#Love me a he/no pronoun bitch (Ontos)

[jinmalos]

BTW i genuinely love the commitment to not using pronouns for A, it's probably the best thing about Future Redeemed by far

[lady-ashfade]

Other skin: Yandere!Characters reaction to a female demon slayer landing on you.

Plot: They watch a woman fall on you and her…chest is in full view in front of your eyes, and she flirts with you.

Reader: imagined female but no pronouns.

Notes: I just thought of Tegan and his wives reactions and I got excited, I love jealous yanderes.

Characters: Tengen & Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru, Mitsuri Kanroji, Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Disclaimer: I have not read the manga so most of the reactions are based on the show and fics I have read. So please forgive the inaccuracy.

The place was filled with other demon slayers from all types, sizes and skills that varied from race or religion. It was unlike anything you had seen before and the couple related in that way, this was something special. The lovers watched you closely as soon as you came into view to keep you safe and sound, but let you explore for just a few before wanting to smother you.

So their eyes followed you as you greeted people or looked at the decorations around, even the food tables with happiness in your eyes. They were taking amongst themselves at how cute you looked with such a innocent sparkle in your eyes. But soon they watched you get tackled to the ground unexpectedly, not watching anything else but you so it slipped their sight. The couple rushed over quickly, Tengen was the first to get there.

You groaned at the impact you took and your head ached. Weight pressed on your chest and it made you open you eyes slowly with the pain still in your head. But unlike meeting a face you were meet with a woman’s cleavage in front of you at eye level. Your face heated up quickly and eyes getting wide, you snapped your head up to the woman’s eyes. “Oh? What a lovely expression.” Her lips curled in a smirk as she ran her tongue across the outline, her tone smug and confident.

“Don’t get embarrassed, makes me wanna eat you up.” Her hands pressed harder onto you and you only got more flustered. Her hips sat on yours and everything about what was happening was too much to process.

Suma was terrified at first of how you could have hurt yourself, then as she got closer she saw the woman onto of you. She teared up quickly at how she got to be on top of you, how she pressed into your skin. She cried for her to get off of you. Makio of course was scared of you getting hurt but she was more angry to yell at the person, knowing the others would check you first so she could handle the bitch. But, when she saw your eyes meet her chest…She was pulling out her weapons quickly, how dare the woman take advantage of you? Hinatsuru was of course just like suma, but over all just very scared for you. Had your head took a big hit or how was your back and body? She was in motherly mood. Just like the other girls she got jealous of the woman, her perfect baby must be so scared right now.

Tengen was pissed from the get go, how dare someone crash into somone as fragile as you? Being a harisha he had speed, so he got there first to witness what the woman said. His eyes twitched and he had to refrain himself from slicing the woman’s head off. His aura was filled with rage he looked like a monster. He noticed how she pressed her body closer to you, her hands on your chest, flirted with you and got you shy.

“Come one, tell me your name?” She took her hand off your chest and went to touch your face but her wrist was grabbed in a death grip. Both of you looked up to see tengen looking at her with a smile that sent shivers down your spine. “They are off limits to the likes of you.” He flashed a toothy grin and threw her hand to the side, next thing you knew was being picked up into the air and his arms around you. The woman landed on the ground with a annoyed, “And who are you?”

A gasped left your lips when you saw a fist hit her cheek and quickly took notice it was Makio who punched her. The two other woman pulled her back and screamed it was enough as she tried to go after her. The woman got up quickly and dusted herself off and walked off quickly, leaving all of you behind with a stomp in her step. “Leave it.” Tengen ordered and they stopped and obeyed his orders.

Suma came over and cried about how she was sorry the woman got to close. “She wasn’t even that pretty, how could she touch you like that?” She was so jealous. Makio crosses her arms and slightly yelled at you for looking at her, or how you didn’t try and get away from her. “She was a hag, how could you blush like that? Its pathetic.” She was still fuming at the thought of you looking at another woman. Hinatsuru checked you for bruises or cuts, any signs of harm she could have done to you. “Did she hurt you? What a horrible person, look at you. So shook up, don’t worry she’s gone.”

You couldn’t leave their side the rest of the night, no matter how you tried. It took so long to convince tengen to put you down. They hated not being there for you, it only pushed them closer to taking you away…

Mitsuri hated leaving you alone even for a second, the thought of someone else hurting you or something happening to you. She couldn’t handle the thought. But now she lost you in a crowded market place and she panicked at the lose of your hand in hers, that she forced you to hold, and had no sight of you. Her voice got lost in the sound of so many others, she pushed through the people and looked for you but kept getting pushed back.

This was supposed be a fun day were she could spend every second with you and she wouldn’t look suspicious. She could hold your hand, be close to you, keep you in her sight and blame it on the worry of losing you. But now she saw her mistake on taking you here, she shouldn’t take you on busy days or anywhere this big.

Making it passed the crowd she took a deep breath and searched around for you. When she saw your outfit and a woman on top of you she froze in place. Another woman touching you, sitting on your lap, getting to be so close. It made her see red. She saw you blush at the sight of her chest and wondered if you’d blush like that if it was her.

“Tell me your name cutie.” Her voice sounded so sensual and it only made it worse. Mitsuri was inches away now and glaring at the woman, wanting to tackle her to the ground and away from you. But she smiled like she aways does and appeared next to the woman’s face with a huge smile. “Mind getting off them? I’m sure they don’t appreciate it.” Her cheery tone and smile didn’t match her energy at all, and you knew her well to notice.

“And who are you? This one’s mine?” Mitsuri took a moment of staring at the woman to giggling, making you both confused. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, I wasn’t asking.” The weight disappeared off your body as Mitsuri kicked the woman off of you and sent her rolling away. You stared in shook as her expression didn’t change from a sweet one. “This one will never belong to the likes of you.” She pulled you up and gripped ahold of your waist and pulled you close to her.

“I’ll make sure of that..”

He’s always dragging you away from others and doesn’t care what gender they are, if they aren’t him? Then they don’t deserve your time. So it’s hard to get a chance away from him since he doesn’t let you out of sight while he’s around. He sees you as something everyone should want, but you can’t fight them because you’re weak. (Even if you’re a demon slayer or a harisha, he doesn’t care)

He was coming back from a mission and waited for your presence and he looked around the butterfly mansion for you. He missed you in every way, to your smell to your smile and how you made him feel calm but so many other strong emotions. When he opened the door he found something that he couldn’t comprehend. He felt so many things that he stopped working for a minute.

A unknown woman straddling you and her chest in full view in front of your face, her body presses up against you. The look on your face was enough to show that you were embarrassed and flustered, how you tensed up. He is the one to get straight to the point and wouldn’t care who she was. She was coming off of you.

He walked over with the most calm expression and didn’t make a sound, only his footsteps could be heard. You noticed him first and got scarred at his expression. He didn’t say anything as he took a fist full of her hair and dragged her off of you, throwing her to the ground and standing in front of you.

“It’s considered disrespectful to touch something that doesn’t belong to you. They, are mine and I should kill you.” He laughed and got his grin, his fire coming back. “I’ll give you five seconds before you see why harishas are the highest rank.” She run out the door quickly and left without a peep. Then his attention was on you and you got a sick feeling in your stomach.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He kneeled and got close to your face, “Did she touch you worse then what I saw?” Stuttering you explain what had happened and how it was a accident but he didn’t truly by it. Or he believed your intentions but not hers.

“If I see something like that again you’re getting punished as well,” he took ahold of your chin and yanked you forward. “Understand? No one touches you but me.” You had no choice but to agree.

She was reported dead in a week.

[yanderestarangel]

The lin kuei brothers reaction to making reader squirt for the first time? 😖

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | "𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄?"

TW: AFAB ANATOMY, USE OF VIBRATORS, FACE FUCK - IN BI HAN - SEX WITHOUT A CONDOM, SQUIRTING, DEGRADATION, NO PRONOUNS USED OTHER THAN "YOU", PENETRATION, FACE SITTING - IN BI HAN -

𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 | 𝐒𝐔𝐁 𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎

The first time you squirted on him was when he gave you oral, that day Bi Han was extremely horny and hungry, turning you onto his face, making you ride his tongue as if you were his last meal. He was aggressive and accurate, hitting your clit repeatedly, his tongue lightly entering your sensitive hole, while his hands held your hips, forcing you to sit even more on his face.

"-More, give me more, feel it in my fucking mouth (Y/N) don't be a shy little bitch and loosen up for me, fuck you taste so good love." -Bi Han spoke in a muffled growl against the flesh of your pussy, his attacks were unbearable to deal with, you felt a tightness and an unbearable burning to hold back, something you had never felt before, you tried to warn him, but Bi Han also noticed that wanting to know what would happen if he broke you to extreme orgasm, so his pleas for him to take his mouth off your pussy were in vain, he used force to make you rub your pussy on his lips - things were so wild which you accidentally rubbed on his face, leaving a wet trail of shiny juices, something that the grand master loved, staring at you to do more and more - then it came, you squirted on his face, it was the first time he had caused such a reaction.

Bi Han's face and neck now dirty with your juices, as he smiled smug and wide, as he saw you blush with embarrassment, he was euphoric and even came just from seeing you squirt, his dick dirty and pulsating, already hard again, he wanted more of it, like an addictive drug.

"-I won't stop until you squirt again with that little pussy again."

𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 | 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄

Tomas has a huge and thick cock, that is, he can reach spots you didn't even know existed, while filling you completely, jamming his entire cock, he was always careful with you but that day, the fucking between you two was extremely slow and delicious, with Tomas being more dominant, holding your legs over his shoulders while squeezing your thighs, slowly inserting his cock into your pussy, taking his cock out sometimes to hit your clitoris with the hardened length, while inserting it again after a few seconds, smiling corner rogue for you while you trembled and moaned on top of his cock.

"-Fuck you are so beautiful, your fucking pussy is so tight... I'm going to make you cum so much my little slut." -Vrbada moaned hoarsely, thrusting himself balls deep into you, while you felt the heat in your womb, you tried to warn Tomas and he noticed, your pussy was milking and pulsing on his cock like it had never happened before, so he was curious to know what was going to happen, continuing to jam his dick into your pussy with all his strength and speed, then, when you squirted, he moaned loudly, shaking when he saw the beautiful reaction he had caused in you. You had soiled his abdomen, groin, chest and dick beyond the sheets, he saw the mess, smiling passionately at you, leaning in to give you a tender kiss.

"-I love you (Y/N) just, do that again please, do that for me again."

𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆 | 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎𝐍

He likes to fuck you aggressively, his dick is hotter than most men due to his powers, while his dick hits your uterus, while he holds your neck. But that time, he added a vibrator, he held the sex toy above your clitoris, while he fucked your pussy with his hot, pulsing cock, the lack of a condom made you moan even more, feeling the skin-on-skin sensation more intense. Kuai thrust his hips in a primal, strong rhythm as he heard you moan beneath him.

"-You're a shaking mess, like a whore desperate for attention, aren't you (Y/N)?" -Liang spoke with dominance, while moving the vibrator out of your cunt, while fucking you even harder. Kuai Liang saw you more sensitive and squirming even more, he knew there was something more to these reactions, the way your lips were opening, that your pussy was sucking his dick with all its strength like a desperate gesture of contact, he knew who saw a squirt which made him speed up with a smile on his face, telling you not to hold back and just take a deep breath and let go to make his cock a mess. He soon moved the vibrator away from your clitoris, using his fingers to massage you, using - again - his powers to heat the tip of his fingers just right and make you come, you soon let out a scream, squirting on him while he couldn't contain it. a moan - practically a hoarse and primal scream - he used his fingers to prolong your pleasure, you had soiled his entire forearm and dick.

"-Look at the mess you made little one... dirtying me like that, you're going to do it again, aren't you? You're so beautiful when you squirt."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[erosology]

i'm going to be so honest with you: this was supposed to be a drabble about being soap's wife that he likes to share with 141 but it has spiraled into a monster of its own. idk what to even call this anymore. it's 3,100 words of debauchery and sin and thirst and reader being a whore and soap being head over heels for her because of it.

if you guys want an actual fic with plot any everything, pls do let me know! i'll more than likely write a part two to this (whatever the fuck it is lol) if you're interested enough :3

❀ cw/tw: NSFT, AFAB reader (femme pronouns and pet names), drinking, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), voyeurism, threesome (? kinda?), perceived cheating, price being a nosy bitch, possible OOC as it's been A While since i've written anything let alone anything for the COD men, minimal editing because the more i edit the more i add and it's enough of a monster as is, cliffhanger >:)

It starts how most debauchery in the 141 starts: with you, Johnny, and Gaz having a little too much to drink and not enough good judgment to say no. A night out on the town drinking just about anything that’s handed to you after a particularly long and hard deployment has left the three of you with blurred vision and blurred minds. Somewhere along the way Gaz ends up in yours and Johnny’s house under the impression of sobering up before calling a cab back to base, but rather than ending up in the back of a cab with radio chatter and uncomfortable small talk with a stranger, Gaz ends up in yours and Johnny’s bed, his hand up your skirt while Johnny watches, giving instructions here and there, directing him on where to touch you and how to kiss you properly.

“C’mon, Gaz,” Johnny tuts as Gaz’s hands linger over your still-clothed breasts. “She’s beggin’ for ye’, and yer takin’ yer sweet time. Torturin’ the poor hen, makin’ her wait. Do I have to show ye’ how it’s done?”

“Be a little nice, yeah?” Gaz shoots back with a grin. “‘s my first time doing something like this. And she’s too fuckin’ gorgeous for me to think straight.”

“Scooch o’er, then. I’ll help ye’, poor bastard. Show ye��� show to fuck my bonnie proper.”

And does Johnny show him. With Johnny guiding his hands where he needs to go, the Scottish timbre low in his ear as he gives clear directions, Kyle is able to make you cum on his fingers in record timing, his palm coated in your juices and his eyes full of stars. Then you cum on his tongue, his chin just as soaked as his palm and his tongue lapping up every drop spilling from you. Then, finally, you cum on his cock, with a condom on, of course. Kyle might be allowed to fuck you, but Johnny is the only one allowed to properly fill you up. All the while, Johnny is telling him exactly what to do, humming his approval when he gets something right, tutting when he fumbles and does something he knows you’re not fond of.

”Ye’ know this isn’t gonnae be a one-time thing, right?” Johnny murmurs in your ear after you’re properly cleaned up and Kyle finally gets that cab ride back to the barracks.

You smile up at him sweetly and nuzzle your face into his neck. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

And it happens again. And again. And again. And with each time, Kyle learns exactly how to please you and where to touch you, how to kiss you and where you like his fingers to be as he does so, praises dancing from his tongue and onto yours as he slips into your mouth. And you learn his body just as well, learn how he likes his back scratched up as if he’s your own personal nail file, learn how he’s more of a romantic and foreplay-focused lover rather than a hot and heavy one, learn how vocal he gets and how sweet his words are as they drip from his mouth and echo around your bedroom as you please him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, s’tight, squeezing on my fingers. Must really like it when I curl ‘em like this.”

“Feels so fucking good, love. So perfect. Just like that. Fuck. ‘m close!”

“Best pussy I’ve ever had. Prettiest one, too. Look at you, all spread out, ready for me to eat.”

In combination with Johnny’s low voice complimenting you from his spot in the room, it causes your head to spin and your heart to flutter every damn time, heaven a pathetic excuse of a paradise compared to this.

”Fuckin’ beautiful, bonnie, keep ridin’ him like that. That’s a good girl.”

”Go on, leannan, I know ye’ can take him deeper than that. Do that breathin’ technique I taught you. There ye’ go. Good girl.”

”Givin’ me a show, lass. Gonnae blow my load before I even get a chance to touch myself. Fuckin’ perfect, my bonnie.”

The only ground rule is: nothing happens without Johnny there. He is, after all, your husband, the one who’s kind enough to allow one of his closest friends to fuck you, the one who owns your body and your heart. Gaz is more than happy to comply as long as he still gets what little pieces Johnny allows him. And so, it continues. Not an every night thing, of course, or even a weekly one. But maybe Gaz has had a particularly rough day and no amount of running is shaking the stress off. Or maybe Price has him working twice as hard as his fellow servicemen for half of the reward, and his patience is beginning to wane. Or maybe you just look too fucking irresistible to stop himself from giving Johnny The Look, and the three of you sneak off to your house for your debauchery that ends with Gaz glowing, you spent, and Johnny as smug as ever.

But, of course, when you work as closely as the 141 do and have a Captain as sharp as John Price, there’s only so many things that slip through the cracks before they’re caught in his grasp and closely inspected.

