouth hung open. you lean into patrick's touch and grind against his hand. patrick whispers into your ear and art can tell you like what he's saying. he wishes he could hear it.

and art is enamored by the view he has of your pussy. how patrick spreads it open for art to admire. your clit swollen as you bury your face into patrick's neck. he reaches into your bedside table to get your vibrator out and you grow flustered.

patrick hands it to art; he's never seen him so embarrassed in his life.

"what--"

"turn it on." patrick instructs his best friend, who quickly finds the button.

it vibrates loudly and he stares at you two for more instructions.

"hold it against her clit." patrick rubs the swollen nub and your legs jerk, wanting to clamp shut. he pries them open, his big hands heavy in your flesh. "keep 'em open. we're teaching artie a lesson."

you nod as art slowly presses the toy against your sensitive clit. you yelp, hips jerking up to feel more vibrations.

"is that good?"

you whimper. "y-yeah."

you're wet; patrick can hear it and art can too.

"she fuckin' loves it. she's gushing." patrick presses hot kisses against your neck, kneading the flesh of your inner thighs as art applies more pressure.

you can see art's erection growing, just like you can feel your boyfriend's doing the same.

and as you cum, art's name tumbles from your mouth, your hands reaching forward to tug his shirt. art feels something change in him, a thirst for more.

he wonders if patrick will let you take his virginity.

[hoshifighting]

hi! i absolutely love your work ❤️ i binged all of your reaction scenarios in a day- your writting is absolutely amazing.

anyway- i wanted to put in a request if that's ok 🥹

how do you think hoshi would be as a dom/hard dom hehe 🫠

how hoshi would be as a hard dom WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, kneeling, humiliation, chocking, biting, hard dom dynamics, sub/brat dynamics.

when hoshi’s in charge, i think there’s no softness in him. no hesitation. you see it in his eyes the second the switch flips—how they darken, how he looks at you like you’re a toy, something to play with, break, and put back together. it always starts with a challenge. a look, maybe a smirk you give him because you think it’ll be fun to rile him up. but hoshi isn’t someone you can push around, not when he’s like this, you know his rage problemsss. when you test him, all you do is set yourself up for what’s coming next.

“you think you can handle me?” he’ll say, amused. it’s a warning, one you always ignore, and before you know it, he’s got you pinned up against a wall, his hand around your throat. he doesn’t squeeze right away, just enough pressure to make you aware of how easily he could. his lips ghost over your ear as he whispers, “you wanted this. now you’re gonna take it.”

hoshi doesn’t waste time. there’s nothing slow or gentle about the way he pulls your clothes off, ripping them if you’re too slow, making you stand there naked in front of him while he stays fully dressed. the control he has is intoxicating, and it makes you feel small, weak, in the best way. he’ll make you kneel, his hand still gripping the back of your neck, pushing you down. “look at you,” he’ll say, “on your knees already. tsk!! pathetic.” and then, without warning, he’ll slap your ass, hard enough to make you yelp. “you like being treated like this, yea?” he growls, and the sting of his palm still lingers as he pulls you up by your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes. “answer me.”

“yes,” you whisper, and that’s all he needs to hear before he’s got you bent over whatever surface is closest—a table, the bed, the floor, the sink, the kitchen counter, the balcony, doesn’t matter to him. hoshi’s rough. there’s no easing into it, no slow teasing. he’ll push your legs apart, fingers digging into your thighs, and when he fucks you, it’s hard, fast, relentless.

he’ll keep a hand around your throat or pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, making sure you can’t move. and he talks, too—filthy, degrading, words spilling from his mouth like he’s been holding them in alllll day. “fuck, you’re so tight. you gonna come already? after all that attitude?”he’ll slap your ass again, leaving red handprints, then spread you open wider, making sure you feel every inch of him. and when you start to moan, when you can’t hold back anymore, he laughs, low and dark. “so fucking loud,” he’ll say, “you want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are, huh?”

he doesn’t stop until you’re begging, tears in your eyes, body trembling. and even then, he’ll pull out just to make you beg harder, make you tell him how much you need it. “say it,” he commands, fingers digging into your skin. “tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.”

and when you do—when you give him exactly what he wants—he’ll pull you close, biting down on your shoulder, leaving marks that’ll last for days. he’ll take you harder than before, until you can’t even form words, only sobbing into the sheets, legs shaking, body spent.and when he’s finished, when he’s finally had his fill, he’ll collapse next to you, chest heaving, a satisfied smirk on his face. he won’t say anything at first, just watch you catch your breath, maybe brush the hair out of your face.

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about Royal Rain.....

(Royal Rain idea inspired by @hypnoneghoul )

You have this little bratty prince(ss) who thinks he's all that and a bag of chips, and sometimes the ghouls feed into that mindset. Bc it feels good.

Phantom at Rain's feet, just kissing softly and whimpering as Rain's other foot goes between his thighs and kicks up to hit his cunt. Perfect to catch attention and for Phantom to shuffle closer, holding Rain's leg and pathetically hump it like a dog. "I'm sorry, your highness... Thank you for letting me touch you." Always gets another kick up for talking without permission. Almost pathetic. Still, it's nice to have a obedient doll there for Rain to toy and boss around. One command and Phantom is quick to comply.

Aurora and Sunshine being graced to simply touch between his legs, Rory looking up so sweetly as she licks his pussy, face covered in slick. Sunny unable to do anything but squirm as Rain strokes her cock. Just little servants for him to get off with, that's all it is. Rain knows where to get pleasure and all the focus just for him. His little ladies in waiting, if you will. They always make sure he cums as much as wants, and if they're lucky, they'll get one or two out and then allowed to cuddle. IF... He's satisfied with their work and behavior.

But thennnn you have the ones that knock him down a peg.

Sure, Mountain is docile. Usually puts up with Rain's attitude and demands simply because he's cute. All up until Rain hits a certain nerve a few times. Gets bent over the nearest piece of furniture, hands gripping Rain's waist as he's impaled over and over again on Mounty's cock. All Rain can do is lay there for it, hands desperately trying to sign apologies but it's simply ignored as Mountain keeps going.

