#I don’t want to get on a goddamn plan and I absolutely do not want to pay for a flight. i just don’t have that kinda money atm

[s0urte3th]

mom is bitching at me how i need to wear short sleeves TOMORROW, and just get over it

[emchant3d]

modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington

Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.

By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach. 

Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.

So she should be having a good day.

Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.

Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up. 

“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.

They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.

But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.

She can’t do this. 

She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy. 

She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.

She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.

No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–

There. 

A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window. 

That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.

“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?” 

“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.

There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie. 

“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.

“Eddie,” she croaks out. 

Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.

Her failed wedding day.

Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.

“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.

“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.

She bursts into tears in his backseat.

“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”

“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in. 

“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.

“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.

“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.

He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.

“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.

“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her. 

Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.

part 2

[gojonanami]

SEEING YOU TONIGHT, IT'S A BAD IDEA RIGHT? - SATORU GOJO

summary: seeing your ex was always a bad idea, but not if it was satoru gojo.

cw: 18+ readers only, smut, f!reader, innuendos, ex-boyfriend!Satoru, praise kink, thigh riding, degradation, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), breeding kink.

a/n: gojo and bad idea right by olivia rodrigo has been living in my head rent free and here's the product :).

word count: 3,873

It was dangerous. 

Look at this picture I drew Nanami. Can’t believe he didn’t want to keep it. 

Gojo attaches a picture of a crudely drawn dick, and you snort at your phone. 

It was a dangerous game the two of you were choosing to play. 

Small. Is the response you choose. Short but funny. And just enough to elicit a response you want. 

You know the real thing is much bigger. 

And there it was.

The game the two of you chose to play back and forth always ended here one way or another - and usually it was him who drove it there in the first place. 

Is it? I don’t remember. 

Then come over and I’ll remind you. 

But that didn’t mean you were completely blameless either. 

You bite your lip at his text. You really shouldn’t. 

You’re just horny. 

That’s right. 

Another message. 

For you. 

Fuck him. But that’s what exactly you wanted to do again. 

You told yourself the last time would be the last time. After he had fucked you and left you high and dry, you told yourself you wouldn’t fuck your exes or let them fuck with you. And you didn’t — except for Gojo. 

He was always the fucking exception wasn’t he? 

And he was the exception to your ick to double texting - because you supposedly took too long to respond to his message. 

Should I show you what you’re missing? 

And it’s a picture of him fresh out of the shower, with the most shit eating grin on his face. Water ringlets traced his body with absolute reverence, his thighs teasingly visible, reminding you how you had come undone on them the last time you hooked up, and the towel of his was frustratingly too low on his waist. 

What’s your new address? 

Fuck.

And that’s what you were going to get done tonight. 

You didn’t know what to wear. But did it matter because it was going to come off anyway. You opted for a little black dress, one that was a little too short and little too tight. 

You pull up to his place - off campus - and it’s a new shiny high rise building that you stare up at with squinting eyes. Show off. 

“Trust me, I’m not overcompensating for anything,” and you whirl around to see him waiting for you, “but you know that don’t you?” 

“Oh do you ever shut up?” and he leans closer, tilting his sunglasses off his face, lips curled in that goddamn grin. His blue button-up and jeans made your breath catch -- god it had been so long since you've seen him out of his usual Jujutsu Tech uniform.

“I plan to, later tonight,” and you scoff, as he leads you to his building, a hand on the small of your back that sends sparks flying up your spine.

“Memory recalls you don’t shut up much during that as well,” and his hand snakes around your waist as you both walk in, nodding to the doorman as he lets you both into the elevator, “don’t you live at the school? I was surprised when you told me that have a place off-campus,” 

“Well I prefer to live in a place free of teenagers sometimes,” his arm leaves you, slipping into his pockets, as he raises an eyebrow, “unless you were looking forward to fucking in our old school,” 

You glare at him, “Gojo-“ 

“That’s not what you called me in Yaga’s classroom that one afternoon when everyone was away-" He says cheekily.

“Oh my god, Satoru, shut up,” and you crush your lips to his, and he’s grinning. His arms slip around your waist as if they never even left. But these weren’t the same lean arms that pinned you to a desk as he ate you out that one afternoon - no these were the ones of a man who has trained and seen battle time and time again. You were always surprised at how broad Satoru had gotten over the years - it shouldn’t be a surprise as he was always the “strongest” but he was lean and fit before, slender almost - but now, as he pressed you against the wall of the elevator, fingers digging into your ass, his body engulfed you. 

And you were already addicted to the feeling. 

If it was any more obvious, you don’t hear the ding of the elevator as you arrive at his floor, as he pulls away, “going to have to part for a second sweetheart, need to unlock the door.” 

But he pulls you along by your hand, and somehow that gesture is all the more overwhelming than anything you had done in the elevator. 

You watch him scan his keycard, unlocking the door, “How much does Jujutsu High pay you?” 

And he smirks, “Perks of being the strongest,” but you frown at that — you know those were few and far between. 

But he pulls you inside, pressing you against the door, “Now where were we?” He hums against your neck, his hands slide over your bare thighs, “I’ve missed this-“ 

“Could have fooled me,” you sigh as he kisses your neck, “I haven’t heard from you in a year,” 

“I am a very busy man,” and he lifts you with such ease, hands wrapped around your thighs, your dress so easily riding up, “wear this just for me?” 

“Just for you, and maybe on a few dates,” and his head tilts, expression flickering with jealousy for a millisecond before his god complex returns. 

“And yet here you are with me,” and he’s kissing you again, his tongue parting your lips with ease, as if he’s trying to erase any evidence of another person’s touch. You moan when he sucks on your bottom lip, “so pliable, aren’t you sweetheart? Just fall to pieces under my touch,” 

And his words serve to make you squirm, but as a challenge as well, as your hands tug him by his collar, “and you don’t? I recall that afternoon in the classroom, and I had to pray no one walked by so they wouldn’t hear your moans when I rode you,” 

But he’s annoyingly unfazed, his breath warm against your skin, “I love a woman who takes charge, that’s why I can’t get enough of you,” and he’s closing the gap between you, kissing your lips, before tracing kisses down your jaw and neck, until his teeth graze your pulse, “should I leave a mark?” 

“Gojo-“ 

“Oh I’m definitely leaving a mark now,” and his teeth dig into your neck, sucking and licking, drawing a moan from your throat, “does anyone else make you moan like this?” 

“Why are you interested in —ah—“ and he’s tugging the straps of your dress off, “that?” The last word comes out as a whisper. 

“No bra? And you’re so insistent that you weren’t flirting with me over text,” and he snaps the strap against your skin, “it’s always flirting when it’s us, sweetheart,” 

“You didn’t answer my question,” you grumble and he’s carrying you now, your arms around his shoulders, “Gojo-“

And he’s pressing you to the wall outside his bedroom, and he’s taking off his sunglasses - and no matter how many times you’ve seen his eyes - no matter how many times you’ve stared into them — they always make you feel like you’re drowning — breathless and slow, like you submerged in water, unable break to the surface. 

“Are you going to continue to call me that?” And he’s being rough as he teases your thighs apart, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress, “because I may take you right here - let all my neighbors hear you cum on my fingers, my mouth, or my cock - dealer’s choice,” and his kiss is bruising, as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, relentless as always, always trying to prove himself, and he had nothing to prove. 

And it only took his hand shaking up your thigh to press on the wet patch of your underwear to make you break. 

“Satoru, fuck-“ and his grin makes you shiver. 

“Good girl,” and you nearly come undone from those words alone, as he carries you to his bedroom, tossing you into his bed without much to-do. 

You bounce against the springs of the mattress slightly, but he’s on you in a moment, perched over you, as he meets your lips in a desperate kiss, as if he had parted from your lips ten years ago as opposed to ten seconds. 

You are pulling at his shirt, trying to get it over his head, but he pins your arms down before you can, “not yet, baby,” 

You’re strong but not when he’s using his strength to hold you in place, “Satoru-“ and he’s using his free hand to slide your straps down lower, “that’s not fair-“

“I was born unfair,” and you snort, but it quickly turns to a groan when his hand squeezes your breast. 

“So sensitive,” and he leans his head down to suck on your nipple, “no one tastes as good as you sweetheart,” 

“And how many others have you tasted this year?” And he doesn’t pause, only switches to the other, as his fingers tease the other nipple. 

“I could ask you the same,” and you gasp as his teeth graze your nipple, “Satoru-“ and he pauses now, “tell me,” 

You grit your teeth, “No-"

“Then I’m going to suck a hickey here,” he kisses right above your nipple, “and you won’t be wearing these low cut dresses for a while,” and his teeth bare against your skin, and you jolt against him, “tell me,” he repeats. 

You lay your head back, “I said I went on a few dates, I didn’t say I have slept with anyone else-ah-“And he’s sucking the mark, his teeth biting and nibbling on the skin, as he soothes it with his tongue, “you said you wouldn’t-“ you whine, and he smiles, before pressing his lips to yours. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he cups your cheek, “shyness suits you,” 

And he’s tugging your dress downward, rolling it down to your stomach, and you’re pulling at his shirt, until he helps you get it off his shoulders. And your eyes rake over his chest, “Like what you see?” 

You flush, “I never said you were bad to look at,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Princess, I’m the best to look at,” and that draws a laugh from your lips, which he eagerly swallows, pressing his lips fervently to yours, looking to worship the mouth that just made that heavenly noise, “I haven’t been with anyone else,” he breathes, a centimeter from your lips, “since you,” 

“Really?” And he tilts his head. 

“Just for you, sweetheart,” and you don’t waste a moment. 

You’re flipping him on his back, and he’s staring up at you — in shock and then in lust filled eyes, a thick haze that settles over your body, as you press your lips to his again, and he surges to meet them. 

Your fingers are fumbling with his belt, and he’s trying to pull your dress down your legs. You part for a moment, standing to pull it off, before settling on his lap again, but his hands pull you to settle on his thigh instead. 

He flexes his thigh, and you stifle your moan, your cunt squeezing around nothing, “come on, ride my thigh,” your wetness soaks through and he groans, “you’re certainly wet enough for it,” 

“Fuck-“ and he flexes again and again, until you’re grinding against his thigh, and his cocky grin makes you want to slap him. 

“Sweetheart, you’re soaking through,” and he grunts, helping you ride his thigh, the muscle and fabric rubbing against your clit, making you moan, “that’s it, c’mon cum on my thigh like a good slut,” 

And that sends you over the edge, the squelch of your pussy on his leg growing only louder, as your juices run down his pant leg, “glad I could do that twice,” and he’s kissing your neck, “maybe we can make it a third,” 

And you meet his lips in a lazy kiss, your lips sliding across his at first, until it grows more insistent, and you’re back fumbling with his belt, pulling it off, and undoing the button of his jeans. 

“So needy,” he smirks, and he lifts his waist, to help you pull off his pants, “didn’t know you needed my dick that bad, Princess,” but the smugness leaves as you palm him through his boxers, a hiss leaving his mouth as you slip your hand inside, teasing the head with your fingers. 

“What was that again? Who’s needy?” You grin — you love watching him fold for you like this, as blood rushes to his cheeks and cock, he’s nearly panting as you palm him, and it’s such a pretty cock — was there anything about him that wasn’t unfairly perfect? “Fuck, I forgot how big you were - gonna split me in half, aren’t you?” But you’re going much too slow for his taste, as your fingers tease him, smearing his pre-cum over his length, as you lick it from your fingers, “and you always taste so good,” 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re toying with me,” he nearly growls, as you pull off his boxers, snapping the elastic against his skin as you do.

“But you’re my favorite toy,” and your fingers return around his dick, squeezing lightly, and that’s his final straw. 

You don’t even realize your back is hitting the bed until you’re already pinned under him, and he’s smiling between your thighs now, “two can play at that game sweetheart,” and he kisses your inner thigh, “and I always win,” 

And he’s pulling down your panties in a moment, letting a reverent fuck leave his lips as he stares at your swollen lips, “So pretty,” and he noses at your inner thighs, before his teeth dig into your sensitive skin, and your breath stutters, “and all for me,” 

“Satoru-“ and his fingers are parting your folds, making your hips jump at his touch, and he can’t have that can he? And he’s pinning your hips, as he stares at your pretty swollen folds, “stop teasing-“ 

“Like you stopped teasing me, Princess?” He raises an eyebrow, but he slips a finger inside, “but I’ll be nice, unlike you,” and he’s pumping his finger knuckle deep, slipping into places you could never reach yourself, “fuck, you’re practically swallowing my finger,” and a second finger is stuffed inside you, “can’t wait to feel this pussy around my cock,” and you’re shaking when he finally leans down to press a kiss to your pretty clit. 

“S-satoru,” you moan, a mess, as he fucks your walls hard with his fingers, the lewd squelching ringing in your ears, as he continued to pry apart your thighs, leaning down to press his lips to your clit again. 

And you whimper, before moaning, as he sucks at it, lapping at your pussy, as he continued to fuck you, “so sweet when you’re all fucked out, keep making those pretty noises, sweetheart,”

And you have no choice when his tongue slips in the stead of his fingers, fingers choosing to play and pinch your clit, a symphony of moans and whines leaving your throat, as you move to cover your face. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he coos, kissing your pussy as he speaks, “you’re going to make me self-conscious and we wouldn’t want that, would we baby?” And his words are not helping as he redoubles his efforts, pausing only to speak, as his hands sneak under your thighs to press you impossibly closer to his mouth, intent on devouring you, “look at me - wanna see my pretty baby’s face when she falls apart for me,” 

And you look, his face smeared with your cum, lips glossy and nearly dripping with it, as he grins, before feasting on you again, makes you fall apart as he wants, “cum in my mouth,” he murmurs, “wanna fucking live in his pussy,” 

And you’re coming undone, fast and hard, but he doesn’t seem to care, slurping and sucking every drop you bestow upon him, “I know where I got my sweet tooth now,” and he’s still eating you through your orgasm, as you shudder and shiver from his touch. 

“Fuck, ‘Toru, I swear to god-“

“I’m right here baby, you don’t have to swear your allegiance to me,” and he’s licking his fingers clean, making a show of it, “pretty sure you did that when you screamed my name when you came,” 

“You fucker,” and he’s giving you lazy kisses again, trying to bring you down from your high, just to bring you back up again, and you’re palming his erection now, “need you,” 

“What was that?” And he’s so smarmy, it makes you want to slap him or kiss him or possibly both, “say it again,” 

And then you squeeze his dick, making him grunt, “I said I need you,” and you’re brushing the head of his cock against your folds, again and again, making him groan, “any questions sensei?” You add mockingly, but that only serves to make him grin wider. 

“So fuckin’ eager for me to split you open with my dick huh, Princess?” His pre-cum dripping onto your fucked out pussy, “can’t go a second without being filled by me? I know sweetheart, I hit all the spots you can’t reach with your fingers right? Bet all those others can’t reach them either,” and he’s kissing you, hard, as he presses his cock into you, bumping against you, but never slipping in, “then I’ll just have to spoil you tonight, won’t I?” He notches himself against your slit, his traitorous mouth leaning down to suck at your tit before he finally eases into you. 

And you forgot just how big he was, as he finally sinks into you, his cock parting your folds, impatient as ever as he sinks slowly at first and than all at once, “you can still take me, and you always take me so well,” he groans, as your walls squeeze him, nearly making him cum right there, “you were made for me, made to fuck me,” he’s panting now, as you’re ready to fall apart under him. 

“Then fuck me,” and he does just that - no semblance of self-control left - not that he had much to begin with. Not when it came to you.  

He loves hearing you moan his name, over and over, as he begins to thrust in earnest, hips slapping against yours, making you gasp and your head roll back, “Satoru, Satoru, fuck-“ 

“Come on baby you can take it, look at how good you’re taking me, such a good girl,” and he grasps your chin making you look at where your bodies met, his cock slipping in and out of you with ease, a white ring of your cum around its base, “that’s it, c’mon, you make me feel so fucking good,” 

And then he’s slipping out of you, as you whines but now he’s pulled you into his lap, “baby, I can’t be doing all the work, now can I?” 