The captain begins to catch on after he’s up late one night smoking a cigar, the English air cold and crisp as he shakes off the remnants of his latest night terror. He doesn’t normally stay at the barracks so late, much preferring his own bed in his own home located just a few kilometers off base, but the stack of paperwork on his desk has him burning the midnight oil well into the night, and he still has a sizeable stack to go through after he rests up a bit. The cot he keeps in his office specially for nights like these is nothing more than a padded piece of cardboard, and he’s beginning to suspect he’s getting too old to be pulling this stuff anymore without risking throwing his back out. He should really ask for a pay raise…

Price thinks he must still be half asleep when he spots Gaz walking over to the barracks, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a grin on his face and a suspicious pep to his step, but then he and the man in question make eye contact, and the shock in Gaz’s eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

“Up late, Sergeant?” Price asks from the shadows he’s lingering in, and his sensitive ears don’t miss the curse that quietly slips from Gaz’s lips.

“Yessir,” Gaz answers with a bashful hue to his words, as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and his spine automatically straightens in his superior’s presence. “Had some trouble sleeping so I went out for a walk.”

The captain quickly spots the shake to Gaz’s shoulders, illustrating just how underprepared the younger man was for his midnight stroll. “Without a jacket on this chilly night?”

Gaz noncommittally shrugs, but the twitch of his lips tells Price everything he needs to know. “Didn’t need one. Walking around kept me warm enough.”

Price hums in response, then extinguishes the cigar butt out on the sole of his boot before shoving it into his pocket to dispose of in a proper garbage can. He turns to leave, but not before tossing over his shoulder, “‘fraid that pink isn’t quite your shade, Sergeant. Might want to go for a more copper tone.”

He softly chuckles as he hears Gaz swear and the telltale ruffling of him swiping at his face.

As observant as Price is, however, it took him a little while longer to realize just who that shade of pink suits very well.

Soap is as reckless as Price is cautious, so it’s no surprise that the other three members of the 141 are in the infirmary waiting for your arrival while Johnny sits in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his arm casted and his head bandaged from his latest stunt during their mission.

”Where’s mah bonnie?” Johnny slurs out, the pain killers’s effect thick in his voice, and Gaz softly smiles—a smile he quickly drops when he feels Price’s eyes on him. “I wan’ mah bonnie.”

“She’s on her way, Soap,” Price replies, his tone mild, as if dealing with a petulant child. “She can’t just drop everything the second you do something stupid, or else she’d never get anything done.”

”I wan’ mah bonnie…,” Soap repeats with a pout but stays quiet, much to everyone’s surprise.

The bubble of relief Price feels upon seeing you locate them quickly pops when he spots a familiar shade of pink on your lips, and he struggles to keep his composure as you walk up to him with an anxious expression on your sweet face. 

“How bad is it?” you ask.

And goddammit, you sound so genuinely worried, such the dedicated, love wife of  one of his best sergeants that he almost thinks it’s just the lighting of the fluorescent hospital bulbs that’s giving your lips the same color he spotted on Gaz just weeks ago. Hell, he wants to think one too many blows to the head is finally starting to fuck with his memory and there’s no way in hell it’s the same color, but the way Gaz’s shoulders relax as soon as you make eye contact with him is the final nail in the coffin. 

Something is going on between you and Gaz, and he needs to find out before the whole damn thing explodes.

It takes him a few weeks, but Price is nothing but a patient man when the situation calls for it. Violence and timing is his motto for a reason. Well, hopefully no violence on his end this time, but he can’t make any promises for Gaz and Soap’s end considering just how over-the-moon the Scotsman is for you. He hopes and prays to whatever entity is up there that he’s just being overly cautious, that he’s overthinking things, that his paranoia has reached an all-time high and he needs to finally take that vacation Laswell has been pestering to take, but yours and Gaz’s subtly flirtatious behavior around each other at a bar the four of you piled into together makes the sour feelings in his stomach twist and churn. Goddamn Simon for being so elusive and forcing him to deal with this on his own…

All night, he watches the three of you, how handsy Soap is with you and how familiar the rare touches Gaz gives you are. That goddamn shade of pink on your lips shining under the bar lights. The giggles that leave your lips at a joke Gaz makes and how your hand presses into his chest. How he lopsidedly grins until he remembers where he’s at and schools his features. How he and Soap keep exchanging knowing glances over your shoulders when they think Price isn’t looking. But he’s looking alright. Looking and waiting for the perfect moment to get you alone to confront you.

Violence and timing.

Luckily, after a few drinks, Soap and Gaz decide to go outside to share a cigarette and you stay behind. You’ve always detested the smell of cigarettes, and Soap’s habit of having a few cigarettes while out and drinking is one of the rare bickerments you two have. But right now, it’s Price’s saving grace.

“Enjoying yourself tonight, Mactavish?” Price asks.

You perk up on your side of the booth as if you had forgotten he’s there (he wouldn’t blame you if you had—he’s been awfully quiet tonight) and flash him a polite, if slightly detached, smile. The military wife smile. The one all of the commanding officers get from the spouses. It feels particularly deceitful tonight, and he almost feels bad for thinking so. Might have too, if the bar lights didn’t shine perfectly on your wedding rings and he’s reminded of what he has to do.

You finger traces the rim of your empty glass, and you nod. “You can just call me by my name, sir.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Is Mactavish not your name?”

You chuckle in response and your posture eases a bit, legs stretching until he feels your foot graze against his, your eyes darting unmistakably from his lips up to his eyes. “It is, but I have a first name too, you know.”

Are you flirting with him? Your husband is outside sharing a cigarette with a man he suspects you of sleeping with, and you’re flirting with him? His fingers clutch his glass as his temper spikes a bit, but he remains levelheaded. Innocent until proven guilty, right? “We’ll stick with Mactavish for now. Don’t want the boys thinking I’m giving you any special treatment, do we?” he replies with a hint of flirtation, just to see if you take the bait.

The subtle way you bite your bottom lip tells him you not only take the bait, but you’re going down hook, line, and sinker. Your foot bumps against his again, but rather than pulling away this time, it gently caresses him, lingering around so there’s no mistaking the feeling of your heel grazing against his ankle and causing an involuntary shiver to wrack his spine. And fucking hell, it’s either been too long since he’s gotten laid or his tolerance has gone down and two glasses of whiskey is suddenly too much for his metabolism, but he can feel himself wanting to respond to your touch. It doesn’t help that the dress you’ve chosen to wear tonight has a halter neckline and a draped skirt—two of Price’s personal weaknesses—and the necklace you donne does wonders for your cleavage. You’re absolutely dressed to kill tonight, and if Price were half as scummy as Nikola thinks him to be, he would’ve scooped you right up and take you straight to the grimy stall to fuck your brains out. But, alas, his conscious is still intact and working very well tonight, no matter how much his dick is pleading for him to not listen to it for once.

A captain, wanting to fuck his sergeant’s wife? No amount of under-the-table favors and chest candy could ever clean up that mess.

“No, we don’t,” you finally reply after a tense moment, your eyes still resting on his. “Even if I do deserve it.”

What an interesting choice of words… He takes a sip of his drink to mull over his next words, and when you mimic the action, there’s no mistaking your intentions. Goddamn Soap and his love of dangerous women. “Oh? Bit confident, are we?” He leans into the table more, determined to invade your space and make you squirm. “What makes you so sure you deserve it?”

You nod, and the politely detached smile on your face slowly melts into a more seductive one, a knowing quirk curling at the edge of your lips, and suddenly, Price is no longer sure who’s caught in whose web. Matching his energy, you lean in as well, until there’s nothing but a few centimeters between you two, his blue eyes boring into yours, your minty breath mixing with his whiskey. “You’ve been staring down at my tits all night, Captain, and I hate to say, but it isn’t the first time I’ve caught you doing so. Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t tend to stare at my sergeant's wife's tits. So either, I’m getting special treatment or you’re just a pervert. Which one is it, Captain?”

His mouth immediately opens to reply, but before any words can form, he spots Soap’s familiar mohawk moving over to your table, and he quickly pulls away and even leans back into the cushion, as if to prove a point. Soap slips in next to you, the smell of cigarettes causing your nose to wrinkle, and Gaz slips in next to Price, a low chuckle on his lips as if still laughing about a joke Soap said while the two were outside. The dopey, lovesick grin Soap gives you is enough to make guilt nip at Price’s insides (he was thinking about fucking you just moments ago, goddammit), but the way you lean in to kiss Soap while still making eye contact with the captain makes his temper boil all over again. Normally, you’d fuss over allowing Soap to kiss you so soon after a cigarette, playfully shoving him aside and making him at least chew a stick of gum before pressing his mouth to yours. But right now, sitting across from Captain John Price in that goddamn dress with that goddamn necklace and that goddamn shade of pink swiped over your lips, you sensually, borderline pornographically, slot your lips against your husband’s (his sergeant). The kiss goes on long enough that even Gaz is unabashedly gawking, his eyes darting from your hand on Soap���s chest to your mouths tangled together to your breasts and how they squish and form against Soap’s body.

And maybe Soap is too drunk to notice just how close you two had been when he walked in, or notice the way you had looked at Price before losing yourself in him, but Price is all too painfully aware of everything that’s currently going on at the table, especially all of the things you aren’t saying. It can’t be more clear than the love that Soap has for you, that you want to fuck Captain John Price and that you’ve, at the very least, kissed Gaz well enough that he follows you around almost as your own husband does.

Soap might be the demolition’s expert, but you seem to love to play with fire, and Price isn’t sure who’s going to get burned.

Price goes home that night more sexually and emotionally frustrated than he’s been in the last fifteen years. 

You, Kyle, and Johnny go home to your place to fuck until none of you can see straight and your appetites for pleasure and pain are satiated.

And somewhere out there, Simon Riley snores away in his room, completely unaware of the turmoil that’s currently brewing in the 141.

—

“Johnny, I want to fuck your captain,” you announce the next morning over a cup of fresh tea.

The grin that spreads across Johnny’s lips is nothing less than utterly wolfish, and he barks out a laugh before kissing the crown of your head. “If ye’ can get that bastard in our bedroom, ye’ can fuck him until yer heart’s content.”

“Sounds easy enough.” 

[fadingdaggerr]

first off, omg I absolutely love your writing. You're literally my favorite author on here. Second, the pictures you choose for each one shot are *chefs kiss*

Moving on from that, I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti one shot inspired by the song "casual" by chappell roan, and with a happy ending? or the song "red wine supernova"?

I've been meaning to do it myself but I so don't have the time or motivation right now😭

and now? (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa craved you, you craved melissa. what you crave from each other seems to differ depending on the season, based on both casual and red wine supernova by chappell roan. | 6.1k

includes: angst!!, fluff, no pronouns/gender mention for r, emotionally constipated mel and r, self sabotage from r, happy ending

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (minimal), marijuana use (minimal), verbal fighting, afab reader (no mention of breasts in ref to r), smut throughout (oral, fingering, toy use, mel and r receiving), lots of praise

translations: sfigata (italian - loser), τουαλέτα (greek - restroom - pronounced too-ah-leh-tah)

note: on this episode of “sol complains about their inability to write under 4k words and then immediately writes 6k+” N E ways. the goal of this was to sort of have mel's perspective be carried by red wine supernova and reader's perspective to be more along casual. thank you for trusting me with your prompt/idea, i'm very honored <3

The moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you.

Tipsy at a housewarming party, uninterested in everyone around her, Melissa almost calls it a night. She only agreed to be here because Shauna said ‘a small get together,’ not ‘having half of Philly in the kitchen alone.’ Weaving through the room, she attempts to find someone she knows to say goodbye to, but her search is halted by yelling from the foosball table.

In the living room, Dominic is accusing someone of cheating. At foosball. Amused, she walks further into the room to watch, seeing Dominic miss the ball too many times to not be an effect of alcohol, and he groans towards the ceiling.

He angrily spins the handles he’s holding, jostling the table, “stop fucking cheating, dude!”

“I’m not fucking cheating, dude,” the other player responds, laughing through the answer. Hiking it onto her tiptoes, Melissa peeks over shoulders to see you, a little grin on your face that also drops the joint hanging from your lips.

“Bitch, yes you are!”

Without a second to even blink, you push the rods in your hands forward, hard, making the metal ends roughly hit Dom’s hip. Leaning over the table, you blow smoke towards his face with a sarcastic smile, “don’t call me a bitch. Thought you knew better, Domi?”

“Yup,” he responds through a wince, “yup, wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

Through a chuckle, you take another hit from the near-roach, eye flicking up at the sensation of being watched intently. Red hair sticks out in the crowded room, green eyes sticking out more. Subconsciously, you do a once over of her, meeting her eyes.

Voices, music, the people around you, they all faded away. All you saw was Melissa. All Melissa saw was you.

Your whole body goes on autopilot, trying to get you to her as quickly as possible. Dominic tries to get you to play another round, an attempt to redeem himself, but you wave him off, not taking your eyes off the object of your attention as you snub out the joint against the game table. It takes borderline shoving almost everyone out of your way before you finally get to her. Any thought of leaving early flies out Melissa’s brain, disappearing as you enter her orbit.

It’s all a blur from the center of the living room, to the back of it, to the locked bathroom with you on the counter. How she got here, she doesn’t know, nor care. All she can focus on is your hand gripping her hair and the taste of you on her tongue. The blessing and curse of music beating through the wall fills her ears, thankful it covers the moans coming from you for any partygoers, but angered she can barely hear them.

Melissa can’t dwell much when your thighs begin to shake around her head, the hand not in her hair was nearly clawing the wall. From the whines that she manages to hear through thigh-shaped earmuffs and bass boosts, she can tell you’re close, the bucking into her mouth quickening with the motion of her tongue. Melissa’s alternating of figure-eights and sucking on your clit is your downfall, struggling to contain the loud groan that desperately wants to rip from your throat.

Languid motions slow, making you squirm from overstimulation before you’re pulling her back up to your lips. You almost give right back in when you feel her groan against your lips, tasting yourself on her as she dominates the kiss, all teeth and tongue. She was addictive, your new drug of choice, one you don’t want to let go of soon. 

Melissa leaves the party with your number in her phone, and your taste imprinted on her tongue.

—☽—

Melissa can’t even wait two days before she texts you, just saying it was her, chewing her thumb as she waits for a reply. Eight minutes and three seconds later, not that she’s been silently counting or anything, her phone buzzes.

hey beautiful. was wondering when i’d hear from you.

You were at her door within a couple hours, almost running over your coworker as the workday ended.

The first month of this arrangement, this is all it is. Melissa texts you a simple Are you free tonight? and you show up at her front door, grinning as she pulls you in by the collar of your shirt. She rarely takes her time with you, immediately sucking at sensitive skin and cupping your sex through your underwear, dragging her teeth down your throat. Moans and whining coming from you only spur her on. You barely make it to the couch before her fingers are working their way inside you.

It takes weeks before you can contain yourselves enough to make it to her bedroom, though your clothes are scattered from the front door to the stairs, Melissa’s black thong caught on the bannister. An altogether miracle you even make it onto her bed.

The redhead has a damn near obsession with eating you out, bold hands holding you down as you squirm, groaning into you as you grind into her face. It’s the first and last thing she does every time, before she kisses you goodbye, all soft and sweet. The two actions are so wildly different, rough and dominating followed by gentle and caring. How could one not become a fiend for the attention only she can provide?

Another month passes, and it’s almost routine. Melissa calls, you run. Melissa says jump, you ask how high. Melissa tells you to take off your shirt, it’s off before she finishes her sentence. Melissa gets you off, you leave before you’ve even caught your breath.

The expectation of you leaving drops one night when she catches the dazed, sleepy look in your eyes one night. For the first time, she lets someone spend the night. With her arm around your waist, you speak quietly into the air, “would you wanna go on a date sometime? A real one, I mean.”

Her arm retracts from your body, turning to lay on her back, “c’mon, baby. That’s not what this is, we agreed.”

Suddenly, you’re glad she’s not pressed against you anymore, breath uneven, “yeah, yeah. You’re right. Nevermind.”

You don’t bring it up again. She doesn’t try to hold you again. Your visits include dinner and wine before she dines on you and coffee before you leave in the morning, but nothing more. It tastes bitter in your mouth.

Four months in, and you find yourself splayed across her couch with the redhead buried between your thighs, fingers making sparks roll through your core. Hard knocking broke through, both of you stare at each other with wide eyes. A second round of knocking throws you into motion, scrambling to put your jeans back on, Melissa hurriedly cleaning her fingers with her mouth. Just before she opens the door, you stop her to fix her hair, immediately turning back to throw yourself on the couch.