Dew and Aether have always been the one to tag team Rain, and usually the ones to knock that attitude out. Rain whining as Dew gropes him from behind, watching Aether fuck his ass but never touching his clit despite the pleads. "How's it feel being fucked like a little commoners whore, princess?" Dew squeezing his chest. Eventually they'll trade places but Aether isn't so forgiving. Obviously, he needs a few more rounds in before he gets the full discipline they're trying to give.

You think Cirrus and Cumulus are going to put up with Rain telling them what to do? HAH. Keeps him tied to the floor, wrists bound behind his back, vibe to his clit, and a fucking machine at a slow steady pace. They just ignore him like he's simply a decoration in the room. Makes a mess on their floor and that's when they'll acknowledge him. "You call yourself royalty when this is how you look? Pathetic in my opinion." Even once they pull him off the machine, they're still wanting to play.

Swiss is just a straight ASSHOLE LMAO. He'll tease and tease, matches Rain's energy, but is the one to punish him in a more strange way. Forces him in a maid outfit to clean his room. Rain grumbling as he's on his hands and knees scrubbing before Swiss gets behind him, dragging his fingers up the white fabric. It's so degrading and embarrassing, Swiss whispering filth into his ears before slapping his ass and moving on. The entire time he's just being groped and felt up, teased relentlessly until once he's finished made to strip for Swiss and suck him off until HE'S happy. "I think you look good on your knees, princess. Maybe you need to do this more often."

[novasintheroom]

123. Desire

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.4k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash slowly realizes that he wants to be yours.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (will post there and add link once AO3 is back up)

It comes up first one hot day in the town of Gargantan.

The bag of doughnuts crinkles in your grip as you weave through the morning bustle, heading toward the column of red at the end of the street. Vash knows he’s in trouble as soon as he smells it. You walk up to him, already giving a strange look. “What’s did you get?” You ask.

Vash laughs nervously. He keeps the two bags of doughnuts he already bought behind his back. “Just some bullets!”

You sniff the air. Lean forward and brush his cheeks with your fingertips. It comes away with powdered sugar. “Vash, did you get more doughnuts?”

He feels his stomach clench with guilt and hunger. Looking down, he gives a sheepish smile. “I just…wanted to try that other shop too.”

“Vash,” your mouth works, words forming and dissolving as you think of what to say. You’re fighting a smile. “We agreed we only had enough fun money for one bag of doughnuts.”

“I know.”

“We have three bags of doughnuts now, birdie.”

“I know,” he says again. He pouts, wondering what got into him. He’s usually much better about his money, but, lately, being with you…he feels…he doesn’t know. Like it’s okay to get food again. Even if it hurts the wallet a bit. “Hey, we don’t have to split a doughnut now, though! Look,” he pulls out a chocolate glazed doughnut, then another. “Two for one! BOGO!”

“You’re such a problem,” you groan.

He knows you’re joking. He knows. But something inside him shudders, and he wants to fix it. Make you feel better after his mistake. “Well, I’m your problem.” He says it as a joke. Tests the waters. See if there’s blood in them.

Your smile is genuine as you punch him in the shoulder, hitting the plating of his arm. “Yeah, you are. Heaven help me, but you are. Now give me a doughnut.”

The stirring of crickets in his stomach is the only warning he has of what’s to come. Your problem, he smiles, handing you a jelly-filled doughnut and eating his second with you. He likes the sound of that.

--

He toys with the idea. Handles it around and around in his head like a child with a very delicate antique, so clumsy with his hands but knowing how special it is.

It comes up again.

Nothing goes right all day, and by the end of it, you’re both tired and in a bad mood. Camping out in a buried, derelict ship is the last thing either of you want right now, but the ghost stories will keep the locals away. You set up your sleeping gear nearby. No fire tonight; there’s too many eyes searching for you two.

Vash can feel the breeze blowing through the holes of the ship. Cool, cool air that will turn to ice once the suns fully set. He looks over at you and sees the goosebumps rising on your arms, eyes picking out each individual hair standing on end. Vash chews the inside of his cheek. “Wanna sleep closer?”

It takes a moment for you to register he’s talking. Blinking, you look up. “Hm? What?”

 “Do you want to sleep closer tonight? For warmth, I mean.”

Your eyes flit across his face. You’ve always been a fan of your personal space. Vash isn’t sure you’ll accept. Then, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

The day must have really taken it out of you for you to say ‘yes,’ but Vash isn’t complaining. You drag your stuff over to his and set up sluggishly. “I’m mad about what that mayor said to you on the way out,” you say, baring your feelings like you do, always an open book. “He shouldn’t have called you that. Especially after we saved his daughter.”

He doesn’t feel like talking about it, a fresh wound on his heart that will heal anyway. So he hums and lays down. “I’m just glad we got away before they pulled out the whips. That was…weird.”

You laugh and scoot over to his side, and Vash can feel your warmth. “You think they’re into the freaky stuff?”

He laughs with you and shakes his head. He’s about to respond when you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. Mouth drying out, a strange feeling in the back of his throat forms. You press your side shyly closer into his.

“You don’t mind being my pillow for tonight, right?” You mumble it, and he can hear the embarrassment in your tone. This is hard for you.

He clears his throat and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I’m all yours.”

It goes quiet, and Vash wonders if he said the wrong thing. But then your breathing evens out, and he realizes you’re asleep. The day really took it out of you, then. Carefully, he brings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He doesn’t want you getting cold. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “all yours.”

--

What exactly is it that he wants?

You ask him this on the road. The suns are cresting some cliffs to the side, fall season turning the temperatures just a bit cooler – only just. And he says, “For love and peace to rule.” Typical.

“But what do you want? When love and peace is achieved and everyone’s happy?” You walk ahead of him, minding your steps, toeing an invisible line, kicking pebbles off to the side. “What do you want to be?”

He watches. Your figure curves as you bend over to pick up a white rock, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. You handle it, looking at the tiny crystals within that make it sparkle in the light. A habit of yours, he’s noticed – how you handle everything and everyone carefully, twisting them this way and that to find their hidden facets. You do it with him all the time. You’re doing it now, digging into his psyche, making him wonder about his own desires and wants. His eyes trace the shape of your lips as they purse.

