#⁙| Flock Calls

[your-local-grinning-cat]

Oh look! An asshole! 😹

[eorzeashan]

Eight has a lot of facets, but I'm still fascinated by his role as the shepherd to Jadus' flock--or the iteration of him where he accidentally becomes cult leader for the remnants of Jadus' followers after the war with Zakuul. In a meta context, he sees himself as the person necessary to test and guide all servants of Jadus in an effort to gather them all in one place and create a united understanding of the will of their master, though he initially is reluctant to even associate with Jadus' other underlings. Even as a retired 'Hand', he makes it his life's mission to interpret what Jadus left behind, becoming a sort of paranormal investigator for the life and works of this mysterious sith lord, as well as de facto leader of his followers who lacked guidance after Jadus' disappearance into seclusion.

One could call him the missing link to Jadus himself.

[maddestdog]

Apparently, Majima is VERY well known in Sotenbori.

[survivoirs]

also shout out to you people who are enthusiastically in support of multis. Cuz like heck some of these muses ive written for 6-10+ years and my portrayal of them or others aren’t suddenly worth less because they’re on a multi despite how some members of the rpc sometimes acts

[suundei]

🕊 did it hurt

when you fell from heaven?

... are you calling

me

the

devil?

has the brightness of my halo blinded you?

[silverwingborn]

Time to write up Silver’s pre-Hell verse. Ngl I’m excited to be able to share more about her bg and her Nephilim companions. Especially Faller~

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Arlecchino x GN Reader (SAGAU)

I kinda can’t believe that I’ve written 3 fanfics in 24 hours, after not writing for a year, but idk. I’m motivated and don’t have much else to do (except ignoring my bio homework) (send help, what the hell is osmosis?) I thought about writing for Pantalone next, but @nervouseaglelover requested Arlecchino and I am nothing if not a people pleaser. This may be ooc, but idk SAGAU is nothing if not ooc if we’re being honest. I’m starting this at 6'o clock my time, so hopefully it’ll be done by 9 or 10, if I’m being productive.

Contains - Arlecchino girlbossing, gaslighting and gatekeeping you, her being obsessed with you, mentions of death and murder, mentions of Dottore's head collection (don't ask, it came to me in a dream), tartaglia being beat up by Arlecchino for the second time in this series

Part one is here - the masterlist for the other endings is here

“Arlecchino?”

If you were being entirely honest, you expected a little more … decorum when you had called for Arlecchino. Not the veritable swarm of Harbingers that appeared in your doorway, the moment her name had left your mouth. All of the Harbingers, excluding the one whose name you had uttered. 

Tartaglia was at the front of the pack, to little surprise, with his eyes bright with curiosity and a liveliness you rarely saw through a screen. Tucked away to the side was Pantalone, who looked far more … weary than you had expected. His eyes, compared to Tartaglia’s, were bloodshot and dull, with an aura of tiredness radiating off him. You could faintly see the silhouettes of who you assumed to be Capitano and Pierro in the back, looming over the others, and Signora, who stood tall behind Tartaglia, eyes fixed coldly upon you.

You waited, expecting someone to explain why they were ominously standing in your doorway, eyes silently surveying you. But no explanation came and no more movements were made, they seemed almost fixed in your doorway, as though they were waiting for something from YOU. 

“Arlecchino?”

You repeated her name again, craning your neck to see if she was merely hidden behind one of her coworkers, concealed by her taller companions. But she did not appear, and you were beginning to wonder if she was not there at all.

Until a perfectly manicured hand reached through the flock of Harbingers and firmly gripped Tartaglia by his hair, dragging him away from the doorway as she stepped into his place.

“Tartaglia, it is awfully rude to be lingering in the doorway like that, not even bothering to greet Their Grace. Such impoliteness does not make a good first impression.”

Arlecchino’s sweetly poisoned words broke the silence, inspiring a string of curses from the 11th Harbinger and some muffled laughter from what sounded like the Balladeer, although you could not see him to confirm. But Arlecchino ignored them and turned to you, eyes soft and yet … hungry. Possessive. 

“You called for me, Your Grace? How may I be at your service?”

Her honeyed words and dark eyes had you entranced, almost unable to speak, to respond to her question.

“Oh, I was just wishing to speak to you…”

Arlecchino’s smile widened and she stepped into your room, spinning to address her fellow Harbingers.

“Well, you heard Their Grace. I will be … conversing with them, so please give us some privacy. I’m certain that you all can find something else to do with your time, rather than stand here awkwardly.”

The crack of her slamming the doors in the other Harbingers faces made you jump, but you barely had time to process it before Arlecchino started prowling towards you. Her smile was friendly, but the darkness in her eyes remained, making you nervous. At least, that’s what you assumed those feelings were.

“Oh, Your Grace, look at your hair! It must have gotten all matted while you were resting. Here, let me fix it for you.”

“Huh? My hair feels fi-”

Your words were abruptly cut off as Arlecchino sat down on the side of your bed, tugging you towards her as she wrapped her arms around your waist, pressing your back to her chest. One of her hands made its way to your head, but rather than attempting to fix any knots that may or may not exist, she just tucked your hair behind your ears. 

“Your Grace, I understand that you may be worried about those heretics who attempted to take your life. I would like to assure you that you are perfectly safe and that I am ensuring you will never have to worry about them ever again.” She whispered softly into your ear.

Still caught up with the whiplash of the hair, to the hugging, to the thinly veiled threats of murder, you found yourself rather unable to form a coherent response, instead choking out a rather unintelligent sounding ‘mhm’. But Arlecchino didn’t seem to mind, instead giggling softly at your lack of a response. 

“I’m glad to see that you are … unbothered by your attackers. My children are hard at work making sure you are kept safe, but knowing that you are already at ease makes me a little less concerned for you.”

“Your children? Do you mean the children of the House of the Hearth?” You finally managed to ask, only just now able to form meaningful sentences again.

“Indeed, you are very intelligent, Your Grace! My children are fetching the heads of your attackers as we speak, bless their hearts. My children are very devoted to you, I hardly even needed to make the suggestion to track down those pieces of scum. I have a great many heads already, if you wish to see them? I have made sure that they are well preserved, so you can gaze upon the mostly intact heads of your enemies without the fear of them beginning to smell.” 

“Oh! That’s … uhm … very kind of you? I don’t think I need to see any heads though?”

“Very well then, I will give them to Dottore to add to his collection. I’m sure he will find them a rather pleasant gift, although perhaps not as nice as being able to slay your enemies in person.”

While trying to cope with the second round of emotional whiplash in the last 5 minutes, mostly due to the unwanted knowledge of the fact that the Doctor has a HEAD COLLECTION, you turned to Arlecchino, hoping to inquire more about her ‘children’.

But instead, you found her staring at you with an uncharacteristically stern expression.

“Your Grace.”

“Arlecchino?”

She leaned in close to you, so your faces were only inches apart. You would have thought it was romantic if her eyes were not quite so severe.

“I am a Harbinger. But I am a devotee to you, first and foremost. So, should the need ever arise … Say the word and I will kill any of them.”

“Pardon?” You managed to choke out.

“You heard me, Your Grace. Say the word and I will kill any Harbinger, any Archon, any human or beast that you wish.” 

Arlecchino kept eye contact with you for only a moment longer, before smiling and releasing you from her grasp, standing as she did so.

“I believe I hear Pierro calling for me. Forgive me, Your Grace, I must leave you to rest now.”

“But I don’t hear anyone calling for you?”

“Oh? Maybe you were not listening hard enough?” She smiled sweetly and made her way to the door, her lingering words all that remained of her, despite your hurried pleas for her to stay.

“Sweet dreams, Your Grace.”

I actually wrote this in less then 2 hours, I’m lowkey impressed with myself. I know the ending is kinda rushed and vague, but i also totally see Arlecchino gaslighting you like that to get out of a convo. I had a really good time writing this, so I hope yall have a good time reading this! Probably Pantalone next? Idk, we’ll see. I’ve learned not to make promises about my writing anymore.

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. LOTUS FLOWER BOMB

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ Can I be with you just one night? I could wear you out inside | I could tell you like persistence, but I make you cum in tri's

DEAL ! ft. martial artist! kashimo hajime

SUMMARY. being saddled with tutoring the stubborn martial artist was bad enough, him learning you had the hots for him was even worse. but of course, you decide to use this to your advantage. and he is more then happy to partake in your little game. ━━ ★

CW. ooc kashimo, modern au (you two are college students, same age), reader with glasses (self indulgent asf), porn w/o plot, slight degradation, praise kink, lowkey soft dom kashimo, pet names (sweet girl, princess, baby, good bye, etc), kashimo & reader teasing each other, unprotected sex, bets, creampies, frenemies(?) to lovers, reader is black (obviously), multiple orgasms, etc. ━━ ★

NOTE. i got this idea randomly & it’s been a while since i’ve written for my man so here we are. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes. ━━ ★

Being the smart kid had as many disadvantages as it did perks. People flocked to you, not for friendship; but rather to feed off you. Using you to get good grades, notes, and then discarding you later. It hurt you at first, but now, you couldn’t care less. Now that you were an adult in college you gained a shiny spine, immediately saying no when someone approached you for help. You didn’t care if you came off as bitchy or stuck up, you refused to put your school career in jeopardy just for a bunch of strangers.

Which left you with a small group of friends, but hey— big groups didn’t work out anyway.

You carried this thought process all the way to junior year, your teachers used to it by now. No amount of begging from them or a student’s behalf changed your mind. Until, your beloved biology teacher reached out to you.

See, you took the class around your sophomore year of college, and the two of you clicked instantly. Something about being one of the few other black woman among the faculty and student body really drew you close together. If she asked for something, you were more than happy to oblige. Which, she knew all too well.

So when she called you into her classroom one day you weren’t surprised— until you noticed the tall, cyan colored hair man standing infront of her desk. The moment you stepped in she was all smiles, buttering you up before delivering the punch line:

“Could you tutor Kashimo Hajime please?” Her tone was soft, wavering on desperate. She watched as the annoyance covered your features, her scrambling a bit. “One more bad grade and he loses his scholarship. You know I wouldn’t normally ask this of you, but he’s a good student— I swear.”

“If he was so good, he wouldn’t be failing.” You murmured under your breath, eyes darting to the side to spot the man already staring at you. A grin in place. You wouldn’t find anything funny about this situation if you were him, but again— you weren’t and never would be. “Come on, Ms. Wells; you know I can’t stand tutoring people. Besides, I took this class last year.”

“And you were my best student.” She mused, buttering you up once more. A soft sigh escaped the older woman, leaning against her desk. “Look. Do this for me and I’ll write you the best damn recommendation letter you’ve ever seen. Okay?”

You thought it over, wondering if you really wanted to subject yourself to a whole week and a half of tutoring for someone who probably couldn’t care less. But, you really wanted that letter and you had to admit you had a soft spot for your previous teacher. So with a reluctant sigh you nodded, turning to face Kashimo who did the same.

“But if you still fail, it will not be my fault.”

“Of course.” He spoke cooly, smiling down at you.

You wondered if Ms. Wells was lying. If she was held at gunpoint to say he was a good student. He was far from it. Not only was he stubborn, Kashimo got disinterested in the material quickly; moving on to scrolling on his phone or attempting to watch something on your television. Even hitting on you, which you shut down— with minor hesitation. You couldn’t blame yourself, as annoying as he was; he was easy on the eyes and ears.

Today was Wednesday, meaning Kashimo only had four days until the test. And by the looks of it, he wouldn’t be passing it. The man wasn’t stupid, he just didn’t want to sit still and do the work. He was far too rambunctious.