When Melissa opens the door, all you hear is, “took you long enough.”

“Fuck d’ya expect showing up unannounced?” Melissa matches the annoyed tone of whoever’s at the door, moving aside to let them in. Blond and tall with the same Schemmenti resting-murder face. This has to be Kristen Marie, the ‘sfigata ass sister’ Melissa mentions from time to time.

“The hell are you?” The blond looks at you, no attempt to hide the judgment behind her eyes. A quick glance to Melissa, who’s glaring back, tells you to lie. You introduce yourself only as one of Melissa’s friends, the mention of knowing Shauna, however, seems to make Kristen less defensive. A sigh of relief leaves the redhead, you hadn’t been caught. A sigh of disappointment leaves your own lips.

Weeks later, Melissa’s phone rings while you’re both chopping vegetables for dinner. She mutters an apology as she pauses your conversation, showing you the contact Mama on the screen. You pretend to zip your lips with a little grin, going back to chopping the bell peppers she tasked you with.

“Hey, Ma,” Melissa says into the phone as she puts it between her ear and shoulder, freeing her hands to chop the onion. “Nah, just making dinner. I can’t stay on long, I got company,” she bumps your hip with hers, laughing at whatever her mother says before answering, “no, weirdo, not that kind of company… I’ll ask, hold on.”

Putting her phone to her chest to cover the speaker, she asks, “my mother would like to know if you’re a complete freak?”

“Contextually, yes and no,” you say, reveling in Melissa’s bursted laughter, “but tell her no.”

“No more than I am, Ma,” she says when she brings her phone back to her ear, pinching your ass as she stifles a laugh while her mom keeps speaking. The hand around your heart has pink acrylics.

In the passing months, a change you weren’t expecting comes, and you hope that if you don’t acknowledge it, it will stay this way. An undercover Eurydice.

Most nights, Melissa barely let you get out a greeting before you were pinned against the door, lips on your, hands roaming under your shirt. Some nights she was slow, gentle, loving almost, taking her time and kissing every inch of you. Those nights made it hard to separate the feelings you have from the ones she dances around talking about.

There are other days though, your favorite days. Ones like tonight, where both of you are exhausted and just want to no longer exist to the world. Instead, you feel as though you’re in your own world out here on her back porch. You peek over at Melissa as you take a hit from a joint you packed before driving over, eyes closed, Melissa doesn’t see you.

Watching closer than you should, your eyes stay on her as she moves to take a sip of the Cabarnet you bought only for her. The way her lips kiss the glass, how she licks her lips to never waste a drop. If she asked, you’d gladly kiss away rogue droplets of wine. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. She knows it, but she doesn’t really believe it, always rolling her eyes when you mumble it against her thighs. You wish you could tell her whenever the thought crossed your mind, every time you look at her. Exhaling, you turn away, mouthing a silent fuck to yourself. Bringing the J to your lips, you try to keep from being caught.

Melissa’s head drops, propping her chin on her shoulder with droopy eyes, “can we just sleep tonight? ‘M slipping into a coma over here.”

You chuckle, copying her pose, rose-tinted eyes flitting over her, “sounds great.”

For the first time in five months, Melissa holds you as you both fall asleep in the center of the bed.

You love these nights, ones where you can pretend Melissa is just as much yours as you are hers.

A cruel, ten month anniversary gift of sorts comes in the form of a friend in the hospital cafeteria.

Your phone pings where it sits in your scrub shirt pocket, your chest tightens.

Melissa: I’ll be home around 6, if you’re free tonight.

The grin on your face is not unnoticed by your friend as she sits back in front of you. Shauna taps the table to get your attention, “that your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” you mumble, typing out a reply to Melissa.

when am i not free for you?

Shauna scoffs, speaking under her breath, “like you actually think that.”

You place your phone back on the table with a little force, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s just using you, honey,” Shauna blurts, “you’re at her beck and call, and all she wants is sex. And I know you, that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want, oh wise one?”

“Her,” she replies. “I’ve known you too long to not know that you’re in love with her. I’ve also known Mel long enough to say that she is going to break your heart.”

You kiss your teeth, “what do you know about what Melissa wants?”

Shauna doesn’t appreciate your defensive attitude, so she gives you the hard truth, “she said this whole thing is just casual. Pretty stress relief, I think were her exact words.”

You are stress relief, nothing more. Another ping.

Melissa: See you then baby.

—☽—

When you arrive on Melissa’s doorstep, you desperately want to turn and run, save yourself before you feel any more. The equally desperate need to be near her knocks for you, but when she answers, you can barely meet her gaze. Green eyes flick from your face to your wringing hands, pink lips shifting to a frown.

“What’s bothering you?” Melissa asks gently, locking the door behind you. When you shake your head, struggling to kick your shoe off, her arms wrap around your waist, chin on your shoulder. She feels you stiffen, pouting to herself, “I know something’s wrong, you look like Eeyore in torrential downpour.”

You huff a laugh and lean against her, “just… stress.”

“Hmm,” glossy lips press to your neck, soft and slow, “want me to get rid of some of that?” The feeling of her hands on you is so convincing, it overrides what you know you should do. Turning in her arms, you press your lips into her and let her take control.

Her mouth wraps around your nipple, thumb slowly torturing your clit as her fingers work you through your third orgasm. From the twitch of your hips, she knows you’re at your limit, carefully removing her fingers from you. Greedy hands tug at her, pulling her to your lips as you flip your bodies, straddling her hips. Traveling down, you delight in her whimpers as you suck at her skin, leaving behind marks comparable to the wine she loves.

Your hands spread her legs, taking your rightful place between them. Sensual, slow, loving kisses down her soft stomach, all leading to where she needs you most. Her hips buck as you get closer to her center, breath tickling her pearl. With a flat tongue, you fulfill her wish, licking a stripe from the base of her slit to her clit, moaning into her. Hands harshly grip your hair, tugging when you suck on her clit. Your own hand slides from her strong thigh to her plush breasts, toying with her nipples as you devour her.

Husky pants draw from her throat, pitchy whines breaking through when your fingers begin to toy with her entrance. Neither of you care about the phone ringing from the nightstand. All you can hear is hoarse moans of oh god and please, faster, all you feel, taste, and smell, is Melissa. You both peer to the nightstand when it rings again, desperately trying to ignore it. A second finger enters Melissa as her attention falls back on you, her eyes meeting yours as she moans, fueling your desire.

A third ringing of the phone almost makes her scream, and tapping your shoulder with vigor to stop you before the phone is forced to ring again. You quickly, and gently, retract your fingers, allowing Melissa to shakily reach for her phone. The blood drains from her face as she looks at the screen, staring at you where you rest on her thigh, answering with a gulp.

“H-” she clears her throat, “hey, ma.” Your eyes almost bulge from your head. “I was in the middle of a shower, sorry,” she gets out quickly, nearly laughing at herself and you purse your lips to contain your own giggle, “well, the kids had a project with glitter, had to get it off.”

“Get something off,” you mumble quietly, pressing a kiss to the junction of her hip. Melissa playfully smacks your arm as she listens to her mother, pressing her finger to her grinning lips.

“Well, I got a friend over right now…” Friend. “Yes, the freak,” she chuckles warmly, patting your hand before her hand freezes on yours, “oh- I… can ask.” Her eyes leave her lap, now looking to you, “wanna go get dinner at Cirillo’s? My parent’s treat.”

Your eyebrows rise, “do you… want me to go?” You’ve met Kristen Marie, and only quickly ran into her cousin Vinny, but her parents were a whole other story.

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” it feels genuine. You nod.

Arturo and Giorgia Schemmenti are exactly who would expect Melissa’s parents to be. Giorgia shares suspicion openly on her face, Arturo, on the other hand, has a resting smile. You think in the moment, you’ve got them figured out, but the way they unblinkingly look when you speak terrifies you, as if they’re analyzing every breath you take and every twitch of your hand. Silent prayers from both you and Melissa ask they don’t realize you were forced to wear one of her shirts, having arrived to her place in an ancient sweatshirt from your backseat.

You answer every question they ask you, although confused on the need to grill you so closely. What do you do for work? How many siblings? Ever gotten a speeding ticket? How’s your relationship with your parents? Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Thoughts on Reagan? Ever cheated on one of your past partners? MRI technician, sir. Two brothers. Twice, one on my way to school, one on my way to the hospital for my grandmother. Not great, I guess? No, ma’am, I get tested every two months. Hope he’s in hell. No, God, no.

“Lord, you two, let up. We haven’t even gotten the tzatziki yet,” Melissa says, laying the drinks menu down on the table.

“Just trynna get to know your friend, Meli,” Arturo turns his attention to you, “swear, all the girl does is talk about you, and I still know nothing.” The ringed hand at the edge of the table clenches, knuckles white.

You just shrug, “afraid I’m not that interesting.” I’m just a friend. 

You miss how Melissa looks at you, brows turned up as she glimpses your sad smile. However, you feel a warm hand go to your thigh, squeezing gently. When her parents' attention diverts to a large party walking in, she whispers in your ear, “I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that, you’re very interesting. Should know, I’ve studied every inch of you for hours.”

It takes a deep breath and every ounce of strength to not wiggle in your seat. Reprieve comes in the shape of a definitely stoned server, lucky bastard, and reprieve is taken away when he tells you that food may be a little delayed due to the rush. Melissa’s parents nod with understanding, you nod with fear bubbling. A delay means longer here, with Melissa’s hand on your thigh with her parents speaking about everything and nothing from across the table.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus with Melissa’s fingers drawing little patterns over your jeans, skin burning beneath her touch. Peering over at her, you can see an almost-hidden mark from early, the easy smile on her lips as she talks to her dad, she’s perfect in your eyes. In this lighting, it’s hard to look away from her, orange-hued lights making her look golden.

Rising from your chair, you just give a quiet, “I’ll be right back.” You turn to walk towards the restrooms, desperate for space away from judging hazel and green eyes across the table. Melissa watches your direction, excusing herself too, following where you disappeared under the sign reading τουαλέτα.

In the short hallway, she grabs your wrist before you enter the door, pulling you to the family room to the right. Locking the door, she places her hands on your hips, “are they freaking you out? I’ll tell them to knock it off, or we can go, say you’re on call or something.”

“No,” you say, place your palms against her shoulders, “it’s just overwhelming, all the questions, your dad asking for my credit score, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” she chuckles, hands dipping to your ass.

You shiver from her touch, leaning into her, “it’s a good score, though.”

“It is,” you barely hear her words as she presses her lips to yours, all the energy from earlier still running through her veins. Your hands slide down her arms to her hips, pushing her back towards the sink. We’ve been here before.

Hopping up, she settles against the porcelain and opens her legs to let you stand between them. Keeping your lips on hers, you quickly unbutton her jeans, forcing the zipping down. You know her like the back of your hand at this point, know how to touch her to make her writhe and release around your fingers, you’re utterly devoted to her pleasure.

The previously ruined orgasm comes back quickly with full force, her clenching around you quickly. Her lips leave yours, shoving her face into your shoulder to mute her moans. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, you circle your thumb over her clit and whisper, “God, you are so beautiful. C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

Teeth chomp into your shoulder as her writhing becomes erratic against your hand before slowing as she relaxes against you. Her breathing evens out, quicker than you expect, her face becoming unreadable as it lifts from its hiding place. Surprisingly, she stays silently leaned against you as you wash your hands, letting you fix her hair before you fix your own.

Arturo and Giorgia seemingly notice nothing, believing the excuse of a busy line, one visible from your seats. If they don’t believe you, they don’t give anything away, though their questions ease up once the food comes. It must be a Schemmenti thing to be quiet for the first few bites of food, taking in every flavor. It’s endearing.

Both Schemmenti’s hug you, to even more surprise, telling you how delightful it was to put a face to a commonly brought up name. Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose before hugging her mother, mumbling something to the woman before embracing her father.

The entire drive back to her house, you can’t find it in you to speak, too lost in thought. Melissa talks about you, often, often enough that her parents wanted to meet you. Why would they question you so much, especially if you’re just their daughter’s friend? Wanting to know about your ‘past’ relationships, as opposed to what, your… current one? It hits you embarrassingly late, as Melissa pulls into the driveway: her parents think she’s talking about you because she’s dating you, and think she just hasn’t officially told them. All you can do is turn and look at her, bewildered.

Hand on the key in the ignition, Melissa turns and looks at you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m exha- What?” When she doesn’t get an answer, her face screws with worry, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, you scan over her face, “you talk about me to your parents.”

“Well I’m with you a lot, it's natural to talk about you,” she says like it’s obvious, turning off the car.

“Enough that your parents wanted to meet me, know about my family and dating history?”

Her face hardens, and you wish you’d never spoken, her voice demands respect “well, they got the wrong idea. Being nosy is in their blood, being right isn’t.”

“Okay,” you’re exasperated. 

“You and I, this isn’t a relationship, no expectations, no attachments. Just good, old-fashioned sex between friends,” Melissa says slowly, brow raised, “capisce?”

“Yeah…Capisce,” you say, stepping out of the car, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Melissa says, realizing you aren’t behind her as she goes to the front door.

You turn and face her, standing in the open car door, “I’m going home. You want no attachments, I can’t give that to you anymore.”

She steps down from the bottom step, “Baby-”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be in something you don’t want, you want casual, Melissa. Stress relief,” her eyes dart to you at the wording, your eyes look down to your feet, “what I feel for you, it’s beyond that, beyond what you want me to feel.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gets closer, hand reaching for you, but you brush her off.

“I’m all you want until I want you.” When she doesn’t reply, you sit and close the door, pulling out of the driveway with Melissa staring where you’d stood.

—☽—

Two weeks of radio silence. This is the longest in the near year you’ve spent with Melissa where you haven’t seen one another. Last time it was four days after you brought up a date for the second time, six days before that when she found out that Kristen Marie called you when she was drunk and needed a ride home from God-knows-where, begging you to not tell Melissa, accidentally blurting it herself.

You wish you didn’t miss her, her laugh, the smell of eucalyptus shampoo, her touch, her eyes, her hands, her smile, her little dance when she takes food out of the oven. She was all that surrounded you for so long, it’s all you know. It feels wrong to be without her, but it hurts to think about her. Salt entered the wound when Shauna dared to mention Melissa going on a date with some vending machine guy, immediate regret when you got up and left soon after. You're thankful to not hear of him again.

Another week passes, and as a month gets closer to passing, the hole in your chest has yet to heal over. Your phone buzzes next to you where you blankly watch the documentary that was playing.

From Shauna: i fucked up. apologies to ur door in advance

To Shauna: thank u for the context

From Shauna: i poked the ginger bear

From Shauna: by poked i mean chewed out

To Shauna: again, i fear the context has yet to appear

From Shauna: yelled at ur ex-mommy for treating you like a toy from spencers

To Shauna: i’ll pass on your apology to my door in my will

Comedic timing is a very real thing, hard knocking on your door, clearly both fists meeting the wood.

Ripping the door open, you stare down a tired-eyed, yet irate, Melissa, “unnecessary. I have a buzzer.”

“And I have a Cost-Co card,” she says, pushing her way into your home.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands on her hips, she turns and faces you, “your- I’d say our, but not right now- your friend just chewed me a new one about leading you on. Leading you on?! As if we didn’t have an arrangement, no feelings, just sex.”

“An agreement that I ended! Because I got feelings! It wasn’t just sex for me, it stopped being just sex a long time ago,” you never thought you’d be raising your voice at her like this, “I tried to tell you, all those dates I offered, everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant all of it. And what do I get? No, baby, we’re casual. So, I tapped out.”

“Because we were casual! There’s supposed to be no feelings here!”

“Then how’s that vending machine guy, huh? He’s been having conversations with just your tits for months, and he got a date, but where is he now?” She flounders. “Did you take him home? Or try?” She nods imperceptibly. “I would bet my whole life savings on the fact he probably couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you cum. How right am I?”

Her lips tremble, “that’s not the point.”

“Just a question, needs an answer.” Melissa shakes her head, confirming your suspicions. “Why are you actually here, Melissa?”

Emerald eyes look into yours, emotion swirling through them as she asks quietly, “do you still have feelings for me?”

You won’t lie, you never can with her, “haven’t wavered once.”

Carefully, Melissa steps slowly into your space, hands coming to your sides, “I’m stupid. So fucking stupid. I thought all I wanted was sex, but when you left and I tried to just make myself… move on. It didn’t feel the same, being alone doesn’t feel the same. It’s so stupid and cliché and stupid that it took you leaving me to realize… Fuck, I feel like a Jane Austen character.”