Vash shakes out of his stupor when you glance at him, waiting for an answer. “I’ll probably be some kind of Plant engineer. Keep my sisters safe and healthy.” After all, what else is there for someone like him?

“Do you want to be an artist? An historian? You can’t just be an engineer all the time. What else do you want to be?”

His lips curve up. “I’ll still be with you, right? You’ve got the historian and artist bit down for the both of us.”

You groan and throw the rock away. The sands eat it up instantly, lost once again to the dunes of time. “Without leaning on me, Vash.” You look at him, eyes roving over his face for something he isn’t sure of. “When everything else is stripped away and accomplished, what do you want to be?”

Something in his chest erupts into butterflies. He knows the answer, cheesy as it is. Yours, yours, yours, his heart murmurs. I want to be yours.

--

It comes out in the quiet hours of the night, between dusk and midnight.

Your kisses are slow, sensual. He can’t get enough. The soft sand underneath, the cave overhead, the glow of worms in the distant sky through the mouth. You’re safe. He’s safe. His hands rove your sides, traveling under your shirt to massage the tender skin at your ribs. Your own hands travel from his neck to his stomach, back to his hair, feeling, feeling.

In a pause, a way to catch your breath, you look up at him in the blue gloom and grin. Your eyes are so full of love, twinkling like close stars. “Vash,” you murmur, petting your hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, his growing undercut. Your chests heave together, touching then retracting. Your nails scratch gently behind his ear, and goosebumps hike up his neck. “My Vash.”

It sends a shiver up and down his spine. Yes, this is what it is; this is what he has been searching for. And he should say something like ‘my mayfly,’ but what tumbles out of his kiss-swollen lips is, “Your Vash. Yours.”

Your laugh is deep and happy. He surges forward to catch it, feel it in his mouth as he kisses you again and again. “Yours,” he keeps murmuring, settling it in his own head, his own heart. “All yours. I’m yours.”

This is what he wants to be.

A place to belong. A place in your arms.

Yours.

[hahaifolded]

Can We Make This Work? (6)

Nanami Kento x POC!Fem Reader x Gojo Satoru (Masterlist) Chapter 6: Teacher and Student (Previous) (Next) Summary: Gojo pisses you off. You decide to help a student with his homework. Warnings: Off-handed comment, POLL AT THE END!

The brisk morning air felt nicer today. It was probably because you no longer held the weight of a failing marriage on you. Instead, just a failed one. But, it looked like you’ll be able to save one person of this cursed union as you might be able to free your husband of it and enter in a better… another marriage. 

Wanting to give your husband some of his freedom back, you decided to take an early mission today in the outskirts of the city. Which explains why you found yourself wandering through an empty warehouse so early this morning. That’s one way to start the day. 

The information seems to be right, you thought. The energy in the place signaled the presence of a first-grade curse. You spat out one of your own, a weird long-snout creature that you had picked up in Mexico, to locate the thing. Within a matter of seconds, your special-grade found the first-grade curse and held it down. The first-grade curse reeked of sorrow and rage. Your curse kept attacking the sad curse until the thing could no longer walk. It laid on the floor, crying and struggling in agony.

You crouched down to look at the curse. It’s weak enough, you observed. You placed a hand on it and began to caress it. You hated how your cursed technique worked. In order to absorb a curse, you first had to weaken it and then understand the root cause that caused its creation. Sometimes you’re able to understand what caused the curse, and other times, you couldn't. This one was easy to pinpoint as you could tell it was the product of the poor working conditions that this place used to uphold. 

Now your least favorite part. You brought the withering thing up to your face. 1 - 2 - 3, gulp. You gagged. Not the worse, but not great either. Taking in a deep breath, you sighed, realizing that you still had your special-grade out. To your annoyance, the thing wagged its tail, almost as if it was taunting you. Let’s get this over with. You shrunk and swallowed the thing.

After dry heaving, you felt a strong presence behind you. You whipped around and got into a fighting stance. Fuck. This wasn't good. The one downside of your technique was that after swallowing a curse, you're energy-less for roughly 5 minutes, leaving you completely vulnerable to any sudden attacks. Usually it’s never an issue as you always wait to swallow a curse until you’re done. But you were so caught up in your thoughts this morning, you missed this sudden burst of energy. You stood straight, arms out, ready to survive for the next few minutes. However, as soon as it appeared, it disappeared, leaving you dumbfounded. But as soon as you relaxed, you felt it again, much stronger now, right behind you.

Two hands landed on your shoulders. “Boo!” a voice yelled. You swung behind you, but instead of making contact with whatever was behind you, your fist stopped midair. You refocused your gaze and realized what who loomed behind you.

“Gojo?” you asked in a surprised tone. You didn’t expect to run into your husband’s “friend” out here. From what you recalled, you were the only sorcerer assigned on his mission. "What are you doing here?"

Gojo smiles and takes a good look at you. You couldn't see his eyes, but you didn't like the way his head scanned you up and down. "Just wanted to check up on our newest toy. Make sure it wasn't defective, but just my luck, you're better than I expected," he praises. Or at least, what he thought was praise.

He notices the way your body tenses up and your stare goes cold. Gojo wasn't stupid. He knew you were upset, but he really had no idea why.

Toy? It? You couldn't believe the gall on this man. You were a living, breathing human being, not some object that needs to be tested.

You got in his face. “You might think you're something just because the society here told you, but you're just like the rest of us...a fuckng pawn." You hiss out that last word. You weren't scared of him. Powerful or not, he was just a man at the end of the day. "So you better watch who you call a toy." You stare straight at his blindfold.

Gojo was speechless. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't mean to offend you. He was trying to be cheeky. This completely dampened his plans of befriending you. "Wait, no, I didn't-- I think this was a misunder--"

"Don't care. Whine to someone who will," you snap, turning your back on him. He can kill me if he wants. At this point, it'll be a favor.

You leave the warehouse angry by the interaction while Gojo stands there feeling guilty.

-- -- --

After a quiet morning, Nanami went on with his day, feeling like something was missing. He assumed it was because he had a hard time falling asleep. It's not everyday you talk about aiding in finding another husband for your wife. Feeling restless, he decided to eat his lunch outside, hoping the sun would calm his nerves.