His thighs are sticky and wet with your fluids, as you start to ride him, your thighs meeting his with rough snaps, “So fucking gorgeous,” he groans, leaning in to suck at your tits again, “I’ll never get sick of this view, need to fuck you like this again,” and he meets you with a brutal thrust of his hips as he grasps your waist that brushes against places you only could dream to touch, and he grins as your head lolls back, “there is it, just where I left it, Princess,” 

“S’close, ‘Toru, I can’t-“ you murmur, as he cups your cheek and presses a hot kiss to your lips. 

“Then cum for me on my dick like a good little slut, and scream for me, make sure my neighbors know how good this cock is,” and he’s grasping your waist, fucking tou hard as you cum around his cock, and you scream his name as you do, but he fucks you through your orgasm, grunting and groaning. Your release slips down his dick as you squeeze him, “good fucking girl,” He’s close too - his thrusts becoming deeper and sloppy, “where you want me to cum?” 

And your legs are wrapping around his waist, “Fill me, want it inside,” and Satoru can't help but moans your name. 

He's grunting, sloppily thrusting now -- he's so close, your walls clamping down again and again, “Want me to breed you, sweetheart,” he grunts, bottoming out, “then let me fill you, fuck-“ he moans as he cums, spurting his hot, thick cum inside your walls, and you’re nearly keening against him, but he holds you steady with his fingers against your hips, nails digging crescents into your skin, “gotta make every drop count, now don’t we, love?” As he slowly pumps into you, pushing it deeper, “now what’d people say when you get pregnant by your ex? Hm? Wanna baby trap me, princess? You don’t have to do that to get me to stay,” 

And he’s still inside you as he stills, cupping your chin, “I don’t huh?” You tilt your head, as he presses a kiss to your lips, “then why did you leave in the first place?” 

His grin twists into a frown, sighing, as he can't meet your gaze now, “Did you really want to be with me?” And you open your mouth, “being with me is as good as placing a target on your back, and I’m not always going to here to help-“ 

You glare at him, “I don’t need you to protect me—"

“Except the one time you do,” he says softly, “and then what? I could deal with losing you, but I don't ever want to have to mourn you," his words are quiet, "we’ve both lost too much-" and his voice wavers, “I didn’t want you to be another thing I lost, but you were anyway,” and he gives a small chuckle, “I didn’t wanna end up alone, but without you, I’m still alone,” he gives a pitiful smile, “fitting for the strongest, huh?” 

You hold his cheeks, forcing him to look at you, “You don’t have to be alone. I can’t make promises that I’ll be okay - that would be a pretty shit promise to make, we both know that, but,” you kiss his lips sweetly, the corners of his lips lifting at your taste, “I can promise I’ll do my best to live, I’ll do my best to support you, I’ll do my best to love you - if you can promise to do the same,”

And his lips crack into a grin, “Love, huh?” 

“You’ve grown on me,” you tease, but he can’t let that stand. And he shifts his hips, making you moan, as he lays you down, slipping out of you, to smear his cockhead down your folds, watching you convulse around nothing as his cum slips out of you, “Satoru—fuck-“ and his fingers are scooping the liquid back inside, pushing it back in, “what are you doing?” you grumble, half annoyed, half moaning. 

And he only smiles, “Gotta make up for lost time, don’t we princess?” And he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, before reaching for his phone, “now let me take a picture — gotta let Nanami know someone appreciated my drawing.” 

“You send that picture, and we won’t need to worry about me surviving anymore, because I’ll have killed you,” and he rolls his eyes, snapping the picture anyway. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t send him this picture, that’s for my personal use,” he winks as he slips his fingers from you, licking your mixed releases from his digits, “but I’ll let him know how much you enjoyed it,” and he’s leaning over you again, “and how much you will again,” 

“And every night?” You smile up at him, pulling him closer. 

And he replies before you pull him into another kiss, “Only way to shut me up.” 

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Dating King Ben Would Include…

Holy shit,

This is a lot.

Def NSFW

Warnings: sex, language, not proofed, I’m a slut

- r u actually kidding this man

- Idek where to start

- How about this

VK

- the moment he lays eyes on you

- Fuck

- When he smiles at you for the first time???

- Bye.

- Falling for the king-to-be was NOT part of the plan

- But he’s so goddamn cute

- You slip into the stands at his tourney game

- He makes a great play and you let out a cheer

- Surprising everyone around

- And he just grins at you

- There’s a party that night

- You show up in your most flattering dress

- And Ben cannot take his eyes off of you

- (The beast inside is awakening)

- He asks you to dance

- his big hands fit on your waist so perfectly

- Your hands loop around his neck and your fingers play with his hair absentmindedly

- You’re so nervous

- He pulls you closer to him and whispers into your ear

- “Relax.”

- Hello???

- He’s so in love with you UGHHHHAGGGA

- not following plot anymore screw it

- “You coming to the game tomorrow?”

- “Why should I?”

- “I can think of a pretty good reason.”

- SHAMELESSLY FLIRTS WITH YOU

- “If we win, I get to take you out on a date”

- “And if you lose?”

- “We won’t.”

- Ben fucking winks at you and just

- Up and leaves

- Someone take the confidence juice away from him!

- You go see another one of his games and after he wins, he runs up to you, sweaty and grinning, gorgeous as ever

- Before you say anything

- His head dips down to your ear, hands slipping around your waist

- “My car is waiting for you. I’ll be there soon”

- The mf had no fucking doubts that they’d win

- He gives you another million dollar smile before jogging away

- Leaving you flushed and a little turned on?????

- The date is absolutely wonderful.

- He changes ur perspective on everything

- Makes you his queen eventually

AK

- He’s such a gentleman omg omg

- PRINCESS TREATMENT OMFG

- Opening doors for you!!!

- Pulls out your chair for you!!!

- Ur a cheerleader

- He’s def the kinda bf to score and point at you like

- “Scored that for you, baby!”

- You wanna roll your eyes but can’t bc of his damn smile

- Don’t even get Ben started on your fucking uniform

- He’s down bad fr fr

- You in the colors of his kingdom??? HELLO?!

- He’s gone

- Such a fan of public PDA

- will kiss you ANYWHERE

- seriously

- Always has to be touching you

- The beast in him tbh ur his

SEX

- everything this guy does is

- Always turning you on fr

- At the worst times too

- He’ll just look at you and give you the smile he only does while balls deep inside of you while at dinner with his parents

- And he knows it too

- The way you blush and look away?

- He KNOWS

- Please he gets weak in the knees when you say his name/title

- “Benjamin”

- “King Ben”

- “King Benjamin”

- “Your Majesty”

- Bye

- I imagine that he’s so sweet at first but you can tell that he’s holding back (beast boy HELLO?!)

- You have to convince him to finally just let it out

- What does that entail?

- Let’s make a list!!

- Scratch marks on your thighs

- So so many hickeys (he doesn’t fucking care who sees, he’s the king)

- Finger print bruises on your waist and hips

- BITE MARKS

- shit

- This man has a heightened sense of smell

- So like… beware

- Low key high key loves the way you smell

- Will not stop sucking and biting on your neck bc of it

- BEN IS A DOM IM SORRY NOT SORRY

- it’s such a stress relief for him!

- Seriously as king he needs to release his stress somehow

- You luv when he’s rough with you

- A full on Edward Cullen breaking the bed moment and he’s scared to even touch you

- And ur like “Ben do it again”

- He’s all 😮 “wut”

- “Please?”

- And bam thinking with his dick again

- You love it when he fucks you in his office

- In between meetings

- When anyone can walk in

- “Don’t want everyone in the castle to hear your dirty sounds, now do we?”

- BEN IM SORRY

- HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KEEP QUIET WHEN UR LITERALLY REARRANGING MY INSIDES ON YOUR DESK

- Riding him while he’s in his desk chair

- The staff is quite confused when he asks for a mirror to be hung as a decoration on the opposite side of his desk

- It’s so you two can watch obvi but they don’t know that

- OMG the two of you at formal events and he cannot keep his hands off of you

- The things he whispers in your ear my GOD

- looks like the two of you are just innocently dancing but if they really knew the dirty things he was saying to you

- “What would everyone think if they knew how turned on you are right now?”

- “You taste better than all the food here.”

- Like r u kidding me he’s the dirtiest guy

- MASSIVE DICK ENGERY

- Its unfair

- Him pulling you out of the ballroom to absolutely ravish you with his parents and subjects a wall away

- Him just fucking you while wearing his crown omg (cant stop thinking about this)

- He’s so needy all the fucking time

- Anyways back to office sex

- It’s his fav

- Literally you’ll be on his lap and he’s fucking up into you and he will get a phone call

- Motherfucker GRINS at you

- “don’t make a sound”

- And then ANSWERS IT.

- KEEPS FUCKING YOU THROUGH THE PHONE CALL

- NO MATTER HOW LONG IT IS

- Oh and def makes you keep eye contact with him the whole time with his hand on your throat

- Ben with a beard????

- Between your thighs??

- With the fucking fangs?????????

- DEAD

- DECEASED

- BYE

- GONE

- Is always down to eat u out

- Such a golden retriever bf about it

- Def fingers you in the car

- If ur driving??

- “Eyes on the road”

- 💀

- If he’s gone?

- You best BELIEVE he’s calling for phone sex

- “C’mon let me hear you. You sound so pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

- Soft mean Dom soft mean Dom

- Will hop in the shower with you just so he can wash your body

- Also makes you come with the shower head

- Loves boobies

- Loves ass

- He can’t decide which he likes more

- Loves making you watch what he’s doing

- If he’s going down on you?

- Eyes on him at all times

- Fingering you?

- You better be watching it

- That’s why the mirror comes in handy

- When you lock eyes through the mirror?

- His crown is lopsided and he’s just

- He’s just

- You know

- FUCKING KING BENJAMIN

- And he’s always smiling at you

- He knows what that smile does to you

- Uses it to his advantage

- He knows he’s pretty

- He loves waking up before you after a long night of straight up fucking

- He sees the damage done

- By him

- And it just gets him going!

- You wake up with his head between your thighs

- “Morning”

- It was in fact a good morning

- his morning voice adds to it

- You loooooove to tease him

- Low key flirting with another guy, if it’s fucking Chad you better get prepared

- Wearing an outfit you know he loves in a public place when he’s with his parents doing his king duties

- Putting your hand on his inner thigh during a meeting

- I hope you know what you’re getting into!!!

- He storms into his room that night where you happen to be lying on the bed, oh so innocently

- Wearing his jersey or a button up of his

- You don’t bother looking at him, already trying to hide the smirk on your face

- You can feel the glare as he shrugs off his suit jacket

- And removes his tie

- And loosens his collar

- And pushes his sleeves up

- (your favorite Ben look)

- He knows this ofc

- Sets his hands flat on the bed and just stares at you

- Finally you look up, a giggle escaping immediately

- “You think it’s funny, do you?”

- His hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you towards him

- His knee settles between your legs as he leans over you

- “Answer your King when he speaks to you”

- “Yes, your majesty”

- His head drops back and something (THE FUCKING BEAST) ignites inside of him

- He laughs

- Not like his true laugh

- A dark, sinister laugh

- Coming from Ben?

- Noble, brave, and good Ben?

- When he’s about to fuck you into oblivion?

- Good. Fucking. Bye.

- What’s Bennyboo up for??

- So much

- He’s horny ALL THE TIME

- highest sex drive ever

- Esp with the fucking beast

- He can go for hours

- King (lol) of stamina

- “You can do it baby”

- “C’mon, one more for me”

- “Fuck you’re doing so well”

- “Good. So so good”

- He’s loud as FUCK

- not embarrassed about it all

- No fucks given

- Will walk out of his office he was just bending you over in to greet his father in the next room like MAN ISN’T PHASED AT ALL

- And you’re catching your breath like 😳😳😳

- On one hand, he’s so nice and genuine and so well mannered

- And then when it comes to you, he’s a cocky little shit who can’t keep it in his pants

[rottenaero]

AO3

Part 1

Part 4

Part 6

Part 5 of the roommates idea

Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.

Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.

This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.

Basically, I wanna know if I should;

A.Post it on ao3 as is

B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)

C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)

I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.

This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.

After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.

Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.

Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.

Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.

“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”

He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”

He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.

“Lets go, nerds”

-

Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.

One of his kids were gonna die.

Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse

Eddie was being hunted.

Two more students have been murdered.

He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.

They were royally fucked.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”

The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.

“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.

“Where are you?”

“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”

Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.

“I’m driving.”

She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.

-

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”

“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”

Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”

“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.

“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”

Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.

“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Right, but you like him like that, though?”

“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.

Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.

“See? You little butthead, I was right.”

Theres a rustle of leaves and then,

“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.

“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.

“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”

The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”

His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”

“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.

He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”

Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”

He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

“9:27…”

“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.

Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.

“Skull Rock was North.”

“An electromagnetic field.”

“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.

“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”

He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.

“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.

It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.

“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”

Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”

Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.

He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”

Tag List

@bxlthazar@i-have-three-feelings@leverage-ot3@mightbeasleep@badcaseofcasey@joruni@original-cypher@aceflavouredyougurt@flustratedcas@lovelylilbadone@labels-are-for-the-weak@steddieassheg0es@gregre369

[lawsfuckasshat]

✙ ✙ ✙ olive branch. 🕊️🫀

gn!strawhat!reader, pre-dressrosa.

warnings: swearing, brief death mention, pre-relationship, law’s perspective, very short and hopefully sweet. not beta’d.

a/n: first time posting my writing ever… i hope it’s alright! i don’t think there’s an official reason for why law dislikes bread, but i like the headcanon that it’s because corazón doesn’t like it either :))

“so, is it like, a yeast thing?”

law rolls his eyes, face painted with his typical scowl. as cool, mysterious, and annoyed as ever. he crosses his arms, leaning back against the mast.

“no, __-ya.” he utters. you nod sagely, like you’re studying the guy under a microscope, and don’t seem deterred by his attitude in the slightest.

“then… is it a texture issue? ‘cause i totally understand that, i really don’t like-“

“i’m finding it difficult to understand why you want to know so badly.” law wishes that his intentionally curt answers would make you stop pestering him, would make his heart stop skipping beats every time you tried to pry open his hard outer shell. ‘mind over matter’ works well in every other aspect of how he presents himself, but the blood rushing to his face refuses to cooperate with him. great.

“i just wanna understand you,” you reply earnestly, “and what goes on in that pretty head of yours, is all. ya know?” for a split second, law is afraid that his heart has failed, if the free-falling drop in his chest is anything to go by. how could you say something like that so easily? right to his face, like you were talking about something as simple as the weather?

he tries to carefully pick his words, running through dozens of possibilities in his head, brain scrambling to say something, anything that’ll get you to leave him alone to wallow in his thoughts (…you think he’s pretty?) you wouldn’t really leave him alone if you left though, would you?

instead, he chooses to ignore you. head tilting down, one of his crossed arms coming up to tug the bill of his hat further down his face, shoulders slightly scrunching in. he feels like everything his body is doing is absolutely, incredibly, extremely obvious to you. his palms sweat uncomfortably and he’s so goddamn aware of your presence next to him, it’s driving him up the wall. he wishes he wasn’t so awkward, so scarred by all the loss in his life.

you don’t say anything, just turn your body and lean back against the mast with him. he briefly thinks his stonewalling worked.

“that’s okay.” you utter. there’s no rejection anxiety, no hurt in your voice. law’s shoulders and hidden scowl don’t relax, but he huffs out a hushed sigh. he stays quiet otherwise and waits a long minute before chancing a glance at you.

you’re leaned back against the mast, body language lax and open, although your arms are loosely crossed. your eyes are closed, skin sun-kissed. gentle sea breeze brushing across your clothes. you look warm, he thinks. he wishes you would reach out and touch him, but he also doesn’t 100% know if he’d like it. maybe he would.

law hates taking risks. he needs everything carefully planned out in his head before he makes a move, especially with the fruits of a thirteen year long effort coming to fruition in the next few days. he’s prepared to die kicking and screaming, fighting tooth and nail. he can’t fuck a single facet of his plan up.

then again, he’s dealing with the straw hat pirates here. a crew known for miracles. law steels his resolve and takes a calculated breath.