Weary hands rise to her face, holding her with a special reverence, “I need to hear you say it.” The magnetic pull between you brings you into her, lips only an inch from her own.

Fingers grip your shirt, “I… I love you. I have since you told the Jehovah’s Witnesses to eat a bag of locusts and ass on Christmas Eve.”

The little smile that plays on her lips, clearly picturing the memory, it heals something in you. Brushing your lips against hers, you mumble, “I love you, too. ”

The kiss she presses to your lips is so different from any other you’d shared, but the desperation brings you back to that first night in the bathroom. Tongues graze, and a fire is ignited. Spinning her, you walk her back towards your bedroom, a place she’s only been twice in the last year.

Falling as her knees hit the bed, she takes you with her, and you gladly take your place. Just as the last time you were with her, you straddle her waist, continuing to kiss her with all the emotion you can express. Ringed fingers tug at your shirt, begging for contact. You don’t deny her, nor yourself, pulling her shirt off of her after yours, both lost on the floor. Jeans fly to meet them soon after.

Lips, tongue, and teeth clash as you fall into the feeling of each other’s skin. Moving down, you nip at her neck, sucking roughly on her pulse point to leave a mark. You continue your mission down her chest, leaving red splotches across her breasts. Always so sensitive, Melissa arches into your affections, groaning when your tongue swirls around her nipple, leaving a string of saliva that connects you to it as you pull away.

Shifting lower and lower, giving her abdomen attention, soft kisses trailing down. Your lips trail over silvery stretch marks, following as they lead you to her plush thighs. Teeth wrap around the waistband of her thong, eyes glancing to her as a silent request of permission.

“Please, baby,” her voice airy and whiny as she basks in the affection you so readily give her.

Pulling down her thong, tossing it to the side, your eyes fall to her pussy. Lips blooming in arousal, clit swollen, begging for a touch it hasn’t received in too long. You press a gentle kiss to her pearl, hearing another whine pass her lips, hips bucking slightly for you.

How you missed her. Your tongue licks up her slit, gathering the wetness that accumulated there, dancing up around her clit. A divine taste so feminine, so uniquely Melissa, you moan into her as you grip her thighs, working your tongue into her opening. Dusty purple nails dig into your hand, and you flip your wrist to interlock your fingers, feeling her squeeze tightly.

Your tongue leaves her, much to her dismay. Blown out eyes follow your reach to the nightstand, a clear bottle of lube procured. Your lips press to hers again as you spread the lube across your fingers and lower your hand to her entrance, replacing the contact of your tongue. Throaty moans leave her lips, more, please. Slowly, your ring finger joins the middle, allowing her a moment to adjust before quickening your motions, moaning yourself at the feeling of her cunt gripping your fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say against her lips, “so beautiful.” Teeth pull at her bottom lip, making her groan into your mouth, kiss going sloppy.

“I- oh- I love you,” Melissa answers through a moan, grinding against your thumb on her sensitive bud. A particular curl of your fingers makes her silently scream, soothed by your gentle mouthing of her neck.

Your index finger lines with her slit, “can you take more?”

She nods quickly, forcing your lips back to hers as a third finger stretches slowly, moans turning squeaky. All you can hear is the airy moans and the wetness of her pussy taking your fingers, sparking a warmth in your lower stomach. You can feel how close she is, how her walls refuse to let go, how her eyes flutter as they roll back.

In a sudden moment, your fingers stop, pulling from her. Her head snaps up, eyes immediately on you, “what are you doing?” God, the glassy look in your eyes almost breaks your heart.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to her chest. Leaning over to the nightstand again, still straddling Melissa’s waist as her hands hold yours, you blindly reach into the drawer, searching for a familiar object. Finding the small, flat toy, you sit back against her, holding it to her eye level. Catching your drift, she nods, legs widening as she sits up slightly against the headboard.

Pressing the vibrator against her thigh, you turn it to the middle setting, feeling her jump a little at the sensation. Slowly, you slide it closer to her clit, using your free hand to slide one of her legs till it’s propped up. Lowering yourself, you press your clit against the top of the toy, keeping it pressed between your heat and hers, both of you moaning in unison.

Rolling your hips, a breathless moan leaves you, ducking your head as your eyes close in ecstasy. Sharp nails dig into your ass, pulling you down further, moans crescendoing. It feels like you’re too far from her, immediately dropping to press your lips to hers in open-mouthed kisses, whining against her lips as she holds you to her. Using her thigh for leverage, you use your own leg to press harder to her cunt, rolling against her in a way that forces her teeth into your shoulder.

The strong vibration against your clit and Melissa’s presence alone has you holding on by a thread, and from the way the redhead is holding onto you, you know she is too. Putting your weight fully on your right hand, your left grabs Melissa’s, tangling your fingers together. Her lips move languidly across yours, tongue dancing with yours rather than fighting for dominance, something she never did before. The emotions of it all and the coil snapping in your stomach, your forehead drops to her shoulder, panting as you feel your climax approach.

“Baby, ple-oh-please,” the hand creating crescent-shaped dents in your back shifts to your hair.

“I gotchu, let go for me,” your teeth tug at her earlobe, “cum for me, beautiful.”

A final, hard roll of your hips sets you both alight, moaning as you cum in tandem.

Both of you squirm as the toy works against you still. Lifting off her, you remove the toy from its place against her, turning it off and placing it on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Lowering yourself, you come face to face with her pussy, swollen and wet and beautiful. With gentle strokes, you lick her clean, taking your time to savor her taste.

Melissa’s husky moans spur you on, lapping up to her sensitive clit. Barely suckling on the nub has her tensing again, her grip on you doesn’t let you go far, not that you were planning on it regardless. She cums on your tongue, giving you a taste once more. Sweet decadence.

Easing your way back up with loving kisses up her body, laying on your side next to her, chest to chest. Your legs stay tangled together, no space exists between you.

The hand not in hers rises to her face, pushing loose, wild hair away, caressing her cheek. Melissa turns her head to press a kiss to your thumb, her own hand coming to your wrist.

“I love you,” she says, “I really, really do.”

You stroke her cheek again, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you how I did,” her eyes water, “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time you want with me to make it up to me,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She smiles weakly, “I want all the time with you.”

Your lips press to her lips this time, “then that’s what you get.” Leaning across you, Melissa puts herself on your lap, her favorite place to sit. Face hovering above yours for only a moment, she tucks herself into the crook of your neck, keeping her weight on top of you.

Sticky with sweat, the scent of sex around you, the tracing of nails up and down your sides, dancing over your ribs. Nothing has changed and everything has. You have always been Melissa’s, she has always been yours, now you finally have each other. Warm breath over your neck evens out, the lost sleep and recently lost energy catching up to her. You, however, you are invigorated.

For the first time in a year, you get to hold your Melissa.

kudos to anyone that can find all the song references and the singular lisa ann reference that is so small u will miss it

as towa bird says: scissor your friends!

feed back appreciated as always <3

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Have A Taste, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.3K

Summary: Y/N always has soft lips and Rafe always wants to know what they taste like.

Masterlist

Y/N has always had soft lips. Rafe thinks it’s probably because she has a collection of lip balms in her purse and on her side table. He loves kissing her just to see what flavour she is wearing that day. Rafe’s arm rests on the booth behind Y/N. She is snuggled into his side, recounting a story that happened to her freshman year. “It wasn’t my finest moment, but she was really a bitch. I saw her yelling at a kid because they were eating too loud,” Y/N finishes her story. Shelia, Kelce’s date, slaps her hands on the table, “No way you did that.” “I did,” Y/N confirms with a nod. Shelia and Kelce laugh with his girlfriend. Rafe just shakes his head with a chuckle and kisses her on the cheek. Shelia starts her own story about a girl from high school and Y/N is actively listening. Halfway through the story, Y/N's lips start to feel dry, so she pulls out some lip balm.

Rafe stares as she runs the stick over her lips. She puts it back into her purse before he can read the flavour. “Let me have a taste, Angel,” he whispers in her ear. She smiles with a nod and pulls out her lip balm for him. His fingers rest on her jaw to turn her head towards him, “Not like that.” He kisses her, running his tongue over her lips so that he can taste the cherry substance she just applied on it. Y/N tries to pull away, but Rafe won’t let her. He turns their innocent kiss into a passionate make out with Shelia stopping her story at the lack of attention. Kelce groans, “Ugh, do you really have to do that right now?” Y/N separates their lips and buries her head into Rafe’s chest in embarrassment. “Hey, wait until you go on more dates with Shelia, then you’ll understand why it’s so hard for me to stay away from my angel,” Rafe shrugs, bringing Y/N’s lips back onto his. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[argisthebulwark]

This Weight Upon My Shoulders Won't Fade

summary: How they react to seeing you cry. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Cicero, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Erandur, Arnbjorn warnings: brief mention of injury, lots of stress masterlist

Vilkas panics. He's terrified that you're hurt and begins searching you for injuries. Hastily, he takes mental notes - no sign of blood, no apparent bruising, perhaps it's internal? You haven't been eating well, it could be causing you pain. He pauses when you sniffle and tell him that you aren't injured it's just been an especially rough week. "What do you need?" He's earnest, prepared to shoulder any task that will make your life easier. "What can I do?" "Just - just sit with me for a bit." He eases into the chair at your side and tugs you onto his lap. Vilkas' heart breaks when you cuddle into him and he feels the quivering of your shoulders, uneven breaths puffed out against his skin. He's content to hold you while you cry, pressing kisses to your head and promising that he will take on all of your duties if you need. He's no stranger to responsibility.

Cicero's soft fingers frame your face and peppers kisses across your sore cheeks. Gentle thumbs swipe at your tears, his voice dripping with compassion when he finally speaks. "My Listener, I vow to kill whoever hurt you. I will hunt them down." Your laugh eggs him on, the sad little smile on your face all the encouragement he needs. "Would that make you feel better? Your loyal Cicero to put someone in the ground for you?" His threats escalate, becoming goofier and more outlandish with each giggle he summons from you. He's deliriously proud of himself when you're laughing through your tears, eyes squeezed shut and thankfully beginning to dry. "Should we go out together? I'm sure there's a contract or two waiting around." Cicero urges, offering you one of his beloved blades. "You already made me feel better." You sigh, a grateful kiss planted on his lips. Cicero's a bit shocked - he made you feel better? "I don't deserve you, my Keeper."

Miraak threatens to burn the world for displeasing you. He sinks to his knees, malice lacing his voice when he demands the name of whoever has dared to harm you. He doesn't bother worrying over any repercussions - his world has narrowed down to the tears brimming in your eyes. "Miraak -" "A name, my love." He softens his tone, terrified by the tears spilling down your cheeks. One scarred hand raises to wipe them away but they do not cease. Miraak's blood runs cold when you collapse into his chest, sobs racking your body. "I will tear it all down." He murmurs, allowing you to burrow into his robes. "I will burn the world for hurting you, my dragon." "Can you just stay here instead?" He's relieved to hear a touch of humor in your voice. "Burning the world down can wait. It's not going anywhere."

Farkas gathers you into his broad chest, one hand rubbing across your back. He knows just how much you've been handling since becoming Harbinger and wishes he could take some of the burden for you. He's witnessed the ways your role has broken you down - dark circles under your eyes after the sleepless nights and cheer in your voice nearly gone after another boring meeting. "So proud of you." He mumbles, allowing you to cry into his tunic. "It's so much." His heart drops at your voice - gods, how he misses the easy way you'd once laughed together. "It's all so much, I don't know how much more I can take." "I'll handle all the recruits." "No, that's not your job -" "It is now. Recruiting and training is mine." Farkas wipes at your messy face, relieved when you nod. "And Vilkas can handle all the stuffy meetings." "I couldn't put that on him." "He'll bitch and moan but he's good at that stuff." He kisses your head once more, resolved to never let it get this far again. "Don't worry, honey. We'll take care of everything."

Brynjolf extends a hand for you, offering to show you somewhere quiet. His footsteps are silent when he leads you down to the docks and clambers atop the fishery. The smell isn't exactly pleasant but he's correct - all that chatter from the market and the Flagon are gone, replaced with the soft lapping of waves against old wood. Nestled far from the rest of town he bundles you into his cloak and kisses the top of your head. Lake Honrich's winds are chilly but his warmth keeps that at bay. "Alright, love." He sighs, one arm slung over your shoulders. "Let's hear it. Get it all out." God, it feels good to get everything off your chest. Brynjolf has no shortage of responsibilities but you've never experienced anything like being the Guild Master. You are constantly pulled in a dozen different directions. Everyone needs your full attention at all times. Tasks and assignments have piled up over the months until you're practically drowning under them. "Y'know, I hear you've got a second in command you could assign the bullshit to." Brynjolf finally speaks once you've spilled your guts. "Fairly competent if my reports are correct. Handsome lad, too."

Erandur is fairly sure his heart breaks at the sight. Careful fingers wipe at the fat tears rolling down your cheeks as sweet words fall from his lips. He's seen you hurt before, certainly - he's carried you for miles after attempting to heal a broken bone or close a terrible wound but this anguish is new. "What can I do, my beloved?" He coos, gathering you into his arms. He can't help it, this compulsion to fix everything for you. "Should I draw you a bath? Or we could retire to bed early this evening, chores can wait until the morning." When he sinks into a warm bath at your side, Erandur's terrified by the clammy hands that clasp his. You are powerful, his fearless savior. He's never seen this bone deep exhaustion in you. "It's all so much." You finally mutter when he massages soap into your tense shoulders. "Being the Dragonborn - it's more than one person can handle." "I will carry whatever burdens you permit me to, my love." He murmurs, glad when your tired eyes fall closed. He will offer you anything he can, even if it is simple comfort.

Arnbjorn freezes. His brain halts at the sight of you storming past his workstation with angry tears shimmering in your eyes. It's been years since he's been this emotionally invested - he's forgotten how to handle this. "Hey." He's shocked by the rage in your eyes when you glare over at him, hands clenched at your sides. "Meeting go badly?" "You cannot imagine." Uh oh, he hasn't heard that tension in your voice in ages. "Wanna hit somethin'?" Your acceptance is quite the relief. He keeps a careful hand on the hilt of his latest sword, ensuring that it remains on the workbench when your hammer slams down on the blade. Over and over the sound of metal rings through the Sanctuary, a convenient cover for the angry sobs that slip past your gritted teeth. The forge has dried your tears before they can fall. Once your arms are numb and muscles feel dangerously limp you turn to him, all that burning rage drained away. Arnbjorn doesn't say a word, merely plucking the tools from your quivering hands and pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

[sordidmusings]

Thirsty Thursday with Lucky Brat Buggy

Summary: Buggy plays a game of Fuck Around and Find Out that he isn't actually ready for. Luckily for him, he fails upwards yet again - when he can't take the repercussions, you soothe him with the declaration he's been dying to hear

A/N: I just wanna break Buggy and then put him back together again. Also, my kink is finding out love is reciprocated during sex so this happened 🤡 This was one of the attempts at a part of Switching Up Roles that went in a wildly different direction than I wanted for that request. I liked where it was headed though, so I rewrote it and made it its own thing

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms), NSFW, both are mentioned as switches but this has sub!Buggy and dom!reader, dirty talk, p in v, beggy Buggy, creampie, claiming/possessive sex, brief brat taming, healing insecurity with Pussy Power

Enjoy, my beloved freaks ~(=ↀωↀ=)~

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy is being a brat. Not just his usual teasing and toying that’s a part of his charm. No, he’d decided that he wants to try being a brat where the “b” is for “bitch” and he’s bringing it into the bedroom. He’s telling you that you’re “too slow” or he’ll “never cum like this”. It’s pissing you off even though you know it’s all lies and you know that that’s exactly what he wants. It’s easy to see his game because all those insults come out between satisfied moans and his body (that’s totally not going to cum) is sparking at your touch like a live wire. It’s easy to see because it’s been your game to play for him before too. Unlike him, however, you’re good at keeping your head enough to know when he wants you to back off. He’s even had the gall to try out demanding things from you, when he was the one who’s been asking you to be in charge through this mood of his.

At first this obvious game of his was cute, but recently he’s acting like he wants you to snap, even though he knows hard-domming pushes your comfort zone. Buggy would never want to actually cross a boundary with you, but he was certainly dodging the non-verbal warnings you’ve been putting up to tell him he’s sprinting towards one right now. You’re usually good at taming him, proven by the absolute wreck he is right now, but somehow he’s still saying snide shit to push your buttons. When he puts in the effort to taunt, “Can’t do any better?” with a self-satisfied smirk, you decide you’re done. 