And it seems like he wasn't the only one who thought that as he found you sitting in the courtyard.

"(Y/N), how are you?" he asked as he approached you. You titled your heads towards him, but made no effort to greet him. That's odd. "Everything okay?"

You let out a deep breath. "Yes, sorry. Hi Nanami." Nanami tried to dwell too much on the fact that you called him by his name instead of your preferred nickname for him, husband. "Sorry, just not feeling well."

"Oh, have you eaten lunch yet?" he asked, taking a seat right next to you.

"Can't." Why? Nanami stares at you, waiting for a further explanation.

You groan. "Had a mission this morning. And every time I absorb a curse, it just messes up my stomach. So I'm really not in the mood to eat right now." You deflate in your seat.

Oh. Now that he looked back on it, that explained why you would sometimes cook dinner, but not eat any of it. He felt bad for not asking you about it earlier.

Trying to ease his guilt, he changed the subject. "Well, how did your mission go then?"

"Fine. First-grade curse, nothing too difficult," you said mindlessly. Suddenly, you scowled as you further recalled your mission. "Ran into your friend actually," you grumbled out.

"Friend?"

"Gojo," you gagged as you said his name. Just by saying his name, Nanami felt a headache coming on. He asks what happened and you tell him. After recounting your story, Nanami lets out a deep breath.

"He means well but has a funny way of showing it," he reasoned. You scoff, clearly not content with that. Wait, Gojo might actually be useful here? "You know, Gojo is single and comes from a good family. Maybe--"

"Pass." Got it. Before Nanami can say anything else, he hears someone calling his name.

"Nanamin!"

-- -- --

You look over to see one of the first-years running towards your husband Nanami. Itadori?

"Itadori," Nailed it. "How's the project going?" The smile on his face disappears.

"Not great. Everyone keeps rejecting me," he admits, scratching the back of his head. You furrow eyebrows, confused by the conversation. Thankfully, Nanami notices.

"Itadori, (Y/N), my... my wife. (Y/N), Itadori, one of the first-years here. He has to interview a sorcerer for a school project." Itadori quickly waves at you, wide smile back on his face. You wave back. You ask why Nanami hasn't helped.

Yuji jumps in. "Gojo said that I have to expand my horizons and ask other sorcerers for help besides your husband." You notice Nanami still at that. Fuck, I have to find a new husband... fast.

"Any sorcerer?" Yuji nods. Not seeing the big deal, you offer to help.

You didn't think the boy could smile any brighter. "Really? You're a literally a life-saver. I don't think I could have taken another no."

He seems like a nice kid and it's not that hard to answer a couple of questions. "Am I missing something here? How come everyone said no?" Nanami and Yuji both look at you in disbelief. Itadori breaks the silence with a laugh. You stare at him until he realized you weren't joking.

"Cause you know?" You tilt your head. Yuji looks at Nanami for support. He looks back at you and continues, "Cause of Sukuna."

"What's that?" Both of their jaws dropped.

Nanami starts. "What do you mean 'what's Sukuna'?" Yuji starts to stutter.

What's their deal? "Yeah, what's that? Is it some disease or something?" Suddenly a deep voice came out of nowhere.

"The only disease here is this that you call humanity," it hisses. You feel an increase in energy from the boy. You take a good look at him and notice the second mouth that sprouted on his face. Was that always there?

You stand up and grab the boy's chin. You turn his face to get a good look at the second mouth hat sprouted on his cheek. Nanami stands up, but keeps his distance, unsure of how this will play out.

"Yeah, this is Sukuna. He's some old curse user-turned curse that lives inside--" But before Yuji can finish his explanation, you do the unimaginable. You stick your finger in the mouth.

Sukuna gags. "HOW DARE YOU?" he roars. You go in to stick your finger again, but the mouth disappears before you can.

Nanami was baffled. "You did not just stick your finger inside of Ryomen Sukuna's mouth?" You wipe your finger across the boy's shirt. He yells in disapproval.

"Seems like you got a curse in you. You should probably get that checked or something," you say.

"Aren't you scared?" Yuji couldn't believe it. You didn't even cower or shy away from him or Sukuna.

"Why would I? It's clear you got a good hold on him. Besides he wouldn't be the first person who's tried killing me so nothing new really." Itadori just stares at you, stars shining in his eyes. You didn't expect to get such a reaction out of the boy. You look at Nanami who is also looking at you with starry eyes.

"Okay... how about that project?" you announce, trying to break both of them from their trance. That seems to do the trick as Yuji comes to.

"Oh yeah, let me pull out the questions that Gojo wanted me to ask," he informs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You visibly cringe. Ewe, I forgot Gojo is his teacher.

Word Count: 1791

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Notes: I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY! Trust me I love this story, I just got sidetracked with other thoughts. But here is the long awaited chapter 6!

Also y'all can't tell me you never thought about sticking something in Sukuna's mouth?

Also I don't know if y'all noticed but I changed tenses here. I began in past tense but then switched to present towards the end. What do y'all prefer? I'm leaning towards present, but would love to hear your thoughts. Here's a poll so it's easier to hear from y'all:

[thecorpuscorpse]

#6- An Anonymous Source

CW: Knife use and blood, some 'fighting', mild kidnapping

It had been two months since the sealed letters began showing up on Villains bedroom window at night when they weren't there. Each one with a different wax embellishment on the front, made of paper worn with time, and never signed. The swirling perfection of the calligraphy was unlike anything Villain had seen before, just like the words they formed. Five letters were stacked on the desk, and the sixth Villain held by the lamplight, eyes scanning over words they always wished to hear. In brief moments, they almost believed them.

The life they lived was not as tender as the words directed at them. There was no beauty in bloodshed- not anymore, at least. Yet, whoever seemed to be hiding in their blind spot thought otherwise. With how long they ran Headquarters, it was refreshing to have a little spice in the routine of wondering who thought so highly of someone as lowly as them.

After sending their squads out for recon, Villain remained tucked away in their office at headquarters to keep an eye on cameras when one detected movement in the server room. Villain knew each employee schedule inside and out- after all, they arranged each one. Within the orchestrated machine-like facility Villain spent so many years building up, the blaring alarm was akin to grinding gears.