You snatched the phone out of his hand for about the third time that day, placing it on the desk behind you. “You’re wasting mine and your time, Kashimo. Could you please focus on the studying?” You grumbled, adjusting your black rimmed glasses on your face. Kashimo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “If that’s the case just kick me out, you have no obligation to tutor me.”

“Ms. Wells asked me to.” You spoke, breathing softly and slowly blinking. You then turned to the sheet on your desk, scribbling something on the page. “Plus it’s called human decency and empathy, I want to help you.”

“That or you want to fuck me.”

You released a choked scoff, eyes wide as your eyebrows rose. You whipped around to face him, Kashimo sporting a cocky grin. “Really? You really think so?”

“I know so.” Kashimo shrugged as if it was obvious, leaning forward and resting his elbows onto his thighs; heavy, hot gaze trailing up and down your body. Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, pressing his chin into a palm. “Because.. I’m able to tell when someone wants to fight or fuck me.”

“Oh, those are the only two options?”

“The only ones that matter.” He responded quickly, grinning at the way your pressed your lips together. You didn’t expect to be found out, seeing as you tried to be discreet with the glances you took at his strong arms and his crotch whenever he wore those damned grey sweatpants. You breathed softly, eyes darting elsewhere as you grabbed the middle of your glasses, rubbing the space between your eyes. “Mkay.. maybe you’re right; maybe I allowed my eyes to linger for far too long—“ Your breath hitched as you felt his hand fall to the bottom of your chair, pulling you closer while the other gently grabbed your calf. Before it could travel up you rose your leg, pressing it against his stomach.

“— But, the two aren’t mutually exclusive; I still want you to pass.” You spoke slowly, ignoring the way his fingers slowly caressed your leg. Kashimo chuckled softly to himself, leaning back in his chair and allowing your foot to slide down his body into his lap. “Okay.. how about we make a deal?”

“I’m listening..”

“You tutor me as hard as you like and if I pass— well..” The man dragged on, using a hand to cover the little smirk pulling his lips. You got the gist however, sucking in a small breath as you slowly nodded. You scooted a bit closer, “But that means, you have to get an A.”

Kashimo blinked at your words, eyes snapping back to your face with a bewildered expression. It was your turn to grin, reaching over his shoulder to curl a piece of his hair between your fingers. “I can tutor you as hard as I like, remember? Get an A, and you’ll get a reward. Deal?” You tilted your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Kashimo licked his lips a bit, mimicking your smile. “Deal.”

“Good boy. Now get the hell out of my dorm so I can get some sleep.

Much to surprise, Kashimo’s entire attitude seemed to change over night. He was listening to each piece of material you threw at him, getting a few questions wrong but paying attention otherwise. It made you a little warm inside, and happy he was actually listening. Even if it was just to get in your pants which you— truly didn’t mind. The feeling was mutual after all.

Sunday night the night before the test, you offered him a break which Kashimo refused, stating he’ll be fine to take it in the morning. You got a little worried especially from how early her class was so you offered him to sleep in your dorm. Much to his, and your own surprise.

“Oh, don’t break your part of the deal now..”

“Don’t be gross, like I said— human decency.”

That night was a little awkward, having another person in your room on the floor— especially someone you were pinning for. You desperately tried to sleep the thought away, turning over to lay on your stomach and cuddling your pillow. Which helped, seeing as you drifted moments later, waking up when you heard movement in your room.

“Leaving?”

“Yeah. Class starts in about twenty minutes.” Kashimo called to you in the darkness. You soon felt him near your bed, giving you the opportunity to gently caress his arm. “Good luck on the test.”

“Mhm.” You shivered as his warm hand suddenly brushed your bare shoulder, leaning close to your face. “Get some rest.. you’ll need it.” Your eyes went wide at his words, slowly sitting up to watch him exit your dorm.

Well, now you couldn’t go back to sleep.

You got up shortly after the man left, taking a shower and throwing on some jeans and a shirt while heading to your own classes. Kashimo was pushed to the back of your mind, giving it may take Ms. Wells a day or so to get through grading all the papers. And while you hate to admit it, as much as you wanted to be wrong— he probably still failed. A harsh thought, but it was probably true.

Your classes ended as normal, already back in your dorm by about four in the afternoon. You stripped yourself of your outside clothes, pulling on some random juicy couture shorts and a tank top. You laid across your bed, switching to a random show; flipping between watching and glancing at your phone. You had sent the man a text message around the time his class should have ended and to your dismay, he didn’t answer. Even if he couldn’t get the grade tonight, you wanted to at least gauge how he felt about it.

Pursing your lips, you turned off your phone and pushed it to the corner of your bed, laying your cheek against your pillow. Your eyes remained glued to the television for about several hours, eyes blinking as you wondered whether to turn in for the night or not. That thought left the minute you heard knocking on your door however.

You flipped your phone, glaring at the time which read 9:30 p.m. You grumbled softly in annoyance, rising from your bed and sliding off it. Waltzing over to the door, you opened it to reveal Kashimo Hajime standing in all his glory. A large grin on his face. Your heart dropped to your stomach, watching him raise his hand to showcase the piece of paper he was holding. You silently took it, flipping it around to glance it over and spotting the big fat 100% glaring back at you.

“Oh.”

“Oh..” Kashimo mocked you softly, pushing into the room. He watched with interest as you backed away, eyes remaining on you as he closed and locked the door behind him. He reached over, grabbing your wrist with one hand and your cheeks with the other. “Looks like I get my reward.” The words came out whispered, leaning down and planting his lips on your own. Your eyes shut instantly, his test dropping to the floor as your hands rose to his hair. Your fingers curled in the cyan-colored tresses, moaning softly as his gently bit your bottom lip to shove his tongue into your mouth. The two appendages played and curled with each other, whilst his hands fell to your ass, gripping the warm flesh for a moment before lifting you easily— pushing forward to place you onto the bed.

Kashimo pulled back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “Bet you were thinking of this all day.. waiting for me to come and fuck you.” He spoke on bated breath, hand sliding up your body to gently grab your throat. The man chuckled softly as you shook your head, using his other hand to pull your glasses off your face delicately, turning to place it off to the side. “You’re a shitty liar, [Name].” Hajime pushed you further up on the bed, hovering over your body as he attached his lips back to your own. A hand was pressed beside your head while the other flicked down the top of your loose tank top, exposing your breasts to him.

He trailed his kisses down from your face to your throat and finally breasts, using a hand to squeeze one while his mouth wrapped around the other nipple. You gasped softly as the pleasure swirled within you, head leaning back against the back as your hips rose. Kashimo grinned against your chest, pushing a knee up between your thighs, chuckling at the way you instantly began to grind against it. His teeth gently raked your sensitive skin, sucking and licking the bud raw to hear you shudder and moan. Kashimo pressed his leg up harsher, slowly rolling his knee, feeling your wetness seep through your thin shorts and slowly dampen his pants. The man pulled back, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“Oh, you’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you. Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Hajime.. stop teasin’ me.”

The martial artist hummed to himself, gently pinching the raw bud to watch you gasp. “I’ll do what I want. Better yet, I could leave you here yearning for my touch— possibly get my reward at a later date.” The moment he pulled his leg away you were whining, reaching to grab at his shirt. Hajime grinned down at you, leaning close and allowing his leg to press against your center once again. “Then lay here and take what I give you like a good girl.”

Sucking kisses into your dark mocha skin, your hips as you ground against his muscular leg, feeling him flex the appendage every once in a while. It felt far too good to simply just be dry humping, your head leaning back as your clutched his shirt in your hands. You gasped out as he bit your neck, sucking harshly— the action enough to push you over the edge. A whine escaped you as you came, ruining your panties and shorts completely.

Hajime pulled back with a grin, resting on his hutches and pushing your thighs. “Still can’t believe you got off just from my thigh…” The man teased softly, hooking his fingers on your shorts and panties, dragging them down your body. Before he could do anything else you were pushing your legs together, causing his heated gaze to snap to your face.

“Take your shirt off.” You spoke, watching the man tilt his head with a little grin. He leaned over you once again, caressing your exposed stomach slowly.

“You want it off, take it off yourself.”

You gently bit your lip but obeyed, reaching over and slowly pulling his shirt up and off his body; warmth flooding you as you glanced over his form. He certainly had the build of a martial artist, sculpted but not disgustingly so— just right. Your hand smoothed down his toned stomach, feeling it contract when you got closer to the waistband of his pants. Your breath hitched a little when he grasped your wrist, eyes snapping back to his face.

“Focus up here, sweetheart.” Hajime spoke, releasing your hand to slowly descend down your body. Your eyes widened, watching as pushed your legs wider, revealing the prize between them. You shifted under his gaze, gripping your shirt and yelping the moment he pinched the inside of your thigh. “Quit movin’.” The man spoke, leaning down. He used to fingers to slide your slick folds, pressing a kiss against your swollen clit. The foreign feeling caused you to twitch, hand falling to the bed and gasping the moment you felt his tongue glide across you.

“Hajime..”

“Relax, princess. Just relax for me..” He murmured against you, gently taking your clit into your mouth. He began to suck, throwing a hand across your hips to keep them against the bed. Your legs widened, mouth hung open as soft moans escaped you. You gripped your sheets the moment you felt two fingers slowly push inside you, scissoring and thrusting into your soft entrance.

Your moans grew louder, hands falling to his hair and gripping; looking for leverage. The pleasure took over your senses, eyes pinched close as you struggled against his heavy arm, pushing your pussy into his face more. His tongue was wicked, circling your swollen bud, dragging up and down your slit, lathering you in saliva. Kashimo’s fingers weren’t any better, trusting into you, pushing against your spongy walls and reaching deeper then your own fingers could.

Soft smacks and groans escaped from between your legs, moans now pitching as your toes curled from the pleasure. You panted, walls clenching around his fingers as your peak grew closer and closer. The man seemed to notice, withdrawing his fingers from you and pulling away from your clit. You nearly whined if it wasn’t for his warm, thick appendage driving into you; hand moving to allow his thumb to circle your bud.

“Ha—haji.. Mmm—!” Little tears treated to spill from your eyes, palms hurting from your tightly you were gripping his hair. The martial artist tongue fucked you relentlessly, the pace of his thumb quickening. Moments passed before your back rose up off the bed, making a mess all over his face and under you, arousal trailing down to your taint.

Your body shook, panting heavily as you felt him remove himself from between your legs. Through your hazy vision you watched him lean over your body, warming as his hands cradled your throat and skull; leaning down to plant your lips together. You held onto his arm, eyes closed as your returned the kiss, delving on your taste from his mouth.

“So good, princess.. so good for me.” Kashimo breathed against your lips, planting a few more kisses against your bruised lips, pulling back to glance at you. He grinned to himself, enamored by the display before him. Your edges a mess, braids sprawled out around your head while your chest rose and fall heavily, lips slick with his salvia and your mess; pouted and used. Hajime’s thumb caressed your throat, curling his fingers between the parts of your hair. “You want more, sweet girl?”

The moment you nodded the man’s grin was falling, gently clenching his fingers around your neck. “Words. Use your words.”

Your body went hot, eyes trailing away from his features. “Haji..” Your cunt clenched the minute his hold on your neck tightened just a bit, urging your eyes back to his face. “I asked for words, not my name.” The man leaned down, forehead pressed against your own. “Unless you want me to leave you here, a needy— desperate mess.”

The thought alone had you whining, shaking your head once again to which the man urged you once again. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hands dragged up his back to his shoulders, blinking up at him. “Please Haji.. I need you.” As much as you wanted to kick yourself for such a pathetic display, the thought melted the moment he came close, pressing a kiss to your lips and whispering good girl.