“Fine. You do the work,” you order, voice stiff and angry. You flip off of him and onto your back and Buggy follows only half a breath behind. His movements are fumbling and desperate as he reclaims his spot between your thighs and immediately pushes back in. He shudders from the relief of being back inside you. He looks at you with wide and nervous eyes, clearly not expecting this to be his punishment. His arms shake as he holds himself up over you and his hips make slow, deep grinds into you, punctuated by the little shakes that keep running through his body. The panic of losing control of the situation he created, while also being forced to perform in that circumstance, has finally broken that stubborn streak. And, oh, does he fold so beautifully under the stress. 

“Please. Please, please, need you to do it. Need you to make me feel good - you make me feel so goooood.” Buggy can’t control his voice, one moment it was a breathy grumble and the next a whining sob. His hands clench and unclench in the sheets beside your head as if they are stuck in the motion of pawing at your skin, but he’s too timid to put his hands back on you.

“Oh, baby, you can’t do it yourself?” you coo condescendingly, placing your hands on his cheeks to help center his gaze on yours. It works for one blissful second, where you get to witness how hazy those gorgeous sea green eyes are, before he shuts them and leans his face into one hand. Buggy turns and peppers it in eager, pleading kisses. Tingles shoot from your palm where you feel his stubble and his hot puffs of breath.

“No. No. Need you,” he gasps between ongoing kisses. Your other hand trailing back to thread in his hair distracts him for a second before he’s back to his insistent kissing, huffing, grinding, trembling. The hand in his hair becomes a tight fist, stilling only his kissing and directing his attention back to your face. His hips only become more insistent.

“And do you deserve to be fucked, my sweet little toy?” You prod. Even though your tone is light and teasing, all his movements come to a stop. You don’t even think he’s breathing anymore. His eyes become a kind of tearful you aren’t fond of and he begins to curl in on himself. You act quickly.

“Ah ah ah, sweet thing,” you breathe out. The words go to him in the gentlest tone you’ve ever gifted to anyone. Your hands are back on those warm, stubbly cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet star, you’re okay. If you can’t answer, I’ll answer for you.”

You flip the both of you over again smoothly, the hand you’d used to tug his hair now cradling the back of his head. Buggy loosens up a little, feeling safe and guarded underneath you. You get up on hands and knees and crawl forwards, leading him backwards up the bed, until his upper body is cushioned amongst the pillows piled against the headboard. Settling back on his lap, you begin grinding gently on his cock. Instead of taking it back in, you keep it hugged tight between his stomach and your cunt, where it slides between your sopping lips and rubs at your clit. You’re happy to see that even with the lowered intensity in touch, Buggy is still filled with pleasure and tingling, unable to slow his breath.

“You belong in my bed, getting fucked by me,” you tell him sternly. Buggy nods along like the good boy he is. “You’re the only one I let in my cunt.” He can’t hold in his whimper. Your smooth grinding continues, but now he can’t handle being denied that promise of being inside you.

“Please,” he begs, pressing his hips upward in the only way he can think to let you know what he wants. One hand leaves his face to move behind you and tease over his sensitive balls. Your next grind forward lines his head up at your entrance, one skilled finger props his cock steady, and you slide back on the whole length of his cock, dragging your clit along his happy trail as you go, all without breaking the pace of your hips. Buggy moans loud and sinks deeper into the pillows in relief.

Your hand moves back to his face again and begins brushing away all the stray hairs clinging to his sweaty, spitty, teary face to join the mess of blue sweeping out around him. The tenderness of it has more whimpers breaking out of Buggy, while he turns to follow your touch. 

“Only you can make me feel good,” you promise him, starting to add more weight to your movements. “Only wanna see your pretty face. Only your body and that perfect cock feel so good to touch, make me cum so hard.” You clench around him to emphasize your words, earning a warbly “-hah- fuh-s’good”. 

Between admiring the details of his face and aiming the fat head of his cock to prod from g-spot to cervix, you start to get distracted. All the details your body is receiving - the contrast between the texture of sheets and Buggy’s burning skin, the scratch of short nails appearing and disappearing as he gropes your thighs and hips and stomach, the musk of sex mingling with the ambience of blown out candles, aging maps, and wet wood - all of it is flooding your brain and making each sensation better, making everything feel so much. Another sweet plea from Buggy recenters you.

Your hips start to bounce and each impact pulls the feeling of being stretched open on Buggy’s thick cock all the way to press through your hips, making your bones feel like they're being spread wider. “Gods, your cock is so good, makes me so full,” you moan, making Buggy throb with the need to cum. He scrunches his eyes closed and throws his head back to reel himself in. You take advantage of the opening and begin sucking more red marks on his throat. He trembles at the wet stripe you lick up his neck. You spend a moment nibbling his ear before trailing kissing along his sharp jaw. When you reach his open mouth, you capture him in a ravenous kiss.

The way you kiss him is greedy and possessive, full of tongue and teeth, and Buggy matches you with eagerness and fervor. He happily lets you steal every breath from his lungs. Both of you get lost in the mirrored sloppy heat between your open mouths and clapping hips. Neither of you can grab enough of the other, you gripping at soft hair and bobbing throat and him holding onto working muscle and bouncing skin.

When you take a short moment to pull only an inch away, you growl at him, “You think anyone else is good enough to kiss me?” Your lips are immediately back on his, but he manages to sneak out many weak “no”s between your working mouths.

“You’re mine, love,” you say, leaving no room for questions. “You’re my love, my sweet man.” Buggy’s head spins from your words, and the insatiable tone of your voice. He feels high from being desired and possessed by you.

“Again,” Buggy sobs. He doesn’t think he’d make it if that was the only time he gets to hear you say it. 

You pull his hands from your thighs to entwine your fingers and press them into the pillows beside his head. Staring into his eyes, you repeat, “You’re my love.”

“More,” he whines and you’d never heard him so needy. It goes straight to your head and your cunt and you’re not gonna last. 

“You’re mine-” your body starts to give so you cave over him and let all your words and breath right into his ear. Buggy’s cock is pulsing so heavily in you and you’re amazed he hasn’t cum yet and the way your walls have swollen to make every contour and vein on him pull at you have you losing control of your own voice, each exhale gaining a note of a moan. “-mine and I love you and I -hah- you’re mine, love. Mine, mine, mine-”

Buggy had been desperate to hear you say those words to him from the moment he met you and they have him cumming harder than he has in his entire life. He yelps and grabs your hands so hard it should probably hurt but you can’t feel it; your brain is too full of the feeling of his cum boiling you from the inside out and the sounds of him beginning to chant, “love you, love you, love you” in a broken voice, and you finally cum.

Your orgasm has you looking as pathetic as Buggy with how you shake and gasp out keening moans. For a moment, your mind whites out and you’re not sure if you’re completely numb or feeling everything at once. When a tiny bit of your mind returns, you realize you’re still clenching in strong waves, sparking lights through your skin, and your muscles burn with bliss and you’ve never cum this long and it just won’t stop. Buggy is just as lost below you and he’s sure that he’s run out of anything left to give you but his balls still pound and his cock still twitches and his nerves are so loud they almost ache but he’d scream if something switched the feeling off. Instinct allows both of you little grinds of your hips that help you stay trapped in these roiling waves of pleasure until you can’t handle any more.

The moment you can think again, you’re checking in on Buggy. You cup his face so you can examine and admire him. For a moment you think he’s passed out, but he turns to lean into your hand. You spend a few minutes just breathing together while you caress his face and hair. Buggy studies the feeling of your breaths guiding him, your body weight sheltering him, and your fingertips treasuring him to hoard them away in his memory forever. 

When Buggy manages to crack his eyes open, the first thing he does is say, “you love me.” He breathes it out with joyous disbelief, the kind only achieved at the other side of a chase you never thought would end with a catch. You take in his face - flushed pink, covered in tear tracks and smeared makeup, sharpened by his jaw and cheeks and stubble, softened by his hair and lashes and expression - and you’re sure that you’ve never said or heard anything more true. You cover that messy, wonderful face in many, many kisses, making sure quite a few land on your favorite nose in the world, and finish with a long, chaste kiss on his lips.

You smile sweetly and Buggy is positive he’s never seen anything he likes more and that he’d do anything to see it forever.

“Yes,” you promise. “I love you.”

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ MY TYPE: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Even after years Crocodile could never figure out what was his type of woman. At least with you he could figure out he wasn't even interested in women in general"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE! reader, MASC! reader (can be trans or not), HOMO RELATIONSHIP, CROCODILE IS GAY HERE, Mihawk is also gay, LIGHT HOMOPHOBIA, LIGHT SEXISM, Crocodile is a old man with old morals (not defending him), Gay club, a little joke with crocodile name, light description about reader clothes but still free for you imagine your own way

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : After years I'm posting again, I'm not in my better mood and things have being hard for me, so I'm kinda didn't any of my hobbies, like writing and posting, sorry for that. Hope you guys enjoy it, fem blogs/blank blogs/no pronouns = block

Now imagine Crocodile who refuses to have a lasting relationship regardless of the woman who throws himself at his feet. He takes them to some events, some photos of the most beautiful and chic women in his arms, maybe even some flirting without commitment, but a second date or even something more serious? No way.

He can't explain why he can never stay interested in a woman for more than a few hours. What if he tries? Well the things he would say to try to justify why no woman is good enough would be something like:

The lipstick was too strong, the lipstick was too weak, the dress was too exaggerated, the dress was not flashy enough, the smile was too simple, the smile was too fake. Too tall, too short, too thin, not thin enough, didn't wear high heels, wore high heels, uncultured, knew too many things, too independent, too dependent, etc.

“More it seems like you don't like women” Doflamingo laughed in his face as he drank again, the man in the burgundy suit was already tired of hearing his friend's endless excuses about why he didn't have anyone. “Who likes women likes all types of women, simple as that” what he said was true, reinforcing his point by opening his arms, making the two women who were sitting next to him throw themselves onto his chest.

Crocodile couldn't deny that he also believed that statement, he thought men who wanted to demand crazy things from women were stupid, but he wasn't like that... he just hadn't found the right woman. Of course Doflamingo was very different, in his arms were now two completely different women, style, body, color and height, but he knew very well that the demon would give the two equal love and attention. Although it wouldn't make much difference since he would forget about them both the next day.

“Not all men want easy bitches, that doesn't mean I don't like women” he spat with venom, seeing one of the women become embarrassed and the other look at him with hatred. Of course he just ignored it and continued drinking his wine, becoming even more stressed about the situation.

“Don't be mad now fufufu” Doflamingo laughed seeing how angry the other was.

“What’s wrong with you not liking women?” Mihawk asked with a raised eyebrow and for a moment the other two men forgot he was there due to the silence. Crocodile bit his cheek remembering that his friend was gay and would probably be offended by the conversation.

“None, but I like women, I'm just demanding” Crocodile explained the situation and Mihawk seemed to accept the excuse but he still hadn't given up on the subject.

“If you don't find any woman that pleases you, perhaps you can find a man that satisfies you” was all Dracule said.

God. Crocodile wanted to kill Mihawk, after that damn sentence all he could think about was that. What if he actually liked men? Of course not... he's always been with women his whole life, so he liked them, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to men.

He tried to convince himself of this as much as he could, but god it felt like someone had opened Pandora's box. For the next few days he couldn't stop noticing the men in the office, the way they moved, the way their bodies acted, the way they also had their own beauty. Hell! He was sure Daz had caught him looking at a male employee's ass more than once! He couldn't have his reputation ruined like that!

So he forced Mihawk to meet with him again, he had some questions, he just needed some proof that he was completely straight. Once he had reaffirmed his sexuality he would be fine and could stop acting like an old pervert.

“Being with women all your life doesn't mean being straight, we're old, we grew up in a time where that was the only way, the correct way” Mihawk said without much emotion sitting at the bar with his friend while they enjoyed a whiskey “Maybe now you’ve finally gotten tired of pretending and your body is just showing signs that you were never attracted to women.”

“And how do I find out if I like men?” Crocodile asked, almost ashamed of what he was saying, he would definitely kill someone if this was exposed.

“Go out with one.”

And that's where you get into the story. Crocodile locked himself in his office for weeks without knowing what to think or do, how the hell was he supposed to go out with a man if he never even considered it before?! That was until he received an invitation to a nightclub, Circus Royale Club, he thought it was a prank until he received a message from Mihawk explaining what it was.

“The clown has a gay nightclub, completely discreet, if something gets out he already knows that you won't forgive him. He talked to a few people and said there’s someone you might like to meet, I figured you wouldn’t make the first move alone, give it a chance.”

He almost jumped from the top floor of his building but his friend was right, he was too nervous to make a move alone, he didn't even know where to look for it. Regular nightclubs and dating sites were out of the question, but perhaps Buggy's nightclub was an option. He would actually kill the idiot if anything like that got out in the media, so he was confident that his privacy was protected… Now he just didn't trust the clown's taste in finding Crocodile a romantic partner, but it's not like he had any other option.

He tried to dress like he normally would, a simpler suit, nothing vibrant or exaggerated. For a moment he thought it wouldn't suit the location and he was right and wrong.

The nightclub inside was truly another world, it was extremely chic and in shades of red and dark blue, giving a very sensual depth to everything. The problem was the people, the employees all wore white shirts with blue or red vests, too circus-like for Crocodile, in addition to the masks that only covered their eyes to separate them from the customers. And the customers? Heavens… It really looked like a circus, he saw people wearing wigs bigger than their own heads, colorful and extravagant clothes, fantastic makeup, was there someone wearing wings and horns?!

He felt a little… overwhelmed, to say the least. He thought gay people were like Mihawk, extremely discreet, or just a little more cheerful and feminine, not like that... Okay that was a terribly homophobic thought, he needed a drink.

He picked up something strong and sat down on a table, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor but being inaudible due to the music playing. He quickly sent a message to Mihawk asking what the hell that place was and wondering if it was gays or some real circus.

“Don't worry about them, the people at the clown's nightclub are more exotic, not everyone is like that” thank God because Crocodile didn't see himself dating a walking rainbow “I only chose this place because discretion was guaranteed, your partner wouldn't It’s like the ones you see”

He thanked him mentally, not that he judged people for dressing how they wanted, sometimes he did, but being a pink Barbie just didn't suit him! If he was going to have someone, he wanted someone who suited his discreet and formal style more, man or woman, that wasn't a discussion.

He was about to “thank” Mihawk for the terrible place when he saw you walking in. You were stunning. You wore nice dark pants and a lighter shirt with a nice print that suited you perfectly. The outfit wasn't discreet gothic level like Mihawk or vomiting rainbows like the others there, it was just... you. It was an outfit that made you look amazing and you knew it, he could see your confidence, you were beautiful and you knew it. And heavens, Crocodile had to admit that it was the most attractive thing he had ever seen.

You looked around and stopped when you saw Crocodile, your eyebrows arching in surprise as if you didn't believe that Crocodile existed and was really there. You smiled and instead of going to the table where Crocodile was, you went towards the bar, where you stayed for a few minutes, talked to the bartender, got your own drink.

Crocodile had never felt so nervous before, he was used to having all the attention just on him, women threw themselves at his feet for a chance. And here you were, knowing he was the one you were supposed to meet but you were purposely ignoring him. His heart was beating fast and he felt the sweat beneath his thin suit. He had an absurd urge to get up and force you to pay attention to him, to show you that he was the only one who deserves your attention, when he had become so desperate and needy for someone's attention? Even more of a man?

After all that you finally took your glass of drink and went to the table and sat in front of him, you crossed your legs and sipped your drink before leaving it on the table, then you faced him, in complete silence. Hell this was totally different from what he was used to, here you seemed to be staring at him as if to say “prove to me that you are worthy of my attention”. This wasn't what he was used to, he was no longer a hunter, he was prey.

“I thought you didn’t realize I was your date” he said softly, composing himself while drinking his drink.

“Of course I noticed, it's not very difficult to know who I should meet here, just look around and see how you differ from everyone…” you laughed “You're like a fish out of water… in fact you are more to a crocodile in the middle of all the fish” you looked at him sensually biting your lip.

“Hah… And you look like an animal photographer, completely camouflaged in the environment… but if you look closely you know that you are someone superior to any animal” he said with a determined smile and the victory was his by the way you blushed and squirmed in your place.

“Crocodile, right?” You had now abandoned your malicious and even evil manner, now you seemed completely open and genuine to trying to have a date with him “(y/n), it’s a pleasure”

“The pleasure is definitely all mine” he said genuinely. Maybe dating men wouldn't be so bad, maybe being a gay man wouldn't be so bad… Maybe having you as his partner in a serious longterm relationship with you… yeah, it didn't seem so bad.