“someone i cared about a great deal didn’t like bread.”

the way you grin at him makes risking the olive branch worth it.

@ lawsfuckasshat 4.2.24

[its-your-mind]

“oh clearly jon feels no emotions and is in complete control of himself at all times. this man is a logic machine.”

did we??? listen to the same podcast?????? this man feels first, thinks later. there is a strong emotion? get ready for jonathan jarchivist sims to act on it with little-to-no second thoughts. rational thinking who. we throw ourselves full force at the first thought that comes into our head. like, we are talking about the man who:

busted into the office of a guy he hadn’t talked to more than twice since he woke up from a six month coma, sincerely offering to gouge out his eyes and run away with him, and was Absolutely Gobsmacked when he was refused

was prefectly ready to let a face-stealing monster live… right up until it reminded him that it had killed his friend without him realizing (that “…what did you say” is one of the lines that gives me GOOSEBUMPS every time)

dove headfirst into a pile of evil sentient worms to grab a tape recorder bc he was so determined to not die as aNOTHER GODDAMN MYSTERY

let his survivor’s guilt from when he was eight drive the major decisions he made for the rest of his life

threw himself into a fear dimension of evil loneliness to save the man he loved (who had refused to speak to him for months) at the probable expense of himself who knows

had so much MALICE in his voice when he killed peter lukas like damn girl you do not get that emotional when you’re just killing someone bc they’re evil or whatever. there was Hatred there. go off queen.

literally was willing to sacrifice an entire WORLD so that no one would ever f e e l what he had to feel when jonah voicesnatched him

LITERALLY speedran a love story in like six weeks in scotland. this man was SO READY to be in love it’s ridiculous. so was martin. I love them sm

heard his predecessor was dead

came to the conclusion that he was next

what should we do with this?

oh I know

stalk every one of my coworkers bc clearly one of them is out to get me

committed himself to living in the archives forever bc he didn’t want to put georgie or “god forbid the admiral” in danger (has his priorities STRAIGHT he does)

oh annabelle caine has martin? and an artifact that completely knocks me on my ass and takes away all my powers? off to hilltop road we go come on basira we have spider ass to kick

threw himself into a coffin to save a woman who LITERALLY was ABOUT TO KILL HIM bc he just wanted to HELP and everyone around him was HURTING SO MUCH

was insulted when a statement giver called the institute stupid and immediately discarded all professionalism and clapped back by calling her wildly successful youtube series dumb

also immediately discarded all professionalism when disgusted by a teeth apple “we do NOT want it.” like damn bro this traumatized doctor brought this bone apple teeth proof in for you and you are too grossed out to grin and bear it

was slightly annoyed by the fact that martin was not the Ideal Assistant. Offhandedly mentioned on an official recording that he wanted an evil flesh witch to slowly kill his literal employee by a series of freak accidents that resulted in the loss of one body part at a time. this man has no chill whatsoever.

took so much satisfaction in killing jonah magnus. like jonah told him not to be dramatic and jon PROMPTLY started monologuing while stabbing douchard directly in the chest.

“I don’t want to die”

“Neither did they.” FUCK YES QUEEN GO OFF GET HIS SMARMY VICTORIAN ASS

sounded so SMUG when he told the eye he was gonna go apologize to his boyfriend. like yeah stupid all-powerful fear god I have a BOYfriend and I LOVE him suck on THAT

remember when he decided to doom his whole world bc he wanted to stop anyone else from feeling like he did? yeah that plan went out the window fuckin imMEDIATely as soon as his beloved martin walked into the room. oh, he’s in the world I’m going to be dooming? well fuck didn’t consider that part. welp guess he’s just gonna have to stab me. and then we will hold each other and declare our love and kiss and hope to still be alive and together somehow as the world collapses around us. our love didn’t save us but it was here and that mattered. okay list cancelled I’m gonna go curl up in a ball for a little bit. ty for your time.

[tabbyxcatt]

DEMON SLAYER HEADCANONS (RANDOM)

I was debating whether I should just make it NSFW for all the characters and write all fluff separately but couldn't decide so... Giyuu and Gyomei's is NSFW and Sanemi and Kyojuro's is Fluff. It's titled headcannons but.. is it really? idk Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Characters: Tomioka Giyuu, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Rengoku Kyojuro, Himejima Gyomei x AFAB!Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff 

Content Warning: fem!reader, (self)degradation, curse words (excuse my language 𓏗-𓏗), slight dub con if you squint really hard, alcohol, size kink. I think that's about it.

p.s I got a little carried away writing Gyomei's (nsfw) my bad lol.

GIYUU (FREAK IN THE SHEETS) HES LOWKEY A PERVERT

Giyuu doesn’t really initiate any physical affection at first. Truth be told, he doesn’t really initiate ANYTHING in the beginning besides confessing to you. 

Tbh he didn’t expect to get this far after confessing. He never imagined you would accept and return his confession. So he’s not exactly sure what to do next since he didn't plan for this. 

In the beginning of the relationship you have to lead. In all aspects. It's definitely a slow burn and he's awkward as hell about it all but don’t patronize him! He’s trying. He likes you and he knows you like him, he doesn’t want to hold back with you but he’s just… so. clueless. 

He’s touch starved af, he’s not used to affection, compliments or attention but goddamn does he EAT. THAT. SHIT. UP. He loves it. You make him feel like no one has ever made him feel before. But take it easy with him, he's quick to get overwhelmed. It's all new to him and it scares tf out of him. But thrills him all the same.

Gaining Giyuu's trust is a difficult feat in itself, but making him fall in love? Girl you must have magical powers or something because it would take A LOT for Giyuu to allow himself to ever get as close as he has with you. Giyuu is definitely the type to wait until marriage or until he's more than sure that he can trust you.

It would take him some warming up to and getting used to (even though he craves it every second of the day). He's deprived himself of emotions for so long it takes him a while to relax and let himself go, let himself feel and experience.

But when he finally does, buckle up buckaroo because it's going to be an absolutely exhilarating ride.

Giyuu is one hundred percent pussy drunk after his first time with you. He never had a high sex drive, really only masturbating because he needed to every once in a while and out of fear that he wouldn't be able to use it at all. But even when he did he never got that sense of "relief", much less any satisfaction and the thought of masturbating to someone that he'd never and would never be intimate with just turned him off all the more.

That was, until he met you. You and your presence that completely overloaded his senses, your loving eyes that seemed to drown him whenever he made eye contact, your melodious voice calling his name almost sensually, your lingering touch so soft on his skin, all drawing him in like a siren luring a sailor into the waters with her. And now he finally understood what it was all about. And that sex drive that was nearly non existent before now came back with a full force almost too much for him to handle.

Once you guys get past his firsts and get more comfortable with each other, he’d change but only behind closed doors for the most part.

I'm not saying Giyuu has a complete 180 personality change, but you definitely have the privilege of seeing a side to Giyuu no has has ever seen before. One Giyuu himself didn't even know existed.

In the comfort of his place, or yours, or wherever he can get you alone, he’d do and say the most perverse things that leave you with your mouth wide open and eyes nearly bulging because your quiet little dewdrop really just said that to you.

He can be bold when he wants but he does it in a way that’s just so..??? Endearing? Charming? I can’t find the right word, but he could be telling you his most perverse fantasies with a blush on his face and a hitch in his voice and it would have you absolutely putty in his beautiful hands. (also headcanon I believe Giyuu would have the prettiest hands -long slender fingers, hands the size of your face, prominent veins, clean, trimmed nails- EVERYTHING. all the works)

Getting home from a stressful mission? Need a long, warm bath to relax? No problem, your sweet bf is already setting it up for you. 

As he helps you strip- lemme clarify- as HE strips you down, this man will slide your panties down, slowly, kneeling down before you as he caresses the soft flesh of your thighs glancing up at you with a small appreciative smile. Rising up steadily while holding eye contact with you, he goes from looking up to looking down as he towers over you after successfully removing your panties. Never once breaking eye contact, he’d raise the fist that had your pantie bunched up to his face and sniff much to your horror. 

Homeboy would sniff deeply, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at your scent, choking on a groan, before staring you down with dilated pupils, hard as a rock. He’d stuff them into his pocket “for later” he’d mumble before walking over to you, planting a sweet kiss on your slightly agape mouth before saying “enjoy your bath love” with a devious smirk ghosting on his lips.

He’d simply walk out of the bathroom after that -leaving you slightly horrified but more turned on that he just did that- to your shared bedroom while you bathed, to soil your panties even more. A process he’s done more than once (some without your knowledge, but what you don't know won't hurt.. Right? He can't help it, he’s addicted to you. But you know. You always find them. You do most of the laundry after all, always finding them absolutely wrecked and crusty. Thanks Giyuu.) 

Giyuu gets so wrapped up in you and the way you feel that if you initiate anything with him, as long as you're behind closed doors and shielded away from the outside world, he's on you in seconds, completely ignoring anything that's not you.

Giyuu doesn't fully realize how far gone he is with you until the sound of his own self deprecating voice, growling in the distance rings in his ears, "what is it? can't handle it? huh? is the loners dick too big?" "tell me, pretty girl, is my dick game as lame as they said it would be?" "scream my name baby, let everyone know how good this loser is fucking you."

He doesn't even recognize himself, he's embarrassed by his own actions/words so believe that he's going to be blushing the entire time he's dicking you down.

He needs reassurance, craves it so much that in moments like those he doesn't even realize what he's saying, brain turned to mush as he's lost in the way you feel, all the insults he's been called combined with the fact that he never imagined he'd be as close to someone as he is with you, have him spewing such self degrading dirty talk. Honestly his brain short circuits whenever you guys get freaky~ because one he never knew it could feel this good, two he can't even begin to comprehend that he is the one that has you whining, sobbing, cumming as hard as you are and three he's getting to experience this with an absolute knockout like you.

(i saw someone briefly mention pervert giyuu stealing panties and just ran with the idea. give me more closetedpervert!giyuu pls, completely obsessed!giyuu, desperate!giyuu who will take (literally) anything you give him. i love him sm) 

(btw im sorry i wrote his so messily)

SANEMI (A SIMP) UNAPOLOGETICALLY SO, HE’D BE LIKE ‘SAY SOMETHIN I DARE U’

Sanemi knows he comes off as unhinged sometimes, it’s on purpose, an act (MOSTLY) to keep people from getting close to him. 

So when he realizes he has a crush on you, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it at first, refuses to. He can’t and he won't. It's stupid, reckless and selfish and he knows it’s just going to end in heartbreak. And that’s something he doesn’t want to live through again. 

It’s fairly easy to ignore you. There isn't much reason for you guys to run into each other, like none…he is not close to anyone you know. 

Even if he was, he throws himself in mission after mission, so he doesn’t really get much rest time to hang out with anyone. The man doesn’t even hang out with his brother. The closest person he has to a friend is Obanai and that’s because of their shared hatred for Giyuu. 

So the idea of even developing a crush is ridiculous and childish to him. But he’s noticed you. And now that he has, he can’t stop. You and your sparkly eyes, bouncy hair and time-freezing smile. All in passing of course, he'd never actually go up to you and you've never made any effort in talking to him. You’ve never noticed or paid him any mind until you had to. 

Sent on a mission to assist the Wind Hashira, order delivered by your crow, since you were the closest demon slayer in the vicinity to him. The universe was on his side that day, but also fuck you universe cause why tf would you do this to him. 

His mission would require a female to go undercover, but he knew of no one who could help, and anyone who could (Shinobu or Mitsuri) couldn’t. Until you showed up, like a saving grace, an angel. Eyes too sparkly and wide, hair framing your face too perfectly - did you cut it? - and that sickeningly sweet smile of yours that caused all of these unwanted feelings to bubble up in his guts, all directed to him this time. Who sent you? Where was your crow? He would make sure your crow could never give you another order.. Ever again. 

And boy did you help him. You went into this mission and kicked. ass. It was great-  he never knew you could fight so well- sweaty and disheveled but nowhere near battered (he took the stronger attacks to spare you, a junior, he was a Hashira after all… they had the duty to protect the subordinates… right? Oh whatever-). And not once did you stop looking so flawless. 

As you both headed towards the closest Wisteria House (he needed proper rest after having taken on non-stop missions for a few weeks straight. And you had a sprained ankle he insisted you’d get checked.) He couldn’t help the burn of his ears as he heard you talk. Your voice was much prettier than he expected. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course it fucking was. 

He couldn't stop his glances over at your form, you were breathtaking, captivating in the sun rise. He wanted nothing more than to sprint out of there and get away from you and his stupid feelings as fast as possible, but every wince and grimace as you stepped caused his own to falter. Fingers itching with the need to reach out to you, words choked in his throat as he tried (poorly) to stop himself from offering to carry you all the way back. 

Next thing he knew, he was dropping you off in front of the all too familiar doors of the Wisteria House, gently moving you off his back, even though you reassured him multiple times that you were fine and he didn’t need to go through all the trouble. The blush on his face never settled down. 

You both grew close to one another during your stay at the Wisteria House, your room was located down the hall from his, but every morning he waited by your door, ready for the routine morning walk you would take. You helped train with him as he recovered, every meal was eaten together, you'd gotten closer to Sanemi in those days than anyone had been able to in years.

He blinked. (More like time skipped, courtesy of me 😀) And somehow he was courting you. Yes. You heard that right, courting. You were a catch and he would never let that up. Especially when you were reciprocating his attention. He was a bug eyed, crazy motherfucker and you- you were perfect. He was crazy, not stupid! 

He treats you like royalty. Offering to do just about anything for you, buying and getting you anything you liked, even if you never asked him to out loud, he's hyper aware of you and your surroundings. He’d notice if your eyes lingered on an item a few seconds too long. Next thing you knew, he’d be presenting it to you proudly, a satisfied smirk on his face as your eyes lit up. 

He’s a proud man.

You’re his pride. Having a doll such as yourself on his arm, his ego shoots through the roof and he’s unashamed about it. He wants EVERYONE to know you’re his. And he’s yours. Mind, body and soul. And he’d protect you from anything and anyone. 

Tired? Don't exert yourself anymore and let him carry you. Sleepy? Just rest your pretty head on his shoulder and rest your eyes. Hungry? Should he cook for you or do you want him to go get something to eat. He’s even more protective when you have to go on missions. Most of which he isn’t allowed to join because he wouldn’t let you do anything if he did. 

Sanemi knows that the future isn't promised so long you both remain in your line of work, so he lives his life with you with no regrets, he's going to do everything he can for you.

With how unashamed he is he doesn’t care who sees him spoil you. No one is going to get in his way and stop him. No one is going to mention it or else he’d see to it that they’re never able to say another word again (and never be able to enjoy solid food ever again either).

You’re his baby doll, his princess, and he’s not ashamed to show the world, why should he be? 

(sanemi you fucking simp ily) 

KYOJURO (TICKLISH) HIS BOOMING ASS LAUGH JUST MAKES IT FUNNIER

HE IS NOT DEAD. RENGOKU WILL LIVE ON FOREVER. 

He knows he likes you after taking a very serious moment to assess his feelings. He naturally runs hot, but he feels extra warm and uncharacteristically clammy whenever you’re around. It flusters him to no end. He’s not so bold around you (at least he tries not to be) since you seem to flinch and giggle every time he speaks which only causes his blush to spread like wildfire. 

His stare is uncomfortably ardent. He doesn’t mean to, really, in his defense he's not completely aware of how it looks. But you captivate him in a way no one has ever before. (Another inexperienced bean.) And he finds it really difficult to keep his eyes off you. He's completely awed by your swordsmanship and beauty.

In other words, he’s a little off putting at first, especially with his mannerisms. Like his inability to use an inside voice even when eating, his hair that you swear he dye's on the regular and his two toned eyes, whether he’s staring off into the distance or straight into your soul, overall he’s a bit odd and intense. 

But after you have a conversation to get to know each other, you find yourself endeared by him and all false assumptions you had of him before cease to exist. Being near him was like being comforted by the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold all day. A smile so bright and dazzling, you wanted to be bathed in it constantly. 

And a beautiful friendship blooms after that. A friendship you both cherish and nurture, both eager to close that chapter called 'friendship' and move onto the next. But you’re hesitant because how could Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, ever pursue any other passion aside from his work? And Kyojuro just has no idea how to break it to you, what if you didn’t like him that way? What if he was too much? He knew he could be sometimes and he doesn't expect you to willingly want to put up with it. You had blessed him with a friendship nonetheless, and that was something he would forever cherish.  

Kyojuro fairly quickly becomes your best friend, and it's true that he's gotten unbelievably close to you because of his feelings for you but that is not the only reason. Kyojuro admires you for the demon slayer that you are and the person underneath the title. And even if he can't have you the way he wants, he will be by your side, supporting you in all the ways that he can.

So it’s just like any other day as he heads over to your estate, but this time he walks with a much wider stride, his chest puffed out a little more than usual and an unmistakable glint to his eyes. A confident look, one of absolute, like he knows that by the end of it he’s going to have the privilege of calling you his. 

And then he gets there… and just… can’t. He can’t bring himself to say anything in that regard. To confess how his heart yearns for you. 

So he’s listening to you ramble about the latest mission you were on, busying yourself (and him) in the kitchen and he just kinda waits for the opportune moment. 

He ends up giving himself excuses as to why it’s not the right time, but to be honest he’s just scared of rejection, he’s never confessed to anyone before. And it’s nerve wracking. 

Until night falls. 

And both of you are sitting in your living space, empty bottles of well aged sake he had brought from his home, laid strewn across the floor and both of you had been reduced to a pile of giggling, bumbling red-face messes. He had relaid to you a joke Tengen had told him, well tried to at least but he had completely butchered it in his drunken state which only caused you to laugh harder as you witnessed his buffering. 

“I-... wait! How did it go… Oh! No wait- that's not right- stop laughing! Y/N! Give me a second to recall-!” 

He said all this in between his laughing and blubbering, constantly squirming as he couldn’t stay in one place, beside you, whose head was spinning in light headedness as the drinks were catching up, hard. In your hysteric, you leaned over to slap him in the shoulder but missed it completely which caused your hand to brush down against the side of his stomach a bit harshly. 

It caught him completely off guard. The action sent a jolt through his body, jumping far away from your touch staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. You quirked an eyebrow at his reaction, the light bulb seemed to go off in your head, as he watched worriedly as your eyes lit up and an evil grin pulled across your face. 

He should have seen it coming. He was a Hashira after all. He should have been able to dodge such an uncoordinated lunge but he was matching you in the inebriated department since he didn’t drink often, well, at all really. And you guys just downed two bottles. Next thing he knew he was thrown to ground with you playfully straddling his thighs, unable to contain the boisterous laughter that tore through him at your merciless fingers. 

He doesn't recall the last time he’s let go like this. If ever. Or the last time he laughed this hard. He can’t and he doesn’t want to, since this moment, he was experiencing it with you and he was going to relish in it. Even if he wanted to squirm out of your ministrations, even as tears sprung into both your eyes from how hard you had been laughing. Even if it was getting painful. 

“Stop! Please!” he laughed, a loud boyish laugh tearing through him, his voice turning high pitched. It causes your heart to swell. You hop off him, ending your torture, curling into yourself in pain as you tried controlling your laughter, maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt so high in happiness. His laugh boomed throughout your house and you seared this moment into your brain, practically engraving it into your memories. 

“Shut up!” you cried in happy tears, “I’m gonna pee!” This caused more illogical laughter to go on for a few more minutes. By the end of it, you both were left panting and hiccuping, wiping the tears that streamed from your faces. Basking in the moment. 

Something overcame him and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, this was it, this was his chance, so turning to you, the look in his eyes so raw and vulnerable, but with a fire burning behind them as he said, “I love you.” You smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling so much it nearly obscured your vision, “I love you too Kyojuro.” 

(my sweet baby angel, i love him so much, the loml <3, he deserves nothing but good things, i will never forgive you akaza.)

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA (A SOFT DOM) WITH AN UNDENIABLE SIZE KINK 

There’s really no other way around it. 

Gyomei knows he looks intimidating to a degree. His stature alone has people unwilling to approach him, the whites of his eyes often have people feeling a bit uncomfortable, and the fact that he’s so emotional throws people for a spin. Have you seen the weapon he wields? Yeah, most people second guess even looking at him. 

But how can they not? He’s big. His simple presence demands attention. Gyomei is a dom without a doubt, not only is he the oldest of the Hashira, he’s the biggest and the strongest, and it's one of things that first caught your attention about him. Because not only is his personality nurturing, that man could protect you without breaking a sweat and that is so ridiculously attractive. 

You love his size. It’s impossible not to when he lifts you up so effortlessly with one arm, the way his large hand cradles your face so gently, his build practically shields you away from the world as you walk side by side. Your small hand gripping his finger tightly, too small to actually hold hands with him comfortably. 

But it took you guys some time to get to this point, where he is no longer self conscious about his size -a small insecurity he developed after getting with you- where it no longer eats away at him whenever he tries to do anything with you. Gyomei never really thought of finding love, it was never something he saw in his future so he didn’t think much of his size, until he met you.   

Both you and Gyomei have a size kink. Yours has always been present but Gyomei's was one he developed after getting past the fear of hurting you. I mean, he's always going to be bigger than any other human and with his lack of romance, he's never really thought about it any other way besides gaining strength. But with you, Gyomei can appreciate his body even more, because not only can he save others with his superior strength, now he has the honor of protecting you and pleasing you.

You love how massive he is and how gently he treats you. Gyomei could, quite literally, tear you in half and rearrange your guts, but he doesn't and the thrill alone is enough to get your body ready enough to take him. He of course ignores your pleading, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he deems you ready enough. 

By that time you’re completely boneless, unable to think of anything else besides Gyomei. Consumed by thoughts of Gyomei. He’s everywhere. His towering frame above you, his large hands covering your body, his lips engulfing your own. His smell is everywhere, covering your senses. He’s everywhere. And yet you can’t get enough. 

He loves how needy you get, he loves fucking you dumb to put it simply. He loves that he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else (not that you would ever even imagine being with anyone else). The size of his finger inside you reaches a spot that even your largest partner before him could never reach. HIS FINGER. When you told him this he felt a primal satisfaction he had never felt before. 

He loves how small you are. Doesn’t matter what size you are, you will always be small compared to him. He loves how soft you are, how squishy and plump. Gyomei is definitely into body worship, he's the type to view the body as a temple and the fact that you're sharing it with him??? He's weak in the knees. He can't see but he doesn't have to, to know that you're absolutely gorgeous.

He loves how he’s too big for him to fit in your mouth but goddamn do you try. You try your hardest for him. Until there’s tears streaming down your face in frustration, he only knows because he can hear your sniffling, he’ll put out of your mouth gently with a “What’s wrong baby?” And you’d whine at him, voice hoarse as you tell him “Just wanna please you.” It would swell his heart to hear. You’re so cute. Tears would well up in his eyes undoubtedly.

He’d have you trembling with his finger alone, by the time he actually gets to slide into your warm, juicy walls, you’d be shuddering and gasping underneath him. Gripping onto his arms tightly as you’d be reduced to nothing but tears and incoherent sentences at the over stimulation. Something neither one of you will ever get used to. You're sure you'd be drooling as well but thanks to whatever shred of rational thought you have, you save yourself the embarrassment from doing it.

“One… two…” He’d count out loud with each push of his hips, counting down the number of inches you’d take before tapping out. Sometimes you can take his full size, on those days, Gyomei has to restrain himself so much he’s literally shaking above you as he tries not to pound into you relentlessly, dreaming of using you as a cock-sleeve. 

He can feel the bulge as he settles inside you, a large hand traveling from your hip to your soft tummy. He’s groaning at the touch, biting his lips harshly to stop himself from spilling filthy praises, unable to believe you can take him.

Instead he opts to roll his hips deeper into you, hardly pulling out, as he can feel a particularly hard part inside you that lets him know he’s reached your limit. He presses himself deeper into your womb, your walls constricting and fluttering around him endlessly, your body stuck between trying to push him out and suck him back in, all too much for Gyomei who unloads inside you with something short of a roar. You'd cry out, following soon after him, as you feel his seed deep inside you, warm and gushing, leaving you feeling absolutely swollen and satisfied. 

He’ll get off you and take a moment to just sit and bask in the ambiance, admiring his work. Both of you are drenched in a combination of juices (he could feel how drenched he is, you're no better, he can only imagine), he could hear you both panting and breathing heavily, both have tears of pleasure streaming down your faces. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it. Which is a bit of a problem because his stamina is insane and he could do it all over again.. it's a good thing you enjoy the challenge. And it's even better that he's so merciful, he knows your limits and will never push you past them without your permission.

He loves cradling you afterwards, you’re unable to move much without whining tiredly. Your shared bed is on the floor, even if you wanted something more western style, there’s no bed frame that could accommodate to the weight and height of Gyomei. He would pull you onto his chest, nestling you safely into his arms. Whispering and murmuring heart warming praises to one another, he silently prays for your relationship and for your safety before he falls asleep.

(i love this big teddy bear, he needs more love!)

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE GIFS OR CHARACTERS

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this :D Please do let me know if I should make these longer or shorter. I am open to suggestions and feedback (as long as you're nice, I got a tender heart pls be nice to me).

That's it cuties, I hope I was able to make some of your hearts flutter and add a bit more to yours guys spank-bank collection lol.

If you wanna send any requests please make sure they adhere to these rules, these are the fandom's I write for as well, don't be shy!

/) /) ( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ) / づ づ ~ ♡

[qqueenofhades]

I completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable answering this, but my mind is spiraling out of control and you’re the only person I know with the level of knowledge to where I can feel comfortable asking this without getting some form of “bla bla we live in a safe state don’t worry.”

I’m sincerely wondering if I need to be making plans to leave the country in the event of November bringing the most horrible of outcomes despite our best efforts (and yes I’m planning to vote blue in everything I can); as a AFAB in CA?

I know about project 2025. I’m terrified. Forgive my pop culture reference, but I feel like a version of Princess Zelda staring down a barrel of possible doom while everyone around me is like “nah that future you literally had a nightmare about where they made it illegal for a woman to have a bank account without a guy co-signing it and took the money from everyone who didn’t comply by a certain date isn’t even a possibility!”

I’m just confused about my life and am trying to take it day by day, and exercising every right while I still have it to prevent this outcome, but it feels weird making plans and retirement accounts and just general Setting Up Adult Life And Future Things™️……while wondering if I even have a future in this place at all and I’m just making it harder to escape if need be.

I’m sorry I’m rambling, and I guess I don’t know what I’m asking since no one has a crystal ball.

But I guess, it’s stuff like how much can the feds effect state’s policies? Is it possible for them to immediately block international travel for all women practically upon inauguration? How much time would I even have to gtfo if the worst begins?

Bc honestly this whole thing feels like the lead in to a very nasty chapter of a history book, and even though I have hope we’ll have another blue tsunami, it can be hard to try and figure things out when it feels like there’s barely any historical precedent for any of it.

Welp. Okay. First of all, I am giving you a comforting hug, I am walking with you to your favorite coffee shop, I am paying for your favorite beverage and also a baked goodie of your choice, and we are sitting down in a corner where we can talk honestly. So that's where I want you to imagine us having this conversation.

To start with, yes, I completely understand this feeling of utter, paralyzing doom, where I am trying to go about my daily life and make plans for my career and carry out daily tasks and Be Responsible while there's still just this total void beyond the end of the year, the utter impossibility of knowing if we will have dodged an absolutely massive bullet and finally be safe (since if Trump loses again he is 100% going to jail in the next four years) or, well. You know. That is a very hard way to live, when you're wondering if anything is going to matter and you can't see beyond that black cloud of fear on the horizon. It sucks you down and tells you that nothing is worth doing now in case it just gets so much worse. I am not going to tell you not to feel that. We all do. We are all scared. That in and of itself is a perfectly normal way to feel.

However, there are things you can do both now and if (I repeat, if) God absolutely forbid, the worst was to happen (again). First of all, we have already lived through a Trump presidency once. It was terrible and scary and awful and demoralizing as fuck, but we can do it again if we absolutely Goddamn fucking have to (once, again, God forbid). Second, you are currently about as safe as you could be in California. Newsom has proven himself to be smart, tough, able to run rings around Republicans, and unwilling to comply with their stupid performative-cruelty directives. He's not a saint or a magician, but you don't need that; you need a shrewd politician able to fight back, and he has proven himself willing and capable of doing that. So as long as he is governor, you're going to be more safe than not, and I'd also like to ask all the shrieking Online Leftists if, should the shit go down, they would rather live in a state with a Democratic governor who will fight Trump 2.0 every step of the way, or a Republican governor who will just roll over and obey. (But that would destroy their BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME talking point, so you know.)

Next of all, even if the Republicans are doing their best impression, America in 2024 isn't Germany in 1934. There are different tools, different ways to fight back, and different awarenesses/social media/visibility factors. I also need everyone to remember that just as Biden can't just sign an executive order and fix everything everywhere, Trump can't just sign an executive order and fuck everything everywhere, just like that with no more discussion ever. He tried that last time, it generally didn't work, and trust me, at least this time nobody is sleeping on the danger he poses. His candidacy in 2016 was dismissed as a long-shot joke that nobody took seriously until it was too late, and for better or worse, people aren't doing that this time. He will be sued instantly, incredibly, and repeatedly with everything his band of wannabe fascists try, and since we have had four years of Biden fixing the courts from where Trump trashed them, that does mean something. There is no scenario where even if he does issue some outrageous order against women, LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, etc (which to be clear, I'm sure he would try) it would just be carried out completely, immediately, and with no feasible way to stop it. Evil is evil, but it is also stupid, clueless, determined to hurt people just for the hell of it without any regard for what is possible or which will be allowed, and there's a lot more grey area in there than just "Trump says something terrible and it's instantly done, the end."

Once again, I'm not going to say that the worst-case scenario is not possible, but I don't think it's likely, and even if that does happen, there are ways for us to survive and fight back (again). Nobody wants it and it should not have to be asked of us due to the utter collapse of the social, civic, political, and intellectual fabric of this country thanks to the TrumpCult, but once again... these people are so loud and dangerous and cruel and stupid because they are in the minority. Etc. etc. polls are garbage, but we did just have an interesting piece of empirical data from the Iowa caucuses. Trump -- in one of the whitest, most rural, most conservative, most religious, most Trump-loving states in the country -- struggled to break 50%. Almost half of a rabid Republican fully-Trumpized electorate, among the diehards sufficiently motivated to get out and caucus in extreme freezing weather, voted for someone else (Haley and DeSantis took about 20% apiece). Now, no, we don't know how that will translate to the general election, and if registered Republicans will flock back to the nominee even if it's Trump, but as almost half of Haley voters said they would vote for Biden if it was a Biden-Trump matchup in the general, there is some sense that Trump is an aberration to their otherwise ironclad party loyalty. Now, Republicans are the fucking worst and nobody should be relying on them to save us; we still need to get out and vote for Democrats with all our might. But Trump is no longer barn-burningly popular even in core Trump heartland, and it'll be interesting to see how things go in future primaries.

My point is: I know the feeling that evil is awful and unstoppable and all-powerful, and will crush our lives and our futures no matter what we do to resist it. I really, really do. But Trump is a terrible candidate, he's running literally only to keep himself out of a long, long prison sentence, and if he had crushed the Iowa caucuses regardless, we might be having a different conversation. However, we need to remember that it is possible, again (God forbid) in the worst scenario, to resist, to live, and to win. Everyone who is motivated to work for a better world will still be here. Everyone who can help you and all of us will still be here. And there are more of us than there are of them. Yes, I do understand the feeling that we need to have contingency plans in place, I do absolutely know that it could get very bad, and all that (as you say, nobody has a crystal ball). But for now, I want you to take a deep breath, try to take this day by day, and remember that this is not a crushing and inevitable future that will sweep over you and destroy you without you (or any other person of good will) having a say in the matter. You still have agency, you still have the ability to protect yourself, and you still have others who will protect you in turn. You're not alone. The bad guys want you to think that, because when you're isolated and terrorized, you're easier to pick off and/or recruit into their cult. But you're not.

In conclusion: "What are we holding onto, Sam?"

[juiceicicles]

Mean and Scary | Chapter 1: King of Hawkins High

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48053206/chapters/121165750

Pts: 1, 2, 3

As he traipses through the woods, Eddie tries to get a bearing on what is about to happen and what his plan is for when it inevitably goes sideways.

Dealing pot to Hawkins Royalty like King Steve isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but doing it alone at a picnic table in the middle of the isolated woods? Yeah, not Eddie’s smartest decision for a meeting place.

In his defense, he’s only a hop skip and a jump away from the high school, and he couldn’t be assed to drive any further for what’s likely going to be a one time payment of $20. $25, if he overcharges Steve (which, he absolutely plans to do.)

Eddie finally gets to the clearing and Steve jumps when he notices him, finally looking away from a tree he was seemingly having a very intense staring match with.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Sorry,” Eddie chuckles a bit awkwardly, trying his best to subconsciously communicate that he is not a threat, because he really doesn’t wanna get his lights punched out right now “Didn't mean to scare you.”

Eddie sits down and his metal lunchbox clatters onto the table —Steve flinches again. Boy, Harrington is jumpy— and sits across from him. He opens up his Pail-o’-Drugs and watches as Steve drums his fingers on the table.

“There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.” Eddie honestly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be worried about being caught, considering that Steve apparently used to hold daily house parties.

He still can’t believe it. King Steve goddamn Harrington sitting there, in all his douchey glory. Or at least, that’s what Eddie expected. Instead he sort looks exhausted. His eyes keep flitting around, and he looks like he just saw a ghost.

You see, Harrington was never a dick to Eddie, specifically. However, he sure as hell didn’t treat the freaks of Hawkins High with any sort of sympathy. Hence Eddie’s original plan to act like the biggest asshole he possibly could without scaring off a rich customer. But something about Harrington’s eyes, a sort of dull terror etched into the hazel brown, is making Eddie reconsider that decision.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Steve sort of mutters. This is so utterly different from everything Eddie heard about him. Steve always roamed the halls with a sick sort of ironclad confidence, with his two jackals Tommy and Carol following his every beck and call. The boy across from Eddie though? He seems so haunted. Like a flickering projection of someone. A puppet with its strings cut.

“Uhh just like any other old sale, except cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts,” he gives Harrington what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

A squirrel skitters up a tree in the background, and Harrington gasps quietly and whips around to track it. And then, finally, it clicks for Eddie.

Steve’s worried about being seen with Eddie the Freak Munson. Figures. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from King Steve.

“Hey, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word, and I’ll walk away.”

“It’s not that, I don’t want you to go.” Steve starts, tentatively. He’s still looking around, like somethings about to pop out of the woods. “It’s just…Do you ever feel like you’re loosing your mind?”

And, of course Eddie feels like he’s lost his marbles. He’s a super senior with the nickname the Freak. Obviously he sometimes feels a little crazy. He’s a little surprised that notorious cool guy Steve Harrington feels that way, though.

He makes the decision right then and there to see this out, because even if Harrington’s afraid of being caught, there’s something here that Eddie’s missing.

“You know on a daily basis. I feel like I’m loosing my mind right now,” screw it, might as well be honest, go big or go home right? “doing a drug deal with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t been king for a while…” Steve trails off.

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Remembers how he made him want to beg every god there was for Steve to steal back the crown. Billy Hargrove was mean to Eddie. He was mean to everyone. And he wasn’t highschool-mean either, he was Larry Munson mean. He was a jackass who wasn’t afraid of anyone and wanted you to know it.

Unprompted, Eddie remembers the first time he met Steve. Before he was Hawkins Royalty, before he was a jock and a bully, before Eddie was the freak and not just a freak. Eddie had just gotten to Hawkins, his old man had been put away and the US government dropped lil’ Eddie on Wayne’s doorstep. He’d met some friends and formed a shitty garage band. They’d played at the middle school talent show, and Eddie had lost his guitar pick. A boy about his age had given it back, told him his name was Steve and he had found it underneath his chair in the seats.

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out.”

“No?”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle. Of course Steve wouldn’t remember. “It’s alright.”

He clutches at his heart like he’s been shot with an arrow and flings himself off the bench and into a pile of leaves behind him. He hears Steve let out a little gasp before he hops back up.

“I wouldn’t remember me either, Harrington!”

Steve looks a little amused, and Eddie catches a light brown blob in his peripheral vision. He combs his fingers through his hair and dislodges a dead leaf.

“Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Steve lets out a little chuckle as Eddie starts to gets into his story. If there’s one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it’s story telling.

“Middle school, talent show. Carol I think did this cheer thing? You know the thing the,” Eddie mimed some pom poms. Steve was smiling a little bit, so Eddie continued his spiel, “and I- I was with my band.”

Suddenly Steve pipes up “Corroded Coffin! Oh my god!”

Eddie’s bewildered that Steve apparently remembered their weird prepubescent metal show. He claps his hands excitedly and points to Steve. “You do remember!”

“Yes, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You’re a freak.” Eddie’s pretty pleased with himself when his lack of brain-to-mouth filer apparently doesn’t offend Steve. In fact, Steve breaks out a smile. It’s less Harrington Charm then Eddie expected, more of a dorky toothy grin.

“No you just- you looked so-“

“Different? Yeah. Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

“You played guitar right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do.” And since Eddie is an impulsive mess and isn’t totally hating this interaction, he does something that totally spits in the face of the tried and true Munson doctrine and invites a preppy jock to a metal concert, “You should come see us. Uh, we play at the Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool. We- we actually get a crowd of about five…drunks.”

Steve laughs a bit and clamps a hand over his mouth, like he’s a bit startled by the noise. Eddie doesn’t blame him, he’s a bit caught off guard too.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Steve looks at Eddie with a considering gaze for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Eddie out.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What, a total freak?”

“No, no. Honestly? I thought you’d be mean. And scary.”

“Me? Steve Harrington thought I’d be scary?”

“Yeah! You’ve got this whole, I dunno, chains and leather vibe. Thought you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying.” Eddie’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s completely forgot about the drug deal he came here for and plops himself back down at the picnic table. “Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

“…do you have anything maybe stronger?”

[makur0]

No Nut November?

synopsis — they’re drawn into this daring challenge, all hoping to win. but who really has the guts to do so? [various enstars! x gn! reader]

featured characters — kuro kiryu, hiyori tomoe, shu itsuki, mika kagehira, mao isara, izumi sena, niki shiina, madara mikejima, adonis otogari, jun sazanami, tsumugi aoba, rinne amagi (phew a mouthful haha)

content warnings — nsfw, mdni. rough sex, jealous sex, cunnilingus, use of toys, penetration (both reader and character recieving), some hard dom! chara some reader, reversed role, sexual frusturation, teasing, degradation, face sitting, crack in some, fluffy sex in some, all of them being absolute whores (including me lets not lie)

author’s note — CROWD CHEERING IM BACK TO SMUT Y’ALL (tbh i failed the challenge like a week in but never actually opened that up bc... yeah.) and special thanks to all my mutuals for the characters, lol (these skanky-ass whores are kinda... mmm)

word count — 3559

Give it up for Rinne Amagi y’all, for he isn’t trying to win. I swear this man has no intention of going clean for even twenty-four hours, what makes you think he’ll do it for a whole month? In fact, just to piss off all of the contestants he’ll drag you into his room and go feral on you. Good thing Hiyori and Kanata had decided to bunk at a different dorm (they probably saw this coming) or else they would see Rinne fucking you into his mattress, your tear-stained face shoved into the pillows as you moan shamelessly every time he slaps his pelvis against your ass. Calling you dirty names, leaving handprints on your ass, hickies, bruises and even broken skin littering your chest and shoulders. He literally turns you into a dumb stuttering doll as he pulls countless orgasms out of you, soaking his bedsheets underneath you and generally creating a mess. Which he’s honestly aiming for. Riling up all those so-called ‘clean’ people and making them regret their choice for accepting the challenge. It’s in his nature, after all, to stir up chaos.

Oh? You were planning to participate in the challenge too? Well that has him even more hyped up. He’s gonna scramble your mind (and insides) so much that you’ll be so fucking glad that you didn’t take up the offer and instead stayed with him. If he can make you feel this good, why throw it away for such a shitty gamble that you wouldn’t even gain anything from it?

I don’t think it’s quite obvious, but Jun Sazanami would have lost within the first day. He may have a bit more dignity than our favorite redhead, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a horny teenager at heart. Dragged into this mess by Ohii-san and taunted by him, he was really set on winning it, poor man. He only realized his fault as soon as the first day, when he went out with you. Jun really couldn’t help himself as he would constantly steal looks to your body, feeling himself heating up even more than usual due to the challenge itself. (Literally why are you the most horny when you want to become clean?) I feel like he won’t just fold you and start rutting into you like a bitch in heat— well to be honest i want him to do that— but he’ll secretly jerk off away from the prying eyes of his friends, in hope that people wouldn’t notice. Frantically fisting his hard-on, his other hand desperately muffling his moans, as he comes for what seems like the third time that night. Imagining that it was your hand around his cock, pumping his seed out, and your tongue licking up all of his cum. Goddamn- he can’t escape from your hold.

Of course Hiyori finds this out, but Jun isn’t really all that pissed about it... at least he can fuck you now without worrying about this stupid challenge anyways. 

Talking about him, Hiyori Tomoe wouldn’t last either! Definitely hypes himself too much, proclaiming that he will win this challenge easy-peasy. But that’s him talking when he gets pussy/dick almost every night. Even going as far as teasing his friends about it, catcalling them, but soon enough he’ll be eating those words when it hits him that he can’t call you. At least, to call you to meet him at his room again to do their almost-daily quickie. And what?! He can’t even masturbate too??

Somehow he gets through the first week (with him grinding against his sheets softly I may add- which unfortunately made the man even more needy) but it soon turns to be futile as every time he lays eyes on you, dirty fantasies fill his mind. Damn the challenge; why can’t he just have you sit on his cock in public, your nice little hole drooling over his length as you grind impatiently against him? You look so cute in those clothes anyway... 

And when you get irritated? By god he’s spiraling. He wants- no, needs you to peg or ride him until he’s seeing stars. Losing his sanity by the second, he’s shoving you into the nearest bathroom stall, impatient to finally get off after so long. And please do help him... he’s been good for a week, right? A whole seven days! He surely deserves a treat, no?

As a joke, Madara Mikejima would take on the challenge fully knowing that he’ll loose... so why? Just to see your face when he announces it? He’s fully aware that you can’t handle the sexual deprivation (even more so than he), so you’re devastated when he tells you his plan. Of course this is all just to see you break and whine to him just so he can tease you about it, but not just yet...

You couldn’t keep your composure for even a week, so soon enough Madara finds you getting off to your toys, trying to keep your loud moans at bay. He doesn’t bite for a minute or so, but once he sees your blissful face once you come undone on some fucking silicone something eats at him. Within a second he’s towering over you, throwing that slicked-over toy and biting at you with a tight smile that clearly tells you that you’re in for it. He’s being extremely petty over getting jealous by a toy, but he’s set on making sure that nobody, not even nothing can make you feel as good as he is right now. Surely, with the way you’re screaming his name for all the neighbors to unfortunately hear, right? And the way you’re convulsing on his cock, pushing him to fuck you even harsher and deeper, yeah? In the end Mama set you up for a trap but he fell in it instead... but really, what does it matter when in the end he has you fold for him?

Poor Tsumugi Aoba, trying so hard for the sake of... what was it exactly? Did he hopefully write it down? Anyways, there’s no shot that this baby wins with all the work stress he’s under. How can he lose you, his main source of relief, for an entire month? He’s likely one of the few people who took the challenge but realized the struggle, so as soon as he’s starts he starts drowning himself in even more work, as ironic as it sounds. It’s successful... for what, the first week and a half or so? But there’s only so much work to be done. He somehow burns through a whole month’s work in a span of a week, and comes up with nothing after that. That’s when the real struggle happens.

It’s almost like he’s death-staring you as he sits with you at the dinner table, but in reality he’s having a mental conniption. All of his walls melted like ice thanks to the lack of distraction, and he’s trying to stop the flow of dirty, dirty thoughts about you. His dick getting hard within a snap of your finger, his face getting flushed and hot, it doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots and mentally sigh. Usually Tsumugi would listen to you thoroughly, but as soon as the words he wanted to hear slipped out of your lips he’s pressing against you like a dog in heat, apologizing profusely as he fucks you right over the table. And he’s likely going to keep you there for a good hour- this man has stamina. Prove me wrong >:(

Kuro Kiryu is struggling because you are. See, if he didn’t catch you biting your lip in frustration, rubbing your thighs together subtly, even ghosting your hand over your sex, he himself wouldn’t feel himself getting hot and hard. What’s turning him on is your sexual frustration... which later on would definitely put it to good use. Unfortunately for him though, he’s still tied into the challenge so he has to at least try. It’s probably the worst two weeks of his life as he tries not to fold your sleeping figure next to him in bed, instead going as far as staying up through the night and taking out all his frustrations on a poor sandbag (I’m telling you, by the end of it his dick his harder than that lmfao). Yes, he loses. Halfway through November, itching for some intimate touch, he nearly praises the lord above when he catches you playing with your sex like a bitch in heat, hurriedly trying to get off. 

He’s your man, so of course he has to help you! Just thank him by spilling your loud whorish moans into his ear as he fucks you on the cold bathroom floor, the heat radiating from both of your sweating bodies competing with the hot shower steam. His pent-up energy is either a blessing or a curse to your poor body, because he’s not letting go of you until he’s come at least... be real. Five or six times. And plus I’m normal about breeding so of course he’s watching his thick cum seep out of your hole, decorating the already-white marble tiles. He can’t help but take a picture for masturbation food, seeing your slicked-over hole and ass pairing with the purple, red, and pink marks he proudly left behind. Is he ashamed of losing the challenge? Honestly a bit during post-sex and when he finally has reason... but he’s learned so much that he wouldn’t know before. So it’s a 50/50 for him.

Shu Itsuki struggles because you aren’t. The Shu Itsuki, the self-proclaimed best artist, a man of culture, is frantically trying to calm down his raging hard-on as you waltz away from him, perfectly fine and calm?? No no, it should be the tables turned! You should be the one begging him to please you, and he should be scoffing at your brazen behavior! But no matter how much he wishes it to be this way, your lack of attention, sexually, has him bucking into his expensive sheets, whining into his already-soaked pillow as he tries to get himself off. I feel like Shu is the type of person to train himself to control his sexual desires when you’re not around, taking extreme caution to not to try to come over anything but you. Oh how it bites him in the back now, frustrated tears falling from his lilac eyes as he can’t bring himself to reach an orgasm even once. And he’s not the type to use toys, as the traditional man he is, so there’s nothing in his house that could accommodate to his needs. So he’s, in the worst time possible, stuck.

Finally dropping his pretentious ego, he comes to you as a whiny, horny flustered mess as his obvious hard-on pokes through his pants. You can’t help but coo at his helplessness, teasing him bit to further rile him up. But you can’t have your pretty princess wait for too long, or he’ll actually lose it. So give him a good hard fuck, riding him or pegging him it doesn’t matter, and break him over your lap until he’s a babbling flushed mess. Because of how sensitive he is you have his watery cum staining your slacks, feeling the cool liquid touch your hot skin, but you could care less as you please your baby <3.

Mika Kagehira is adamant on making sure nobody finds out he’s cheating. Who is he kidding- a person who basically lives on your quickies almost every day wouldn’t survive this challenge. But you just look so hopeful as you turned to him to win, genuinely thinking that he’ll succeed. So for your sake he’ll stay quiet, although it’ll probably kill him that he won’t be able to feel you for a while. All he has to survive off of are shitty sex toys and every once in a while plushies that permanently smell like you, so it’s definitely not the best but it could be worse.