Kashimo released your throat to push his sweats and boxers down, revealing his length to you. It was heavy, a lighter shade then him with a bulbous red tip. You bit the inside of your cheek the moment you realized it ended just below your navel, shivering at the thought it splitting you open.

He grabbed the underside of your thighs, pushing them up and open as he crowded in close, lining his dick up with your entrance. Pushing in slowly, the man cooed as you whined— releasing a leg to gently caress your side. “Mm.. relax baby.. that’s it— let me take care of you.” Hajime watched the way your walls clenched him as he sunk in deeper, having half a mind to fuck you into the mattress right then and there. But for once, he decided to be patient.

Soon enough Kashimo was all the way in, shuddering as your clenched— adjusting to his size. The stretch burned of course, eyes pinched closed as you remained still. The pain melted away however, breathing as you moved your hips, eyes opening as the pleasure ran down your spine. The soft moan that escaped you was enough, watching as the man dragged his hips back before pushing back inside— the two of you gasping.

His hands found purchase on your hips, immediately setting a rough and fast pace inside you; drilling you into the bed. Under his mercy you moaned, pretty acrylics digging into his back as your legs shook around his form. With his weight placed behind each thrust you could barely breathe let alone think, pleasure consuming you whole. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull, lost completely— ruined.

Kashimo enjoyed each expression each sound, dedicating to memory. He couldn’t care less if someone else in the dorm heard— even swearing he heard knocks against the wall above them. He wanted them to head; wanted them hear his name fall from your lips so sweetly. The man leaned down, softly mocking your moans with the sickest grin. “Feels good baby? Yeah— wanted this the moment you met me, didn’t you?” The man questioned, grunting the moment he felt your walls clench from his words.

“Haji, Haji— Fuck!” Your words dragged, speech muddled as he continued to fuck you as if he would die without it. He was pushing you wide, cock digging deep inside and brushing against spots you didn’t even know existed— angling his hips just right to hear you squeal from the pleasure.

“I know baby, I know— feels good for Haji too.. fuck..” His eyelids were heavy, thumbs digging into your plump flesh as he fucked you with all his might. The bed rocked from the force, headboard slamming against the wall for a moment before Kashimo reached over; gripping it tightly while continuing to drill into you. The moment you noticed it, you were pushed over the edge; creaming all over his length while a loud cry of his name escaped you. The man grinned down at you, pulling your leg over your shoulder, somehow moving deeper inside you.

“One more princess, fuck—“

You shook your head, clenching him so tightly as the oversensitivity flooded your body. You felt him release your hip to gently grab your throat, coming close once again. “Come on, I know you got it in you, pretty girl— be good for me.” No matter how much your body ached with exhaustion, how your messy cunt clenched and pulsed tiredly around him— you ignored it all, wrapping your hand around his wrist and rising up to kiss him.

Kashimo grinned against you, bruising pace continuing inside you, head brushing against your cervix with each thrust. The pleasure quickly overshadowed the pain, his hand falling from your throat to rub tight, fast circles against your wet, swollen bud. Your stomach clenched, fucked completely dumb to the point his name came out in incoherent babbles and cries.

Moments of this continued before his breathing got heavier, eyebrows pinched close as his thrusts got a little uncoordinated. He gripped the headboard harshly, harsh swears escaping him as he rocked into you. “Fuckkk.. you want me inside baby? Want me to pump you full?”

“Yes, yes! Wa—want it inside, Haji—“

Hajime smiled down at you, leaning close to kiss you once again muttering a soft of course, against your swollen lips. He drove himself deep, hips stilling as he painted your walls white. That was enough for you, walls milking him dry as you came; moaning into his mouth.

His thrusts slowed to slow gyrates, hand raising to your skull against to slowly massage your scalp. The man soon pulled away, your combined pants fanning against the other’s face. Kashimo’s hand fell to your cheek, caressing it gently and smiling at the way you tiredly leaned into it.

“Best tutor ever.” Kashimo teased, chuckling softly at the way you playfully glared at him.

[ringsofsaturnnnn]

(I’m not sure if this is how I ask but I’m going for it. Let me know if it’s not right!😭)

Can I play blackjack all in with shigaraki? A cosmopolitan to drink! I’d like a reader with a sheep quirk!🩷

.˚ 🐑┊..⃗. 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗽 ⌇

MDNI | t.shigaraki x fem!reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: shigaraki’s girlfriend has a sheep quirk and he can’t help but tease her every chance he gets

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: fem bodied reader, mocking/bullying, hair pulling, not a warning; but reader has white hair because of the sheep quirk, name calling (slvt, whvre), begging, spanking (sorta)

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: i’ve never written for shigaraki so please please please have mercy on me 😭. i highly suggest checking out senpai (who is tagged on my tag list) or @sluttyshigaraki for better shigaraki fics! this is not proofread. i’m sorry if this is completely ooc, i tried. i also kinda altered his quirk a bit so he can touch you without like.. y’know.. decaying you. i’ll be real honest when i say i haven’t finished mha yet so i don’t know everything about him☠️

© 2023 ringsofsaturn | please don't copy or repost my works! i have not given permission to anyone to repost my works. reblogs/comments/likes are okay!

𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥

tag list :: @callm3senpaii

a soft bleat escaped your slightly parted lips as your boyfriend harshly tugged on your hair. “t-tomura!” you whimpered. a stinging sensation shot across your scalp as your fingers curled around his bedsheets. “what’s wrong, hitsuji?” his voice was mocking as he slammed his hips into yours harshly.

“t-that hurts!” your hair was extremely sensitive seeing as it was part of your quirk. “that’s too bad,” he chuckled, the sound was hardly one of comfort. his “chuckle” was raspy, nearly comparable to the noise of nails on a chalkboard.

you weren’t quite sure how the two of you ended up becoming a couple. tomura was known for being the leader of the league of villains and a rather ruthless person. you, on the other hand, were a ua high alumni, who was working on becoming a pro-hero. never did you imagine you’d find yourself tangled within a villian’s sheets.

“poor, little lost sheep.” pulling your hair even harder, he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips. his thrusts were brutal, the headboard hitting the wall harshly. “can’t believe your shepard let you wander so far from the flock.” you knew he was referring to the hero you were interning with to help finish out your provisional hero license.

every chance he got, tomura teased you about your sheep quirk. he always made a jab at you being “lost” since sheep were known to wander off. sometimes he’d call himself your shepherd in a condescending manner, claiming that you’d never survive without him.

more soft bleats escaped you as his thrusts brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. “god, you’re so fucking tight.” he grunted under his breath. he kept a firm grip on your soft, silky locks of white hair. shoving your face into his pillows, he continued to use you as he saw fit. “g-gonna cum..” you cried out softly. another chuckle sounded from above you. “you’re gonna cum already? poor, pathetic little slut. you can hardly last five minutes.”

he finally released his hold on your hair, opting to grip your hips instead. sinking his nails into your flesh, he started pulling you back to meet his thrusts. “a-ah!” your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you buried your face in his pillow. “if you want to cum, you’re going to have to fucking beg me.” he grunted.

it wasn’t long before you were babbling helplessly into his pillow. your voice was muffled, tears were wetting the fabric as he continued to thrust into you harshly. growing annoyed with not being able to hear you, he pulled you up by your hair, causing you to yelp in pain. “try again, slut.”

“please! please let me cum, tomura! i’m so close! i need to cum!” you wailed helplessly, a few bleats weaving itself through your begs. he smirked, but he wasn’t completely satisfied yet. “yeah? you wanna cum?” he mocked. trying your best to nod, you weakly opened your teary eyes.

“tell me who owns you.” the look in his eyes was sinister as he stared at your pretty, arched back. “y-you,” you hiccuped. “you own me!” squeezing your eyes shut once more, you felt your legs start to shake. “good little sheep. you can cum now. make sure to thank me while you do it, whore.”

a few thrusts later you were cumming all over him, loud moans escaping you. “o-oh!” panting, you immediately began thanking him. “thank you. thank you for letting me cum! thank you..” you were breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

he laughed loudly before spanking you. he gently rubbed your ass as he spoke. “you’re welcome, whore. now, stay still while i fuck you full of my cum.”

hitsuji - 羊 :: japanese. means sheep.

dividers & main picture made by :: @strrynigghts

[meowcatsposts]

Perfect [Neteyam]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: reader is an albino omatikaya & neteyam is probably OOC

@tiddieshakeshownu, I hope you enjoy :)

Overview

Being born different, things don't go so smoothly for you

("Outcast is all they see" frfr)

So you learned to stay in the shadows

But Neteyam always finds you

You were born different. 

Your skin–a pale baby blue, void of the rich pigment forest Na’vi usually had. It burned easily, too; you couldn’t stay beneath the blazing sun. “Useless,” the hunters would say. Useless. 

Your hair–white as snow, that shines smoothly beneath any light. Children would flock around to touch it–some in awe, most in mockery. A few were mean enough to pull it, calling you, “Skxawng! Skxawng!” over and over and over. 

Your eyes–an icy blue, from the lack of pigment. Like your skin the sun was their enemy, its bright rays nearly blinding you. And, unsurprisingly, they cursed you with clumsiness during your early years. Tripping over roots and gripping onto branches for dear life you were, often the source of other childrens’ amusement.

One day, you returned home shaking, biting tears at bay; you were a hair's breadth away from the snapping sharp maws of nantang, after all! That wasn’t even the worst part; the other children set you up. Their jeering, high-pitched laughter still rang in your ears, no matter how hard you tried to drown them out. How you would’ve loved to jump into mother’s arms, to tell her just how cruel your own people were. How you would’ve loved to tell father about those scary-looking wolves, cornering you between a dark rocky crevice. 

Sadly, that wasn’t so.

As you scaled the Hometree you heard hushed whispers; among them was your mother’s. 

“Will (Y/N) ever be able to ride an ikran?”

Then your father’s. “...fragile…don’t know…”

Fragile.

Something burned deep in the pit of your stomach and you wretched, but nothing came out. 

Night was your only option. No sun to blister your skin. No one to push you off the edge. Only at night could you forget everything else and focus on the beautiful world that was so cruel during the day. It was dangerous, sure, but you fared better. Limb by limb, meter by meter, you soared across winding branches and leaped across slippery slopes, paying no mind to the soft looming shadows of night. 

Eywa always lit a path for you. Always.

Long ago, a seed sprouted in your heart and it grew and grew and grew until its thick roots spread so much that your heart cracked and splintered and shattered. Those fragile broken pieces you stowed away in a box, somewhere no one could find–somewhere no light would shine. When no one was around, you glued those pieces back together, slowly and painstakingly, one by one, under the Pandoran night. No one should be able to find you deep in the forest, mending your broken heart–should.

“Neteyam?” you whispered. Your eyes blew wide; how did he know where you were at this ungodly hour? A moss patch, glowing blue-green, winded out and away from under his feet.

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hard cold ice encased your heart. You quickly shoved your broken pieces back into their shabby box and faced Neteyam with a cold, doubtful gaze. “Do you want something?” 

Now it was his turn to be surprised–baffled, even. 

“What…?” he spluttered. He was growing nervous, you could tell. His heart was thrumming. “I…was just wandering around and found you here…so I was wondering what you were doing.”

Not really convincing, was it? He was lying, probably. But it wasn’t so; Neteyam opened your eyes to so many things. 

Pandora was beautiful at night. Everything glowed so prettily; even the animals came out to play. You giggled softly to yourself as you saw a bunch of kenten spin around and around, disk-wings unfurling like glowing umbrellas. A pack of nantang pups scampered along the ground, lighting up bright patches of moss in the wake of their paws and you smiled, hearing them yip around. Every night Neteyam chuckled beside you, his laughter spreading from his lips to your lips, and you didn’t feel so lonely anymore. 

“Go, leave. Now.”

Neteyam was always there, somehow, when you were in trouble. He’d bare his teeth at those mean kids and afterwards, he’d take you on fun little shady adventures under big ferns and tall trees to cheer you up, and before you knew it, you were smiling–smiling!–and Neteyam would be grinning, too.

You gushed to your parents about a handsome boy who was so kind and caring and wonderful, and Neteyam, too, quietly told his parents about a beautiful Na’vi who had shimmering silk for hair and pretty skin like the skies. 

He couldn’t understand why you called yourself a freak; it shattered his heart when you did.

“Sometimes I wish I was born different.”

One particular night the moon shone so beautifully, so radiantly. Everything seemed to glow just a little brighter, just a little more prettier. It was so serene tonight, but it wasn’t so, and you blamed yourself for this. Your soft sniffles carried through the wind and into Neteyam’s ears, and he bounded to you in an instant. His markings glowed a pearly white-blue under the night, and you smiled weakly, seeing the boy in all his beauty. He was skilled and handsome and kind and sweet; why was he rushing to comfort you? 

“Don’t cry.” He hushed you with such sweetness that your heart melted into something gooey and warm–it scared you. Then with his thumb he gently swiped the hot tears streaming down your cheeks, never minding how wet his hands got. You nearly flinched; why so kind? 

“Look,” he whispered, jabbing a finger to his chest, yellow eyes all wide and silly and desperate–oh how he hated to see you cry. “You might not see it, but I’m different, too–part demon, some assholes say.” He paused, biting his lip to suppress a hopeful grin. “We can be different together.”

A sliver of a smile creeped up your lips. Different. Together.

Then Neteyam murmured in that hushed-excited whisper, “Here, come closer,” and held out his arms to beckon you into a hug. Timidly and shamefully you scooted a little forward, wiping furiously at your eyes.

“Look at me. Please?” He wanted so badly to tell you how stunning your eyes were, how pretty your smile was. He wanted to give his eyes to you, just so you could see how radiant you truly were–but now wasn’t the time, he could tell.

So he gently bumped foreheads with you, closing his eyes. You closed yours, too. Then slowly, timidly, his hands oh so softly cupped your face as if he were telling you, “Stay, don’t go.” As more tears stung your eyes you rested your shaky hands atop his larger ones, feeling his warmth spreading to your fingers. It was just him and you now, glowing under the moonlight; you thought you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“I see you,” he murmured softly. “Perfect.”

blue dividers by: firefly-graphics

[virgincels]

NOUVEAU GAULTIER !

ft. leon s. kennedy x reader x ashley graham

tags. leon is ashley’s dad, daddy-daughter incest, age gap, threesome, implied/referenced cheating, reader has a pussy, 1 tiny reference to an eating disorder, creampie, daddy kink, dub-con, reader gets cucked sort of, ex-president leon :3

notes. was gonna name this nouveau roturier like newly rich but thought I was soooo funny for making a designer brand pun and I’m not even french so it’s probably wrong like but idc omg I’m sorry!!! the timeline of this is fucked like idk but leon is old in this 50+ i’d say :3 i adore ashley with all my heart and she’s one of my faves but i totally bimbofied her in this fic so excuse that 😭 no pronouns are used but reader wears dresses/skirts and is shorter than ashley and leon calls them wife once, leon is ooc againnnnn I promise next time he will be getting pegged.. I am not happy w the smut in this bc it’s oddly put together but whatever not proofread ignore typos

You’re a social climber. Admittedly so. The minute you see Ashley, kitten heels clicking on the marble floor, shiny blonde bob, cat-eye sunglasses - you need her. Whether it be as friends or lovers, you need her. Her dad spent two terms in office a few years back, the name alone was enough to get people to vote for him, President Kennedy has a nice ring to it. Been tried out once, so why not again? He was super cute at the time too. Well dressed, soft-spoken, and Italian-American, but not Italian enough to make the general public go into a frenzy about how some foreigner snuck his way to the top. C’mon, look at those baby blues, that’s an American man born and bred. You wanna do the whole Happy Birthday Mr. President shit with him, bastardised JFK and Marilyn.

Ashley is easy, the sorority girls flock to her, use her till they get what they want. All it takes is some shiny shoes, a flashy handbag, and a pearly smile to get her attention. You go the extra mile, manage to snag a Miu Miu chino miniskirt after hours of bidding to match hers, put on some knee-high socks and loafers, saunter into class and sit right in front of her. Pull out your very authentic and vintage Vivienne Westwood pouch that you use as a pencil case, make sure she gets a good look at it.

She approaches you after class, flutters her fingers at you and asks you to wait up. “I love your bag,” she gushes, “I’m Ashley, sorry, I didn’t catch your name today.” Her bangs are clipped away from her face today with a crystal-embellished pin, matching the pendant that sits nestled in her cleavage.

You tell her your name, smile at her just as wide, tell her you’ve seen that cardigan in the Blugirl fall 2004 runway. She says it’s a replica, couldn’t get her hands on the exact one, but her daddy did manage to get her the bag straight off the model. Albeit a little busted from all the years of use. She’s too open, so willing to spill all her secrets to the first person she deems trustworthy.

It takes approximately three weeks before the two of you are thick as thieves. You feel like you’ve known her all your life. Ashley invites you over to her gilded cage in no time, located in the very back of a gated neighbourhood where all the old money is. Colonial mansions, lion statues, perfectly trimmed hedges, something out of the Stepford Wives. Gives you the creeps.

“Daddy’s home, but mom’s on vacation,” Ashley loops her arm in yours, greets the man who opens the door for both of you . He nods at her. “He’s probably in his office though, so he won’t bother us.”

The family portrait on the wall is too much. Isn’t that some mediaeval shit? Ashley looks like her mother, you note. Just kinder. She can never help the smile that reaches her eyes. Her mom’s a total bombshell, heels that make her taller than Mr. Kennedy, all tits and not much else. You always thought wealthy guys liked them small.

Her room is what you expect from Ashley. Tidy, shelves upon shelves of squeaky clean shoes, a handbag variant in fifteen different colours. Walk-in wardrobe that’s entirely colour-coded and sorted by brand. It’s a wannabe nepo baby’s personal heaven. The thing all your dreams are made of.

“Ash, this is crazy,” you find yourself opening drawers and cupboards, doing the complete opposite of what your parents taught you. Totally invading her privacy by playing dress up in her closet, and yet, Ashley doesn’t mind one bit. She lets you try on a Shushu/Tong dress, one that was tailored to fit her just right, so it’s slightly tight in the bust for you. A little too loose on the waist, she’s taller after all. Fatter ass too. Got that from her dad, you’ve seen how those slacks stretch uncomfortably far around his thighs. “It’s like a department store.” You wonder if she’s ever been in one. Probably not.

“I guess so,” Ashley giggles, helping you out of the dress with ease. “I’m glad I met you.” She wears her heart on her sleeve, can never lie to you, has to say it right there and then. “People are so mean to me ‘cause I have a lot.” Poor little rich girl.

“They’re just jealous, Ash,” you say breezily, fixing your hair in her full-length mirror. Framed by lights and everything. “It’s not your fault you’re rich, babes.”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying!” Ashley tosses her arms in the air, “like, it’s not my fault, I was just born into it.”

“Exactly, you didn’t ask for it.” You coo, cupping her soft cheeks in your hands. God, you’d kill for China doll skin like this. Some people really do have it all.

“You just get it,” she sighs, bats her mascara-coated lashes down at you, “I love you like so much.”

“Aw,” you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, she doesn’t complain when your lip gloss stains it, “I love you, like, even more, Ash.”

Sleeping at Ashley’s becomes a frequent thing. Anytime she asks, you agree. What’s better than free food, a big comfy princess bed, mani-pedis, and a pretty blonde by your side? Literally nothing tops that. You’d do anything to leave your dorm, your roommate smokes too much and never airs the place out.

You’ve never seen her dad despite spending all this time over at hers. A second home by now. All the staff know you by name. Bow their heads and greet you like they do Ashley. It gives you a real rush. Don’t even need that pat-down security check outside the gates anymore. Dude just lets you straight in.

At the dining table is where you meet him for the first time. You and Ashley, in matching slips, hers minty green and yours baby pink, sit chatting away and picking at your breakfast the way rich people do. ‘Cause god forbid you actually eat, Ashley said her mom was bulimic in winter and simply starved in spring. Anorexia is totally in this season.

“Daddy!” Ashley’s off her feet throwing herself at him the moment he steps into the room. He catches her easily, and it really is heartfelt, till they kiss. On the lips. Like. Tongue and all, spit dripping down Ashley’s chin kinda kiss. It takes you off guard, you choke on the shredded cucumber you put in your mouth, serves you right for trying to eat. No fucking way. Her hand dips low between their bodies, did she just grab his fucking balls? A ball grab is sacred. No way this is real. Oh my god. Jesus Christ, lord and saviour, this is what you get for making friends with rich girls. You’d rather the family secret be murder, not incest.

“Hi, my princess,” he coos, whispers something in her ear and winks, Ashley giggles and slaps his chest. Ew. You need to get out of this place, stat. “Who’s this, Ash?” Mr. Kennedy straightens up when he sees you, face goes stern, makes him look older. You used to find him so dreamy. Face like an 80s pornstar.

“Oh, daddy, I told you already,” she says your name and it must ring a bell ‘cause he nods his head slowly in recognition, “We’re going shopping soon, so I’ll see you later, daddy.” Ashley wraps her arms around his neck, god, you’re going to throw up a breakfast that you didn’t even eat.

They kiss and it’s even worse than last time. His hands go from her waist to her round ass, gives it a squeeze and Ashley squeals in delight. “I love you daddy.” She chirps.

“Love you too, princess,” he takes his freshly brewed coffee from the counter and leaves like he didn’t just traumatise you. Like you don’t need years of intensive therapy to get over what you just saw. No wonder her mom is still on vacation.

you: i need cbt

claire: cock n ball torture?? why??

you: ?? BITCH?

you: need to get out of here like asap

claire: told u they r part of a cult !!!

claire: illuminati

you: worse i’ll tell u when i escape

claire: send me ur will :(

“Isn’t he so sweet?” Ashley giggles as she sits back down beside you. “Daddy can drive us to the mall today, he said he’s free.”

It hurts to smile. “Oh, Ash, he’s so busy, he totally doesn’t have to!” Your voice is strained, but she doesn’t notice. “I don’t mind walking either.”

“No, it’s okay, it’ll be fun!”

It is not fun. It’s the farthest from fun actually. ‘Cause all you can see is them kissing. The scene keeps replaying in your head anytime Mr. Kennedy speaks. A man you’d once found so handsome, all suave and suited up, kissing his daughter on the mouth. Just as weird as every other politician. Worse maybe. Biden don’t get down and dirty with his daughter.

He doesn’t pay much attention to you, meets your eye in the rear-view mirror a few times, and that’s it. Daddy doesn’t like you, huh? Whatever. Ugly freak. Ashley and her mom are too pretty for this guy. Poor Ash, does she even know that it isn’t normal to kiss your dad? The thought is making you nauseous.

“Wait, can I get out here?” You blurt it out after thinking too hard. Ashley blinks at you in surprise. “I feel a little sick.” You admit.

“Oh em gee, are you, like, okay?” She covers her mouth with a dainty hand, light brows bunched up in worry, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’re kinda clammy, oh my gosh.”

“Yeah,” you smile at her weakly, “must be what’s going around college.”