[restless-mama]

Sol Exposed

Back at it again! Encouraged by my beloved friends from the 14DWY Discord server (I love yall!), I decided to write Sol (from The Kid at the Back, visual novel) fic. Sol belongs to @fantasia-kitt and Christine belongs to me. Female pronouns and etc are used. THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS TO TKAB!

Summary wise, sometimes you just can't do what you want and think you can get away with it! Christine finds out what her crush has done to her and she wants to get even. She exposes him in at least three ways. His naughty deeds, his body, and his feelings.

Warnings: Stalking, Drugs, Handcuffs, subby Sol

Banner belongs to @arklayraven

It was late but as your typical college student, Christine was tapping and clicking on her laptop as she sits at her desk browsing the internet. A glass of orange juice sitting by her laptop. Her phone lights up with a notification. Her lamp on her nightstand was still on emitting light throughout the room. It was Sol, her current crush. He wishes her goodnight and that he’ll see her tomorrow. A high pitch giggle escapes her lips while she kicks her feet a little. If only she could confess her feelings to him. Yes, she had a crush on Crowe in the beginning. She felt it would be better off if Crowe and her remained friends.  Grabbing her phone, she sends a reply biding him goodnight and reminding him to not stay up so late. She was aware of him staying up in wee hours of the night, doing God knows what. 

She looks through some false nails to buy since Halloween was around the corner which is her favorite holiday. Christine orders a set of false nails from an Etsy seller of the name AnastasiasNails. The set of nails were in a coffin cut set with black lace and red small false rubies as designs. 

Another thing she had to order was a costume for the Halloween party her school hosted. She decided to purchase a black gothic lolita dress. It was a halter dress with a bowknot on the halter neck which exposed the rib-shaped cutout on the back. The skirt part of the dress was laced tiered ruffle. After placing her orders, she looked out of her window. The lock was still broken, and it reminded her to look at the hidden cameras she had set up in her apartment. Some of her laundry has gone missing, like her favorite pair of panties. Also, items disappearing and reappearing around her house. Then there were a few mornings with some dried substance on her stomach. A few times she notices bruises on her neck and/or collar bone. However, she doesn’t remember a thing.  

Christine pulls up the footage as her fingers wrapped around the cold glass of orange juice. She sip from the glass that consists of the fruity, tangy drink. Her finger clicking on the mouse to fast forward on the video. Suddenly she stops and watches to see someone climbing through her window with the broken lock. Her brown eyes widen and swallows hard. A surge of anxiety and fear coursed through her body as she continues to watch the hooded figure walked out of her room. Her eyes darts over to the camera recording that was in her kitchen. 

Her brown eyes studied the figure and noticed how tall he was. He was most definitely taller than her which she was only 5’5”. She watches in horror as the figure opened her fridge door to take out her orange juice and twist open the top. Then they took out a pill that looked very familiar, opened the capsule and dropped the powdery medication into her juice. Christine drops the glass that she was drinking out of, onto the ground. She watches in silent horror as she realizes her drink has been spiked. No wonder why she has been sleeping so well lately. 

“Son of a bitch!” Christine curses as she stands up. Her body was shaking a little from what she has watched. She was about to move to grab a nearby towel to dry the orange juice off the carpet, until the figure’s face caught her attention. The brunette stands there in shock and turns her head back to her laptop screen. Their eyes looks very familiar... They were orangey-red. 

“No...” Christine whispers. She knew who those eyes belonged to. ‘He... he wouldn’t... would he?’ The brunette thought her herself.  

The spilled juice was longed forgotten. The young college student sits back down and continues to go through the footage. He does leave her apartment but comes back late at night when she was in bed, asleep. Once again, he sneaks in through her window. She watches him pick up her arm and drop it, confirming that she was in a deep, drugged sleep. He pushed his hood down to reveal his black hair with green highlights and his mask was pushed down under his chin. It was indeed Sol. In the footage, he kisses her face close to her lips. He strokes her hair, tucking a strand of her messy dark brown and red hair behind her ear. She watches him suckling her neck, creating the mysterious bruises, which she realizes were hickies. Then the unthinkable happens. How could he...? He was so kind to her. So protective and caring. 

Christine watches in shock and....arousal? She couldn’t believe she was getting turned on by the sight of Sol doing this to her while she slept. This type of behavior wasn’t acceptable for normal standards, yet she could not deny the surge of pleasure course through her veins as she watched him. The tip of her tongue darts out and laps her top lip, imagine how he would taste. Perhaps she was just as crazy as him... Maybe... She should get even. 

~*~ 

With little effort, it didn’t take much lure Sol back to her apartment. They both had an assignment to finish anyways. Christine, being such a lady, offered Sol something to drink. Once they finished their refreshments, they retreated to her bedroom.  Christine sat down in her chair as the taller man sat down on her bed as he drew her. She could feel his red-orange eyes trace every bit of her body. Her heart pounded in her chest as she keeps it together as she suppresses the need to make him beg. It’s only a matter of time now. 

Sol wipes the sweat off his brow as he notices he has gotten hotter than usual. A surge of lust rans through his veins. He forwards his brows as his eyes bore into his drawing of his beloved. He usually could control his urges when he’s near her. Something was wrong. His heart begins to beat faster, and his pants felt a little too tight against his body. His body is getting hotter by the minute. 

“Sol...?” Christine’s voice could be heard, and the artist looks towards the direction of the voice. He jumps and gasps as he realizes she was inches away from him. His face becomes more flustered. Another surge of pleasure rushed through his body, especially his member. How did she get so close? When did she get so close? The brunette couldn't help but giggle, he noticed the tone of it was more... menacing.  

The brunette moves in closer to him. Her lips inches from his lips. “Are you okay...? My little stalker?” Christine confronts him. His eyes widen in shock.  

“Fuck...!” He whispers. Before he can explain himself, she presses her lips against his in a passionate kiss. His pencil and sketch book drops to the carpet floor as she pushes him down onto her bed. Her hips rolls against his member through the fabric of their pants. This earns a muffled groan from the taller man. Seizing the opportunity, she got a hold of his arms and handcuffs him to the bed frame. 

Sol looks up in shock at his the woman above him. “Christine... let me-” A delicate finger pressed on his lips shushing him from explaining himself. Christine staddles his hips rubbing her groin against him earning a moan from the man below her. His skin was so sensitive and hot. Her scent on her bed was driving him insane more than usual. He wondered what was going on. Then it dawned on him that he didn’t get like this after he drank something she gave him. No... his own beloved couldn’t do this right? She wasn’t capable? Or was he wrong? 

The woman on top of him breaks the kiss. "I added a little something to your drink... Just like you did mine but mine is an aphrodisiac.” Christine giggles. She looks down at him with her caramel eyes full of mischief. “I put hidden camera around my apartment Sol... I know everything... And now, it’s my turn to have my fun with you~” Her soft hands moves under his shirt, pushing it up as she touches his tone torso. As if her touch left a trail of fire in her wake.  Her fingers reach to his pierced nipples and strokes them with her fingers. 

“Ahhh! Christine!” Sol pants out with his face flushed with red, choking down his moans, trying to remain quiet. He was panting and sweat formed on his forehead. His eyes half-lidded and full of desire.  

“Someone’s very sensitive, aren’t they?” Christine said seductively and playfully, “Tell me Sol...” She darts her tongue out and swirls her tongue around his pierced nipple causing him to squirm and whimper uncontrollably, “Is this what you wanted me to do to you? To take this big cock of yours?” Her hand undoes his pants and pulls out his thick, long member and strokes it very slowly. She had to admit... She was impressed by the length and size of his erection. 

The green haired artist looks up at his beloved with a mixture of shock and desire. He hadn’t expected her to be so brazen and forward. “Yes.... Yes! This is what I wanted...” Sol whines out as his throbbing cock leaks precum onto her hand. His own obsession with her was bad enough but with the aphrodisiac running through his veins took it to the next level. Without any hesitation, she pulls off his pants and boxers off.  

“You’re so hard for me...” Christine teases. She sits on her heels and lowers her head over his veiny member, which still leaking with precum. Her lips parted around his wide cock and sucks off his salty seed. She sticks her tongue out and traces the thick veins on his member. Sol’s eyes roll back into his head as he feels Christine’s wet tongue swirling around the over sensitive tip of his cock. He could feel shivers down his spine while his body becomes overloaded with pure pleasure. 

All he could think of was her. Her scent. Her touch. Those lustful yet mischievous, caramel eyes. His fantasies were becoming a reality, but this exceeded his expectations. “Oh fuck, Chris...” Sol gasps between labored breaths, his eyes hazy and burning with desire. “You make me feel so goddamn good...” 

His needy words and pleas were music to her ears. The brunette could feel the surge of arousal shoot down her clit. Christine takes his cock into her mouth sucking him in and taking him deeper into her mouth. Her brown eyes shot up at him to meet his red-orange eyes, maintaining eye contact as she sucks his dick. Sol watches Christine takes his throbbing member deeper into her mouth, swallowing his erection with ease. He gasps loudly at the sight, like he was in a trace. He finds himself utterly captivated by her beauty and the way she seems to relish having power over him. His hips buck involuntarily, driven wild by her experienced oral skill. She takes him deeper in her mouth and into her throat, deep throating him. She swallows, causing her throat to squeeze around him, earning a straggled moan from Sol. 

Suddenly, Christine pulls away. A mix of frustration and confusion could be seen in his eyes as he watches her pull away. “W-why did you stop?” He whines between heavy pants. 

The corner of her lips tugs upward into a smirk as Christine gives Sol a seductive look. Her hand reaches down to the hem of her tight red shirt and slowly pulls it off revealing her breasts in a black lacy bra. She could hear him tug hard against the cuffs. Metal clashing metal. He lets out a long ragged, breath and looks at her hungrily, unable to contain the raw lust burning through his body. His mouthwatering. His eyes never leaving her body as she slowly undresses in front of him. She removes her bra, releasing her breasts from the confines which earns a breathy gasp from him. Her hand finds her hair tie on the end of her brain and removes it, letting her brown and red hair free from the messy braid. 

“Oh God... Pumpkin..” Sol pants as watches her remove her black ripped jeans and panties. Just looking at her nude body, his face was burning from lust and desire. “You’re so beautiful... Please Christine. Take the cuffs off. Let me touch you. I need to touch you.” The green haired handsome man begged. His voice was hoarse. His eyes never left her nude body. They always reminded her of lava and she could feel the heat of his gaze burn onto her skin. 

“No...” Christine denies him and straddles him, rubbing her wet cunt on the underside of his shalf. Sol trembles beneath her and whimpers out her name. She had to admit, her name coming out of his mouth sounded like music to her ears. “You been a very, very bad boy, Sol... I think I’m going to make you beg for forgiveness.” She rolls her hips slow against his throbbing member, earning a needy moan from him. “Or I won’t let you cum.” 

“Fuucckkkk.....!” Sol cried out low as he pulled hard against the cuffs in desperation again. Metal raddles against one another. His body quivers in need. His aching cock was getting harder and hard to the point where it began to hurt as his body reaches to its limits. It needed a release. He HAVE to cum. He couldn’t even think to control himself any longer. His mind clouded by what his body needed. Their eyes met once again, and she could see his pupils blown wide with desire.  

“I’m sorry Christine! Please...” Her stalker chokes out, “I’ll do anything! Anything! Just please, please! Make me come... Let me come!” 

Christine giggles lowly. “So needy and desperate...” She teases him, “You look so cute when you’re at my mercy...” 

Before he could respond, the brunette slips him inside of her warm cunt, earning a throaty groan from the man beneath her. A gasp escapes her lips as his wide cock stretches her pussy walls. Perhaps she may have underestimated his size. Christine forwards her brows and bites her lower lip as she takes all him inside her. Sol watched her intensely and couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Guess I’m a lot more to handle than you thought, huh?” Sol pants out still flustered and desperate yet still able to give her a smug grin. Christine narrows her caramel eyes at him. She pulls herself up until his tip was barely in, she slams down hard in a fast motion taking all of him again.  

“Fuck!” Sol lets out a surprised yelp as his soulmate slams down onto him with force. The cuffs rattle once again as he yanks against them again. His head is thrown back onto her pillows, inhaling her sweet floral scent. God... She smelled divine to him. Her walls tighten hard around him, giving him a hard squeeze before as she starts to move up and down his veiny cock. Suddenly she slams down onto him again and they both let out a moan. Her fingers find his pierced nipples and begin to stroke them as she rides him. She kept her pace unexpected and erratic, driving him into her cunt. 

“Ohhhh fuck...! Pumpkin... You feel so fucking good..” Sol rasped out with his eyes hazy, his face still red, and his mouth slightly agape, drool starting to hang out from the corner of his lips. Christine couldn’t help but moan as his thick girth rubs her sensitive walls in the right places. He was the thickest she had ever taken. 

“Ahhh...” She pants, “You know... You could have asked. I might have said yes... Instead of drugging me...” She whispers as she slams her cunt up and down his cock. She begins to increase her pace, bouncing wildly on him. It was pushing him towards the edge.  

“I know... Ahhh...” Sol moans as his eyes roll to the back of his head, “I’m sorry, Christine...” He sounds sincere even though he sounds so fucked out of his mind. He could feel her warm juices which are mixed with his pre-cum flow down his cock and balls. His balls tighten as he draws near his climax. It didn’t help that she was near her own peak and her walls became tighter and tighter than before. 

“Ahhhh... Fuuuccckkkk...” He groans lowly. His eyes find her face and a surge of pleasure shoots down his hard cock. Before him was his beloved with her face contorted in bliss with her puffy lips parted. Her eyes half lid as she rides him in abandonment. That sight alone threw him over the edge. “Christine...! I’m going to cum!” Sol bucks his hips up wildly to meet her pace, trying to catch his high. They began to move in sync causing both parties to cry out in pleasure. His balls tighten. He could feel the intense pleasure coursing through his veins. His back arches as he releases a torrent of his pent-up seed inside her tight walls. Christine was not far behind him. She moans out sweetly as she cums hard against him member. Her walls gripping him like a vise, milking every drop of his seed. His name leaves her lips as a whisper.  

“I love you, Christine! I love you so much...” Sol whimpers out his confession as he rides out his orgasm. He could feel the heat leaving him a little. It seems that the aphroditic was wearing out. Just a little.  

“Y-you love me?” The brunette breaths out, trying to catch her breath. Her warm caramel eyes looks down to catch his hazy gaze. It was time for Christine to become flushed. Her heart pounding against her chest. “Why didn’t you just say so...?” 

Sol sighs and looks at the woman on top of him, “Shit I don’t know... You looked like you have a crush on Crowe.” He said Crowe’s name with such venom. Was he jealous all along? 

“I had a crush on Crowe.” Christine corrected him and crossed her arms, squeezing her tits together. “Past tense, Sol... Besides, I have a crush on you.” 

“Wait... What?” Sol couldn’t believe his ears. She then slowly pulls herself off him which makes him whimper out in disappointment.  

“You heard me... Now let me uncuff you.” Christine said as she moved to take the key from under her other pillow and uncuffs him. She assumed that he was done and the aphrodisiac had wore off. However, once the cuffs were off, Sol’s large hands were on her waist, and he gently pushes her down onto her bed. A gasp escapes the woman’s lips as the green haired man pins her down by her wrist. Her brown and red hair scattered on her bed. A blush forms on her shocked face. Sol growls lowly at the sight of her. He could feel his blood rushes down to loins, making his member erect once again. 

Her caramel brown eyes meets his red-orange ones which are filled with so much burning desire. She could just simply melt in his gaze. She can’t deny her own desire, especially being held down by him. Sol leans in, their lips just inches from one another. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek. His short green hair tickling her skin. "What happened? You were so bold earlier...” He teases and whispers lowly, “Or you like being held down do you?” 

Before Christine could answer, Sol crushes his lips against her roughly. His cold lip piercings rubbing against her soft lips. She parts her lips, allowing his tongue in as they both kissed passionately. Then she felt the cold metal of her own hand cuffs being applied on her wrist. All she could do was just submit to his power. They continue their heated, passionate kiss until they both break away to breathe. They both pants and gazed into each other's eyes. Sol then pulls away to sit on his heel and removes his two shirts, along with the long black key necklace he had on. After tossing them aside, he lowers his head down to one of her nipples and suckles it into his mouth.  

A sharp gasp was heard followed by a moan as he swirls his tongue around the bulb. Her body arches back. She felt his hand slip down between her legs, his index finger rubbing against her entrance, teasing her and smearing his cum around. Christine moans and squirms beneath him. Sol releases her nipple with a loud “pop” then parts her thighs with his large hands. He growls in delight as he admires his own cum leaking out of her cunt. His member growing harder at such a delectable sight. 