But out of all people (although looking back he was relieved) you were the first one to find out that he was cheating all along. Walking into him whining against his pillows, grinding his dick into the cum-soaked sheets as a vibrator was shoved into his ass at the highest speed. You’re frozen in your spot for a good minute, trying to process the scene in front of you, before your wrenched out of your thoughts as the male moans out your name quite shamelessly, gripping onto the ropes he wrapped around his wrists for the thrill of the burn. He was so far gone that he couldn’t even care who walked in on him, which, good for you, could enjoy the show a little bit more before you intrude on his session. So there you are, sitting at his desk, staring at the writhing boy pleasing himself at your name. Around ten minutes pass by, and Mika’s looking pretty worn out so he reaches for the remote. But before he could shut it off you suddenly appear on him, resting your hand over his. The poor boy is flabbergasted, trying to come up with some silly excuse before your other hand is rubbing dangerously close to his dick. Even after all the orgasms he’s had he feels himself getting hard again at your touch, and soon enough wanting more like the spoiled whore he his. But dear me, he’s expecting you to be nice to him especially since he hasn’t had you for so long. He broke his promise after all, didn’t he? Hope he doesn’t mind a bit of pain...

To be fucking funny, Niki Shiina would have won. So hard. Just the way his mind works has him thinking about food all the time, and of course your one of his favorite snacks but somehow it hasn’t brutally affected his sexual deprivation. Somehow. Butttt of course you go and screw everything up. Just like Rinne you fucked the whole challenge... but why is Niki doing it??? Who the hell convinced him to do so? And just ditch you? Nope, not on your watch. You’re gonna make sure he looses, and hard.

He only realizes your intention halfway through, but it’s too late. Because of your influence his dirty mind is turning everything sexual, and it’s pushing him over the edge. He’s pretty much had enough. So, completely disregarding the challenge, he manages to corner you and outwardly express his aggravation, throwing a tantrum like the little kid he is. You simply laugh at his antics, dragging a finger across his collarbone and... wow, you can’t remember what happened after that. All you could focus on was how harsh he was shoving his face into the sheets. The high-pitched whines and moans did not match at all with the brutal pace he set on you, destroying your insides. All you could do was grip on the sheets for dear life, your pupils blown wide and face extremely flushed as Niki fucked into you like a dog in heat. If you didn’t have the pillows masking your sight, you would’ve seen the man have tears streaming down his face in pleasure, his lips stuck in a pout as he watched your hips bruise under the iron grip he had you in. For such a soft guy, he sure is rough... tenfold if he was pent up. 

Izumi Sena would be close, but not enough to win. Without you he definitely has the mindset for it. You would think he would get so frustrated by his model workload but ironically it’s what keeps him sane. Give him more than a few days off and his mind will be in the gutters in no time, no matter how much he tries to resist. But the gods seem to be on his side for the entire challenge (how he learned of it, who knows. why, confidential i guess) because the more work he got the less he talked to you. Of course you two contact on a regular basis but nothing more than a short, sweet call or texting each other for minutes at a time. It seems to be enough for him, at least. Whereas you, with a much much higher sex drive, is crying in your sheets. You just want to get off so badly and that’ll just be the end of it, but with the cocky idols teasing you and the haunting nightmares of Izumi being extremely disappointed in you helps you hold off... at least for now. You’re not sure if you can hold it out for any longer.

Fortunately for you, unfortunately for him, the Knights had an ‘emergency’ and he was called back to Japan a week before he was scheduled to leave. The emergency in question was just a lost Leo Tsukinaga, which was solved in no time, but that left Izumi back with you in person while there was just one week left in the challenge. And oh boy did you use that to your advantage. You couldn’t wait when the two of you were alone after the whole fiasco- in fact within the next day the man woke up to your naked figure sitting on his chest, tracing your fingers along his collar. With that and his usual morning wood, Izumi’s sanity and patience snapped like a twig. Flipping you over and immediately pushing inside of you, he’s plowing into you like a starved man, which he is. All of his manner, ego, and common sense is thrown out the window as he moans and curses into your chest, trying to go faster than the pistioning pace he’s already setting on. He’s reduced to a horny teenager, saying how much he missed you and your hold, even coming within the first minute of fucking you. But as soon as he has that post-orgasm mindset, and realizes what you’ve done to him with a flushed angry face, he’s not letting you go for the rest of the day. Be prepared to call out from work tomorrow, because he’s gonna make sure that you get more than what you bargained for.

Mao Isara perseverance is so godly I’m jealous of this man. ...Ok, maybe he acts like a teenager with a middle school crush around you during this challenge, but that doesn’t mean that his common sense and rationality is leading him the right way. But major kudos to the President himself because he’s balancing the stress of work and deprivation for an entire four weeks.

Like all he gets itchy when his time is almost up, and almost loses when he has a sleepover with you, seeing your slumbering body so flush and close to him he’s immediately getting hard. But no, for the sake of his reputation he has to continue, just for a little while. Then he’ll get the prize he’s drooling for. He’s jumping on you, asleep or not, and shoving his face into your sex as soon as his phone says December 1st (which he has been checking several times). He missed your taste and smell so much, he literally comes into his pants as your scent hits him like a brick wall. You’d be waking up to him devouring you from in between your legs, already waking up disoriented and, frankly, now needy. But don’t worry- he’s not letting you go anytime soon until he quenches his thirst and has you come several times for his pleasure. Even after that he’d be fucking you into the mattress, babbling about how much he missed your tight hole and thanking you so much for being patient with him, wrenching out an almost high-pitched moan every time he empties his overloaded balls into you.

Adonis Otogari has the most control over himself so of course he’s one of the very few winners among these horndogs of idols. By no means does he win for boasting rights or to tease the others, but he genuinely believes that it’ll impress you- I swear this boy will jump on any opportunity to see your face light up in excitement; he lives for it. So if this challenge will have you jumping up and down in joy, he’s down.

Minimal struggle. Of course he wakes up with the occasional morning wood, but calms himself down within an hour or so before Koga points it out and shit crashes and burns. Further into the month he has to use more... creative ways (I swear this man is willing to bathe in ice cold water to get his dong to freeze up and feel nothing) but somehow he perseveres as everybody around him starts dropping like flies. And when that clock strikes twelve on the last day of November he’s on cloud nine. Fortunately you’re with him at this time, so he doesn’t waste a single minute to drag you into bed and indulge in you for the remaining nightly hours. Instead of being rushed, harsh, and overall needy (although he is don’t lie), he’s going to take his sweet time and remind himself the pleasure he gets from either fucking you nice and slowly or eating you out so that both of your minds are reeling. He survives, but don’t expect him to do this again anytime soon.

Taglist: @mishkakagehishka @yandere-daze @ciderwebs @sakumasmut @mumuugi @procrastination-is-my-profession @ibaraluvr

[hey-august]

Buggys dickhead being just as red as his nose is something I unironically approve of because:

A: It’s always fun to give him something that makes him feel like a freak (derogatory), but his partner loves about him because he’s such a cute little freak (affectionate, worshipping, head over heels „I don’t have to fear to be different around you because you are different too and I love you“ in love with him). Meaning both comedy and fluff options are real high with this

B: The fucking potential you could have with the sexual teasing are you kidding me? It’s silly as fuck but also kinda…He at first doesn’t know how to feel about it because he always feels like his partner is gonna jump up and go“ YOU FOOL! TWAS AN ELABORATE RUSE ALL ALONG!“ when they do it but…. Goddamn if the way they suddenly make eating red cough drops of all things doesn’t make him harder than he thinks it could. Just putting the candy between their middle and index finger and giving it a long, overly salacious lick while making eye contact before just popping it into their mouth. They put a bag of cherry lollipops on the grocery list for the next town they dock at and he already has a Pavlovian response just reading that. „I got you those candy apples you wanted.“ „Thank you Cabaji! I was having some real… cravings …you know?“ „We know.“ „Seriously I love that hot red , sweet, sensual glaze soooo much. It’s the best. I would put it in my mouth in its entirety but it’s just soooo big-„ „HiCabajiByeCabajiIneedASecondAloneWithThemBye!“ Everyone’s so done with those two. Give that unicyclist a raise honestly.

Oh. My. GoodNESS. YUP. I am here for this. I absolutely get wanting to bestow this extra oddness onto Buggy…he’s just so fun to mess with and to love on. And I adore the whole “we’re two weirdos in love” thing. It’s both fucked up and pure. 🖤

Plus the way this would just add to the relationship?? UGH. Buggy would have tried his damnedest to keep you from seeing that extra bit of shame. No lights on during sex. In fact, let’s fuck under the blankets.

Oh, a blow job? He’s not one to turn that down, but how can he get it in your mouth without you seeing it? A blindfold? It would only work if you agreed and this is not the moment to bring that up. Things are moving too fast and you’re practically salivating. You actually are. You’re drooling and fuck- “My dick is red.”

He didn’t even get to say it before you exposed the extra hue. And the poor clown, not only is his nose and the tip of his dick a bright red, but so are his cheeks and that blush is spreading fast. But faster than that, is your mouth on him. Did he know red is your favorite color?

And sure, it definitely takes a lot of time for Buggy to accept that you do like it. Love it. Adore it. That you aren’t planning to fuck with him, but you want to worship him. To worship his entire body.

And to tease him. Definitely tease him. The poor crew, but it’s just so fun to mess with Buggy. He gets flustered far too easily.

We all know about strawberries and whipped cream, but what about strawberries and sweetened condensed milk? The creamy liquid dripping on a bright red strawberry. The way you lick the sticky substance soooo slowly while staring at Buggy. The little string that trails from the fruit to your mouth. The explosion in his pants looks exactly like that damn strawberry.

Maybe when you’re done with that little snack, you’ll be in the mood for something with a bit more body.

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

Chapter 3 [IKYLHT]

~5.3K Words | Series Masterlist | Prev | Next Chapter

-

The car coming to a sudden stop, your head snaps up from where you’d been watching Soap’s fingers drum along your knee. 

“Why’s he getting out?” You murmur, eyes tracking Graves movement. 

Alejandro steps out of the car, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, Soap and Ghost promptly doing the same. 

“What’s this?”

“This is the immediate future. Step away from the gate.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re crazy, this is my base.”

“It’s not a base. This is a sizable covert facility and I admire it. So I’m taking it. You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service. Gun, up here.”

Snapping your head up, your brows furrow and you slide your hand over your holster slowly.

“Excuse me? I’m under no obligation to take orders from you, Graves.”

“You are a Gunnery Sergeant under the United States Marine Corps, I am the only one here you take orders from as of now.”

Planting your feet further into the ground, you brush your arm against Johnny’s and internally plead the look you’re sending Alejandro expresses your growing confusion. In your peripherals, you see Ghost’s hand rest on his holstered gun, watching you intently.

Alejandro takes a step forward with a shake of his head.

“I’ll say again, we don’t take orders from you.”

You watch as Graves moves closer, finger slowly inching closer to the trigger of his rifle.

“Didn’t Valeria say that? Now that makes me wonder what else I don't know about your affiliation with a drug-lord?”

“What the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo?”

“You’re out of line, Graves.”

He points a finger at Alejandro and Soap, “Don’t do that. Don’t… do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

Ghost speaks from his spot near the side of the car.

“Are you threatening us?”

“Soldier, I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this. Gun. Here. Now. That’s an order.”

“Absolutely not.” You spit out.

“Soldier- considering past events, I do think it’s best you listen to the men in charge this time. Wouldn’t want a repeat scenario, would you?” He drawls.

It takes a minute before the dots connect in your head.

That motherfucker. That’s why he was taunting me. This was their plan for the entire damn mission.

“Are you fucking blackmailing me?” You hiss.

Turning and walking past you, Soap calls out, “I’m calling Shepherd.”

“General Shepherd sends his regards. He told me y'all wouldn't take this well.”

“He knows about this?”

“He's put me in command of this operation from here on out. So y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this. And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It's not. I've got my orders and now you have yours. So help me, Rabbit, if you don’t fall in this goddamn minute-”

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabron? My men are inside!”

“I'm afraid not. Your men have been…detained.”

Watching his fist clench, you’re only able to graze your fingers over the back of Alejandro’s tac vest before he’s lunging at Graves.

You hit the ground as Alejandro’s hands are ziptied, two bullets whizzing past you and hitting the soldier Soap used as cover. You lunge at Graves, but fall back as a bullet lodges itself deep into your thigh. 

Soap manages to shoot the offending soldier, but is knocked back by Graves’ bullet to the shoulder. He rounds the front of the car and you take the opportunity to roll the dead soldier off of Soap as Ghost yells.

“Soap, get out of there!”

He pulls you up and moves to jump over the barricade, two soldiers following and shooting out. One clips you, hitting your tac vest and sending you back. Johnny turns, but you push him over the barricade.

“Go Johnny!”

He pulls your arm and calls out for you, only releasing when a new rain of gunfire breaches the barricade. The soldiers pass you, and you subconsciously thank Johnny for his accuracy as he hits one of the soldiers, allowing you to effectively plunge your knife into the other one.

You look back to see Ghost silently watching you. You gesture towards the barricade and raise your gun with the intent of covering him. You hear his low voice quietly call out.

“Go.”

You don’t move, watching something unrecognizable flash across his eyes. He nods once, and you nod back with a grimace before jumping over the barricade and sliding down the hill.

It isn’t until you’re exiting the thick brush of the forest, thigh burning and blood dripping down your leg, that you realize the bullet to your chest was lodged six centimeters into your comm box.

-

Letting out a low whistle, you knock your knuckles against the wall of the coffee shop and duck behind the counter when Johnny turns his gun on you.

“Jesus, Johnny, it’s me.”

Rushing over and pulling you into his chest, he speaks harshly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer comms, Bunny?”

Pulling back and moving a hand to the button, you hold it down and listen to the lack of voices or static.

“It’s busted.” You whisper, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He pulls you back into him and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring lowly.

“It’s alright, Bun. It’s okay. How’d you find me?”

“Hitched a ride in the back of one of their cruisers. Crashed it when they’d realized I was there. Followed the path of knives here. Ghost’s, I’d imagine.” You chuckled. 

Letting out a smile, he gestures out the window towards the center of the town. 

“Meetin’ him at the church. Shouldn’t be much longer. We need a minute?” He gestures towards your wrapped thigh.

“No, I’m good. Restocked my medkit on the way here.”

“Atta girl, Bun.”

Reaching for the transmitter, he scopes out the narrow street and creeps out the back door. 

“Ghost, Rabbit’s found her way over. Comms are down, she’s stickin’ with me.”

You don’t get to hear his response, and instead choose to focus your attention on covering Soap’s back as he speaks to Ghost.

It isn’t until Johnny’s tone changes that your attention is grabbed.

“He’s sorry, you know.”

You give a noncommittal hum, brows furrowing in muted confusion.

“Who?”

“Ghost. Didn’t mean to bring it up. Gave him an earful for you, Bunny.”

Your frown only deepens, turning to your partner with a raised brow.

“What exactly did you tell him, Johnny?”

He shrugs, avoids your eyes and quickens his pace to remain a step ahead of you.

“John.”

“‘S not important, Bun.”

Sighing out, you push down the irritation that threatens to show itself. 

Airing out your past wasn’t worth the mere cease of Ghost’s accusations. Johnny would say whatever it took to ensure you weren’t being given a hard time, but he’d never expose your skeletons without good reason, and you trust him wholeheartedly.

So what went down while I was gone?

You can’t think about it much longer, and so you task yourself with finding the exfil vehicle as Soap covers Ghost’s hurried departure from the church.

Your loud whistle alerts them of your find, and you pull the man out of the driver's of the pickup seat as you yell out. 

“Ghost, you drive! We’ll cover you!”

Soap hopping in after Ghost, you only have a second to duck behind the car before bullets are piercing the air you’d just stood in. Reversing over the two men, you hear Ghost’s yells for you to get in as you maneuver into the truck bed, pounding your hand against the rear window loudly.

“I’m in! Drive!”

It’s a bumpy ride, and you almost listen to Soap’s demands for you to switch spots, but your paranoia wins you over and you resign to guarding the rear. Once the town’s far into the distance- not even a blip on the horizon- and the empty road loses its daylight, you allow yourself to answer Ghost through the now-broken rear window.

“Didn’t happen to pick up any of those knives I left, did you, Rabbit?”

You’re still irritated with him- more than irritated, actually- but you take his words as the olive branch you know they’re intended to be.

“No.”

Despite your efforts, your tone has him snapping his mouth shut, glancing towards Johnny who gives him a reassuring nod.

Sighing out, you let your head thunk against the window frame and you look up at the clear sky and all of its bright stars.

Dropping your tone into something soft, you let your voice ring out once more.

“Guess that makes us even then?”

Ghost takes a minute to respond, but when he does you hear the relief in his voice.

“Even then, Rabbit.”

You nod and allow yourself to wear the small smile threatening to spread across your face.

Might as well try.

“So… I was gone for a while. What’d I miss?”

Taking you by complete surprise, Ghost lets out a deep chuckle and you turn to watch Soap’s ears redden.

Well that’s interesting.

“Johnny was chattin’ my ear off about you, as always.”

“Oh? Care to indulge?”

“Negative, soldier.”

“Am I ever gonna know?”

“Mm, probably not.”

You throw your hands up with a light laugh, brushing aside shards of glass to squeeze through the window and into the makeshift seat between the two men.

“All good things, darling.” Ghost mumbles, and you glance over at Johnny.

His eyes are soft, and the small nod he gives is the most reassuring thing you’d gotten all week.

Sinking into the seat, you turn the radio onto the first station that gets a signal, crossing your arms and ignoring your brain’s incessant pestering with a sigh.

-

Soap wasn’t afraid of your past. He was there for most of it, and the parts he was absent from, he knew in great detail. You’d shared it with him, though at first he honestly hadn’t realized the significance in that statement. He isn’t a dumb man by any means. He knew these were details that’d been redacted from countless files, explanations to cases chalked up as ‘classified’. But in his own uncharacteristic insecurity, he’d assumed he wasn’t the only one you’d shared those details with. Yeah, it was a small group, he thought, but a group nonetheless. 

He hadn’t realized he was the sole member of that group until he’d come to visit you in the states after the Demon Dogs were shipped off to Urzikstan without you- when you took him to that cobweb-ridden apartment you still rented even after your parents death years ago. 

He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t touched you once, and yet you pulled yourself together enough to skim your fingers over the dusty decor you hadn’t had the heart to alter. 

He liked that about you. How you were able to balance on those wobbly legs all on your own, something he knows you could’ve done regardless if he was there or not, even if you hadn’t once attempted to enter that apartment without him.

You didn’t need him. You wanted him. 

Johnny wasn’t one that had a hard time with words, and he frequently thanked his parents and sisters for their role in that. He may not have known how to comfort you at that moment, but he did know how to talk.

He’d asked about the little things, like who was who in the picture frames and what kind of juice would leave such a dark stain in the worn carpet.

It was blood, and while he hadn’t had the nerve to ask, you’d graced him with the story anyways. He was grateful. You hadn’t always been a woman of many words, but he found himself content to sit back and wait for you to string the sentences together.

Hours later he’d ask more questions, ones more vulnerable than the last because he needed you to understand.

He wanted you, too.

He held you as the tears resurfaced, rubbing his hand along your back not as a way to dry your tears, but as a way to let you know he wanted to be your source of comfort. 

He took the keys from your shaking hands, locking the door and leading you into the rental car. He buckled your seatbelt when your hands were slow from the adrenaline crash, not because you couldn’t but as a way to show you just how much he cared about your safety, no matter how inconsequential the action seemed.

He unlocked the front door of your house, the one you’d paid off with the same cash you despised yourself for earning, and leaned down to help slip your shoes off. He notes the frames on the wall, glass encasing military medals, commemorative awards, and a single name tape. 

Highwater.

You hadn’t gone by that callsign since Victoria.

He angled his shoulders to block your view of the badge.

The frame is cracked towards the edge. He wonders if it’s purposeful. The rest of the house, save for the frame, was almost uncomfortably orderly. The personification of a military mindset. Sheets tucked in the corners, trinkets equal distance apart from each other on the mantle, not a single thing inoperable or in need of repair. 

It looked nothing like that apartment you’d been raised in. 

He knows that’s purposeful.

He carried you up the stairs, setting you gently on top of the sheets he knew you’d hate remaking the next morning with a promise he’d do them for you. 

He pulled the shirt over your torso, unclasping the military-issued bra you’d joked about outlawing a hundred times before, fingers careful not to brush against the raised lines covering the expanse of your back. 

He’d waited for your nod- a small, sheepish one- before skimming his hands over the scarred flesh. You can’t help but shake, a small sort of tremor he remembers you mentioning needing to get under control. You’d described the phantom pains, the familiar burn of leather reopening deep gashes, a pain you’d come to associate with that apartment. 

He takes in the tattoos- collarbone to wrist, sternum to stomach, more covering your legs under the cover of your pants- they’re so new to him it almost feels weird to see. He swears it was just days ago you were rolling up your sleeves to knead dough over holiday in his childhood home, skin clear of ink. 

In the same moment, as he skims his hands along the top of your arms, he realizes your skin hadn’t been so raised when he’d first met you, either. Victoria.

He gauges your reaction. The scars, both physically and mentally, were much fresher. You don’t flinch when he runs his hands over them. Not like you do the ones on your back. 

“I’ll be fine. Been through worse.” you’d said over the phone when the nurse unbandaged your arms all those months ago.

At the time, he’d chastised you for neglecting your health. Now, seeing the way the scars on your back raise far higher than the ones you’d received being tortured, he can’t help but picture adolescent you attempting to care for your own wounds in that apartment and realize you were right.

He kissed you then, a soft, slow sort of chaste kiss that didn’t have much energy behind it yet conveyed every single emotion he needed it to. He needed you to understand that he chose that gentle press of his lips against yours. 

This wasn’t an act spurred on by the heat of the moment. This wasn’t some decision he’d made lightly. No, while he may not have put much thought into it- the action instinctual- it was anything but half-baked.

He’d shimmied his clothes off then, helped you slide your cargo pants down and find warmth deep beneath the duvet. It wasn’t needed, as your combined body heat was enough to power a small sauna, but he knew the sheets provided a small sense of security in an already vulnerable environment.

He’d snaked an arm under your head, holding your body tight to his with the other and pressing another chaste kiss to your lips.

While he was glad the thin sheets provided you some modicum of safety, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to suffocate you in that safe feeling. He let his back face the door, despite it ringing every alarm bell in his military-trained brain, because it meant you wouldn’t be hearing those alarm bells yourself.

When you’d pressed your own kiss to his lips, heart racing with an unsubstantiated fear of disappointing him, he felt his eyes soften more than they ever had before, kissing you one last time before pulling you closer and closing his eyes.

While you hadn’t voiced it, he knew you were reeling from the pleasant shock of the situation. John MacTavish was not a man known for being gentle. He wasn’t harsh or cruel by any means, but he knew you’d heard the gossip. The women he’d brought back to base always left satisfied, but the chaste kisses and whispers of praise Johnny happily provided you with were not ever something those women got to see.

He needed you to understand that he wanted you. 

He’d felt your soft smile against his skin, listened for your heart rate to slow and your breathing to even. He didn’t stop the gentle caress of your back until you were long asleep, finally allowing the burning muscles in his arm to rest and falling asleep himself.

When he felt you stir awake that following morning, he’d made it his personal mission to make sure you felt every last bit of pleasure he felt every time he was around you. It was a thank you of sorts, for allowing him to comfort you in that vulnerable headspace, for trusting him with your entire being. 

He fondly recalls chuckling at you, when you’d murmured something about wanting him to feel good too. His smile was uncontrollably wide in that way that makes your cheeks hurt, and he was quick to remind you that he did feel good. He feels good when he knows you do too, and a couple of cold showers are more than worth it when it ensures you understand that his want for you runs far deeper than physical gratification. 

He’d finally given into your murmured pleas after four consecutive days of relentlessly spoiling you in every way he knew how, and after that, he’d been sure to spend the remainder of the week teaching you what true, unconditional love looked like as you paraded him around the local spots you’d frequented as a child. 

Despite the hours spent discussing your relationship- the need to keep it a secret while on base, the safety concerns of his family knowing, all the little agreements that made his heart want to shatter- the flight back to base wasn’t a dreaded one.

Because he knew- without a doubt- that you understood.

He wanted you.

-

“We’re here, darling.” Ghost speaks softly, patting your leg from where he stands outside the car.

You don’t remember arriving at the safehouse, nor do you remember Ghost or Soap exiting the rickety truck, and you blame the sleep deprivation with a grimace.

He takes your hand and gently leads you down the tall step, closing the door and positioning you between himself and Johnny, who’s eyes scan the building. You grab your discarded gun from the truck bed and motion for them to walk forward, turning and scanning the desert at your backs.

“Where are we?”

“Alejandro’s safehouse. Gave us the location just in case.”

“Why didn't he tell me?”

“It was need-to-know.”

“He told Rabbit?”

“She needed to know.”

“What if I needed to know?”

“Shh, Johnny.”

You continue your slow walk backwards, gun aimed out towards the dry brush.

“Pressure plate.”

“Alejandro rigged it.”

“Smart bastard.”

“There.”

Walking towards the open window carve-out, you scan the inside of the empty building.

“Too dark to see anything. You first, I’ll keep watch here.”

You appreciate Ghost's quick reflexes, even if it was only Rodolfo, as he covered Johnny in a way you couldn’t at the moment, the adrenaline crash and blood loss finally caching back up to you as you struggle to enter the safehouse.  

“Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

“Affirmative.”

Even more than his reflexes, you find yourself appreciating his big hands as they envelop your waist, pulling you through the small window with ease.

“You okay, Coneja?”

“I’m okay, Rudy. Glad to see you are, too.”

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run.”

“We were on the run. Ghost waited for us.” Soap answered, throwing a hand around your waist and shifting your weight into his arms.

“Of course, no?”

“No.” You answer with a grimace, your leg shooting pain up your spine, before Ghost quickly amends your answer.

“Yes. We’re a team. All of us. This happened on my watch and I'll need help to fix it. No one fights alone.”

“Why did Graves turn?” 

“We don't know.”

“Las Almas can corrupt anyone.”

“Not us.”

“Might have something to do Shepherd, Graves mentioned direct orders.” You speak quietly. 

You don’t bother mentioning Graves’ taunts and the fact that- besides Johnny- there was only one other person present that would ever think of calling you Victoria.

No, Laswell wouldn’t do that. She won’t even call me Highwater anymore- and that was an official callsign. If she was kind enough to follow that request, there was no way she’d… she couldn’t. No. She wouldn’t do that to me.

“For now, General Shepherd, Laswell, and anyone else outside this room is considered a hostile.”

“We need Alejandro back.”

“Graves is holding him here.” Rudy walks over and points to a small section of the map. 

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, 0400. I’ve intercepted a message about a scheduled drop. We’ll need the distraction. For now, we wait. There are cots in the armory.”

“Where are you going?” You ask as he shoved items into his small pack. 

“There are a few things I need to do. People to check up on. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

“Stay safe, hermano.”

“Rest up, amigos.” He claps his shoulder, turning back to you and Ghost, nodding once. 

“See you tomorrow, Rudy.”

You wait until you hear the rumble of the car’s engine slowly fade to silence before you whisper.

“I overheard Alejandro fretting about his mother. No doubt Rudy’s gone to check up on her.”

“He’s a good man.”

“That he is.” You affirm, limping over to the table and grabbing the small medkit Rudy had set aside for you.

Wincing as you unwrap the bandage, you pant as you try to gently detach your cargos from where the blood had bonded them to your skin.

Seeing his large figure in your peripherals, you look up as Ghost kneels in front of you, gently taking your thigh in his hand as he inspects the wound. You register the sound of Soap clearing off the table, the pair leaning you onto the edge of it.

Without a word, Ghost’s taking off his gloves, his hands reaching around your waist and lifting you onto the table before resuming their gentle prodding at your thigh.

“Gonna have to take your pants off, darling.” He speaks softly, already unlacing your boots.

You feel your cheeks warm as you look to Soap, who gives a feather light kiss to the crown of your head before taking the scissors and cutting around the torn fabric.

“It’s gonna hurt, Bunny. It’s real stuck on there.” He frowns, opening a bottled water and lightly pouring it over the wound.

It doesn’t budge, and you curse yourself, Graves, and the entire shadow team for not allowing you to properly take care of the wound hours ago.

Unbuckling and shimmying your pants down your hips, you nod and remind yourself to take deep breaths. You groan as Ghost slowly pulls the fabric down and over the wound. You feel the skin tear and sigh in relief when it’s over, Soap quick to press a wet cloth over the bleeding skin as Ghost pulls your pants over your ankles. 

You don’t mind the remaining coolness your rain-damp clothes provides as your leg supplies your body with enough heat to have you breaking a sweat. They’re quick to disinfect and dislodge the remnants of the bullet from your thigh, carefully bandaging it with a practiced preciseness. 

You feel the air shift and open your eyes to the wall that is Ghost’s chest. He fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, tugging slightly.

“Off, Rabbit.”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head to Johnny who nods with a soft smile. He lets Ghost speak for him, but takes his hand in yours and rubs his thumb over your knuckles soothingly.

“Your clothes are still damp. Don’t want you catching a cold, do we?” He speaks lowly. 

“I don’t- I’m not sure- I don’t think I can-”

Soap cuts off your quiet stammering with a kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s okay, Bun. I’m right here.”

Watching his soft expression, your eyes water and you turn back to Ghost with a nod.

He’s slow in pulling your shirt off, and you hold back a gasp as the cool air hits each scar littering your back.

“Ghost?” You question with a whisper, eyes taking every last detail in as he pushes the balaclava to expose his strong jaw and full, pink lips.

“‘M here, darlin’.” He hums softly, leaning to press a kiss to your lips.

You lean into it, pressing one palm into his chest and using the other to steady yourself on the small desk.

He pulls away, moving to trail kisses along your jaw. Brain fuzzy, you don’t notice Johnny’s finished tending to your now rebandaged bicep. The sting of the antiseptic is somehow completely painless when paired with Ghost’s affection. Brain still half operating, you miss the way his shoulders shift as he leans forward to press a kiss to the scarred flesh towards the back of your neck. You stiffen, closed eyes screwing tighter as you force your hands not to shake.

You feel Johnny’s hands from behind you, one skimming along your chest as the other brushes your hair from your shoulder. He starts his own trail of kisses along the other side of your neck, speaking softly.

“‘S alright, Bun. We’ve got you.”

“Johnny?”

He hums noncommittally, still pressing light kisses against your neck and shoulder as he reaches forward to gently tug at Ghost’s belt. It pulls the three of you impossibly closer, and you take it upon yourself to remove the garment with a needy sigh.

You feel him move to kneel, but quickly catch his shirt in your hand and pull him back to your lips. You sigh between kisses, murmuring.

“Want you to fuck me, Ghost.”

You almost laugh at the way his lips part, eyes darting behind you to look at Soap. 

“Don’t look so worried, Fantasma. You think I haven’t seen the way Johnny’s eyes follow you? Take what you want, Ghost. We’re yours.” You quietly confess, tugging his shirt off with a low whine.

Soap laughs with a blush, shaking his head and shrugging.

“‘S why I love her.”

You giggle and lean back into Soap’s arms, turning your head to kiss him deeply before pushing Ghost's hips back and sliding off the table and onto your knees.

“Darling-”

“-Shh,” You cut him off, sliding his jeans down his thighs and palming him over his boxers. “Go ahead, give me a show.”

His cheeks redden, half hidden under the mask, and Soap is quick to pull him into a kiss.

You giggle quietly, tugging down his boxers and running your tongue along the length of his cock.

You hear him moan into Johnny’s mouth, your partner pulling back to bite marks along Ghost’s jaw, before settling on his knees next to you. He licks the base of Ghost’s cock as you kiss at his tip, hand settling over the areas you and Soap missed.

Ghost’s moans fill the air, one hand threading through your hair and the other settling over Johnny’s open jaw.

“Fuckin’ beautiful sight. Could stay like this forever.” He slurs, abs tightening and breath shuttering.

You laugh and settle your free hand on his thigh, caressing the area.

“So responsive, Ghost.” You tease with a smile.

You move forward, taking him into your mouth as Johnny shifts his attention to his heavy balls.

“S-Simon.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, noting in the back of your brain how Soap does the same.

“My name, darling. It’s Simon.” He sighs out, throwing his head back and tightening his grip on your hair.

You pull back, unable to control your wide smile and kiss his hip softly.

“So pretty, Simon.” You murmur against his skin.

You trail kisses up his chest, stopping to suck dark bruises onto his collarbones and the underside of his jaw. The area is red and purple from you and Johnny’s assault, but you can’t stop yourself. 

You feel Ghost’s abs tighten once more as Johnny raises his head.

“Let go for me, Simon.” He mumbles, hollowing his cheeks and pulling Ghost’s hips forward.

He came with a loud moan, dropping his head to your shoulder and panting with a chuckle.

You continue your soft kisses against his skin as Soap helps him redress, and you lean back against the desk with a smile. Johnny throws an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head, laughing to himself.

“Wasn’t originally how Ghost pictured getting back in your good graces. Night was supposed to be about you, Bun.”

“Mm. You two can make it up to me once this is all over. What do you think, Si?”

He steadies his hand on the desk, softly kissing your cheek before pulling the balaclava back to its original place.

“I’ll save the date, darlin’. Come on, let’s get you into something dry.”

Slowly walking you to the armory, he sits you on a cot before turning to dig through a box of mens cargo pants. He hands a pair to Soap who gently tugs them up your legs, securing your belt over the too-large pair of trousers. Grabbing a dark shirt, he lifts your arms to slide it over your head, gently rubbing your back.

Johnny sets your boots in front of you, letting you slip them on and lace them in the weird pattern you swear is ten times more efficient. You’ve never minded sleeping in your boots, not on missions like these where preparedness is the difference between life and death, but you find yourself frowning at the realization that you were indeed still sleeping on a rickety cot in a desert safehouse.

Settling onto the cot, Johnny pulls you to lay on his chest, spreading his legs to accommodate for your wrapped thigh. The lights go out, and you hear Ghost’s quiet steps approach his cot.

Leaning over, you pull the cot closer to yours before settling back onto Johnny’s chest. His steps follow, and you hear him sink onto the cot with a sigh. You watch his eyes scan the dark room, and you frown knowing the man won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“I don’t know what Johnny told you when I was off comms… but I’m glad he did.” You whisper, nuzzling your face into Johnny’s shirt.

“I am too, darling.”

“Goodnight, Simon.” 

“Goodnight, Rabbit.”

Listening to Johnny’s soft snores, you allow your tiredness to overcome you- eyes barely open as you shift your leg over, tapping your boot against Ghost’s, twice.

-

<3

[thecuriousquest]

Can’t Live Without You

Yandere Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, threats of violence, violence, violent quirk use, abuse, mentions of past abuse, PTSD from abusive relationship, possessive behavior, controlling behavior

Summary: You’ve managed to escape Bakugou for four years. He finds you in a café while you’re in college.

Checkout my Master List here.

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You sit at the little café at school feeling incredibly independent. It’s your third year at university, meaning you’ve escaped Katsuki Bakugou for four years. You think about how it was his plan for you both to get married right after graduating from U.A, how you didn’t want to go along with it one bit but was too afraid to say anything.

You scoff. It was so hard getting away from the teenager who claimed he wanted to be a hero. Despite him bullying you for years, putting you through absolute misery, he wanted marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The thought of waking up next to him everyday makes you gag.

Your heart feels lighter now. You haven’t been able to manage a boyfriend because of all the PTSD. It’s just too hard to move on for you right now. You need to focus on your studies anyway. Once you get a career going, then maybe, you’ll be able to handle having a relationship.

Bringing the cup of coffee to your lips, you choke on it when you feel someone slip into the booth beside you. A man’s hand, a familiar hand, rests on your thigh.

“Scream and I’ll blow your fucking leg off. Got it?”

Your neck cranes ever so slowly to look at his face. He’s back like a goddamn cockroach.

“Katsuki…I- what are you doing here?” You can’t help how squeaky and high pitch your voice is.

He smirks at you. “I came to get my teddy bear. It seems she doesn’t know her place. College? Really? Stupid fucking bitch. No, you’re coming home with me.”

Shaking your head indignantly, you make sure your voice is a bit more steady this time. “No, I have the rest of this year and the next semester left. I’m not quitting. I’ve worked my ass off to get this far.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem to hear you, and if he does, he doesn’t care. He wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you in close. You spill the coffee that was in your hand, watching it clatter and clang as it spills across the table.

You both watch as it pours over the other side, splashing all over the booth across from you. The workers there couldn’t give a shit.

Your ex chuckles lowly before looking back at you. “See? You can’t do anything right. You need me.”

“You made me drop it, asshole!”

“Quiet!” He grips your chin rather harshly, fingers squishing your cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s seen you up this close. His grip on you lessens but only by a little. He turns your face from left to right, analyzing you, trying to see if anything is different since you turned eighteen and left him. No, you still look the same. You still look perfect to him. You’ll always be perfect to him.

He whispers in your ear. “I missed you.” Bakugou nuzzles a sensitive spot on the side of your neck with his nose. You always had an involuntary reaction to when he does this. You moan ever so lightly, but he can hear it. He smiles knowing that still gets you going.

“Please…Katsuki…” You don’t know what it is you’re asking for. Your mind is fuzzy with confusion. He just showed up out of nowhere. You were scared. Now, you’re moaning in his grip. You could cry from agitation.

“What is it, Teddy Bear? What do you want?” He bites your ear tenderly.

Then, you remember. You remember the time he tried to give you a simple kiss on your neck. You had tried to push him away, and he retaliated by latching onto your ear with his sharp teeth. He drew blood that day, and you swore that was the last straw. It was. You’re so insecure about that one ear, the one with a giant knotted scar that will never heal.

You try to push him away from you, and you feel his hand heat up on your thigh. You hear faint sizzling, and you recognize the threat.

“Fucking calm down. Don’t make me hurt you.”

You know he will. He’s always true to his word. Shuddering under his heated touch, you sink your weight back as he pulls you from the booth. You struggle to get out of his grip as he pulls you out the door, and he makes good on his word by adding a small pop of an explosion to your wrist. It stings, the skin feeling as though it’s curling and crinkling around a burn. You force the tears down your throat, hating him even more for putting you in such a position.

There’s a driver opening a door for you. The car is large and black, and bile rises in your esophagus as you’re ushered into the car. You get in on the other side, trying to open the door. You clamber with the lock.

Katsuki watches you struggle with it. He reaches over and smacks your thigh, jolting you out of whatever escape plan you conjured up the minute you saw the unguarded door. Forcing you to look into his vermilion eyes, he gives you a ferocious glare. “Child locks, idiot. You really made it to your third year in college?”

Of course. How could you be so stupid. For safety reasons, only the driver can unlock the door, and without Katsuki’s permission, you doubt he will if you asked him to.

Bakugou grabs your hand, his gaze somewhat softening, but not by a lot. He’s still pissed off, but the hero seems to have calmed down slightly.

“When we get home, I’m beating your ass. Just wanted to make that clear.”

Your lip wobbles slightly, but you can’t let him see you in such a vulnerable state. You can’t let him see how he’s getting to you. You’re terrified of whatever punishment he’s going to give you. The man can be creative.

You shake your head and look out the window. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Let’s hope after all these years you can still take an ass kicking.” His tone is dangerous, warning you to be quiet.

You watch the driver pull away from the school. You’re going to miss your three o’clock lecture, you’re going to miss your 4:30 class. You’re going to miss the rest of what could have been as you watch your school grow farther away with the distance.

Goodbye friendships. Goodbye college. Goodbye career. Goodbye to what you wanted your life to be.

Say hello to what Katsuki wants instead.

[c0mbatchameleon]

hi anna my love would you mind telling us what the possession au is about 🥺🤲🏼💗

LUNEEE ABSOLUTELY ABSOFRUITLY I CAN.

Ok so the tldr here is James is a demon that possesses reg. This all came from a drunk 3am note in my phone about the “intimacy of literally inhabiting the same body, to become a singular noun; my thoughts are yours now, you don’t even know where you end and I begin, your soul would feel so empty without me here to fill in all the gaps” etc etc. Right ok. Long ramblings below, be warned.

So picture regulus, our resident high-strung control freak who has lived as a puppet on a string at the whims of his family ever since he was a teenager and they began staging him to join / eventually take over their major capitalist conglomerate empire or whatever. Iffy on the details still but there’s a lot of politics involved. Think like the richest of the rich in the world and they want to keep their family on the top—regulus is their vessel to do so.

And the thing is, he goes above and beyond. He gave up on trying to escape the life he’s been (to him) imprisoned in a long time ago, and his (perceived) lack of control and agency has only driven him to climb higher, hungry for even more disgusting amounts of wealth and power, fuck everyone else, he wants to be at the fucking top, and maybe then he’ll be free. He’s terrible and he’s miserable and he’s everything they wanted him to be, he feels like a slave to time and to the life that was carved out for him, and it manifests in him exerting extreme amounts of control over the one thing he can have some semblance of control over, which is his own body.

(slight tw for disordered / obsessive eating / body habits?)

Picture him scheduling his days down to the minute. He wakes up at 5:30am everyday after getting the exact amount of sleep to complete five rem cycles, he has a strict workout regimen every day perfectly planned out for the week, meals all the same mapped out down to the calorie. You’d think he’s in the army. His skincare routine puts patrick bateman to shame. He jerks off once a week cuz he thinks it has health benefits or keeps him sharp or something (if you’ve watched The End of the Fucking World I’m pretty sure this is where my brain subconsciously picked this from) and it’s mechanical and he’s dead in the eyes and he knows it will take him exactly 5 minutes and 8 seconds to come.

And then. Suddenly. He’s having weird dreams about some man he doesn’t know and they’re making him feel things when he has specifically trained his body to NOT feel things and what’s happening to him? And then dreams become daydreams. And then he’s losing time. HES LOSING TIME. Which is literally his worst nightmare. It’s making him fuckinf spiral, his routines are being thrown off, the small semblance of control is slipping, so he’s already at his wits fucking end when a goddamn voice in his head starts talking to him. Like that’ll do it.

But then the voice, the man, the figure from his dreams, James, is telling him to relax. Telling him you’re so wound up. I can feel it, you know? How tired you are. It’s okay baby, let me take the reins for the day. You just have to sit back up in that head of yours—of ours—and let it all turn to static for a bit. Don’t worry. I’ll give you your body back tonight. Don’t you trust me? Wouldn’t it feel good to just.. let go for a bit?

And eventually regulus discovers that it DOES feel good. He fucking loves it. He gives up control willingly for the first time, he lets James do it all for him, to move him around like a puppet in the most literal sense but it’s different from his family, from everyone else. It’s freeing.

and it’s like this weird corruption-anticorruption thing because yes james is influencing him and planting thoughts in his head and literally taking over his body at points but it’s all to make him do…kinda good things? “Fuck the company, don’t show up today, let’s go to the coast like you used to as a kid,” “don’t pick up the phone, I know you’ve never declined your mother’s call before, but just try. Don’t you feel powerful?” Until eventually reg is sabotaging the company, his family, he’s basically suicide-bombing the stock market, he’s giving all his money away, etc etc. he’s more free than he’s ever felt in his life and to the outside world he looks absolutely insane and, shit, maybe he is, but it feels fucking amazing.

I just love the thought of James’ more mundane influence on him too. He’s craving hot Cheetos for the first time in his life and absolutely appalled and confused and James is like “shit my bad I was thinking abt them.” James has him smoke weed for the first time (the scene I have planned for this……) and he has to take over to roll the joint for him. Why the fuck is reg enjoying abba music? But also—why the fuck is a demon enjoying abba music?

I’ve rambled way too much so I’ll reign it in there. Lots of details subject to change, but this is basically all I’m thinking abt these days.

[yasmindifference]

IMMEDIATELY asking for jason’s pov of the fake dating fic for the prompt meme. literally first and only thing that popped in my mind. i don’t have a specific scene in mind, any you want would be amazing

oh and i forgot to say happy belated birthday!! you don’t have to reply to this separately lmao

Thank you very much! I've always kind of wanted to write Jason's POV of the hickey scene in chapter two, so I hope you enjoy ♡♡

It probably made Jason a bad person, but how could he resist the opportunity when it was right there?

“You might not’ve noticed, but I’m a possessive kinda guy,” he said in extreme understatement. “When I own something—or someone—I make damn sure everyone knows. You need more than this if you’re gonna be mine.”

It was a lie. A shameless, shameless lie.

Was Jason the kinda guy who marked up his partners as much and as often as they’d allow? Yes.

Was there a single solitary person in Crime Alley who was gonna look at Red Hood’s boyfriend long enough to even realize he had hickies, let alone count them? Absolutely fucking not.

So it was a lie, and Jason knew it. Knew that Tim would be lucky to get eye contact as long as he was undercover, because nobody would want to be the moron caught staring at Red Hood’s boyfriend. Jason had never dated anyone as his crime lord persona before, so they wouldn’t know what kinda punishment he’d lay down for staring…but he was sure they could imagine, and it would keep all of their gazes firmly averted.

But the excuse was right there—right there like the hickies he’d left before, scattered across Tim’s neck and just begging to be joined by some friends—and who was Jason to ignore it?

Tim hadn’t answered. Jason felt like that was a good sign; better hesitation than an immediate ‘no.’

“So?” he asked. He couldn’t resist the urge to apply a little pressure to the mark below his thumb, treasuring the way Tim’s pulse jumped in response. “More, yes or no?”

Tim’s pulse evened out immediately, and not in a natural way. No, that was Tim applying Batman’s lessons in controlling his heartbeat. That was Tim needing to control his heartbeat, because Jason was absolutely getting to him.

“Sure,” Tim said casually. “Knock yourself out.”

“Great,” Jason said, matching Tim’s casual tone. Not easy, when the jealous, possessive thing in his chest was nearly purring in satisfaction. He’d had so much fun marking Tim up the first time and couldn’t wait to do it again.

…But half the fun was flustering Tim, and Jason was pretty sure Tim had a strength kink. (It would explain his baffling and infuriating affair with the super clone, for one, and also Jason was like seventy-five percent sure Tim had checked him out the last time he took advantage of the Batcave’s weights.)

So he took the excuse of their height difference to lift Tim right off his feet and put him on the kitchen island. Without asking. With no visible effort. (No effort required, it’d be so fucking easy to just pin Tim to the wall and hold him there while Jason fucked him—)

Tim was blushing. Fuck yes.

He also wasn’t asking why Jason had done that, which was an even better sign, Jason thought. Still, for the sake of appearances—

“You’re too short,” he offered in explanation. Tim didn’t so much as roll his eyes; another good sign.

He wanted to keep teasing Tim, see if he could get that faint blush darker and more obvious, but the other half of the plan called. They had a date to go on.

So he stepped up between Tim’s splayed legs and gripped his hips, yanked him to the edge of the island, and went to town.

Tim’s skin was soft beneath his lips. His shirt rubbed distractingly against Jason’s chest. And the quiet, hitching breaths he kept taking were driving Jason out of his goddamned mind.

He was obviously trying so hard to stay cool, to play it unaffected like he wasn’t bothered all by Jason’s attention, and he was failing. Calm, cold, unflappable Tim was being really fucking flapped by Jason giving him a few hickies.

It was hot as fuck—and, more importantly, it gave Jason hope. Hope that this plan might actually work after all. That he might walk away from this not only with his traitors dealt with, but with Tim finally being his as a bonus.

And if not…well, at least he’d have this memory: Tim’s stifled moans, the taste of his sweat, and his visible struggle not to arch up into Jason’s touch.

It wasn’t everything Jason wanted, but it was a damn good start.