“Daddy can drop you home,” Ashley insists, but you’d rather not let her see the state of your dorm building. The university does nothing to make it look pretty. Crumbling, old-fashioned brickwork, moss stuck to every inch of it. “He doesn’t mind.”

“No, I think the fresh air would be good for me, Ash,” you pat her shoulder, Mr. Kennedy pulls up near the curb, doesn’t spare you a second glance.

“Only if you’re sure…” She chews on her bottom lip, slender fingers intertwined with yours. Clingy. Ashley doesn’t want to let go.

“I’m sure,” you kiss her hand, “I’m sorry for cutting it short, Ash, we can go when I’m better, alright?” You tell her as you get out, she’s about to roll down the window and speak, but daddy drives off the second you shut the door. Fucking asshole.

Straight to Claire’s it is.

“I don’t believe you,” Claire laughs in your face when you recount your distressing morning. “You could've told me anything and I would believe it, but I do not think Leon S. Kennedy fucks his daughter on the low.”

“Claire, I’m serious,” you dig your acrylics into her arm, stomp your feet, “I fucking saw it, she grabbed his balls, like, like, she fuckin’ groped him!”

“Right,” Claire rolls her eyes, “Jill doesn’t even grab my balls ‘n we’ve been together since forever.”

“You don’t have balls to grab, bitch,” you’re shaky when you take the drink she offers, breaking out in a cold sweat when you think about it too hard. “Fuck, Claire,” you whine, “I thought you did journalism, can’t you like, tell someone? New York Times?”

“I’m in my second year of college, dude, I don’t think it works like that. No one’s gonna believe me when I say Kennedy kisses his kid.” Claire picks at her cuticles, she’s so over it already! Couldn’t this be her big break?

“Kissing your kid is fine, but not like that.” You keep grabbing and pinching her, trying to emphasise just how wretched it really was, but Claire tears herself free each time. “Like, that was porno shit, man.” To be fair, if Claire really did go to someone with your story, then wouldn’t they know it was you who leaked it? Then you’d be killed and it’d be framed as suicide, and so would Claire. Or a murder-suicide. They’d act like you were capable of such things. Claire might be, but you’re certainly not.

“Film it,” she shrugs, “then I’ll believe you.”

“No,” you shake your head, face grave, “Claire I couldn’t show you that, it would be too much, way too much.”

She laughs at you again, full belly laugh, pinches your cheek like you’re a toddler. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I think you’re just not used to it ‘cause you’re not close with your dad.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” You elbow her in the tit, “Even if I was close with my dad, I wouldn’t have my fucking tongue down his throat.”

“Suppose so.”

“Dude, if you had a dad would you be deepthroating his tongue?”

“I’m not deepthroating any guy,” Claire retorts, “Dad or not.”

“Okay, then what about Chris?”

“Gross!” She elbows you in the gut to get back at you, “Don’t even go there you fucking freak.”

“Claire, I’m like, you don’t get it, I’m fucking freaking out right now.” You can feel the tension headache building already. All the pressure is ready to pop. Is this how you die? Spontaneous combustion? In Claire’s apartment? All over the back wall that reminds you of how T.G.I Friday is decorated. Weird ass biker shit, old rock band posters. It’s ugly and this sucks. Who even listens to Guns ‘n Roses now? Axl Rose isn’t even cute and girly anymore.

“Dude, film it and I promise I’ll do something ‘bout it.” Claire holds out her pinky, you wrap your one around it. Deal. Some fucking friend she is.

Acting normal around Ashley is so hard. The hardest thing you’ve ever done. Harder than any exam, harder than any cock you’ve sucked. Just looking at her makes your tummy flip. Luckily, Mr. Ex-President ain’t around today, so you don’t have to worry about any ball fondling. No footage for Claire.

“My mom has that,” Ashley says offhandedly when you show her the Jean Paul Gaultier gown saved to your Pinterest board of needs. She’s filing her nails, popping her gum, having a good ol’ time like she hasn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb on you.

“Are you fucking serious, Ash?” You sit up in her bed, grab her by the shoulders, “I’m literally gonna throw up, can I see it?”

Ashley tilts her head to the side, and smiles cutely, “Of course you can, you can wear it if you want.” Holy shit. You’d kiss her on those gorgeous doll lips if she didn’t kiss her daddy with that mouth.

You knock her back into the bed when you hug her, “Ashley, I am literally going to take you home and put you on my shelf.”

“What?” She giggles again, “why?”

“Because you’re a fucking doll, babe, god, I could kiss you!” You could, but you won’t. Don’t really want Mr. Kennedy cooties.

Her mom’s wardrobe is significantly bigger than hers, there’s a single rack of suits that all look the same in the corner, obviously belonging to Mr. Kennedy. He gets a sad slither of space where he’s stashed a bunch of folded polos and slacks. That’s how it should be.

“I’m gonna shit myself, Ash,” you tell her when she pulls it out. There’s a fair amount of garments on the floor at this point, all costing more than you would if sold on the black market.

“Please don’t do that,” Ashley looks genuinely worried, she holds it to her figure so you can see the dress in all its glory. A lace bodice, sheer and naughty, delicate and subtle beading threaded into the patches of fabric. The skirt is sleek, sticks to the body like a second skin, but stiff like it’s unworn. Never been put to use. You’d be wearing this shit at every event no matter how small. Night out at the local bar? Yeah, you’re whipping out the Gaultier.

“It’s gorgeous,” you mumble, reaching out to touch it ever so softly like it could fall apart at any second, break apart like butterfly wings. “Are you sure I can put it on?” It sure looks good on Ashley, she’s lithe and slender in the way models tend to be.

“Duh, mom won’t notice anyway,” Ashley’s nimble fingers come to slip you out of your clothes, “it’ll fit,” she reassures you.

“Hi, beautiful,” you run your hands over the dress, it’s snug on the hips, loose on the bust. Opposite to how Ashley’s clothes fit. “Shit, Ash, I feel like I’m gonna pass out.” You can’t take your eyes off of it, the intricacies of the beadwork, the lace flora that stretches to your shape.

“You look so pretty,” Ashley fawns, “your tits look great.”

“Right?” You cup them, “I don’t even know how to thank you, Ash.”

She’s about to speak when the door to her mother’s dressing room clicks open. With his belt halfway undone, Mr. Kennedy enters, lips parting like he wants to say something. No god is on your side.

“Hi, daddy,” Ashley greets him with a kiss to the cheek today, thank fuck!

“Hi there, babydoll,” he rubs his cheek against hers, the roughness of his stubble making her cry out. “You playin’ dress up?” Good lord, get me out of here, you’re praying to whoever’s listening. The devil himself could answer and you’d take it.

“That tickles, daddy,” she clings to his arm, then nods at his question. “Mhm, doesn't it look pretty?”

Mr. Kennedy narrows his eyes at you. Alright, jeez, calm it, old man. You smile at him sheepishly, “Hi, Mr. Kennedy, sorry ‘bout this.”

“It’s alright,” he says coolly, “I’m sure it was Ashley’s idea.” He smiles at her fondly, eyes going soft and watery, he draws her in for a lip-smacking kiss.

It takes every morsel of your self-preservation to not cry out, run out screaming, take the dress with you and never come back. Move to Greenland. Meet some nice fellow and settle down with him. Are there hotties in Greenland? You stand there with a tight-lipped smile, bottom lip wobbling ‘cause your cheeks are starting to ache.

“It’s cute though, right, daddy?” Ashley’s lips are shiny with his spit as she makes her way back over to you. “Looks better than it does on mom.”

“Hm,” Mr. Kennedy raises a brow, looks you up and down. “Guess it does, Ash.”

“Will you help ‘em out of it, daddy?” Ashley asks innocently enough, she holds out her hand, “I don’t wanna break a nail if the zip gets stuck.”

“Sure, baby.” He agrees so easy ‘cause Ashley’s so sweet she gives you a cavity.

“No, it’s okay!” You turn your back away from him, reaching back to feel around for the dangling zipper, “I can do it myself, Mr Kennedy, there’s really no need.”

“I insist,” Mr. Kennedy steps forward, two strong hands on your hips and he spins you around to face the mirror. You feel his breath on your neck, the scent of his cologne wafts your way. Wearing so much you can taste it. It’s expensive of course.

You can’t stand him. Your knees go weak when his eyes catch yours in the mirror. Damn him for being so handsome. If he wasn’t such a freak, you’d do unspeakable things to him. Dip your tongue in his cleft chin, suck on his neck like a mosquito, grab his ass, his balls. Whatever he likes. He unzips it slowly on purpose. Or maybe it just feels extra long ‘cause this is so painfully awkward.

“It fits real nice,” Mr. Kennedy comments, his lips curl upwards, did he just pat your ass? Um, Ashley, hi, stop folding those clothes and control your dog of a father. “Wanted to be my wife or something, that’s why you put it on?”

“No, sir,” you say shakily, you’re so gonna vomit all over these cute heels.

“Might fit, but it don’t suit you,” the zip is open, you wrap your arm around your chest so you’re not left completely without dignity. “Low-class whores shouldn’t be playin’ house with my Ashley, alright?” He says it with a smile so blinding you almost thunk to the ground. Hold your horses, Kennedy, classism is so twenty years ago. “I know Ash likes you lots, but don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Oh shit. C’mon Mr. Kennedy, you called her a bimbo once. That’s a compliment these days. Then you called her ditsy, airheaded, and a plethora of other things. Did he have access to, like, all the weird shit you’ve said?

“I love Ash,” you do, you really do. There’s no one in this world sweeter than Ashley. “She’s sweet to me.” You’ve got cottonmouth. Can’t get much else out.

“Did you get it off, daddy?” Ashley peeks over his shoulder.

“Almost, baby,” he urges you to move your arm, “lemme hold ‘em up so you can take it off, sweetheart.”

In your dreams old man. Never in a million years will he get to hold your prize-winning tits. Organic and homegrown on the farm that is your body. Okay, never mind, he’s holding them. You’re shaking like crazy, fingers hooking in the fabric so you can wriggle out of the tight skirt.

“Daddy, you’re so sweet,” Ashley flutters her lashes at him, so enamoured by this ugly creep. Handsome creep you guess. With a nose you’d like to ride.

“I’m sweet, huh? Shouldn’t you give daddy a kiss then?” Are they seriously doing this when you’re standing there ass naked with your tits in his hands?

“I’ll give you lotsa kisses, daddy,” Ashley peppers kisses along his jaw, down his neck, okay, she’s getting on her knees. Strangling yourself with that Hermés scarf sounds good right now. “Down here too.” She better not be giving him that ball squeeze. Trademark Kennedy ball squeeze.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, sweetheart,” Leon clicks his tongue, Mr. Kennedy was getting old and long to say. Fuck you, Leon. “Eyes up here, yeah?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kennedy,” you mumble, hear the sound of a zipper. God, she’s really going to town. Sucking and slurping.

“Step out of it,” Leon instructs, you do so carefully, leaving the dress pooled beside your feet. “Keep those on, darling.” Oh, only if you insist, daddy. You were going to run home in these red bottoms no matter what. “Why don’t you get those lips movin’, yeah?”

What in the fuck does that mean? Does he want you to suck him off too? He does. Right. You can do this. You’ve sucked every dick on campus, what difference does his make? It might be a little more wrinkly, balls might be more saggy, but plenty of guys have fucked up sacs. When you get on your knees next to her, Ashley takes your hand, gives it a squeeze as she works the shaft. Seriously, is this bitch leaving you on ball duty?

“Oh, you look so much like mommy, babydoll,” Leon tips his head back, runs his fingers through her silky bob. Does she find that hot? Being compared to her mom? If a guy said that to you, he’d be buried in a parking lot somewhere. Ashley takes him to the hilt, her button nose buried in dark hair, her throat bulging with his cock, and she’s not even gagging. She’s got skill. You gag a hell of a lot. But most of the time guys find it hot, ‘cause they start thinking they’re real big, brag that you couldn’t even make it to the balls. Really, you’re just not much of a giver. They taste weird, the burn isn’t pleasant, you just don’t really do a lot of cocksucking. Never got the appeal.

You make a meal of it still. Try to take his fat balls into your mouth, one at a time ‘cause they’re much too big, too heavy. Shouldn’t they be drained by this point in life? He’s like fucking old. Ashley and her daddy have it all. Nice cock, fancy suits, big car. Men don’t need much else. By the time you’ve managed to fit a single one in your mouth, suckling and licking along the seam, leaving him spit-slicked, Ashley’s making him cum down her throat.

She pulls off with a slick pop, cum drooling from the tip of his heavy cock, she puts a hand on the back of your head, forces her fingers into your mouth and keeps your tongue out. You feel the velvety head of his cock, dripping his salty seed in your mouth, he’s uncut on the fat. Cute. You like ‘em uncut. They look better that way. Like they’ve got a jacket. As he pumps himself, the head peeks out past the foreskin, nudges the tip of your tongue till he’s all done.

Ashley kisses you, swapping her spit and his cum into your mouth. She tastes like her raspberry lip balm. And cum. Lots of cum. Is this some initiation into the presidential candidate cult? Count you out.

“C’mere, my good girl,” Leon helps Ashley up, brushes off her clothes, uses a handkerchief from his breast pocket to clean up her messy face. And what do you get? Nothing. Every man for themselves, bitch. The heels hinder you from succeeding, but you hold onto the cabinet and stand all on your own. Didn’t need daddy’s help.

“Daddy,” Ashley whines, “I’m all wet.” Can you leave now? You gave the blowjob, more of a balljob on your part, but still, is it cool if you just slip out the back door. Or do they want you here for all this sweet talk too?

“You’re all wet, babydoll? Don’t worry ‘bout it, daddy’s gonna make it all better.” Are you in a porno right now? Is this all a huge setup? Where are the cameras? Shit, right. Cameras. You were supposed to be filming. Too late now, Leon grabs you by the wrist. Plops down on the chaise lounge, Ashley on one knee and you on the other. He’s got you by the tit and Ashley by the waist. How charming. Really shows what he sees in you.

Ashley kicks off her panties with ease. When she slid out of that cashmere miniskirt is lost on you, and where’d her bra go? Leon cranes his neck towards her, puckers his lip for a kiss that she gives to him instantly. They kiss more than they fucking breathe. He nudges you off of his lap, manspreads so it’s harder for you to sit comfortably. Why he put you on his lap in the first place? You don’t know. Maybe just to piss you off.

His ringed fingers part her puffy pussy, pink just like her nipples. She’s slick and shiny for him, doesn’t take much work to open her up. You watch her hole flutter when he takes them out, clenching around thin air, Ashley’s greedy. Even you know that. She needs everything in excess. God. Her cunt’s just as pretty as her face. Clit and folds sticking out past her lips, all pink and wet, wanna bite down on it. Needy little pussy that’s begging to be filled. Leon pinches her bud, plucks her nipples with his free hand. Ashley jumps with each touch, her chest heaves, eyes lidded.

Leon shoves his fingers in your mouth, coated in her arousal, candied as you lick it all up, every single drop. Pussy sweet just like the rest of her. Like she’s been dipped in a pot of sticky honey. “Ain’t it just the prettiest?” Leon hums, grins at you wolfishly, “My little girl got a pretty little pussy.”

“Daddy, you’re so sweet to me,” Ashley coos, her lashes dusting over her cheeks as her eyes close, his thick fingers stretching her open.

“That’s ‘cause you’re daddy’s princess, aren’t you?” Leon’s dick is hard again, standing proud against his stomach. Calm it, old man. Isn’t going multiple rounds bad for his heart? Is he on viagra? You wouldn’t put it past him. “Daddy’s spoiled little girl.”

Ashley throws her legs over his lap, sits so she’s facing him, sinks down onto his fat cock with such ease you choke on your saliva. Oh, so she’s like a fucking whore. Who takes big dick that easy? Her pussy swallows up the widest part of his cock, the base, leaves him glistening with her slick.

“Look at that,” Leon flicks her perky nipple, “takin’ daddy so fuckin’ well. All grown up now, aren’t you, babydoll?” You really don’t know if you’re supposed to be here anymore.

“No…” Ashley‘s little hands stroke down his broad chest, her nose scrunched as she grinds down into him, “I’m still daddy’s baby.”

“You’re always gonna be daddy’s baby,” Leon melts beneath her, he stops her hips from moving. Aw, she might be too intense for the old man. That girl fucks like a bunny, you’re not surprised. “Go on, sit.” Is he talking to you? He is. You take your seat between his thighs. Why you’re listening to him is beyond you. Okay, so maybe it’s turning you on a little. Like got you sopping wet, panties see-through kinda turned on. Shit. Pussy always thinking for you. Head says one thing and next minute you know you’re on your knees ‘cause Mr. President says so.

There’s some rustling, Ashley giggling, then your face to face with her sloppy cunt speared on his cock. Oh, that’s nasty. What a nasty old man. Fucking her like that. Full Nelson is just disrespectful to a preppy little lady like Ashley. Personally, you’d take her from behind. Watch her ass jiggle.

He doesn’t need to tell you what to do. Your tongue works quicker than your brain, lapping at her swollen clit as he fucks up into her, sucking on his balls, swiping up whatever mess she leaves behind on his dick. You’ve got a hand between your legs, grinding your clit into your fingers in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Ashley squeals, her toes curling as you latch onto her clit, you’re rewarded with a gush of her cum. Splashes your chin, dribbles down your neck, wetting your tits.

“Was that good, babydoll?” Leon hums low in her ear, teeth pulling at her pierced lobe. “Enough for you?”

“Yes, daddy,” Ashley yelps as your nose bumps her clit, tongue still working to clean her up, but it’s inevitable, each thrust of his cock gets her creamy again.

“Yeah? Baby’s all done?” Leon’s cock twitches inside of her, then he dumps his load in his kid. Stuffs his princess with her daddy’s cum. Pats her belly and cradles her as you sit on the ground dumbfounded.

“Gimme a minute ‘n we can go again, daddy,” Ashley yawns, letting him pamper her, head twisting so she can see you, a dopey smile plastered on her face.

“I’m gettin’ old, princess,” he chuckles, “don’t know if I can keep up with you.”

“Course you can, daddy,” Ashley strokes his prickly cheek, “you gotta take both of us this time, promise?”

Sorry Claire, looks like you’re not making your big break in the journalism scene anytime soon. Not like she deserves it anyway. Stupid bitch didn’t even believe you. Well, if he puts his dick in you and calls you his baby, you might let it go. Might ask Ashley if this can become a regular thing.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 4: It's My Party and I'll Eat Cake If I Want To

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter four of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect.  If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist for Series

Masterlist

************************

Philadelphia 1935

"Stop fidgeting." Your mother snaps under her breath as you pull at the high collar of the monstrosity covering your body. Not one inch of skin is visible, the high collar, long sleeves, and knee-length skirt hid every shred of your body from view. It made you feel like you were drowning in chiffon all the while being choked to death.

"But mother it's itchy-"

"I don't care." She snarls, lip curling back. "It makes you look presentable and you need to focus on greeting your guests."

You sigh and look back over the groups of people that flood through the front doors of your home and into the living room. Waiters in sharp uniforms weave through the crowd with trays of appetizers, glasses of wine and champagne, and slices of birthday cake. Most of the guests were friends of your parents, and had begun flocking to the wet bar in the corner that your mother set up. Your brother and his new wife were standing in the corner of your large sitting room surrounded by groups of their friends.

Your sister-in-law smiles as she catches your eye. She was one of the nicest people you knew, perfectly matched with your older brother, who looked at her like she was his entire world. They had only courted for a month before they both realized it was love and against your parent's insistences for them to wait, had been married. But they were so blissfully happy together that it made your heart ache for the same.

You wondered if there would ever be a day that Ben looked at you that way.

"Good evening Mrs. y/l/n." Howard appears in the doorway, reaching out to kiss your mother's hand. He's wearing the same sand-colored suit as he was earlier in the park.

"Mr. Stine. Lovely to see you this evening." She curtsies graciously and glares at you to do the same. "We are happy you could make it tonight."

"I was honored to receive an invitation." His eyes drift to you. "Ms. y/l/n." He takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. His hand is clammy and you try not to make a face.

Ben still hadn't shown up. Which meant that he was either out drinking and he forgot, fighting with his father again, or he was waiting to make his grand entrance.

You really hoped that he hadn't forgotten. When he dropped you off at your home a few hours prior to the party, he said something about going to get a drink and changing. What you'd wanted to say was, didn't you have enough earlier, but you didn't.

The few hours before the party had been harrowing, filled with your mother snapping at you whenever you complained about her pulling the corset too tight, jerking your hair, or rubbing the lotions and ointments into your skin too roughly.

"Would you like to dance?" Howard asks you with a smile.

"Um-" You begin to say.

"Of course she would!" Your mother says all but shoving you forward into Howard's arms.

He leads you away to the sitting room. Your mother had the staff clear out all the furniture to make room for a string band in the corner and a dance-floor. There were already a few couples swaying back and forth to the soft tones that flitted through the air on wings.

Howard pulls you against him awkwardly, one of his hands tightening on your waist, the other clasping your left hand  in his sweaty right. Everything about dancing with him feels wrong. The way your bodies move together, the smell of his cologne is unfamiliar, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and the way his feet sporadically knock into yours, that are pinched tight in a pair of heels that make you taller than Howard. The dance you share is filled with silences that you can't avoid.

Silence.

"You look really nice." Howard tries.

"Thank you."

Silence.

"So, um- you like to paint." Howard says with a strained smile.

"I do."

Silence.

"Did you see President Roosevelt's plans for the Social Security Administration? I think that it will definitely help with taxation and the living situations in America!" Howard smiles.

"Um. No I didn't."

Silence.

It shouldn't be this hard to talk to other people. You think to yourself. When you and Ben talked, there were never any uncomfortable silences, if anything sometimes the silence was nice. The one between Howard and you felt like it was big enough for an oil tanker to pass through.

You heard a commotion at the front door and raise your eyes to look over Howard's head, and feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. Ben is standing there, his arm looped tightly with Missy Callahan.

Missy was your best friend in grade school, but you quickly realized that it wasn't your friendship she was interested in, it was Ben. And as soon as Ben realized that she was interested in him, he all but jumped at the chance. Ben and her spent time together on and off over the past few years since the three of you were thirteen. And as much as you wished that they wouldn't spend any time together, you couldn’t come up with a way to voice your displeasure to Ben without telling him that you loved him.

You tried not to compare the way she looked to you. Her beautiful blonde hair fell in effortless waves down her back, her figure was slim, her eyes an enchanting blue that captured anyone under her gaze, and her steps so graceful she seemed to float across the ground rather than walk. Her voice was musical and lofty, accentuated by her timeless features, perfect cupid bow mouth, and wide eyes that always seemed full of stars and innocence. Tonight she was wearing a sleek red dress that cupped her body in a way that made everyone else in the room look like they were wearing potato sacks.

Of course you knew she was more than innocent. You'd caught her on several occasions saying terrible things about you, but the feeling was mutual. Her snide comments about how you looked and what you wore used to hurt more than they did now. But when Ben was around, she was perfectly kind to you, overly sweet that it made you want to choke her out of frustration.

You watch the two of them come through the front door, and notice Ben's eyes survey the room. You fight the urge to duck and run to hide the horrible dress. You know that he's looking for you and deep down you hope also he doesn't see you with Howard. But at the same time you know that what you’re about to do is much worse.

"Howard." You force yourself smile at him, dropping your eyes to the man dancing with you.

"Yeah?"

"Will you twirl me?" You lean towards him as if he's everything you wanted. Deep down you feel like a terrible person for using him like this, but you didn't want to be lonely. And when Ben was with Missy, that's exactly how you felt, lonely.

"Of course." Howard's smile breaks your heart. He twirls you away, and as he does, you catch Ben's eyes momentarily. You see something flit through them that you notice is the same emotion he had earlier when your mother wrapped that coat over your shoulders earlier, but it's gone as soon as it appears.

When you land back against Howard's chest, you ignore how wrong he fits against you, and instead you giggle.

"So Howard, what do you like to do in your free time?" You ask him, ignoring the feeling of Ben's gaze on you.

"Well, I've been researching the steel industry and trying to predict how it will bounce back-" Howard begins to slip quickly into a monologue about the United States steel production and the possible growth in the coming years.

Oh boy. He continues to speak while you sway to the music and you immediately begin to regret everything you've done in the past few minutes. At least he can multi-task.

You hoped that Ben and Missy weren't still standing there watching you, if they were Missy was probably laughing at you.

Finally, Howard stops talking and leads you over to the living room where people have begun to clump up and talk with one another. A waiter walks over with a tray full of birthday cake and just as you reach for a slice Missy materializes on your right like the devil on your shoulder.

"Y/n!" She smiles wide, saying your name with fake cheer. "I had no idea you would be here!"

"It's my birthday party." You say, voice slipping into a monotone.

"Oh well Benjamin didn't say anything about why we were coming here. Just said party and well, here I am." You hate the way she says his name, like she's emphasizing the fact she has him and you don't. "What an interesting dress!" Her eyes skate down the abomination your mother picked out.

"Thanks." You reply through gritted teeth.

She leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Do you really think birthday cake is a good idea?"

Your cheeks blaze bright red and just as you open your mouth to tell her exactly where you’d like to shove the birthday cake, Ben appears beside her.

"Hey."

"Hi." You don't bother to make your voice cheery.

When I sent you a birthday invitation I didn't say you could bring a plus one, and especially not this bitch. You try to say with your eyes.

"Did you have a nice dance Howie?" Ben turns his eyes on Howard, who stiffens at the use of the nickname.

"Yes we did." You answer for him and take Howard’s hand.

Something flashes in Ben's eyes when you use the word "we."

"Oh Benjamin, I love this song! Let's dance." Missy says, grabbing Ben's wrist and pulling him away.

You stand there and watch them dance for a moment, noticing how closely they're pressed together, how Ben's grip on her waist tightens as they sway back and forth, how Missy's head rests against the smooth fabric of his black jacket. An irrational amount of jealousy crashes over you as you watch them dance together, but you can't look away. It's like a trainwreck.

Well, couldn't look away until Missy catches your eye and shoots you a smirk that makes you consider all the places in Philadelphia you can hide a body. The list is detailed and quite long, considering you'd been working on it for as long as you'd known Ben.

"Y/n?" Howard says.

"Hmm?" You turn to look at him. "Sorry I was-" Thinking about all the ways to kill Missy. "Lost in thought."

"I asked if you wanted a piece of cake." Howard smiles and you hate that you feel absolutely nothing when he does. There's no butterflies, no tightening in the center of your chest, no warmth tracing through your body like fingertips flaring against your skin. You hated that's what happened when Ben smiled at you.

You think about what Missy said about the birthday cake, looking once more at her statuesque figure that bends gracefully away from Ben as he dips her, and shove the thought away. "Sure."

**************************

You sit on the end of your bed, but you don't reach for your sketchpad, you were too angry for that.

Ben had barely said two words to you beside the hello that you shared when he came to your birthday party with the most odious girl alive, of course that didn't mean that you lost them in the crowds of people. And that also meant that you'd seen him and her making out in one of the dark corners of the living room.

Anger, frustration, and jealousy swirl together and congeal into a ball in the pit of your stomach. You were angry at Ben for bringing her, jealous of Missy that she was the one who got to be with Ben, and frustrated at yourself for your inability to tell Ben the truth.

Why can't tell him? You sigh. And then what? I tell him and he immediately cuts me out of his life? Your eyes trace the room around you and fall back on your bed. Your bedroom always seemed too big without him, the bed cold, and the  room dark. It made the whole in your heart open up when he wasn't there.

You hated how much you needed him and how much you depended on Ben showing up in your life. You wondered if he needed you too.

The memory of him and Missy in the corner, with his hands on her hips and his lips fused to hers, darts across your mind and makes you pluck a pillow from the head of your bed and scream into it.

It doesn't help.

"Hard day?" Someone asks.

"What are you doing here Ben?" You sigh, not needing to look up to know that its him.

He's standing with his feet on your window seat as he comes in from the ledge.

"Thought I'd stop by. We didn't get to talk much at the party." He shrugs.

You try not to look at how his lips are a little pinker than usual and how his hair is sticking up in the back like someone has run their fingers through it.

Damn Missy.

"Well I noticed you were plenty occupied. I guess it's hard to talk with your tongue shoved down Missy's throat." You huff, practically kicking off your shoes. It's a miracle that they don't hit him when he climbs down from the widow seat.

The image of him and Missy Callahan in the corner of your living room kissing flashes over your mind again and makes your temper flare red hot against your skin. The jealousy that electrifies in your veins you know is unwarranted. Ben wasn't yours. You didn't have a claim to him just because you were friends. Just friends. Great friends. And you knew that he didn't feel that way about you.

But how can he not see me as more? How can he spend so much time with me and only see me as a friend? You wanted to scream. All those times falling asleep talking with one another, all the times we woke up in the early morning pressed against one another. How can Ben not want to be more?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous Doll." Ben smirks.

"Of what? Missy Callahan? Please-" You blow a raspberry, even though it's unladylike and you know that if your mother was there she would slap you for doing so. "I don't know what you see in that vapid self-centered debutante. I doubt the two of you can find anything to talk about-"

"Well we don't do much talking. And you and Howard looked plenty cozy together." Ben's smirk turns more into a taunt and this time it makes you want to slap your best friend, but you hold yourself back. "But you sure sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" You snap, tugging at the collar of your dress in frustration, both at Ben and at the material in your hands. "Damn it!" You curse, not at Ben, but continue tug at the collar of the dress. Despite wanting to take it off, you hadn't been able to do it by yourself and your mother was busy ordering the waiters downstairs clean up, and it was getting harder to breathe and not to mention terribly hot.

"You doing okay there sweetheart?" Ben's smirk shifts to a worried expression.

"No I can't breathe." You choke out.

Ben immediately steps forward before you can stop him and unzips the back of your dress. It pools at your feet, making your breath catch, leaving you in the tight white corset that was causing you to asphyxiate. Although it went to your knees you still felt almost naked. Ben had only seen you in nightgowns, but it didn't mean that he hadn't felt your curves pressed against him in the morning when you woke up together.

The corset your mother insisted was necessary to shave down your hips, flatten your butt, and squeeze your breasts so tight against your chest that each time you took in a breath you weren't able to expel it.

Ben doesn't look away from your face, but it looks as if it's causing an amazing amount of effort for him to do so. "Do you want me to loosen it?" He rumbles. His jaw clenches with his words, and a darkness blooms in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine.

"Yes." Your voice comes out more like a squeak than anything else.

Ben turns you in his arms slowly as if gauging your reaction, before you feel his fingertips trail down your spine as he begins to loosen the ties on the back. The tingle that follows his fingertips makes your chest as tight as the garment that squeezes you. You try not to think about how many times you imagined this exact scenario, with you and Ben in your bedroom together. Ben turns your body around so that you're looking up at him again, your faces so close that his lips are leveled directly where your hair sprouts from your forehead.

His hands remain on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the material where it rests on your hips, tracing the crest of your pelvis with each stroke, his eyes lock with yours. They are deep and dark and filled with promises that makes you shiver and you're sure he feels. Your own hands have come up between you to rest against his solid chest, admiring the muscle beneath his dark suit. You can't help but notice how he leans forward into your touch as you do and feel the rapid beat of his heart against the palms of your hands. It mirrors your own that feels as though it will break free and flutter away.

"Ben I-" You begin to say.

A loud knocking at your door makes you shove him backwards away from you so hard that Ben stumbles, tripping over the edge of your bed and onto the ground with a loud thud that you try to cover with a cough.

"Who is it?" You ask, voice frantic.

"It's your father."

Your wide eyes lock with Ben's, who doesn't look nearly afraid enough. "Get under the bed-" You whisper-yell.

"I love it when you order me around." Ben smirks as your cheeks flush and his eyes trace your figure one more time in a way that makes you burn.

"Ben!" You hiss.

He crawls under the bed and you grab your bathrobe, wrapping it around yourself before saying "Come in."

Your father enters, a glass of scotch clasped in his hand. His black suit is impeccable, perfectly tailored to him, as it should be, he was, after all, one of the most powerful men in Philadelphia.

His gaze sweeps the room for a moment as if looking for someone, tracing over your bed once, and you think you see the end of his lip quirk for a minute, but then it fades.

"Hi." You smile at him, your cheeks still flushed, heart beat pounding against your ribcage.

Don't look under the bed. Don't look under the bed. Don't look under the bed.

"I apologize for the intrusion, I just wanted to say goodnight." He crosses the room to hug you with one arm. You can smell the tobacco from his nightly smoke on his jacket. You and your father had always been a bit closer than you and your mother. Especially when you were younger and you'd sit in the parlor at his feet watching him smoke his pipe before bed. Over the past few years you hadn't been able to spend as much time together, and it made you sad to think that you were growing apart from him.

"Did you have a good birthday?"  He pushes back some of the hair that's fallen into your face with a warm smile.

"Yes I did. Ben got me some new brushes and I got to try them out today when we went to the park."

"That was nice of him." Your father smiles for a minute before he takes a sip from his scotch. "I saw you dancing with Howard Stine."

"Yeah. He's…" Boring. "Nice."

"Hmm." Your father nods. "He's from a good family. Your mother certainly thinks that he's suitable-" He pauses. "But I'm not sure he's right for you."

"It was just a dance. I don't think that makes anything official." You laugh.

Please let my future not end with Howard Stine.

Your father shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of his scotch. "Your mother and I started with just a dance." The look in his eyes changes for a moment and you wonder if he's reliving the memory of them together. It was moments like this when you saw how much your father loved your mother. It was difficult for you to understand given everything that she'd said to you over the years, but it brought you joy that your father was happy. He shakes his head as if pushing it away. "You always seem happier after you've spent time with Benjamin."

Your cheeks flush bright red, knowing that Ben can hear the conversation. "We're just friends."

"Perhaps." His lips twitch. "So you did have fun at the park? Any new paintings?"

"A few."

"May I see?"

Usually you liked when your father looked at your work, but the thought that Ben was hiding under your bed and could be discovered at any minute, set you on edge.

"Sure." You walk around the bed to get your watercolor pad on your bedside table, before holding it out over the bed for your father. And just as he takes it, Ben's large hand fastens around your ankle. You clear your throat, kicking your foot to get him to let go, but he doesn't release it  and you can hear his muffled laugh.

"These are quite something." He flips through the pages, finally stopping on the one of Ben from this morning. "I can't believe he sat still long enough for you to paint him."

"Ben is difficult. ALL the time." You grit out, kicking with your foot again, but he doesn't let go. "And annoying." You grumble low enough for only Ben to hear.

"Yes. I believe that."  Your father hands you back the pad of paper. "But he certainly makes you happy, and that's all I want for you."

"Dad-"

He smiles, but shakes his head at you. "Goodnight darling." Your father turns to walk towards the door before he stops. "Your mother will be coming upstairs in a few minutes, perhaps Ben should not be here when she does." And then he leaves.

Your entire body flushes bright red with embarrassment. HOW DID HE KNOW THAT BEN WAS HERE?

Ben crawls out from under your bed holding back laughter.

"It's not funny!" You snap.

"Kinda funny." He smiles. "Do you think he's going to tell your mom?"

"No. I mean I hope not. I think if he does, she'd nail the window shut and cut the tree down." You stand there for a second. "But you should go if she's coming."

"I could hide in the closet this time, see if she can find me?" Ben jokes.

"It's not hide and go seek or Marco Polo!"

Ben laughs at you, before his expression turns serious. "Are you sure you want me to go?" You know that he's asking you that because he knows that no matter what your mother wants to speak to you about will not end well.

"I'm fine Ben. Go. It'll be okay." You smile despite your rising nerves.

"Okay."

He stands there for another beat, eyes dropping to your robe, and for a second you believe that he's thinking about how you looked a minute ago. Your cheeks flush at the memory, feeling his hands trace your spine to loosen the corset, and then how they felt on your waist. What would have happened if my father didn't come in?

"I'll see you tomorrow. I still have five days of freedom before boarding school number seven and I'd like to spend at least one at a baseball game." He finally says.

"Sounds boring."

"I can always take Missy." He replies smugly.

"And by boring I mean it sounds like everything I've ever wanted." You force a smile.

"That's what I thought."

But before he leaves, he pulls you into a hug.

"Goodnight y/n. Happy Birthday."

"Goodnight Ben." You say into his shoulder.

And then he vanishes out your window without another word, leaving you with the memory of what almost happened, and the rising dread that your mother was going to come in at any minute.

*********************

Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Also, everyone say thank you to @deans-spinster-witch for giving me an idea for this chapter! ❤️

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch

[friendofweasleys]

This is going to be hurtful to some Dramione shippers. But here we go…

I think people are just forgetting about the part how Hermione would not date Draco. The reasons she would not date him. How hermione really is and if you really ship her with death eaters how you never really read books and understood her character.If she even looks at Draco in a romantic way, she is OOC.

Same with Ron, you think ron would cheat on hermione? Really? Ron Weasley? And you really think Ron abusing her? She sent a flock of birds and they pecked his skin off of him, even then he did not attack back. That’s how Ron is he did not and would not hurt hermione in anyway possible.

But if I open A03 now and click on the tag Draco/hermione. There would be in altleast be 8 out of 10 bashing of Ron or them having sex with each other.

This what dramione ship is really is: Horny Hermione fucking Draco, Draco raping hermione, Ron Weasley bashing in anyway, or Ron Weasley is dead. That’s the whole romantic plot of Dramione.

And they call Romione shippers toxic for defending the character. Most of the Romione shippers would not mind Dramione, if it did not include Ron bashing.

[praise-bakarath]

Hello, my name is Buddy Dawn, and welcome unto my worship blog! I have been told by my new familiar that this is a good place to start a flock. I am also newly a pantheon worshipper, so I worship two gods!

The first is our lord and savior Helio! He needs no introduction. The second is a new god, Bakarath! He is the god of wrath, fire, and retribution! He looks like little block letters saying “NO!” and he lives in my backpack :)

I think that’s it…oh, wait! My friend Ruben texted me earlier saying I need to put my pronouns on here? I do not know what those are, but he and Ivy said mine are he/him. Thank you for your time! Oh, and if you know my grandpa, please do not show him this blog.

————————

OOC

Hey! I’m the person running this blog, you can call me Simon. My pronouns are he/they, I’m gay and ace. I became obsessed with the Rat Grinders, particularly Kipperlilly and Buddy. Was kind of devastated that TRG and especially Buddy were a bit of an after thought in the epilogue, so I have made an RP blog about Buddy, Kalina, and Bakarath’s adventures in Elmville post-Ragenerok. This blog will most definitely end up with Durdawn, so if you hate that ship…sorry I guess? And apologies in advance for any typos in posts, I have some nerve damage that makes it hard to type without mistakes, and I don’t always catch every typo when double checking for them. I also run @the-shadowcat, which is Kalina's blog.

Rules:no graphic NSFW please, though light is fine. Let people headcanon what they want to, it’s not harming you if someone headcanons a character as autistic, I promise. And above all, just don’t be a dick, please.

This blog was inspired by @quokkipetenjoyer and @klck4pres. They are both super fucking cool and you should go follow them!

[fuel-me-coffee]

Tea break and butterflies

((Screwllum x Reader, Fluff, CW: probably ooc, implications of reader having accidentally consumed hazardous liquids in the past))

The floral aroma of brewing tea filled the air around you as you sat at a small round table in a garden house with your lover. Your attention was drawn away by the flock of vibrant yellow-cyan butterflies floating around the two of you as the man poured the drinks: a cup of lavender black tea for you and some motor oil for himself. As he finished pouring the drinks, he slid your cup in your direction before you got a chance to grab it yourself, the incident from last time where you almost ended up chugging a cup worth of oil still inscribed clearly in his memory. You smile softly at the gesture as you pick up the cup, Screwllum mirroring your actions, albeit replacing the smile with a small nod. As you sip your tea, he asks:

"Have these butterflies caught your attention?"

"Yes, they're quite beautiful!"–the excited notes in your voice are like a beautiful melody to Screwllum's ears. If he had the capability for physical sensations, he sure it would be making him feel fuzzy all over, – "the color of their wings is so bright compared to other types I've seen before,"–you put a finger on your chin as you squinted slightly at a nearby butterfly: "Hmm, they look kind of like your eyes."

"Do they? How so?"

"Yes, the tips of their wings, see?"–at this moment one of the butterflies landed on your finger, and you took the opportunity to bring it closer to Screwllum's eye level.

"It indeed appears so. Ergo, I must remark you have exceptional pattern-spotting skills, y/n."–he replied after a momentary observation of the subject presented to him.

Your grin grew wider. How could you not smile after receiving a compliment from one of the greatest minds of the genius society, who on top of that was also your lovely partner?

"Allow me to present an observation of my own,"–Screwllum proposed, setting down the butterfly atop your head, it merely lazily clapping it's wings during the process.

"Go on"–your curiosity was piqued.

"These butterflies are quite beautiful and gentle in their nature, quite alike yourself. Affirmative: I think it would be suitable to call you "butterfly", too."

Screwllum looked on as a gear turned in your head, cup suspended mid-air with your hands. Eventually your face flushed as the meaning behind the genius's words fully sunk into your brain. He let out a small chuckle as you scrambled for a response to the flattering words that spilled out of his mouth oh so naturally, the lights of his eyes flickering in sync with his voice.

[nanaminokanojo]

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 48

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 48 next>>

A/N: Contains prose with panels in between. Mind the order.

"Don't you have anything to review for?" you asked Sukuna who was walking beside you on your way to the library. You were surprised to see him after your class, leaning against the wall and pushing himself off it the moment he saw you. He was sporting that usual smirk as he threw his jacket over his shoulder.

“I do my reading at my own time.” He walked beside you. “Mind if I tag along with you?”

“I’m going to the library. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Your call.”

Your exams were coming and you had every plan to get in as much studying as you could on your breaks when you weren't hanging out with him and his friends. It was unexpected how your schedules seemed to have shifted from just minding your studies and your engagements with charities to adding socializing and actually investing time to be with them. You didn't regret a single thing about it, thankful that you've met them and they wanted you around just for the very purpose of having fun. It was good to have friends for once.

He glanced at you. "Getting sick of me now?"

"That's not what I meant." Your steps faltered, panicking for a second, but you calmed down when you saw how he was suppressing a snicker. You pouted at him. "I should be asking you that. You're the one being inconvenienced."

"No and no. Not in a million years." He slung an arm over your shoulder. "I wouldn't even be here if I didn't want to be."

Just as quickly as he had put his arm around you, he let go when this crowd of girls suddenly flocked around him like crows to a piece of meat. You immediately stood aside, immediately reading into whom they were after, smirking at his direction when you saw the helpless look on his face. 

"Sukuna, you haven't been showing up at parties," one of the girls said, latching onto his arm while the others agreed, asking him one question after the other.

It got you thinking how many of them he had kissed like he kissed you, how many of them received his undivided attention which, although offered at a limited time, still counted in the same manner as yours did in that it was genuine human interaction. You may not be sleeping with him like all those other girls were but you were no different from them where your bond with Sukuna was concerned. 

Almost the whole time since you got injured, his attention remained on you. You’d like to think he was paying special attention to you, but then he wasn't yours, and he may leave when you've recovered. So, why were you suddenly feeling strangely upset over the fact that these other females were surrounding him, treating him like they knew him better than you did? 

"I'll be at the library," you told him, as you walked ahead. You didn't like what you were seeing, and although you couldn't do anything about how you felt, you had the choice and will not to act on it. 

You've already found a seat at the farthest corner of the library you could find, your notes spread on the table in the organized manner you always do when he finally showed up. His arrival wasn't something you expected at all, but he was there anyway, pouting at you as he pulled out the chair beside you, trying hard not to make a noise. But his presence has always been loud, something that made itself known with the least effort, enough to fill your apartment with life whenever he was around. 

"Why did you leave me out there, bunny?" he whispered. His lower lip jutted out, his chin on the heel of his palm. 

Pretending to be busy with sorting your stuff out, you didn’t even look at him. “Sukuna, you’re whining.” You glanced at him when he didn’t say anything before turning your book to the next page. "You looked busy there. I didn't want to be a party pooper." 

"That was hardly a party," he complained. 

"It looked like it."

He just looked at you as if he sensed something off, but you pretended not to notice and continued reading. But then he asked, "Do you disapprove of my…uh…habits?" 

You shook your head, glad that your opinion mattered enough for him to ask. "I'm not in any position to say anything…” 

Your words hung in the air, promoting him to say, “But?”

“I can't say I'm for it either." 

Sukun arched a brow at you, fighting a smile yet cautiously asking, "Why not?" 

"Well, they're bound to haunt you someday, especially when they get in the way of things you want to achieve in the future."

“How?”

You shrugged, setting you book down. “What if you genuinely like somebody but they don’t agree with what you do? Or it gets in the way of you making connections you need for certain purposes.” 

Sukuna grinned cheekily at you. "So, you worry about my future?" 

Detecting his teasing tone, you brought your book down, meeting his gaze squarely. "Yes."

It was his turn to be speechless at your honest response, so you felt the need to explain yourself.

"I don't need reason just to wish you well even if you were a stranger. It's the same as not having any reason to wish you ill."

"How are you a real person? The world doesn't deserve you." 

You just chuckled at his sentiment. "I'm hardly perfect, Sukuna, but I consider you my friend after all, the first one I made on my own," you lifted your injured arm, "although it needed a little push."

He pulled away slowly, confusion drawing itself across his handsome features. “Just a friend?” he asked, sounding disappointed, but you immediately saw through his ploy to mess with you. 

“You’re really good at this,” you told him, shaking your head as you returned your attention to the book.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You didn’t satisfy that with a response, grinning to yourself instead.

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240608]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.