“Fuck... You look so cute when you’re filled up with my cum...” He groans lowly as he rather his own seed with his own fingers and pushes them into her pussy making Christine cry out in pleasure. 

“Sol!” Christine cries out. She could feel her falls stretch to accommodate his thick fingers. His fingers begin to stroke her sensitive walls making her throw her head back in pleasure. Her hips roll to meet his thrusts until he pulls his digits out of her and brings them to her puffy lips. She obediently parts her lips, letting him push his fingers into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the digits to lick and then suck off the cum off his fingers. Once they were licked clean, he pulls them out of her mouth as a string of saliva was still attached from her tongue and his wet fingers.  

The green haired men then push his fingers back into her wet cunt and curls his fingers repeatedly, searching her sensitive spot. A sharp inhaled gasp was heard from the brunette. She was never able to find her own g-spot with her own fingers, but it seems Sol’s fingers were far better. They were longer and able to reach the right spot in her cunt. Her body trembled in delight. Her back arched and she began to moan uncontrollably.  

“Oh my GOD!” Christine cries out in pleasure as her tight walls tighten around. Suddenly, she cums and squirts all over his hand and forearm. Sol doesn’t let up, he continues to drive his digits into her franticly, making her soak her bed sheets beneath her. His name continues to leave her mouth in such debauch manner as she cums and squirts repeatedly. 

“Ahhhh! It feels too good!” The woman whimpered and moaned wildly, uncontrollably. Her walls spasm and contract against his fingers. 

“I just got started and you’re already falling apart.” Sol said lowly, a playful smirk tugged on his pierced lips as he teased her. He then lowers his mouth and stroke his tongue against her clit making Christine roll her hips. A straggled moan escapes her lips. The sounds she made were like music to Sol’s ears. He pulls out his own fingers and replaces them with his tongue, sucking and lapping up her liquid gold. She tasted so divine. She sounded like an angel to him. Just like how he imagine she would.  

Christine feels his then laps up to her clit once more and suck gently onto the swollen clit. She could feel electricity courses through her body from his administrations. Shivers shooting down her spine. She gazes at him, watching him with her half-lidded lazy eyes. He could hear her pants for air. His pierced lips brush away from her clit and onto her thigh. She could feel the coolness of the small metal. Teeth gazing over the flesh, he bites down softly and sucks forming a soon to be small bruise on her thigh.  

“This is how I will make you feel every night.” Sol pulls back and gazes at his mark in admiration. “That’s what you will get for being mine.” He pushes her legs up until her knees meet her chest and parts her legs with his large hands. Christine moans as she felt him rub himself over her clits and wet folds, teasing her. She makes a rasped out a desperate moan, “Please... Don’t tease me...” begged Christine. Her eyes pleading him. Her face flushed red, and her eyes barely opened. 

Sol chuckles softly and slowly pushes himself in, inch by inch. He could feel her slick and wet pussy envelop him, wrapping around his thick member. Christine moans softly as she involuntarily contracts her walls around him, pulling him in deeper.  

“S-shit... you’re so tight...” Sol growls lowly as his cock is swallowed by her warmth.  Unable to contain his desire, he quickly pulls back until his tip only remained and drives his thick member deep inside of her wet folds with one forceful thrust. The brunette cries out in bliss as he filled her completely.  His hips begin to move rhythmically, thrusting himself into her tight walls again and again, fucking her hard and making her scream in pleasure. “And you’re all mine. Mine to take. Mine to fuck.” 

“Yes.. Yes! I’m yours... Only yours! Please don’t stop! Harder. Sol.... Harder!” Christine moans out loudly as he obeys her command and buries himself into her in an unrelenting tempo. His name leaves her lips repeatedly like a prayer, making his heart swell with emotion. She gazes up at his face and her heart flusters at such a delectable sight. His face was contorted in pleasure. Sweat drips down from his brow. Some of the ends of his green hair wet from sweat, sticking against his cheek. A blush was formed on his face. His mouth a gape as he pants. His eyes sadly shut. She wanted to see those beautiful, lust filled red-orange eyes of his. 

Her hand shot up and placed on his cheek, stroking it. He snaps his eyes open at the sudden touch, recalling that he did cuff her. Apparently, she quietly uncuffed herself earlier. “Keep your eyes open Sol... Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours. I want you to remember how I look while you fuck me...” She purrs. 

Her words cause a surge a desire to run through his veins as it adds more fuel to need to please her. Sol places on of his large hands on her shoulder and one on waist. HE holds her in place as he slams into her wet folds in pure reckless abandonment, giving into his primal instincts. Christine's eyes rolls to the back of her head and cries out his name. Her hand slips off his cheek and onto his shoulder, digging her nails in. The sounds of skin colliding, along with lust filled noises from the couple could be heard throughout the room.  

“I’m cumming!” Christine moans out, her walls tighten hard around him earning a low growl from Sol. Her cunt gripped him like a vise and then she squirts all over his member and his groin.   

“Fuck!” Sol chokes out as his pace becomes brutally fast as he chases after his own orgasm. The scent from her sticky fluids overwhelmed his senses. Her tight walls tighten around his thick cock, driving him to the edge. He thrusts into her once more until he unleashes a torrent of his seed into the warm, wet pussy and sending himself in a lust filled Eupora.  “I love you Christine! You’re mine... All mine!” 

They both gasp and pants to catch their own breath, trying to normal their breathing. Sol then buries his face into her neck, nuzzling her. “Mine...” He breaths. 

“Yours... just like you’re mine...” Christine whispers in his ear as she runs her fingers in his green hair.  

~Later~ 

Christine runs her fingers through her wet hair, applying her hair product into her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Her black towel wrapped securely around her torso. Sol was still taking a shower. At first he didn’t want to take a shower, stating that he wanted her dried fluids to remain on him which earned a look from Christine. He eventually relented and agreed to a shower. Christine went first and once she was done, Sol have already put on new bed sheets after removing the ones that were stained with their fluids. She felt so embarrassed but Sol reassured her that he just simply wanted to take care of her. 

The sound of water being cut off could be heard, indicating that Sol was done taking a shower. He steps out and dries himself off with one of Christine’s extra towels. He steps in in view of the mirror and dries his green hair. Christine’s brown caramel eyes traced his naked form in the reflecting surface. His body was slim but toned. His tight muscle flexing in his arms. She also notices a good number of old bruises that have faded to yellow.  

“Enjoying the view, pumpkin?” Sol said playful, shooting a smirk at the mirror as he dries the side of his head. Christine blushes and drops her gaze. She grabs her perfume to spray on her wrist, as he chuckles behind her. As she rubs fragrance on her wrist and neck, Sol wraps his arms around her from behind and bends down slightly to rest his on her shoulder to nuzzle her neck. She could feel his bare chest on her back, his hot breath on her neck. 

“Hmm...” He inhales her scent, rubbing her nose against her tender flesh. “No wonder why you always smelled so good...” 

Christine could feel him getting semi-hard and she elbows him gently. “Behave yourself. Sol.”  

A low chuckle emits from his throat, and he kisses her temple. “For now... But I’m pretty sure you’re hungry. What does my soulmate wanna eat?” 

“Soulmate, huh?” Christine giggling and turns around to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him close, “Surprise me. I always enjoy your cooking. Just don’t spike my orange juice again...” 

Sol laughs and picks her up to kiss her lips. He knows that she’s not going to let him hear the end of it. 

[kissami]

YOU’RE THE GOOD AND I’M THE BAD

part two

SUM: you always had a tough relationship with your family, favoritism was a big thing and we all know you were the last pick in the cherry field. Katsuki though…you were his favorite thing. Katsuki then has a moment of weakness crack through his strong exterior.

WARNINGS: family issues, thoughts of self doubt, cute katsuki, then shifts to depressed katsuki QUICCCKKK!

femreader! with she/her pronouns!

author’s note at the end of this :3

series masterlist

"I DONT THINK I've ever seen anything like this before.

Keeping her eyes still on the cereal box, Y/N ignored the way her parents were gawking at the flowers that stood all dried up and old in a water bottle near the windows of the kitchen.

"They seem pretty dead to me." She chewed her food throughly, swallowing down slowly as her parents ignored her, keeping their attention on her sister.

"How is it possible for a dead flower to create a new one in a plastic bottle...last night when I brought it out I didn't see anything strange with it but as soon as I was going to throw it out, I noticed the new stems."

Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance when her sister spoke.

Her sister annoyed her to the core no matter what she did. Maybe it was because she grew up with her older sister getting everything handed to her or maybe just the way she spoke sort of ticked her off. Like an annoying bug you can’t get rid of because you can’t find it so it’s endless buzzing continues in your space, almost in a mocking way.

"It's like new beginnings can happen anywhere, you know? This little rose was so close to dying, but this little new flower will continue its legacy."

"Oh my gosh, how much more cliche can you get? It's a fucking flower, it's natural for it to grow. Stop getting into your little dramatic theories all the time with stuff like this."

Y/N spat, placing her spoon down as she watched the way her sister bit back her remark, because deep down she knew exactly how her parents would react.

Her mother gasped, obviously shocked that her quiet child would speak like that to her poor sweet daughter who said something so beautiful.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The younger girl held back the urge to roll her eyes as she got up and walked back upstairs to her room.

Y/N was a smart and gentle girl, but the people she lived with made it impossible for her to be truly happy.

She was used to it at this point. She would get lectured over every little thing wether it be wrong or right. Hiding away in her room was what made her feel less insane but they still had something to say about that.

"You never talk with us anymore. You're shutting us out so much, do you not love us anymore? Am I a bad mother to you?"

Every time her mother said that, it resulted in her getting yelled at by her drunk father to stop being such a burden and a bitch to her mother while her sister was busy else where.

When can I finally be happy?

Flopping onto her bed, she snuggled deeper into her sheets as a few tears went down her plump cheeks.

This poor 17 year old girl was truly going through it. Her father was rarely home but when he was, he would always remind her how miserable their lives became ever since she was born.

They were always low on money and could barely afford some things, but while her sister was busy buying things for her own benefit, Y/N was busy trying to meet ends meet, yet she was still the burden of the family.

It wasn't fair how easily her sister gotten their love. They sacrificed so much money just for her sister to throw away the things they've gotten her the next day.

She just wanted to feel like she was appreciated or cared for. Wasn't it her parents' job to support her? Her father's job to protect her from any harm but here he is, hurting her the most before any man ever did.

Didn't her mother have to give her advice on her future and given compassion that she will make it far in life instead of being shamed for being a bit (bigger/smaller) than everyone else around her and that no man would ever love her?

And her sister, wasn't her sister supposed to be her best friend who would be there no matter what? But here she is, getting backstabbed by her own flesh and blood.

Y/N was getting so exhausted. Her life was barely starting, and she was already considering leaving so soon.

Am I too...much of a burden to be loved, even by my own family?

Y/N flinched from a rough knock on her window, making her sit up and fix herself up as she saw who it was.

"Katsuki what the hell are you doing here? If my parents find out you're here..."

"Babe, shut up and let me kiss you."

❁ ❁ ❁

Katsuki groaned as he felt something slam into his stomach which resulted in him staggering back.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry, Mr! Oh wait, mama look!!! It's Mr. Dynamight!"

Katsuki looked down and sighed a bit as he saw a young girl in her tweens looking up at him in awe.

"Can I get your autograph,sir?"

"Kassie what did I say about being disrespectful. I'm so sorry, Dynamight."

He shook his head at the mother and signed the girl's journal.

He felt his heart stop as he saw it was one of (Y/N)’s books, her signature being right next to where the girl wanted katsuki to write.

Katsuki blocked out the people’s voices completely as he felt his chest rise up and down, a single tear leaving his eye which he quickly wiped away.

"Here kid." He passed the beautiful book that he had millions of, hidden away in his office, back to the little girl and quickly fled the scene.

As he walked back to his agency, he continued to feel the heavy ache in his heart.

No matter how much time had passed and the years flew by since the incident, he still heavily mourned for his first love every single time someone mentioned her.

It was stupid he thought. She was famous, he was famous, people asking him about her was bound to happen, or situations like this where he catches a glimpse of her book that wasn’t one that he owned, having to relive that she was taken so soon. She had so much to live for, her story just began.

He found it unfair how she could finish so many incredible stories yet never could finish her own.

He felt so selfish right now. He still couldn't move forward even if he had someone important in his life now and even a child of his own.

He will and always will be hers.

author’s note: well well well…hi. LOL. Sorry I haven’t updated this series in almost a year!! Holy fuck. I’m really sorry you guys, I lost inspo and just felt so lazy to edit this, but she’s here! I swear on my skittles I will get my shit together and update this series. I never realized so many ppl remembered it from my wattpad days?? That’s insane?? Thank you my pookies,I’ll try to update every week but really it just depends on how I’m feeling :3 anyways, enjoy amor mío!

[pearl-blue-musings]

Can I join in wine night?

And can I have Adam again pls. For the love of god. I almost sent in Shin and Waka but Adam has me by the throat.

Adam. CNC. Just fucked stupid.

That’s how I want to be LOL.

😈😈😈

Fem bodied reader and she/her pronouns, cnc, literally just…yeah

You slammed the door open to your shared bedroom and quickly shut it behind you. Adam perks up from his spot on the bed, mask still on as he plays with the guitar strings on his slightly beaten instrument. He takes a slurp of his drink before finally addressing you.

“What’s up your ass, danger tits?”

If your eyes could shoot fire your bed and your lover would be in flames. You huff and kick off your shoes and crawl toward him on the bed. Adam places his guitar to the side and quirks an eyebrow as you get closer. There’s an intensity in your movements that leaves him uneasy but also slightly hard. You crawl over him, legs straddling his waist as he scoots farther back on the bed. “Ayo what the fuck?!”

You wrap a hand around his neck, choking him slightly but not enough for it to hurt. Your voice oozes with an intense lust. “You are going to take off your mask and then take off your clothes. I don’t wanna hear a goddamn word from you.” Adam rolls his eyes and rips off his mask, a pout forming on his lips. You growl and finish the job of undressing him. All the while he’s yelling and faintly pawing at you to let him do things himself. He smacks your hand away before you forcefully place it over his moist yet chapped lips.

You lean close, eyes raking over his bare chest before locking with his. “Not today, asshole. Today, we’re doing things my way and you are gonna shut up and let me fuck you.”

He bites at your palm and tries to push you off. “Fuck you bitch! I’m not doing that.”

You slap his cheek and aggressively kiss him, teeth clattering together as you force his mouth open with your tongue. “I don’t exactly give a fuck,” you whisper against his lips. In your other hand, a pair of handcuffs are open and then lock onto one of Adam’s wrists until both wrists are locked up and over his head. His arms struggle to move as he finally feels the cool metal around his naked wrists.

Adam spatters, “when the fuck did you cuff me? Do you know who the fuck I am?” You giggle to yourself and slowly roll down his boxers to free his now aching cock. It looks beautiful like this, a tint of red at the top from how turned on he is. The tip glistens from precum and you can’t wait to get it in your mouth. You lick your palm and gently grab his dick, feeling it twitch in your hand.

You slowly start to stroke it, watching the way his slit leaks as you mess with him. Adam writhes and struggles under your grip as you start to suck at his tip, not giving him what he wants. He’s nothing but a moaning and whiny mess under you. And you love it. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, he fucking whimpered, “just put it in your mouth!”

You release him and he groans, before yelping as you slap his taint. “And just for that I’m not sucking you off.” His head falls back as he arches his back off the bed. Adam bites his lip and groans louder. You then move to take off your panties, throwing them to the side as you move up his body, situation your cunt over his face. Your legs cradle his head and you lower yourself onto him. “Suck me off,” you command. He rolls his eyes and you grab his hair, forcing his head and tongue into your pussy. You grind your hips into his mouth, moaning wantonly as his tongue explores your insides. His nose is pressed against your clit and it sends you buzzing. You control him enough for him to finally eat you out like you deserve.

Your hips start to shake as you grind into him more, getting close to cumming. You can feel that Adam can’t breathe but you don’t care, you ride his face until you’re finally moaning his name and cumming hard. You release him and he coughs out, spitting a bit as you place your hands on his hips. You shimmy yourself, stopping briefly to collect your slick in your hand to use as lube for his cock, toward it.

You finally slam your hips down onto him, both of you moaning at the physical connection. Adam tries to drive his hips into yours as his toes curl. Your walls tighten around him as his cock twitches inside you. You lift your hips ever so slightly before slamming down onto his dick and finding a magical rhythm.