Hero.

Every so often, Hero would figure out a new password Villain set, or intercept shipment plans that then would lead Villain to foil Heros plans, and the process would repeat in a few weeks. It was so hard to find good help nowadays, so Villain found handling Hero a nice break from handling paperwork. There was monotony in routine, but at least they could take their impatience with their anonymous admirer out on the other.

"Dammit... now of all times, Hero?" They snapped as they stood from their desk.

As much as the alarm irked them, Villain was more irritated their work was being interrupted. Scanners failed to pick up any DNA trace, leading them to another dead end. Somewhere, someone saw Villain and thought fondly of them. For a while, the simple knowledge of it was enough to qualm the loneliness, but now was more of a curse. They called the author a coward. They called the letters a trap. Yet, Villain headed down the hall to pursue a perpetrator after they stayed up until four in the morning... again... to read the letters in hope something would tell them who claimed to adore them so.

The door to the server room was ajar, main lights turned out. The dull glow of blinking red, blue and yellow lights cast shadows on the wall in varied patterns. The main lights were shorted, forcing them to identify misplaced figures in the dim light. It only dug further into Villains impatience with the matter. Against the low hum of the computers, a tinny clank echoed near the back wall.

Villain kept steady strides slow, mindful of the linoleum under their shoes and how quiet their breath was. Silence, as well as any leverage, was better than none, and it worked to Villains virtue when it guided the blade to the turned back of who they knew was tampering with their tech.

"I don't have time for you tonight, Hero," Villain said as they pressed the knife against their spine. "There is plenty of work for me as is without you getting involved."

Dressed in all-black, which happened to be quite flattering for the Hero, they tuned after setting their tools down and raising their hands. Villain took a step forward and pressed the edge to their throat.

"That's why I figure I'd lighten the load~" Hero said, offering an innocent shrug. "By-"

"Yes, yes, thwarting my recruitment of more people through disrupting our log system," Villain droned, pressing the blade harder. "Now really, I do have pressing matters to attend to."

There was a static in the air, and not from the whirring machines around them. The more Villain stood in it, the more irritated they got. It showed in the quick right cross-swing of butt-end of the knife towards Heros head before the move was blocked by Heros hand.

"Wow, whats the matter with you?" Hero mused with a shit-eating grin as he twisted Villains arm into a lock behind their back. The knife clattered onto the floor. "Not very like you to 'not have time for me', Villain. Plus, what a sloppy execution."

"You don't know me, Hero," Villain hummed with a smile in their voice, flexing their hand under Heros grip. "So I'll show you a real sloppy execution."

Villain dug their heel into Heros foot, and used the momentum to twist them to slam into the server paneling. With the grip loosened, Villain snaked away and went for the knife. It was only a second more before Villain was swept off their feet- literally- and hit the ground.

"Yeah, that was pretty sloppy too," Hero said as they went to further restrain the fallen Villain. "You're making me jealous, don't tell me there's another Hero you have to go cause havoc for~ Ugh, I'll be heartbroken!"

Villain struggled against Heros grasp, writhing and twisting their body so they could never get a solid pin. While Hero had their brawn at their side, Villain knew it was only a matter of leverage.

"I do, but they aren't a Hero~"

They took the moment Hero stalled in their attempts to pin them down to get their lets out to kick Hero back, knocking the wind out of them. Villain went for the knife again and came up behind Hero to hold the knife to their throat again.

"Bullshit," Hero gasped out, though an amused smile graced their stupid face. "I can barely tolerate you as it is."

Villain contemplated for a moment. What harm would a white lie do when they didn't even know who was writing the letters? There would be no one else to go after. It would be nice to pretend- Villain did it enough as it was.

"Oh, you should hear how they talk about their love for my vile and vulgar ways Hero. How they adore the plans of misery I make for the thousands," Villain gripped Heros hair and tilted their head back to look at them proper. "And the tongue they have..."

"Then why aren't you with them now?"

"Because I'm dealing with you," Villain said as their jaw set. "A thorn in my side since we crossed paths, and always coming back like a damn infection," They brought the edge up against Heros neck. "You are pestiferous- a plague in my life every time your head pops up." Villain narrowed their eyes, bringing small beads of blood against the blade. "And I think I'm going to purge the source tonight."

"Then do it."

Below them, there was a rumble followed by a blaring alarm from what Villain assumed was a few floors down. It only took one distracted second for Hero grab Villains wrist and flip them over and onto their back before they dove behind a rack of server blocks. There was a flash, and the room filled with smoke. The colors against the smoke were disorienting, yet once Villain got hold of their knife, they could barely make out a figure escaping through one of the vents.

"One thing after a-fucking-nother..." Villain hissed as they ran out from the server room and towards the blaring fire alarm down below.

Once done dealing with the aftermath of a blown-apart storage unit, Villain trudged back up to their office and collapsed in their chair. It was now six in the morning, and looking at the camera they had set up to face their bedroom window at home- no letter to be seen on the window. They pushed their hair back with a sigh, before deciding to freshen up there, and continuing their monotonous work for their empire, with breaks reading loving words Villain needed to hear after such a long night.

---

The seventh letter was different than the rest.

It had taken longer than the rest to arrive- almost a month later than the last one, when the others came once or twice a week. Nights were seemingly endless when Villain would simply stare at the window from the camera. They knew if they were home, they wouldn't arrive, and so they worked long into the night, going home every few days to make sure their plants were watered.

Unlike the other ornate and delicately put together envelopes, the newest came in a simple black one. The handwriting was reminiscent of the others yet the words scrawled unsteadily. The droning news anchor in the background discussed the impending weather as Villain attempted to make sense of everything they were reading.

What was said was not the romantic poetry they were used to, of regrets and promises they wished to keep to Villain of seeing them, of truly being with them and being sure there would be nothing keeping them apart anymore.

The signature at the bottom made Villains heart sink. Not because of who had written the confession they read. Not because it was from someone they wouldn't have wanted at all. But because it wasn't a signature at all.

Except a smear of blood.

Villains head felt light, the corners of their vision hazing a little as they tried to make sense of what it all meant. They sat down in their chair, still staring at the letter before them. It wasn't until the news anchor interrupted their broadcast with breaking news.

'The beloved and respected savior of our beautiful city, Hero, has officially been pronounced dead today by coroners after their body had been returned to city officials by an anonymous source. Further details the cause to be released.'

"No..."

They took a long look at the radio, eyes wide in disbelief as their mind began to piece everything together. In a moment, they were at their sequencer and after they got a sample of the paper, pulled out their knife. What little blood left from their fight with Hero remained, and they flaked off the dry remains in the other bottle. Time blurred as they waited, walking crop circles into their carpet while the machine processed the samples.

They didn't see anyone on the cameras the night before. No sound, no disturbance. First nothing was on the window, and when daylight broke, there it was. They hadn't dealt with Hero recently, which they only grew to notice the more they thought.

They couldn't settle down, and any time their office door was knocked on, they would simply throw a book at it and tell whoever it was to bother them tomorrow. Word must have gone around because soon the knocking stopped and Villain was left alone with the machine, which whirred just like the servers did their last night with Hero.

They were pulled out of their mind when the machine stopped, and the face glowed green with the information Villain already put together in their walk about their office.

DNA Sequencing Completed- Results: 100% Match

---

Villain drummed their thumb against the steering wheel of the car. Occasionally, it would follow the tempo of their racing heart, or the shake in their muscles from the adrenaline in their blood. The timer they set on their phone for five minutes was halfway through. Villain regretted even permitting that much time to wait. It had been too long already, and with any more time, they could be too late.

Three minutes and no sign. Villain shifted in their seat, instead now tapping their foot and squeezing their hands together. The last they slept was indistinct, waiting for the right moment to make their next move. A drastic one, which would leave more loose ends than they would like, but it was just as a drastic situation they had on their hands.

Four minutes and Villain was getting ready to get out and handle the ordeal themselves. They checked to make sure their gun was loaded, as they did a dozen or so times before even though they hadn't used it. Before they reached the door handle, the passenger side opened to Villains relief.

"Very good. Hurry up." Villain said, gesturing with the gun to get in.

Five minutes was all Villain needed. As they sped off, the silence was cushioned by the low hum of the car. Villain didn't know what to think. What to say. What if, in the time they were gone, Hero was too? The thoughts were heavy as Villain drove, until their passenger pulled them out of their head.

"I shouldn't be doing this..."

"Then why are you." Villain said, rather than asked.

"Well, you told me with a gun to my head that you hunt me down and kill my girlfriend in front of me, then send my body parts to various family members."

"Good memory, and I will if you make any attempts to run."

"Good to know..." The accomplice said with a tight-lipped smile before looking down at the bag.

"And... I'm helping someone, aren't I?" They asked after another moment of passing silence. "Someone you care about?"

There was a thick lump that sunk into Villains throat. It irked them to know they had to get outside sources with such a high risk, but they were pushed to no other choice. They offered a single, but humble nod before turning off onto a dirt road.

"What the fuck did you say you did again?"

"I'm a first assistant," they said as they shuffled the medical bag on their lap while twisting the handles nervously. "Not quite a surgeon, but I'm getting there."

"Of course, I pick up the intern in the operating room..." Villain uttered as they watched the road. The car, being small, only allowed the young surgeon to hear the remark clearly.

"The operating rooms of the ICU," they huffed a bit too confidently for Villains liking. "Much more intense and less room for error. I mostly make sure the room is clean but I do help with sutures, and other general care."

With a less than patient sigh, Villain parked the car in the driveway and looked the young surgeon square in the face, gun held towards them with a finger threatening pressure on the trigger.

"Keep your attitude in check, and keep them alive." They said flatly. "Both the person I'm bringing you to, and your girlfriend."

It had just been the two of them since Hero showed up battered, beaten and bloodied just two weeks before. They hadn't gotten better and while Villain was good at many things, medical diagnosis weren't one of them. They took leave from work to get Hero somewhere more secluded than Villains home closer to the city.

When Hero was awake, Villain limited themselves to one question because Hero would get winded from speaking too much. Day by day, they learned how Hero wanted things to be different, not only for themselves only, but between the two. How they grew to love Villain, admire them and respect them, to want them yet be restricted from doing so. Hero detailed how they convinced a select few to assist them in faking their death with a glow which made Villain hopeful, but then Hero fell asleep before telling them how it went, and hadn't woke up since. It'd been three days.

With a nervous nod in understanding, the two got out of the car, and Villain walked the man to the house with a gun drawn on them the entire way. Sleepless nights were still to come, yet there was a bit more relief in knowing Hero stood more of a chance now. Villain hoped they didn't make a mistake, for Hero wouldn't be able to survive it.

[taxinealkaloids]

i love the tower princes. i love that there’s absolutely no way in hell that this friendship is even remotely good for either of them. love that they assuredly are making each other SO much worse with every second they spend together. 

[monty-glasses-roxy]

For some reason, this round of meds (same dose and everything as last time) is making me have very violent Realisations and Remembering Things moments. And by that I mean the Thing I Forgot and/or the Realisations show up with a bat and see how hard they can make my brain hit the wall. So anyway.

YOU GUYS REMEMBER SPIKE THE WETFLOOR BOT??? YOU GUYS REMEMBER HER??? THE FIRST FAZBEAR ANIMATRONIC TO BE BORN FROM LOVE INSTEAD OF PAIN??? YOU REMEMBER HER???

CAUSE I JUST DID

[toytulini]

i made an oc thats at least nicknamed "Stupid" and im constantly thinking about what a power move that is tbh

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

most important detail ive learned from rereading is that hestio's specific skillset is singing sacred hymms and casting curses on enemies

BANGING POTS AND PANS, HESTIO CAN SING !!!!!!

[blushinggoku]

Recently I went into the DBS fandom wiki to read about the Goku Black/Future Trunks arc, because I haven't watched DBS past the Tournament of Power and the concept of Goku Black intrigued me so much. I'm so glad I didn't waste my time watching the episodes because Jesus

[dragonsholygrail]

oh to be a mouse hybrid toyed with by a cat hybrid who just wants to see you squirm in every way

Ooh when the Cat Hybrid’s owners told him they were getting him a new little friend, you, a Mouse Hybrid were by far the last thing he was expecting.

He wanted another cat to mess with, to play with… to mate with. But he couldn’t stop himself from noticing your plump round form scurrying about the house or the constant skittish look in your eye as you surveyed your new home. Perhaps you would do.

From that day on he would terrorize you mercilessly. Chasing you around the around the house when your owners were gone, saying he was gonna devour you when he finally got his claws into you. Backing you into corners just to see the delicious terror in your eyes. Plopping his large form right on top of you so that you couldn’t escape him even as you scrambled desperately to get away.

It was never ending and as much as you wanted to say you hated it, it felt far too good. The Cat hybrid severely underestimated you, forgetting you too were a hybrid with all the same perks. You could smell his desire in the air every time he chased you. And you had grown addicted to the scent. To feel so wanted and yearned for, especially during the chase, nothing else could compare.

He would only ever mess with you when he felt like it so you figured you might need to give him a little push. Using yourself as bait you use your owners creaky stairs to your advantage. As soon as the first step creaks, the Cat hybrid’s head snaps up from where he’s perched. His eyes meet your wide ones for only a moment before you’re bolting down the stairs.

As soon as you hear the pounding of paws behind you, you smirk wickedly knowing your plan had worked. Cute little squeaks leave your mouth as you run throughout the house, narrowly trying to avoid being caught. He should’ve realized how much you like this. You’re much faster than him after all.

After rounding the next corner you wait a moment for him to catch up. Seeing a flash of fur and then you’re off. The Cat Hybrid pauses for a moment as he realizes what you had just done. What you’ve actually been doing this entire time.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he chases you at lightning speed. He’s catching up to you in no time and by the look of genuine alarm in your eye he knows this wasn’t a trick. Instead of his usual antics he pounces on you, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

“You messin’ with me, little mouse?” He growls in your ear, his body pinning you to the hard wood floor. You don’t even bother to squirm, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare up at him.

Before you can even blink he’s shoving his hand down your pants and swiping his fingers through your folds, your slick drenching them with how aroused you are. He chuckles lowly, rumbling purrs vibrating into your chest and straight to your core.

“So this has been a game to you, huh? A bit of foreplay before I inevitably snap and fuck you dumb.”

You find you can’t even answer, panting breaths escaping you as you rock with his hand that’s slowly rubbing against all the right places. He devilishly smiles and pushes two fingers deep inside you, causing your hips to jolt as you cry out.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve done it. I’ve snapped,” he says with a menacing snarl as he pumps his fingers roughly against your walls, his claws just barely scraping them and setting your nerves on fire.

You try and be as good as you can, staying perfectly still for him as he fucks you with his fingers, but your small reaction only seems to infuriate him further. He picks up pace, licking and nipping at your throat until you too break and your moans echo throughout the empty house. A secret smirk plays on lips.

That is until the Cat Hybrid plays a trick of his own. Pumping his fingers inside you, drawing you closer and closer till you’re just about to fall off that edge when he suddenly stops and withdraws. You whine, squirming now as you begin to beg for more.

“I see through you now, sweet prey. You won’t be winning this one.”

You only start to realize your mistake as he starts fucking you with his cock, the large length stretching you so good. The natural curve hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly. Then he starts doing to you exactly what he did with his fingers. Bringing you up to the edge and then pulling you right back.

He’s as merciless as he is when terrorizing you and in a way he’s doing just that but in a whole new way that drives you more insane than the chasing ever did. Eventually you’re a sobbing mess, your tears and your arousal forming two separate puddles on the floor with how in need you are right now as he starts up again.

You jump as the sudden sensation of his wet nose nuzzling into your neck, his purrs even louder now. You immediately cling to him, meeting his thrusts and trying to chase your growing orgasm before it’s taken away again.

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to cum for me now?” The Cat Hybrid asks and you whine, nodding rapidly.

You feel his grin against your skin before he pulls out and starts slamming his cock deep inside your cunt. His intent clear before he even says a word. But when he does it’s like music to your ears.

“I agree. Cum for me, mate.”

This time as you get closer and closer to the finish, he doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slips down and rubs tight circles into your clit. Your orgasm breaks through almost instantly and you scream as you milk his cock for all it’s worth, sending him right into ecstasy with you.

But the sound of the car door doesn’t leave either of you much time to bask in pleasure coursing through you. Luckily the Cat hybrid takes the lead, maneuvering you both as he curls around you, keeping you stuffed full of his cock but hiding any of the evidence. You’re too weak to do anything but shift into how he molds you. Making it appear as if you two are asleep and cuddling in the hall.

“Aw, look at them. Finally getting along,” you hear your owners say who are none the wiser to what’s really going on.

Cat Hybrid bf rocks his hips, snapping them back inside you quietly and forcing a squeak from your throat. He chuckles under his breath and nuzzles into you, not planning on moving away from you for hours. Wondering how many more orgasms he can rip from your tight pussy.

[hoshigray]

Can i request toji doing this to reader 👉👈

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: YEEEEEESSSS!!! I mean–ahem–yes, you may request this delicious prompt ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (presses and swiping) - Daddy kink - missionary position - praises - unprotected sex (no release on Toji's part, tho) - pet names (baby, mama, sweet thing, sweetie) - voice kink - Toji being a teaseing bastard, lawl - implied prior masturbation.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

“Haaah…Toji—Mmmm!“

“Shhh, I’m right here, sweetie…Did’ya sleep well?”

It’s not unusual for you to be asleep when Toji returns home from work, especially when he’s been away for more than three nights. 

But, fuck, when he returns home, all he can think about is having your soft frame in his starved grasp.

You lay so peacefully on his bed, your man watching the rise and fall of your figure and listening to your snore while he quietly enters the room. Once he drops his stuff down, he’ll crawl up to be atop you, emerald eyes scanning every feature of your beautiful face he wants to kiss so badly. 

And the truth is that you’re just as touch starved as he is, left here to await his return while he’s doing God-knows-what (you’re unaware of his assassin gig) and worrying about his absence. But when you awake to the smooth sensation of your lips being pressed on, you don’t scream or holler; far from that. Instead, you kiss back and open your sleepy eyes to see the grown man above you. 

“To…ji?” Your voice is strained with exhaustion yet curious. 

The dark-haired man shushes you with his lips onto yours, moaning with you while his hands spread your legs for him to lay comfortably between. “Missed ya, mama,” his gruff voice so low that your stomach immediately flips at the erotical tone. 

“I missed you, too,” you admit in between smooches, and you melt when he cups your cheeks to keep your face with his. “Missed you so…Hmmm…”

More kisses have you relax, his scarred mouth trailing down to suck on the skin of your neck to listen to more of your sweet gasps. “Yeah? My baby missed me?” You chew your lips as he whispers in your ear, and your hips instinctively move at the motion of his hand, palming the groin of your shorts. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout me while I was gone? ‘Cuz I sure was.” 

“Yesss,” your answer slurred by the lick and kiss to your helix. “Yes, I ha—Aaah!”

His hand sneaks inside the hem of your shorts, not surprised to meet your bare cunt with his fingers. Your wetness instantly coats the rough pads of his fingertips as he nestles between your labia. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me so much that y’re all wet like this?” You can practically hear the grin uplifting the scar on his lips. “Hmm? Ya miss Daddy so much that you touch y’rself while I’m gone, huh?”

Your eyes are sewn shut at the sensation of your folds being fingered, and your lips ajar once Toji inserts his middle finger. Wiggling the digit around, scratching your walls with the blunt of his fingertips, it has you wail softly. “Yessss, missed you—Oooh! S..So much, Daddy…”

“Heh, dirty lil’ thing,” Toji’s finger goes faster, and the raven-haired man enjoying your shrieks gets a little louder, and your breath halts at his ring finger teasing your entrance. “Tell Daddy how much ya missed me.”

You arch your back at the insert of the other digit; your fatigue vanishes with every graze of the two fingers. “Haaah…Miss how you kiss me—Ahh!” He toys with your clit with the brush of his thumb. “H-How good you–Mmnn!–make me feel…” He kisses your forehead; the gentleness contrasting with the salacious squelches from your shorts causes a haze.

“Yeah? Ya like when I make ya feel good?” His fingers go faster, and the presses on your clitoris go frequently. “Just like?”

“Mmnoooh,” Toji kisses you again, this time more passionately with tongue exploring your mouth; you twitch around his digits as they curl and rub. “I…Love it!”

Toji chuckles. “That’s what I wanna hear, sweet thing,” and he removes his hand from your shorts to lick your fluids clean. “‘Cuz I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout makin’ you feel good on my way here.”

He discards your bottoms to the bedroom floor seconds before he unzips his pants and brings them down with his boxer briefs. Toji has his dick free for you to marvel at, the nether limb not yet fully erected, yet the quick pulse of it has your mouth water. He slaps the tip onto your leaky chasm; the sight makes your vagina throb. So much so that you clamp tighter as he pushes the soft tip into you. “Relax fr’ me, mama,” he coaxes you through, gradually pushing every inch of him inside. “Daddy’s gotcha, ‘kay?”

You howl inaudibly, furrowed brows as the base of his cock kisses your folds. And when he grinds his pelvis down? Jesus, you grip the sheets to serve as reins; contracts around his girth are inevitable. 

“Fuck,” he curses above you. “So warm and tight like always…”

When he begins to move, it’s at a slow pace. The feeling of his dick pushing into and pulling out of you so sensually is so erotic to your senses, especially witnessing the thing burrowing inside your warmth with your own eyes. Oh, my God, you can feel it getting stiffer, making your excitement dial-up.

The member goes firmer with every stroke, and every sensation differs from the last. His shaft stands solid inch by inch, your eyes shooting up as you become fuller by the second. One pull and push has you whimper. Another push and pull, and your toes curl at the stretch of him becoming greater. Another slow push, and you're calling for him with a shaky breath as the tip of his now solid limb lightly jabs your cervix. 

And Toji adores the view under his bow, your body reacting to his erect cock scraping your insides to the point of broken cries. “How ya feelin’, baby?” His sultry voice pulls you in as he increases the speed scarcely. 

“Daahh, s-so full,” the snicker to your ear makes you clamp on him harder. “So good…Nnoohh!! Daddy, st–Ooop! D-Don’t thrust so—” 

“Hmm? What’s up?” You don’t have to open your eyelids to see that the older man above you has a mischievous look after suddenly sneaking a quick rut to your entrance. “What; don’t like it when I go like…this?” Toji’s hips go erratically, the motion making it easy to rub on your inner walls and sweet spots to the point of shrilled shrieks leaving your lips. “Or…this?” He sluggishly pulls himself back where it’s only the tip of his shaft that’s nestled inside you, only for him to snap his hips back in a rushed second. It takes a moment for you to process and let out a scream as the cockhead pokes your delicate cervix with precision. 

Your hands frantically find his shoulders to grip his shirt, “Daddyyy, please, sl–Oooh–Slow down…! If you keep goin’, I’ll cu—….Mmmm!!” Your pleas don’t stop him; they fuel him to keep pounding into you. Balls deep for him to keep probing you with hits to the narrow end again, and your legs wrap around his waist without you thinking. How could you think? Your head kept pounding along with the climb of your orgasm, trembles climbing up your spine. 

“What’re ya holdin' it fr’, huh?” All it takes is Toji to bend to your ear once more, kissing your cheek as his pelvis slams into your aching slit. “Cum, mama. Lemme know how good y’re feelin’.” 

As if on command, your climax hits you hard, like a wave crashing down on your poor form, drowning your senses with euphoria like no other. Your cunt squeezes around Toji’s girth, your nerves spiking to a sensitive high that has you winded and cold for a moment. And the man above you hisses at the flutter of your walls; his rocking cadence slows down to relish the feeling.

You wail in ecstasy; a tiny sharp gasp leaves you from the gentle kiss he places on your forehead. 

“There ya go, sweetie,” he coos with a kiss to the chin before straightening himself. You observe him remove his shirt to dump it onto the floor, and your face becomes hotter when Toji ventures down, where his face gets closer to your wet entrance. “ All wet and ready fr’ me…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.