Adam practically cries at the way you ride him, wanting nothing more than to dig his fingers into your hips. His hands grip at the handcuffs and his legs wriggle uncontrollably. You feel so good on him, you’re tightening around him and he wants to cum so bad. He cries out, “fuck babe, you gotta let me cum. I’ve been good, right? Is it something you want? You want me to, fuck, write you a song? I’ll do anything just let me-“

“Shut,” you slam your hips down, “the fuck,” you moan breathily, “up.”

“Y-yes mommy.”

You move faster and faster, loving the blissed out look on his face, tongue lolled out to the side as you fuck him harder. The muscles in your legs ache from straddling his waist, but you know this is what he deserves. By this point, nothing coherent is leaving his lips; you can feel him leaking inside you knowing he’s already came. You want to break him, and you’re already there. His voice breaks with moaned cries, “p-please babe. I wanna cum again. Why haven’t you cum yet? Let me touch you! F-fuck you’re so pretty. I’m so-sorry, I’ll be a good boy I promise!”

That’s all you needed to hear.

You lean over and uncuff him, hushed praises leave his lips as he rubs his fingers on your clit. You shake above him, just as blissed out as he is as he finally starts to fuck up into you. Your legs and hips are sticky from sweat, pre, and your juices and it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. Your hips stutter with him as you dig your nails into his chest as you cum hard with a shrill whimper.

Adam slams up into you one final time, having another dry orgasm as the two of you fall onto each other and the bed, panting heavily. The two of you are still connected when Adam sits up slightly.

“I,” he starts, “am never letting you do that again.”

You giggle and kiss his cheek. “Right, and I’ll just tell the angels you called me mommy.”

Adam is silent as he lays back in defeat. You egg him in further. “Just remember, next time it’s pegging.”

Inside you, you feel his dick twitch.

Wine night!

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

smut ,Joe liebgot and the reader dry humping and slightly pleasing eachother in there foxhole in the cold

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Anon, I loved this prompt! Thank you! I hope you enjoy it! ;)

Warnings: 18+ content sorta, dry humping, making-out, cursing, she/her pronouns, 1st person pov (female).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: This was fun to write and I enjoyed the idea a lot! Hope y'all enjoy it! Please comment, like, reblog :) :)

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

Another gust of wind lifts the tarp covering the top of our foxhole, blasting cold, wet air around us effectively stealing what little warmth we'd managed build up around ourselves.

"Goddamn it! When this is over, I never want to see the rain or snow ever again." I grumble, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it's damp and can only do so much.

"Quit bitching, you're ruining the mood." Liebgott smirks at the glare I shoot him.

"Fuck you." Any venom I have in my voice is lost as my teeth chatter.

"Would love to, but it's too cold." I see him shiver slightly.

"Glad to know that's the only reason." I roll my eyes.

"Course it is." He shoots me a wink and I feel a little bit of heat crawl up my neck and cheeks. Suddenly I'm thankful it's pitch black right now so he can't see my blush.

"Shut up." I mutter half heartedly, shoving his shoulder before attempting to get comfortable next to him. We are silent for a few minutes as, I assume, we try to get semi warm enough to doze a little until he speaks again.

"You know...sharing body heat is a great way to get warm." His voice is low but the words bounce around us on the wind. Again, I send a thank you to the universe that he can't see how flushed I am. I turn my head to tell him to shut up again and find his eyes already on me. The heat in his eyes has the words dying on my tongue.

"What?" Is all I can manage to get out, which I mentally kick myself for. Real smooth. His hand slips out from under his own blanket and grabs mine, tugging me towards him.

"Come here." He moves me around like I'm his own personal ragdoll, rearranging our blankets so one's over the top of our heads and shoulders and the other is around my back with the ends tucked behind him. The new position has be straddling his lap, our bodies centimeters away and our faces so close we are sharing each others breathes. I can feel his hands rubbing up and down my thighs, squeezing my hips every other time. My own arms are draped around his shoulders.

Joe nudges my nose with his. "Told you this would be warmer." All I can do is nod, making him smirk. "I don't know about you, but my lips are still cold."

At his words my eyes drop down to his lips and watch as his tongue runs over them, then look back to his eyes that haven't lost their heat. I make the split second decision to worry about the consequences and what-ifs at a later date and close the gap between us. He eagerly kisses me back, moving one hand to the back of my neck to hold my head where he wants it, while the other wraps around my waist to keep me flush against him.

Our tongues meet and we enjoy a long exploration of each others mouths; licking and sucking and nipping. After a particularly sharp bite on my bottom lip, I grind down onto his lap and then groan at the feel of his growing erection beneath me. I grind down again and this time Joe groans with me.

"Do it again, baby." He pleads against my lips. When I do he kisses me again to muffle the noises we make. I move one of my hands to grip his upper arm tightly to help my leverage and swivel my hips until I find the angle that gives us both the pleasure we need. Once I find that I set a hard pace that Joe eagerly lifts his hips to match.

Soon the cold around us is forgotten as we focus on keeping the other quiet and chasing the pleasure building inside us. Joe lets go of my neck and I feel both his hands grabbing my ass, using it to press me harder against him. My pace starts to become erratic.

"Fuck, I'm close Joe." Joe gives me a hard nip on my jawline and whispers in my ear.

"I got you, let go baby." My head turns to the side and I bite down hard on his shoulder, trying to hide my moan as much as possible. As I'm coming down from my high, I feel Joe's movements becoming more frantic. I turn my head away from his shoulder, nipping at the bit of flesh exposed on his neck and then his jawline.

Three thrusts later he stills beneath me, breathing heavily as he lets out curses and my name. We melt even more into each other, enjoying the post-orgasm bliss and warmth we created around us. Just as I'm drifting off, I feel Joe drop a kiss on the top of my head and my heart flutters.

But that's something to address at a later time.

[if-chaos-was-a-boy]

intro to a slightly crazy dude:

STATUS:

@if-chaos-wasnt-a-boy

↳CALIX or…….calcium.cal.calcharo.bitch.funnydude.joker.boyfailure.hoe. whore.sillybilly.menace.givememorenicknamespls.

⟡age: 17

FUCKING CHAMPION OF ACHILLES @achilles-the-greatest

⟡Gender: Male

⟡Pronouns: He/him

⟡Birthday: April 1 [i was a joke from birth]

⟡Zodiac Sign: Aries

⟡Godly Parent: Eris/Discordia, Goddess of Discord & Strife

⟡Sexuality: Straight, bisexual as HELLLL

⟡Personality Type: ENTP [the CLOWN]

⟡Relationship Status: my fiancé and fiancée @itsyourboyezra and @of-course-im-the-winner

⟡Height: 6’1 (hormones go vroomvroom)

⟡Weapon of choice: Small Celestial Bronze Blade [I usually just rely on Charmspeak & Manipulation which is…not great]

⟡Fatal Flaw: Probably Hubris [im an attention whore]

⟡Lore: I was brought to Camp Half Blood after a very weird incident where me, a party pony and a cyclops managed to sneak onto a cruise. I’m spoiled to the core and an absolute menace. Call me funny, call me annoying, I’ll still be the life of the party.

Powers:

⟡Chaos Manipulation-I can aggravate hostile situations till point of conflict, or I can slowly reduce the amount of chaos present (but that’s not nearly as much fun)

⟡Negative Emotion Manipulation: Anger, envy,wrath, frustration can be ramped up for the maximum amount of chaos.

⟡Flight: Like my mother-Eris-I can manifest fully formed avian wings to aid me in battle [more likely in shenanigans]

⟡Minor Control Over Illusions: Able to manipulate the mist to produce sensory hallucinations or illusions

AN UNRIVALED SENSE OF HUMOUR

⟡Appearance: A PERMANENT SHIT-EATING GRIN, natural messy black hair that can never be gelled down, striking maroon eyes that kinda looks at your fucking soul. Super Lean, you can only see the muscle definition when I’m wearing that compression shirt.

⟡fun facts about meeeee:

-I peel chicken nuggets

-I’m ambidextrous

-I have a hyper fixation with collecting nomnoms

-I love blind bags, mystery boxes etc @syd-the-nerd is my lucky charm, I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted from blind boxes ever since meeting him.

-I have a skincare routine [can’t look this great without it, babe] -My dad gives me his black card to go do heinous shit, he says it helps with tax deductions

-I’m obsessed with my girlie/plat

@that-girl-cupid (my ride or die, my best friend)

@chaos-pers0nified (best sister in the fking world)

@unhinged-waterlilly (she wildin )

@demigod-jack-hearth (op ahh, superhero)

@arisdaughter (relatable)

@hispanic-child-of-hermes (she intimidates me)

@bambi-the-dummy (SWEETEST GIRLIE ON THIS SIDE OF THE PLANET)

@love-lightning-forethought (legit my top 5 besties)

@debacleofdaemons / @iceweavercatlover [OOC I LOVE THIS GUY]

@daonedaonlyskh (actually the person with the sickest blog aesthetics)

@penelope-sato (my baby daughter)

@syd-the-nerd

@stephen-the-spider (Britney spears 😍😍)

@braydons-world (law student?????)

@of-course-im-the-winner (MY BEAUTIFUL FIANCÉE )

@fluffycows4life

@itsyourboyezra (my fucking FIANCÉ)

@apollos-favorite-child

@glee-of-ares-wrath-of-aphrodite

@thegroovydaughterofhestia

@the-haunt-brothers

@the-olympus-assassin

[HELP EXPAND THE LIST BY TALKING TO ME, I DONT BITE, IM JUST HIGH]

My adoptive parent: @steve-the-union-man

FACECLAIM:

[OOC]

Heyhey, mod is currently going by either she/her or he/him (honestly gender fluid questioning) and a pansexual

Also im a MINOR so no NSFW BITCH.

Fun fact I have eczema so im sleep deprived coz I had too much fun in bed…….SCRATCHING MY FLESH OFF.

[irkimatsu]

AHHHHHH I love Husk and your content is by far my FAVORITE 😍 the sweet, the smut, the little bit of both...I love it all.

So I have a cute idea for this one. Neko!reader x husk. The reader isn't fully cat, but has the ears and tail, a cat-like face and of course the mannerisms. Husk is crushing hard and thinks that she (or they, whichever pronouns :) ) is cute and nonchalantly points out that it's adorable when her ears twitch. And then she's like, "And you wonder why we're always messing with you, eyy Kitten?" which makes him all flustered and he can't even say anything.

I can just picture them doing the equivalent of holding hands only their tails wrapped around each other 😚😚

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

I envisioned Reader as an anthro like Husk; I'm hoping that's what you meant with your description! Reader gets drunk and rants to Husk about cat instincts, Husk offers some advice, light flirting and flustered Husk ensues. I hope this is close enough to what you wanted! 1.2k words, SFW, female reader!

---

You’ve had way too much to drink.

It’s not like you’re inexperienced at drinking; you knew the hard stuff you were knocking back would be enough to get you wasted. That was the point.  Maybe if you got drunk enough, you could shut off the stupid cat instincts that hadn’t left you alone since the moment you died. The exercises you’ve been doing at this hotel for the past few months may have taught you things like not stealing and believing in the power of friendship, but there hadn’t yet been any lessons on how to stop swiping at your own tail every time it entered the corner of your field of vision.

You’re not sure if the alcohol has turned off the instincts, but it sure has turned on your mouth. Without thinking about what you’re saying, you’ve been ranting to the bartender for the past thirty minutes, barely pausing to take a breath. Surely he doesn’t mind, right? Not only are bartenders supposed to listen when their customers want to bitch, but he’s in the exact same position as you are as far as species goes!

“...and the fuckin’ hairballs!” is the latest thought in your stream of word vomit. “I thought mucus was bad! Hairballs! They get stuck in my throat, and they itch like hell until I can cough ‘em up!”

“They sell stuff down here to take care of that,” the bartender says, pouring you another drink without you asking. “It tastes like shit, but it works. I don’t get ‘em anymore unless I forget to drink it.”

“And what about shedding?!” you continue on as if he didn’t say anything. “It’s impossible to keep my room clean! It’s like the more I clean up, the more fur there is!”

“Niffty’s been helpin’ me with that since I met her. She gets pissed about the fur I leave everywhere otherwise. She ain’t gentle with that brush, though.”

You take another gulp of your drink and slam it down onto the bar. “Fuck, think I just swallowed some fur…”

“You haven’t even been dead for a year yet, right?” Husk asks. “ That’s barely anything. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to being a cat. Some of the bullshit never goes away, but it becomes part of you.”

“Do you like being a cat?” you ask.

He laughs at your question. “Hell no! But what choice do I have? There’s no going back to bein’ human for any of us. May as well learn how to deal with it.” He takes a gulp of his own drink, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. “If ya want, I can take you to a good supply place sometime. They’ve got good products if you can put up with the fact that it looks like a fuckin’ pet store.”

“Hmm…” you neither accept nor deny his offer. You only take another drink, swallowing more damn fur in the process. That’s definitely gonna lead to some late-night hairballs. “It’s so annoying…” you whine as you plop your chin on the bar. “Why couldn’t I have been something cool? You know I saw a giant lizard the other day? Lucky bastard…”

“Bet they have a hell of a time findin’ clothes,” he says. “Or even gettin’ into places to begin with.”

“And even you got wings…” you continue on.

“Yeah. Wings. I get to clean up after fur and feathers, and if I don’t find the perfect position while sleeping the fuckin’ things go numb.” He takes your glass away, but you’re too lost in your own self-pity to protest. “We’ve all gotta get used to our new bodies when we get down here, and I doubt it’d be any different if we somehow got into heaven. Just gotta make the best of it.” He turns around to put away some bottles. “Besides, it’s not all bad. At least you’re cute.”

“...what was that?” you say, not expecting that word out of Husk’s mouth.

“I said you’re cute. Everyone thinks cats are cute, don’t they? Even I liked ‘em when I was alive. I don’t want to be one, but you can’t resist their mannerisms, can ya? The big eyes, the soft fur…”

He turns around just in time to see your right ear flicking in annoyance from the condescension. “The twitchy ears…”

You smirk, knowing the weight of what you’re about to say next but too drunk to stop yourself. “So now you get why Angel and I are always commenting on your mannerisms, eh, kitty?”

“Whoa! Hey!” His fur bristles, and you know you shouldn’t find his own agitation cute, but you can’t help yourself. It helps you understand the way he was just talking to you, at least. “That’s different! You’re a young lady! You died at, what, 25? You’re supposed to be cute! I’m an old man who drank myself to death. Nothin’ cute about that.”

“You’ve still got the big eyes and the soft fur…” you continue on.

He groans in response. “If you were a stranger saying that shit to me, I’d kill you.”

“So what makes me so special?” Your tail waves playfully behind you, and he’s obviously following it with his eyes and blushing.

“I…” he starts, but never manages to come up with the rest of the sentence. “Jesus Christ,” is all he has to offer before grabbing a couple of glasses from the shelf. He fills them both with water, then carries them around to the other side of the bar.

“Here,” he says as he sets one of the glasses in front of you. “Drink this. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. May as well not be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

You stare at the cup as he takes a seat on the stool next to you. “How do you resist the urge to knock cups over?” you ask.

“Lots of self-control,” he says with a smirk before guzzling his glass in one go.

You place your paw on the side of the glass, originally intending to pick it up, but an overwhelming spark takes over your brain, and you start easing the cup toward the edge of the bar. Husk grabs it and places it back where it started before it can crash to the floor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures you. He’s finished his water, but for a reason you can’t determine, he’s still sitting next to you.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask. “A couple years?”

“Mmm… fifty?” he guesses. “Almost as long as I was alive, at this point.”

“Fifty years?!” you exclaim. “And you still have to deal with cat instincts?!”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it never goes away. Just gotta get used to it, take the good with the bad.”

“The good…” you repeat. “Like being cute?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says. “...but in your case… yeah. Like being cute.”

You finally manage to pick up your water without giving into the desire for destruction. As you take a sip, something feathery starts to tickle against your tail. You look over at Husk from the corner of your eye. He’s trying to be nonchalant, not even looking at you, but there’s only one thing that could be brushing against you right now.

Without looking, you shift your tail, allowing it to curl around Husk’s. Husk curls his around yours in turn, your tail tips forming a spiral that just barely reaches the floor.

It’s the closest he’ll get to flirting for now. You’ll take what you can get.

[7-wonders]

Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says. 

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters. 

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff. 

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod. 

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end. 

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving.  “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.” 

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps. 

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle. 

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months. 

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?” 

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him. 

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.” 

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene