#Sick or Treat drabbles

[angstyaches]

i feel like 🐈‍⬛ (superstition) would be really cool for charlie if he said something off-handed and then one of the aldridges was just like “well, yes. obviously.”

Okay, I love this idea! I ended up tweaking it slightly, but I hope you enjoy 🖤 Also, I've been writing too many different Halloweens for these boys so it takes place on Friday the thirteenth instead!

Sick or Treat

CW: emeto, alcohol/drunkenness, superstition, teasing/banter, brief mention of parental death.

___

Charlie hiccupped and triumphantly swallowed back the acidic swell of liquid at the back of his throat. If he was going to vomit – and all signs pointed to yes – he would prefer to do it in the semi-privacy of Shayne’s bathroom, not here on the street in full view of Felix and Elliott.

“How much further?” he whispered, leaning on Shayne’s arm. He apparently didn’t whisper as quietly as he’d thought, though, because a few paces ahead, Felix turned around with an easy smile.

His freckled cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. “A little bit further, bud. You holding up alright?”

Charlie gulped again as he nodded. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to vampires and their extra-sensitive hearing.

“It’ll take even longer,” Shayne complained, staggering slightly as Charlie’s weight overpowered him for a couple of steps, “if you don’t walk in a straight fucking line.”

“Sorry, lovely.”

“It’s… it’s fine.” The nervous double-flutter of Shayne’s dark eyelashes sliced through the drunk, queasy haze in Charlie’s head.

“Mmm,” Charlie hummed, resolved to keeping his head down and walking in as straight a line as possible until they made it back to the townhouse. The part of town they were currently passing through was in need of some TLC, and soon, Charlie found himself taking longer or shorter steps, leaning to one side or the other, to avoid the soles of his shoes touching the cracks in the pavement. Some ran so close together and spread out from the same spot so that they looked like spiderwebs, which sent shivers down his spine.

Shayne groaned, hitching Charlie’s arm a little closer to his body. “The fuck are you doing now? Are you gonna throw up or something?”

“No, I’m just walking.”

“You’re all over the place, love.”

“Look at all the cracks!”

“What?” Shayne asked slowly. “What about them?”

“You know what they say! Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.” Charlie felt a stab of panic a moment after saying it out loud; it probably wasn’t a cool thing to say to someone whose mother was dead. He looked up sheepishly, reckoning he could afford to take his eyes away from the path for just a few seconds.

Shayne just looked confused, though. His pupils were endlessly dark, almost swallowing up the brown rings in his eyes. “Seriously? You’ve never cared about that before.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “It’s Friday the thirteenth.”

“So?”

“So, maybe all of that stuff is actually true on Friday the thirteenth.”

“Well, yeah.” Hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, Elliott turned on his heel and walked backwards for a couple of paces. The whites of his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and Charlie was filled with the sickening dread as he was about to flash his fangs and everything. “Obviously, it is.”

“Elli,” Felix hissed softly, to which Elliott responded by freeing one hand from its pocket and tapping him on the arm.

“Friday the thirteenth is the reason all of those superstitions exist.” Elliott gave a shrug. “Not a lot of humans know that.”

Charlie always flinched under the way Elliott said the word humans. He never said it in a way that sounded condescending or superior, but he still managed to make Charlie feel like an insect standing by the feet of giants. Nothing so undignified as a maggot or a worm, but perhaps an ant.

Unsure of what to make of any of this, Charlie slowed to a stop so he could look at Shayne without risking a misstep. “Wh-what does that mean, lovely?”

“It means Elliott’s being an asshole,” Shayne said, shrugging a shoulder in Elliott’s direction. “So, you know, business as usual.”

“Hey, you little shit. You think you know better than I do?”

A kind of primal fear coiled in the pit of Charlie’s stomach. People kept emphasising that Ryan was the Elder vampire of her bloodline, that she was the one who’d been around for centuries and had all the answers, but from where Charlie was standing, Elliott appeared just as unshakable, just as timeless, just as… inevitable.

In other words, just as frightening a gateway into the supernatural world as Ryan. So, who could say he didn’t know something the rest of them knew?

Stranger things had happened, after all.

Don’t you think I would know about this? CT wondered idly inside his head; they were always extra quiet, extra sluggish, when Charlie drank alcohol. This was probably for the best, because otherwise, the two would probably start having loud, uninhibited conversations out loud for the world to hear. I am more ancient than the forests –

You can’t even remember what your name was before you met me, Charlie pointed out, to which they sat back in silence again, resigned.

“Elliott, are you being serious?” Charlie demanded.

“Yes,” Elliott said, at the same moment that both Shayne and Felix said, “No.”

“Charlie.” Shayne’s voice had an edge of desperation. “You’re drunk off your fucking face and Elliott’s bullshitting you.”

Charlie shook his head, dropping his gaze to the path again as he started forward. “I-I’m gonna avoid the cracks,” he said, “just to be safe.”

Shayne sighed with exasperation as he was tugged along.

“Do you want me to break my mother’s back?” Charlie demanded.

Somehow, Shayne mustered up an even more passionate sigh. “No, I don’t want you to break Ingrid’s back.”

They forged ahead, until checking for cracks pushed Charlie’s plans of walking in a straight line from ambitious to futile. He felt Shayne’s grip on his arm tighten as he wobbled across the path, the streetlights converging into one dizzying blur.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?”

Charlie pitched forward, spurting out several mouthfuls of dark, foamy vomit into the well-trimmed grass that separated the path from the side of the road. He groaned with relief that the ground would soak up the foul liquid, so that it mightn’t get all over his Converse.

“Love,” Shayne said, and Charlie reached for him with one hand.

“Dizzy.”

“Yeah, no shit, you’re drunk.”

Charlie didn’t have it in him to explain to his boyfriend that he’d been handling his booze just fine until the lines in the path had started to blur before his eyes as he passed them. However, as though he’d cast off a few units of alcohol along with his vomit, his head felt a little clearer.

“Lovely?”

Shayne lightly smoothed a hand over Charlie’s shoulder. “Mmhmm?”

“Elliott was..." Charlie paused to stifle a wet, shallow burp. "... Winding me up, wasn’t he?”

The hand on his shoulder twitched into a grip, just for a few seconds, before it resumed forming a comforting sweeping motion. “Did… Did you figure that out all by yourself, genius?”

[sickficideas]

🍫 and 🍎 for tachihara?

Sick or Treat!

thank you anon omg i love tachihara <3<3<3 i hope you like these !!

🍫 (Overindulgence) - Tachihara/Gin (Warnings: emetophilia, suggestive) 🍎 (Food poisoning) - Tachihara + [s4 spoiler] (Warnings: emeto/vomiting, mentions of poisoning, spoilers for s4 of bsd)

🍫 (Overindulgence) - Tachihara/Gin

Michizo lays a hand over his bloated tummy, almost certain this isn't going to stay down. He ate far too much and far too quickly, but admitting any of that would mean a very stern ‘I told you so’ lecture from Higuchi.

It's just him, Higuchi, and Gin. Akutagawa is off somewhere doing work with the Detective Agency at the former executive's request, and Hirotsu is working with the boss on something top secret. Higuchi always seems a little lost when she's not working directly with Akutagawa. She invited the two of them to dinner, on her wallet, and of course, they couldn't refuse even if they wanted to.

But now, he's gotten himself into trouble.

“I'll be right back,” Michizo stammers nervously, waving his phone to the two of them, “important phone call.”

Neither of them question it but he sees a glint of suspicion in Gin’s eyes. She’s far too observant for her own good, he thinks, but he’s in too much of a hurry to try to ward any of it off. As long as Higuchi doesn’t notice, he’s free to go.

He slips away into the front hall of the restaurant where the restroom is, where he lets up a nauseous burp into a closed fist as soon as he’s alone. He’s lucky enough to be the only person in the restroom when he slips inside, so he locks himself into one of the three available stalls and slides down the wall to sit on the ground, arms wrapped around his middle to nurse his aching tummy.

His meal is sitting so heavy in his stomach that he's certain if he bends over, it'll fall right out of his mouth. He leans over the toiler for a second to test his theory, but all he can manage is a pained moan. He lays back against the wall, sneaking a hand under his shirt. His hand feels cold against his too-warm swollen tummy. He tries to rub and press on it, but all that ends up doing is making him burp. He brings a fist up to his mouth to force a few more, hoping maybe that will bring him closer to throwing up.

“Hrrpp - ugh…” he moans, throwing his head back, realizing all this is doing is making him more nauseous. He really doesn’t want to shove his hand down his throat. He’s tried before, he always chickens out.

“Tachihara?”

Gin's voice never fails to scare the crap out of him, even now that he's been hearing it for months. He doesn’t know how he missed hearing her footsteps, or the door opening, but he sees her heels under the stall door.

“Are you okay?” she asks after he had been silent for a bit too long.

“I need to puke. I ate too much,” he groans, deciding that there’s no point in lying to her. “I'd rather get it over with now than deal with it all night…I'm fine, I just…need a minute.”

“Do you want help?”

She offers that so casually. She's offering to shove her fingers down his throat, he's pretty sure, and she’s saying it like she’s just offering to get him a glass of water. The way that thought makes him feel is a whole other story.

“You can say no,” Gin says a little quieter, almost like she's embarrassed about offering, but Michizo is truly in no position to refuse her. He’s already run out of options.

“No, I mean - I, uh. Anything to make it go faster, honestly,” Michizo stammers as nonchalantly as he can, but Gin doesn't seem to notice that he's a little nervous, at least, not as far as he can tell.

She manages to open the stall door from the other side with zero struggle, a skill of hers that has always scared him, but he’s grateful now - he really didn’t want to get up to let her in. She closes the door behind her, and Michizo feels his heart start to hammer in his chest as soon as she turns around. He always has a hard time deciding what she’s thinking when she’s wearing that mask.

She kneels in front of him and he presses himself up flush against the wall. He’s thinking about how hilarious Jouno would think this situation is. He joked about it from the beginning - Michizo having a crush on some high-ranking Port Mafia member, and here he is, letting her make him throw up, and for some reason, he thinks it’s hot.

“Are you ready?” she asks gently, tilting her head. He nods without thinking, and he parts his lips as soon as she lifts up her hand. He huffs out a shaky breath as her fingers brush over his lips.

Gin's cold, slender fingers snake to the back of his throat and Michizo's pissed he has an over-active gag reflex. He finds himself trying to force his stomach to settle for just a few seconds longer. His mouth floods with saliva that surely coats Gin’s hand. He moans against it, not entirely sure why nothing has come up yet, but she shoves her hand back a little further, and he feels it rush up his throat.

Gin manages to take her hand back just before thick, undigested vomit floods over his tongue, nearly splattering over his thighs. He closes his mouth just in time to avoid a disaster, but Gin lays a hand on his back to direct him to the toilet, where he opens his mouth and lets the torrent of vomit splatter into the water.

“That’s good,” she tells him gently. He feels her hand sneak under the front of his shirt to press against his tummy, sending shivers down his spine before he burps up another wave of hot chunks into the toilet water. “Be careful how much you eat next time.”

Michizo’s not sure he wants to follow that advice, if this is how it ends for him.

🍎 (Food poisoning) - Tachihara + Hunting Dogs

“Fuck,” Michizo moans, panting into the trash bin that Tecchou is holding up for him. There’s already quite a bit of vomit in there, and even though his eyes dart down to look only for a second, it’s long enough to make his stomach lurch, and force more of his stomach contents to shoot up to his mouth and hit the rest of it with a sickening splatter.

“It might not be a bad idea to have the nurses check you out,” Tecchou suggests, evidently surprised that Michizo still has something in his stomach to bring up. Michizo is surprised too. He’s lost count of how many times he’s puked.

“I bet those evil Port Mafia dogs tried to poison you…they must know your secret. You should abandon the mission,” Teruko suggests hastily, slamming her fist on the table.

“Okura, we don’t have the authority to suggest that,” Jouno says with a sigh. This certainly isn’t the first time she’s tried to get him to quit - he appreciates the concern, though, she only gets aggressive about it when he’s injured, or sick like this.

“Look at him, Jouno! Obviously he’s been poisoned, I’ve never seen him that sick!” she barks back at him.

Michizo shakes his head, not even bothering to conceal the pained moan. “No, it’s…one of the - hrrRRK - ”

Of course, he’s been having trouble making it through sentences with how sick his tummy is. Another splash of vomit ends up in the trash bin, and he somehow manages to avoid throwing up on Tecchou’s hand - although, Tecchou would be the last person to care.

“As you were saying?” Jouno asks. Michizo sinks back into the couch, and Tecchou stays close beside him. Jouno looks a little scary, standing in front of them with his arms crossed. Michizo wishes that the three of them weren’t all in here, but of course, Michizo is the one who started throwing up in the middle of a briefing.

“The…um, one of my - superiors, she’s sick too. We had…” he somehow manages. He’s truly just too nauseous to think straight, his stomach lurches every ten seconds, at least. “We had the same thing for dinner…last night.”

Michizo was out pretty late at some impromptu hot pot party some lower-ranking Port Mafia members set up, and Higuchi tagged along with him - only to text him several hours later to ask if he was feeling sick, because they both had quite a bit of pork belly. He’d had a few drinks and chalked it up to that, but when he arrived at the Hunting Dogs headquarters this morning, he realized his stomach was going to make sure whatever he had eaten was going to come out.

“We still have to be sure. That doesn’t rule out that you’ve been poisoned,” Tecchou reminds him sternly. Michizo is well aware of that, but if someone from the Port Mafia tried to poison him, they wouldn’t take Higuchi down with him. She’s far too valuable for that. At least, he thinks so.

“He’s right, Tachihara, as much as I hate to agree with him. I’ll call a nurse in here to get some blood tests run on you. Fluids wouldn’t hurt either,” Jouno says. Michizo presses a palm up to his forehead and groans. He feels terrible. They already offered to take him directly to the nurses, but he doesn’t trust himself to walk all the way over there.

Jouno had already vanished, and Teruko marched off behind him. Michizo lays his head on the side of the couch and Tecchou lowers the trash bin onto the ground, which he thinks he’s safe to do for a minute. He takes out the phone he uses for the Port Mafia, and sees a text from Higuchi.

nee-san 05:47 AM Are you home? I have a tea that really helps for things like this. I’ll bring it to you.

Michizo huffs through his nose.

me 05:59 AM aren’t you sick too nee-san?

He personally can’t imagine traveling to anyone in the state he’s in. He’s hoping that Higuchi is simply doing much better than he is right now, but it’s far more likely that she’s too selfless to put her health over anyone else. He’d never dream of making her bring him anything if she feels as sick as he does.

me 06:00 AM i’m at the doctor. stay home and rest for once you crazy broad

A hiccup catches him by surprise and Tecchou brings up the trash bin, but fortunately, Michizo’s stomach seems to be calm for right now.

“Was that the woman you mentioned?” Tecchou asks, evidently snooping on Michizo’s messages. Really, Michizo has nothing to hide.

“Yeah,” Michizo nods, his head swaying a little.

“That was kind of her to offer,” Tecchou says. “If she’s as sick as you are.”

Michizo is surprised to hear that. Jouno or Teruko would certainly never dream of feeling any sort of positive emotion about anyone in the Port Mafia. Michizo struggles to play along sometimes, but he doesn’t know why.

“Yeah, she’s…she’s cool,” Michizo murmurs with a weak nod. “She’s always lookin’ out for us…”

“You know not to get too close with them, though, Tachihara,” Tecchou says. It’s hard to place the emotion in his tone. It’s almost like pity. Michizo’s heart sinks. Their future plans are something he wishes he could ignore. He’d rather be thinking about how much his stomach hurts right now.

His head is too jumbled for him to realize he’s about to throw up again, and it comes hot from the back of his throat and splatters over his lap. He somehow managed to avoid doing that until now. He groans, bringing a hand up to his mouth to burp into it, and Tecchou brings the bucket back up under his chin as is drips saliva and vomit into the bin. He feels so miserable. He screws his eyes shut.

He hopes Higuchi feels better than he does.

[good-beanswrites]

Just going to drop another idea in the hat. How does Mahiru feel about all that's going on with Fuuta in OoA? (Dunno if she would have visited him alone or with Yuno or Amane. Up to you.)

(Sorry for the mini drabble dump, I hope you enjoy 😅 Thank you for all the reminder asks!! I appreciated it since it took a million years to get to, and sure enough it was super fun to play around with all these ideas >:3)

Ough, on the surface she'd look exactly the same, but I feel like she would have a lot going on. She pities him. She pities herself because of him. She's glad she isn't him. She's jealous of him and Amane. She's toeing the line between her a bad first impression of him and finally seeing his human side. This takes place with enough time after the attacks for the dust to settle, but early enough where everyone's still adjusting.

“Fuuta~ Big sis Mahiru came to check on you! How are you feeling?”

For the entire first trial, Mahiru had constantly given Fuuta advice on his volume and outbursts. She’d scolded him for shouting, for bickering, for butting into conversation that weren’t his business. She’d spent so much time wishing he would just be more quiet. 

Now that her wish had finally come true, she would do anything to take it back.

“Mmn.”

The old Fuuta would have launched into detail about how he was feeling – about Milgram’s treatment being unjust and how the other prisoners were annoying him. Now that he was slumped in bed, bandages practically holding him together, all he could muster up was a half-shrug. His eyes had lost their usual shine, hardly looking focused at all. 

“If you need some medication, Shidou says he has more ready.”

Fuuta nodded. Mahiru knew what question was coming. It was the same every day.

“Did he offer it to Amane first? How is she?”

“She’s still coming around to it. She’s doing alright. I know you think she’s putting up an act when she visits, but honestly, she tells you more than any of us! I didn’t even know she could talk that much!” With her heart already heavy, it was easy to let the pang of jealousy slip into her mind. She was happy the two of them found each other, but Amane was opening up to him far more than her. Mahiru had done everything she could for her – what did Fuuta have that she was missing?

“Hey, look! I brought you some games. Everyone is requesting more supplies, and Shidou is still working on getting that wheelchair for you. I thought that this is just as important, yeah? I found some games that other prisoners didn’t mind lending. See ~ these cards are from Kazui, and Yuno left her cat’s cradle string, and I think Haruka even left a board game that he liked. I even wrote out the instructions to some word games, since those are my favorites.” 

“Eh, I don’t need ‘em.”

She refused to let herself deflate. Instead the smile stayed painted on her face. “I’ll just leave them here, then, if you ever get bored. I’m always up for playing something, but a lot of the games can be done by yourself, too!”

At that, he laughed. It was a terrible, bitter sound. It revealed how wheezy his lungs were from his injuries. 

“Oh yeah?” He said through a panting breath. “How am I supposed to play cat’s cradle by myself?” He shifted his left arm, bound up in a sling. “Am I supposed to balance the board games on the bed? With all the fucking pieces falling off?”

Mahiru’s smile wavered. “I only meant –”

“I can’t use my hands.” His voice was defeated. “Can’t get up. My head is killing me. Maybe literally. How am I supposed to play any of these? I know you were just being nice… but don’t bother.”

“I am going to bother.”

“Why…?” He let his eyes slip shut. “It’s not like anyone gave a shit about me before. They only care now because I’m dying. Everyone who knew me before… and even everyone here… they all treated me like crap until I got hurt. Now they’re all falling over themselves for me. It’s pathetic.”

It was a phrase he’d used often enough before, but Mahiru was struck with how differently he spoke it, his voice wavering.

The words “that’s not true” hung on her tongue. But it was, wasn’t it? Her stomach twisted in shame. It was horrible. That couldn’t be it – she must have a good reason to care now. After a second of scrambling, it hit her.

“Well! The thing is… what Kazui was saying about Kotoko’s plan… If I hadn’t been with Yuno… It should have been me, Fuuta. And I need to make it up to you.” She shook her head. Another man’s face flashed in her memory. “It should have been me…”

“Yeah, it should have been.”

The two were silent. She studied his face, but he looked firmly away. 

Internally she begged herself to leave it there. To learn her own lesson and be quiet. To bid Fuuta well and walk away from the person who was going to say things that would break her heart. But, as every other time in her life, Mahiru couldn’t control herself.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She clasped her hands together as she bowed. “I feel awful about it. Everytime I see you and Amane… I had been so selfish, going to Yuno to cheer myself up, instead of looking out for the two of you. If I could go back and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’m sorry. I know that you must hate me. I hate myself. I’m sorry.”

She thought offering her emotions would help. She thought it would be good for him to hear, since he was asking for a reason and she had such a good one. She gasped, seeing tears slip down Fuuta’s miserable expression. 

“What –”

“That’s exactly what I was talking about.” She would have preferred his yelling to this quiet resignation. “You’re not here because you care about me. You’re here because you’re feeling sorry for yourself. I don’t need your pity. Just leave.”

“No, it’s not like that! I wish it hadn’t been you that got hurt and –”

“Yeah I wish it wasn’t me, too.” He finally looked at her. “But I don’t wish it was you. That’s not how this works. Be grateful you made it out, and don’t come wallowing in self-pity to me. From now on, only come in here if you actually want to. Not to boost your own ego.”

Mahiru stood with her mouth agape. She tried to muster up something to say, finally finding it was easier to just stay silent. She turned to the door.

Why, oh why couldn’t she do it right?

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Pirates of the Caribbean Steddie + Ronance AU

So. I'm aware of the pirate Steddie AU, but what about a Pirates of the Caribbean AU?

Eddie as Captain Eddie Munson who lost his beloved ship, Hellfire, when he refused to carry "human cargo". He needs to repay his debt to Davy Jones, but newsflash - Eddie is actually a good guy and doesn't do shit to collect the souls he owes. He just collects misfits into his crew and tries to prepare for the moment he ends up in Davy Jones's locker. His crew has a lot of kids that lost their parents to the British navy - Dustin lost his dad and he joined the pirate crew to provide for his mom, Erica and Lucas were freed from a slave ship, El was being transported as a part of a circus/freak show...all that and more.

Nancy Wheeler is the daughter of the local British official, Mr. Wheeler. She would prefer to study and travel the world, but her only value lies in being married to a suitable person to expand the connections for her family. Nancy plays her role well and often talks to her assigned match, Steve Harrington, a son of a local wealthy merchant family. She and Steve are childhood friends and actually dated for a while, but it didn't work out, they function better as friends and they know it. They are both resigned to eventually being married, Steve finally having his family off his back and Nancy regaining some freedom in marriage with Steve because she knows he'll allow her to pursue her dreams, as much as possible.

The shitshow starts when Mr. Wheeler reconsiders the marriage and actually agrees to wed Nancy to a young officer from the navy, Jason Carver. Carver is traditionalist, considers Nancy more of a trophy wife and if Nancy thought that lifetime being married to her childhood friend and pretending to be in love would be dishonest, this is way way WAY worse. She and Steve try to plot, they try to figure something out, but Nancy's father forbids them to see each other as it would be improper.

As luck would have it, the pirate ship Hellfire targets their port next. It is well known for its connections to the Royal navy. However, what the pirate Robin Buckley - joined Eddie's crew at fifteen when her parents found her in bed with her music teacher (would be bad as it is, but the teacher was a woman, gasp!) - goes to plunder the house of the wealthy merchants and finds a handsome young man there instead. He tosses all contents of his parents' safe at her, already packed, and informs her that this is all hers if they take him and his friend out of this hellhole. Before Robin can react, Steve climbs the window to Nancy's room, tells her they're joining/being captured by the pirate crew (Nancy just rolls her eyes and says "well, beats marrying Jason fucking Carver") and that's how they end up on Eddie's ship.

Eddie just stares at the two and very guilty-looking Robin. "So. Are you joining us or are we capturing you for ransom?"

Steve returns his gaze and doesn't flinch when Dustin ransacks his very hastily put together sack of clothes. "Whichever allows us to stay longer. Now, shouldn't you set sail? The navy usually reacts by daybreak."

The pirates aren't happy about the newest addition, thinking Steve and Nancy would be a burden, but they soon prove themselves. They disregard their fancy clothes and scrub floors, climb and fulfill their duties without a single complaint. Nancy soaks in all information about navigation and shares what she knows about weather patterns from her studies, back when she was too young to get married and was free to do what she wanted. Steve inspects the crew's weapons and identifies when they could crack, which ones should be better maintained. When they ask him how the hell would a rich boy know this, he just shrugs and says that since his parents were never home, he often stayed with the local blacksmith, Benny, and observed him working. He would have liked to become a smith himself, but of course his parents wouldn't stand for it.

Of course they fall in love. Of course Steve adores the dashing captain with his heart, soaks in adventures, freedom, the new friends, but mostly just Eddie, Eddie who is vilified but always does the right thing. And of course Robin and Nancy fall for each other, finding in each other what their families refused to allow.

And maybe Eddie gets saved by Steve from his fate, moving in front of him when Jason Carver wants to kill him. Maybe Steve has to serve for ten years on the Flying Dutchman, but he'll be fine, because Eddie wants to pay his dues and will serve those ten years with him, no matter what Steve says. And in ten years Steve and Eddie will be free, because if in ten years someone who loves Steve waits for him on the shore, then the curse will be broken, and Robin and Nancy will be there. They will live on the shore, watch the sea every day. And in ten years, there will be a free room in their house for their two friends who didn't age a day, and neither did their love.

[voidfragments]

≈: medicine (for hong lu, and from faust if you'd like to include her :) )

by all rights, hong lu should be in bed right now. granted, they could be sicker (it seems to be just a bad cold and a fever), but still, they could get the whole bus sick like this--something they've already been scolded for, especially from the angle of "do you really want to get charon sick, vergilius would kill you and not let dante bring you back". but alas, if they're going to be miserable, they'd rather be miserable somewhere other than an isolated room that reflects their mental state, and so they'd insisted on staying out in the actual bus with everyone else. at the very least, they've moved from their usual aisle seat, taking over ryoshu's seat in the back row instead and leaning against the window (the cool glass feels nice against their flushed face, though charon's reckless driving has them bumping against it fairly often).

they're half-zoned out, staring out the window, so it takes them a second to notice faust offering something to them. is it a trick of the light as they blink sluggishly, or has even the bright teal of their eye faded with a sickly pallor?

...oh, that's cold medicine. they offer a small smile to faust as they accept it with a, "thank you, faust." they cough, then say, "it's strange, i never got sick like this back home... though, we haven't exactly stuck to the most sanitary areas. i suppose this was inevitable."

(not-really-a-)starter meme | @peachrote

[nishiyako]

KENJI & DOGGY STYLE (DRABBLE) (NSFW)

Someone reposted one of my Kenji fics and said "ugh he'd so love doggy style", now that I read this, yes, “he’d so love doggy style”. So here's some Kenji doggy style brain rot/Drabbles.

Tags : Doggy style (duh), Creampie mentioned, Pulling out, Dommy Kenji, Praise n sweet talk from Kenji <3, Degration too, Spanking, Kenji puts out a cig on you (can't get over it, srry), not proofread, written in 20 minutes.

Ever since he's seen you he just knew you would look perfect on your hands and knees for him, his hands maybe with a handful of your hair forcing you bounce against his hips while he absolutely spoils you by finishing on your skin.

His chest right against your back, feeling his warm skin against yours and his heavy breathing right beside your ear cooled by the cold gold dog tag necklace he wears that's pressed between your bodies (obviously the necklace stays on)

Everyone knows he's the type to talk you through it, humming the sweetest praises and treating your insides like its his god, rubbing that spongy spot inside you only making you get that much closer, the type that makes you light headed, out of breath, questioning your worth, y'know?

“You like that? Yeah, bet you do.” or “Doing so fuckin’ good for me, yeah?” his words always followed with the most needy, lustful, most porn hub worthy moans you’d ever hear.

Believe he has an impeccable pull out game, pulling out of you just before finishing, using your lower back as a canvas of his warm sticky seed, seeing the build up of stressful days and hard practices painted over his lover while your thighs are absolutely stained and sticky.

While you’re still panting and irrational he asks to take a photo, not a few days after you see it as his phone's home screen.

You want him to be mean? if it's what you're into he’ll absolutely bully you if you want him too. A hand covering your mouth as he complains that “You’re too loud” and while he calls you a slut. He can’t help the fact he’s into you. He’ll even ask you to put your hair in pigtails or a ponytail just so he can hold you like that, seeing that little arch in your back just for him? Does wonders to his ego.

Get's a bit rough here...

He has no problem being rougher than that too, playing into that sick and twisted bad boy fantasy (some of) you have of him, scene being something like a cigarette in his mouth and him ripping your fishnets open. 

Railing you into next week with red hand marks on your skin from his spanking fueled by the cute little yelps you let out. Your eyeliner streaming down your face as your eyes roll back, white starting to stain your ruined (once was) black fishnets, something straight out of a porn hub video. He doesn't mind finishing inside you either if you ask nicely.

His hand pinning your wrists against the bed as the other one took his almost out cigarette and taping it, putting it out on your skin, some of the ash sticking against the shiny sweat on your body, finishing inside you with no warning, the feeling of getting filled up to suddenly pushing you over the edge.

(But no matter which kind of fannon Kenji you prefer, I hope y'all enjoyed hearing out my little doggy style Kenji fantasy.)

Repost in question :

@gotosleeeep love you sm <33

[evansbby]

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sugar daddy!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sugar daddy Ari, age gap, smutt, daddy!kink, ab riding, dirty talk.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your sugar daddy decides to dress you up in a costume of his choice for Halloween.

𝐀/𝐍: Random spontaneous Halloween "drabble" that is 3.8k words long lol. Inspired by the hottest daddy of them all, Ari Levinson, and his gorgeous abs. Hence the gif. Enjoy! And Happy Halloween, despite the fact that this drabble is not spooky at all.

“Twirl for me again, princess.”

Ari leans back against the headboard of his king-sized bed, his blue eyes dark as navy as he brings his glass of scotch up to his lips and takes a sip. His gaze is stuck on you as he lounges relaxedly, still dressed in his suit from work. Well, you’d taken his jacket off and loosened his tie for him before he’d patted you on your bum and sent you to your dressing room to try on the new costume he’d got for you.

You’d only been seeing Ari for two months. And by “seeing” you meant you’d only been his sugar baby for about two months, when you’d met him at the cocktail bar where you worked as a waitress. He’d come by one night with a bunch of his colleagues (all of them in expensive suits, clearly extremely wealthy). That notion had been confirmed when he’d pressed a few hundred-dollar bills into your hand at the end of the night, his eyes looking at you expectantly as if he knew you’d give him your number.

You had, of course. What followed was two months filled with expensive gifts, a hefty weekly allowance, a new designer wardrobe, glittering jewels and some incredible sex to top it all off. You’d gotten to know Ari in many different ways these past sixty days. But what you didn’t know he was so big on Halloween.

Your “costume” was for Ari’s eyes only, as he’d warningly told you when he’d handed you the shopping bag. And there was no way you could’ve worn it anywhere else: the baby pink satin negligee barely reached mid-thigh, but it was so breathtakingly pretty, so dainty with the lacy white trim and matching satin white gloves. The back was almost completely exposed, showcasing the pretty pink lace panties you had on underneath (with a heart-shaped cut-out that exposed your bum). A sparkly tiara on your head completed the look.

He'd dressed you as his little princess.

“How come you don’t have a costume, Ari?” You ask as you twirl around for him slowly, trying not to topple over in the expensive white pumps he’d also made you wear.

Ari licks his lips, beckoning you closer with just a look. He’d trained you well in the two months he’d had you, moulding you into his perfect angel who leapt at his slightest command. It was easy, since you were so cute and innocent, and so happy to please him. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and you’d jump to obey him. He watches you closely now, looking so precious and hot in your little princess costume (or lingerie, rather) and your lips part as you eagerly move closer to him, almost tripping in your heels to do so.

He chuckles, “I’m too old to be dressing up for Halloween, sweetheart.”

You pout, “You’re not old, Ari! You’re just perfect!”

He can’t help but smile at your cuteness and naivety; he really had plucked up the prettiest and most innocent little girl with a heart of pure gold.

“That’s real sweet of you, baby. Now turn around and bend over for me so I can see that cute baby ass.” He takes another sip of his scotch. You’d made him his favourite drink the moment he’d walked into his penthouse apartment where you’d been waiting for him like the delectable little treat you were – sweeter than any Halloween candy, and he could ravage you forever without ever feeling sick.

You giggle, feeling slightly rebellious. You’d had a few sips of wine before he’d come home, your anticipations running high whilst you waited impatiently for him. He was like a drug to you, with his rugged good looks and muscular body and charming smile. You were also incredibly attracted to the power he wielded; Ari owned and was the CEO of multiple companies across the globe, and for the life of you, you couldn’t imagine how he’d ever decided to ask for your number that one fateful night two months ago.

“But Ari, since I’m a princess tonight, that means I’m royalty. Which means I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders but my own, right?” You smile triumphantly.

Ari looks infinitely amused as he runs his hand through his unruly hair, his other hand inching down to palm his clothed crotch.

“Little princesses like you still have to take orders from their daddy,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you teeter in your high heels. “Which, by the way, is what you should be addressing me as. You call me Ari one more time and I’ll take you over my knee. I don’t care if it’s Halloween.”

You pout harder, looking so extra cute that Ari has to pace himself from reaching over and grabbing you right then and there. He’s waited to dress you up in this costume for a while now, though, and he knows he needs to savour it.

“That’s a good little princess,” he murmurs in approval once you turn around and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your cute ass. “Look at those pretty little princess panties, hugging that cute baby ass. You like your panties, baby?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, and he knows you’re turned on by his words. “Thank you, daddy, I really like them.”

“You like being my little princess?”

“Yes, daddy. Wanna be your princess forever.”

Ari can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are, and when you say things like that, he just wants to gather you in his arms and plant a thousand kisses to your face, cuddle with you and buy you whatever you please. But he has to keep a strong resolve tonight, because he’s been waiting for an opportunity to ravage you in your princess costume for ages now, and he’s been working overtime at the office and he knows he deserves this.

“Daddy? Can I stop bending over now? It’s startin’ to hurt.”

Ari swirls his glass of scotch around absentmindedly, a wicked look crossing his face, “Soon, baby. First, I want you to spank yourself.”

You gasp, and then there’s a pause.

“M-Me? Spank myself?”

“You heard me, baby. I won’t repeat myself.”

You reach back gingerly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’ve got your back to him and you know he can’t see (usually, he always demands you keep your eyes open). You give your behind a tentative little slap, feeling embarrassed to say the least.

“Harder, sweetheart. How can you be a princess if you don’t have a firm hand?” You can hear the smugness in his voice, and it just turns you on more. You know your new princess panties are soaked through, and you wonder if he can tell.

“B-But I don’t wanna have a firm hand,” you whimper, already feeling very submissive. You like it when he spanks you (although it hurts but it hurts so good). But you spanking yourself? It’s embarrassing. It turns you on because you’re doing it for him, but it’s still embarrassing.

“Are you talking back to me, baby?” Ari’s eyes are hooded with lust as he openly palms his dick.

“Sorry, daddy,” you bite your lip before giving your ass another slap – harder this time. And Ari exhales slowly as he watches your ass jiggle cutely, and he commands you to hit yourself again, to not stop until he says so. And he watches you spank yourself, turned on beyond belief at your complete submission.

“Fuck, you have such a cute ass, baby. Squeeze it for me.” He orders you, voice gruff and strained because of how horny he is.

You obey, squeezing the soft flesh through your barely-there panties. Ari’s fingers itch to touch you himself, make you mewl with pleasure just with his touch the way only he could. Because he’s the only one who’s ever touched you like that, who ever would touch you like that. You were his baby, his little princess and he’d take care of you forever.

“Stop. Now come here.”

You swallow, straightening up to walk over to him, except he stops you again by just a look.

“No, baby. On your knees. Daddy wants you to crawl.”

You decide to test your luck one last time, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, “But daddy, I’m supposed to be a princess and not a kitten. And princesses don’t crawl.”

Ari rolls his eyes, “You’ll do as I say. Baby princesses like you still need to obey their daddy because you’re not in charge, got that?”

“Y-Yeah, I got it.” You sink down to your knees and slink over to him, making sure to sway your hips as you crawl because you know he loves that. And you love how he looks at you darkly, his eyes so blown out with lust and want. As if he’s restraining himself from just grabbing you and fucking you. Because you know how virile he is, how high his sex drive is.

“That’s my good little girl,” he coos, making you feel all special. You stop at the foot of the bed and he reaches down, petting the top of your head, stroking your hair like you’re some kind of pet. Your sparkly tiara falls lopsided, but manages to stay on your head. But you like how he strokes you, you like how affectionate it feels, and so you nuzzle up into his palm, wanting him to stroke you some more.

Instead, he grabs a handful of your hair and yanks you up, manhandling you as if you’re his little baby, till he’s got you nestled on top of him, and you can feel his hard dick underneath you. A wicked look in his eye, he straightens your tiara before patting your cheek condescendingly.

“How’re you enjoying Halloween so far, princess?”

You mull over it, trying not to focus on his hard dick directly underneath your butt. “It’s nice. This is the first time in a few years that I’ve stayed in for Halloween, instead of going to a party.”

This was true, since being at college for the past two years meant that you always went out on Halloween.

“Oh yeah? You’d rather be at a frat party right now?” Ari’s hands land on your hips, grinding you down against his dick so that you’re effectively dry humping him. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, and you made grabby hands at him but he holds you at bay.

“No, no, no!” You answer desperately, trying to lean forward to kiss him but he holds you in place firmly, “Would much rather be with you, daddy. I love you so much.”

Ari can feel his heart melting fast. You’re just so delectable and cute, blinking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. And it had been so easy for you to fall in love with him, you’d told him so only two weeks into your whirlwind romance. He’d taken you out on his private yacht, and he’d bought you the prettiest sailor outfit, and you’d clung to him because you were scared you might fall overboard because of how clumsy you were.

But you’d looked so pretty as the salty sea air rushed over your face, and how you just wouldn’t let go of his hand. You couldn’t stop smiling either, and when he’d kissed you on the deck, holding you firm against the railing as the sun set into the ocean behind you, that’s when you’d whispered it breathlessly against his lips. Like you couldn’t keep it in any longer: I love you.

You’d tried to tug away from him after that, embarrassed at how you’d let your inner feelings slip out so soon into your relationship with him. But you couldn’t help it, he just made you feel so safe, so alive, so wonderful, so you. You’d tried to make a hasty exit, making up an excuse that you had to make a phone call, and praying he hadn’t heard you whisper those three forbidden words…

But Ari had heard you, and his heart had swelled in a way he never thought it could. He’d entered this relationship with you because he needed someone to take care of, and well, you were so hot the night he’d first seen you. So pretty and innocent and lovely. And then he’d gotten to know you, and you were so lively, and made him feel so youthful, made him feel so powerful and important, made him feel like he had to protect you while you danced around his life and made him laugh and cheered him up the way only you could.

He’d held you tightly against him that night on the yacht, not letting you slip away as he’d cupped your beautiful face in his hands, and he’d told you that he loved you too, more than he’d ever loved anyone else. And the look on your face, that look of utter devotion and awe, like you had stars in your eyes – he wished he could bottle it up inside a jar and keep that look safe forever.

That’s how you’re looking at him now, in your cute little princess lingerie, and your lips are begging to be kissed. Ari can’t stand it any longer, and he grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you down, pressing his lips on yours in a heady kiss.

“You’ve been waiting for tonight, haven’t you?” He breathes against your lips.

You swallow harshly and nod. Of course you had, the moment he’d texted you this morning telling you to be ready for him at his apartment when he got home. That was obvious code that he was going to ruin you tonight, and the pretty princess costume was just the cherry on top of the cake.

Biting your lip, you shyly untuck his shirt from his pants and lift it up, revealing his toned, hairy abs. God, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen – with an amazing, buff body that was twice the size of yours. He was bigger than you in every single way possible, and you sigh as your fingers run over the deep ridges of his tanned six pack.

Ari snorts, “Like what you see, princess?”

“Uh huh. You’re so hot.” You blurt out.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you give me your panties?”

The way he so casually redirects the conversation has your cheeks feeling hot and your pussy clenching in anticipation. Taking your panties off while straddling his crotch proves to be difficult, but you’re nimble enough to make it work. The lace is wet with your juices and your cheeks heat up even more as you hand your panties to him.

Ari brings the lacy material up to his nose, sniffing in your pretty scent. God, he wanted to be buried with your scent if it was possible. He can’t help but find the gusset, sucking the silk into his mouth and tasting your juices.

“You’re so sweet, princess.” He mutters, before shoving the panties in his pocket.

“I’m all wet, daddy,” you pout, knowing your wetness has seeped over to stain his pants as you sit on top of his crotch.

“Oh yeah?” Ari feigns disinterest, busying himself with another sip of his scotch. “Is your little baby cunt getting needy?”

“Yeah!”

“You want daddy to take care of her? Your little cunt?”

You throb at his words, “Yes, please!”

He makes no move to put his scotch away. “I think I’d rather watch you, princess. You can rub yourself on me to make yourself cum.”

You shudder at how casually he says it, but at the same time bite your lip, “B-But daddy, I feel so empty down there. Need you inside me, pretty please?”

Ari pretends to mull over it, “I don’t know, gorgeous, your baby pussy’s awfully tight. I don’t think I’d even get a finger in.” (That was true, you were super tight, but he could work you open in a matter of minutes. He always did, after all, but he wants you to work for an orgasm tonight).

You grab his hand and push it between your legs, feeling like you’re about to go into heat by how turned on you are. “Y-You could stretch me open, daddy, I-I don’t mind! Just wanna feel you inside me.”

“Maybe later, sweetie,” Ari murmurs, indulgently brushing your hair off your face and pulling your cheek when you pout. Of course, he definitely intended to fill you up real good, fuck both your holes silly with his cock and his tongue and his fingers. But the night was still young, and right now he wanted a show while he enjoyed his drink. “C’mon, baby, it’s Halloween. Even a princess has to work a little to get her treat.”

He picks you up by your waist, placing you on his hairy abs, which are rock hard just like his cock which is still in the confines of his pants.

You grab on to his shoulders to steady yourself, before you start moving. And oh, it feels absolutely heavenly, your quivering pussy rubbing against his hard abs, the hair on his torso catching against your swollen clit and immediately making you moan.

“F-Feels so good, daddy,” you whimper, and it makes Ari smile at how cute you are. How much you love it when he makes you feel good, how you selfishly chase after your own pleasure whenever you can because he knows it’s never felt this good for you before. You don’t have to tell him that he’s the best you’ve ever had – he can see it in your eyes every time.

“Yeah? Is your cute baby cunt getting some relief? You enjoy using your daddy like this?” He mutters lowly, pinching your hip to make you move faster as he takes another sip of his scotch. His cock is incredibly tight still confined to his pants, and he’d have loved for you to grind against his cock instead but he knows he would’ve blown his load because of the friction paired with how hot you look right now.

“You enjoy dressing up like a little princess and giving your daddy a show?” He continues, feeling the beast inside him awaken as you whimper so cutely on top of him. With his fingers gripping your hip tightly, he roughly drags you back and forth over his abs, “That’s right, slutty baby, make a mess all over daddy, you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes!” You cry, getting to that point where everything that leaves your mouth is either a plea or incoherent gibberish and crying. That’s when you get so submissive that there isn’t a single thought in your head, and Ari’s sure he could make you do absolutely anything when you’re in that mindset.

His stomach is wet with your cream, and you’re grinding against him desperately now, and he knows you’ll cum any second because it doesn’t take much to get you to cum. He remembers doing this a lot with you in the early days of the relationship, when he knew for a fact you’d need a lot of prep before you could take his big, fat dick inside your pussy. So he’d made you grind on his torso instead, like how you were doing now, as a sort of practice before the real sex. And it’s like you’d never been pleasured before in your life because you came so quickly, over and over again, squirting all over him and begging for him to put it inside you.

Clearly, nothing had changed in two months.

He downs his scotch before setting the glass aside on his bedside table. Then he licks his lips, hand slipping down between your legs. He spreads your folds and you gasp, rocking your hips faster as you feel more now, your clit rubbing deliciously against his abs.

“C’mon, princess,” he urges, moving you up and down on his abs harder, “make yourself cum, baby, squirt all over daddy like the good little girl I know you can be. Like all good princesses squirt on their daddies. You wanna be a good princess, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do!”

“Say it, then.”

“W-Wanna be a good princess for you, daddy. Wanna be so good!” Your face is glistening with sweat and tears, and you’re working so hard for your release. He knows all he has to do is rub your clit once or twice, or even just press against it and you’d cum. But he wants you to work for it, so he can praise you for it and then reward you for making yourself cum with minimal help from daddy.

“You’re daddy’s sexy little princess,” Ari murmurs lowly, pulling you down by the neck till your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you bite at his skin and cry and moan his name as he talks, “you’re doing such a good job, baby, rubbing that baby cunt all over daddy’s abs. You’re so good for me, baby, so fucking good and I love you so much. Daddy loves you so much, honey. More than anything in the world.”

You squirt all over his stomach, your sweet cream covering ever ridge and dip of his muscular torso. You cry and cry, like how you often do when you’re overwhelmed when orgasming, grabbing at his face and kissing him, and he kisses you back fervently, allowing you to make out with him because he knows how overwhelmed and good you feel.

“That’s such a good girl,” he praises you, rubbing your back as you quiver in his arms, and he can feel your pussy quivering too, “such a good fucking girl, you worked so hard, baby and I’m so proud of you.”

“L-Love you so much, daddy,” you whimper pitifully, your poor tiara finally falling off your head, and Ari wants to chuckle at how spent you look, how exhausted you look from rubbing your pussy on him for a couple of minutes. He reminds himself to get you a bottle of water in a few minutes once you’ve calmed down, because he knows he’ll be keeping you busy for the better part of tonight and he wants you to have the energy for it.

But for now, he’ll let you rest for a few minutes. You snuggle up into his chest, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Ari pours himself another scotch, and lights up his cigar, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“Happy Halloween, sweetheart,” he grins wickedly, and you lift your head up slightly to offer him a weak smile. “Now put your tiara back on, princess. The night’s not over yet.”

AKSHDSAJGA WHAT DO YOU THINK???? PLEASE LET ME KNOW THIS WAS EXTREMELY SPONTANEOUS AFNKLAGNSKAL I JUST AM OBSESSED WITH SUGAR DADDY ARI AND HIS ABS BYE.

anyways lemme know what you think and pls do reblog and leave any feedback thank you ily

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time I Gave Him Covid”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, Sukuna makes you watch The Human Centipede but nothing is described in detail, pining at the end but he’s in denial

Word Count: 1.08k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Look, a day off is nice, and a few days off could be a real treat, under just about any other circumstances. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee that you didn’t even need to add sugar to because the bitter taste can’t affect you when you literally can’t taste it.

You noticed the symptoms a couple hours ago, scratchy throat, can’t taste, can’t smell; you had an extra Covid test under the kitchen sink since you bought a two pack a couple months ago, and unsurprisingly you tested positive. And now you’re stuck in your little apartment for a week, trapped in the confined space with your oversized roommate who’s going to be just thrilled to hear the news.

He’s literally gonna kill me.

As if on cue, you could hear Sukuna’s footsteps thumping down the stairs, his eyes meeting yours as he turned the corner and a look of confusion spreading across his face.

“Don’t you have a job?”

You snort, oh he’s not gonna like this, “I’ve got bad news bud.”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” He shoots you a glare as walks into the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet.

You roll your eyes, a sheepish grin creeping at the corners of your lips as you prop your cheek onto the palm of your hand, “We have Covid.”

“Who’s we?” He doesn’t even look at you, his back facing you as he pulls a carton of milk out from the fridge and fills the glass.

Even though he can’t see it, you give him a quizzical look, “We literally live together? My germs are all over the place.”

He turns around, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and looking down at you in your seat with a nonchalant expression, “I’ve got a good immune system,” He brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip, “I’m fine.”

You know he’s full of shit, cocky bastard can’t genuinely think he’s above getting sick, right? You look up at him dumbfounded as he casually sips his glass of milk, he’s got a completely blank expression.

When’s the last time we even bought milk? That has to have been sitting for a while now. Oh, oh wait…

Hah, yeah he’s so full of shit. He cocks a brow at the smirk you didn’t realize had grown across your face.

“What’s so funny, brat?”

“How’s the milk taste?”

He shrugs, clicking his tongue in his mouth, “Fine.”

“When did it expire?”

“It didn’t,” He raises the glass to his nose and smells it with no changes in his expression, he picks the carton up and turns his wrist to read the back of it, “It’s good ‘til-”

He stops himself short, his mouth dropping into a small surprised oh, you can’t even attempt to suppress the giggle that escapes you.

You let your arms slide down outstretched across the kitchen table, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood, “I guess we’re quarantine buddies.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

I figured as much.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your face is buried in your hands, shielding your poor, absolutely tortured eyes from the TV. Eerie music with muffled screams and maniacal laughter emit from the speakers and fill the room as Sukuna outstretches his leg to reach your side of the couch, prodding at your arm with his foot.

“You’re not even watching.”

“This is horrible.”

“This is payback.”

You peek through your fingers, immediately wanting to gag at his disgusting movie choice. The Human Centipede, really? He’s watching it so casually, somehow managing to have the stomach to eat popcorn as well, albeit most of the popcorn has been tossed into your hair from when he caught you squeezing your eyes shut during the teeth pulling scene. Now that was brutal.

“Can we please watch something else? Anything?” You whine into your hands.

“I’ve got the DVD for Cannibal Holocaust.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, flopping your head backward onto the couch cushion.

It’s gonna be a long week.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Woman, how in god's name do I move?”

“You click where you want to go, and,” You lean forward and tap your finger onto your laptop's screen, “Click here.”

“That’s so fucking stupid.” He grumbles under his breath.

You roll your eyes but to be honest, you’re impressed he was actually willing to play one of your games. It seems the last few days of being stuck together have broken him down a bit, and now you’re leaning against his arm watching him attempt to maneuver around The Sims on your laptop.

Sukuna lets out a frustrated groan, “This game sucks, you can’t even kill people.”

You draw back in surprise, “Have you never played Sims before?”

He turns his head towards you, looking completely baffled that you’d even ask, “No? Obviously.”

Oh he’s in for a treat.

Within an hour he’s drowned 4 people, burned down someone’s mansion, got a call to come meet a child that he didn’t even know was his, and let out an absolutely delighted “Oh? What’s this?” when he found the tools to make prison bars. You can’t say you’re surprised by any means, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused.

You’re watching his eyes flicker around the screen, brows furrowed in concentration and his sharp canine digging into the side of his bottom lip as he oh so meticulously picks out the least comfortable looking beds for each little prison cell. You’ve been slowly slouching against his side more and more over the last hour, and he either hasn’t noticed or is too invested in his mass murder scenarios to even care as sickly fatigue has your head resting on his shoulder and your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open.

Little do you know, he’s well aware of your weight pressing into him; but, he’s willing to let it slide this time, deciding that you’ve pleased him enough for him to hold back from pushing your sleepy body onto the ground. Even though it would be hilarious to see the look on your face when you wake up to your back flopping onto the plush rug beneath you, and even funnier to watch you try to slap at him as he holds both of your wrists in one hand, he’s willing to spare you just this once, although he couldn’t possibly fathom the reason why.

It’s not because he’s growing a soft spot for you, no, because that would be ridiculous.

A/N: I wasn’t planning to start with this one BUT I couldn’t stop thinking about this scenario so I guess we get him sick immediately asakjjaan Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!!

[slmjaeyuns]

⋆｡ﾟ jake sim fics that feed my brainrot ﾟ｡⋆

my sweet, sweet love

warning: there are suggestive themes/smut that may be embedded throughout the fluff and angst fics as well)! please dni if that makes you uncomfortable!! minors dni, please‼️

part two jake fic rec list here!

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

all time favourites ♡

(fics contain a combination of genres including fluff, angst, suggestiveness, smut)

♡ unrequited love

♡ act now, think later!

♡ watermelon sugar

♡ pov

♡ your name

♡ jake sim: the first love trope

♡ kiss and make up

♡ skin on skin

skin on skin pt. 2

♡ behind closed doors

♡ brand new moves

♡ good boys go to heaven

♡ let you break my heart again

♡ ready? set…touchdown! tutor?

♡ i’ll save you (again)

♡ be my backyard boy

♡ scooby dooby doo, lookin’ for boo!

fluff ❀

❀ too close

❀ safety precautions

❀ attention, please! (rugby jake)

❀ three questions (he wished were never answered)

❀ the partner project

❀ you can find me in your arms

❀ somewhere in forever

❀ sick

❀ taste of your lips

❀ room for two

❀ 3:04 am

❀ einstein kisses

❀ kisses in the rain

another day(te) in the rain

❀ unnamed (drabble)

❀ i’ve never known someone like you

❀ fake

❀ t-shirt

❀ i love me better when i’m with you

❀ wrong order

❀ prince jake

❀ greeting

❀ jake as a boyfriend (headcannons)

angst ☽

☽ glimpse

☽ the sun

☽ worries

☽ if only i could have treated you the way you deserved

☽ sweetly

☽ skater boy

☽ please remember me when our youth is gone

☽ green with envy

suggestive/smut ☁︎

☁︎ s.o.s - skin on skin

☁︎ ping! we should fuck

☁︎ best mistake

☁︎ change up!

☁︎ air dropping love at 305

☁︎ under the influence

☁︎ simp

☁︎ nonsense

nonsense pt.2

☁︎ boyfriend

☁︎ bad boy gone good

☁︎ my neighbour’s son

my neighbour’s son pt.2

☁︎ silly mistake

☁︎ happy birthday mr. sim

my shy husband

☁︎ drunk texting

☁︎ shooting star

☁︎ best friends!

☁︎ polaroid lust

☁︎ (i just) died in your arms

☁︎ only kisses

☁︎ 12:30 am

☁︎ burn for you

☁︎ ride

☁︎ wish come true

☁︎ mischief

☁︎ what are we?

☁︎ after game

☁︎ loser no more

☁︎ attention, please!

☁︎ double lines

☁︎ love foolish

☁︎ forget me not

☁︎ sex express

[muzansfangs]

Imagine Douma’s first real emotion is jealousy and/or anger (alongside some horniness), and you being the cause of it, meaning he will be letting it all out on you.

Jealousy.

Starring: Douma x f!reader; Akaza;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: nsfw, jealousy, lust, first time Douma actually experiences a human emotion, possessive behaviour, dom!Douma, sub!reader, rough sex, biting, fear play, unprotected sex, mention to bruises, vaginal sex, dirty talk;

Plot: He had always desired to feel something. From the dreadful emotions to the blissful ones. When his multicolored eyes landed on you back then, Douma knew you might have helped him to feel less of an empty shell. Surely, he did not expect to feel sick at the sight of his ‘best friend’ conversing with you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What did you do to me, huh?” Douma rasped out, hands pinning your twitching ones above your head, whilst his hips smacked against yours in a steady and brutal tempo. He demanded an answer, he wanted to hear an explanation from you, he yearned for coherent words to roll out of your tongue and not those high-pitched cries and moans filling the air as he occasionally hit your cervix.

You witch, you had clearly casted a spell on him. If it was not for your human nature, he would have probably blamed it on a demonic technique. He felt so sick.

If only he knew what your proximity, what his lust over your pretty face and body would have caused to him, he would have probably ignored you at the local festival the infamous night you met. He should have devoured you. After all, it was what demons did: they ate humans. Then again, he had not felt that urge, primal desire to consume you to the bone back then. Something had stopped him and, naturally, he took it as a manna from the Heaven.

Years of clinical apathy, centuries spent in observing people interacting and chattering in ways he could not comprehend, eager to mimic their emotions, to experience them too for real. He thought he had grasped the essence of them all, the feeling they caused. Why? Faking them should have been the equivalent of manifesting them.

It all turned out to be useless, in the end. He had always wanted to feel something, whatever it was that life had gifted him with. The salty tears streaming down his face, when he pretended to be heartbroken in front of his followers, had never actually tasted bitter and found himself hoping they did now. He had never felt the typical pang of sorrow in his chest, prelude to a meltdown, or the lump in his throat hard to swallow for the very first time before bursting into a desperate cry. He had always feigned his emotions, especially the dreadful ones people tried to escape. Still, he had tried to imagine what those sensetions would have felt like for real.

But, oh dear, did it feel horrendous now that he was affected by one of them.

You writhed underneath him, squirming, sweat beading your forehead as he thrusted into you with a cold brutality he had never showed before. You knew he could not be in love with you, his heart had never been blessed with the capacity of feeling that surge of positive energy and dizzying emotions all people did. Yet, you did love him and you had chosen to stay by his side. For that, Douma lavished you, he showered you in exepensive gifts, he gave you honors, he treated you with care.

The beast hovering over you now, though, was not your loving boyfriend. It was a pissed off Upper Moon, whose fangs were bared and claws were scraping your tender flesh. His cock, engorged and twitching, was bullying your gummy, delicate walls with ferocity to get answers from you. He was going insane.

“I did n-nothing!” you choked out, screwing your eyes shut as he scoffed and shook his head.

“Don’t lie to my face! You talked to him! You sang! You treated him the way you treat me! How dare you?” Douma seethed, a vein popping on the side of his head as he brought his mouth down to yours in a searing kiss. Your blood had run cold for a split second. Those pearly fangs, sharp enough to rip out your throat, had dangerously grazed your jaw and finally bit down onto your bottom lip. The metallic taste of blood on your tongue a warning to take matters in your hands.

You knew what had happened, what was going on with him right now. It took you by surprise, but he was going through the different stages of jealousy. Currently, taking it all out on you was the last one.

The root of his envy and anger was the way you, his companion, were beaming at his so-called best friend. You had heard so many stories about Akaza that you had been dying to know him. He was a kind demon, at least to women. Striking up a conversation with him came natural to you, therefore you had offered the Upper Rank Three to sing for him like you did to Douma.

A smile, a sweet and innocent smile of yours had been the final straw.

The sound of pottery smashing, your look of concern when Douma coldly demanded Akaza to leave, and the way he had easily sliced his arm off of his body at his refusal to leave you with him in his moment of instability, were all you could recall before he had you moaning out his name onto his bed. You were struggling to endure this pleasurable torture. You had lost the count of how many orgasms he had denied you. With a blurry vision, you arched your back to lock your legs behind the small of his back.

“J-Jealousy! You’re feeling something! This— Ah! This is jealousy, D-Douma!” you blurted out, only for him to still his thrusts and push further down onto the mattress.

Jealousy. Disgusting feeling, a lame one. Out of everything he could learn to experience, Douma had been sentenced to endure such a deplorable emotion.

He snorted, hand grasping your jaw as his tongue lapped at the small cut on your lower lip, still bleeding “Jealousy, huh? If that’s the case, you can fix it, right? Be a dear and stay away from any man in the Temple, at the village, down to the cities and at the Infinity Castle” he snarled, the glint of malice making his kaleidoscopic eyes even more mystical in the dim light provided by the candles on the nightstand.

His, permanently, caged and strangled by his consuming love. This was your fate, for you were his and no one else’s.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Oh, how dearly I had missed writing for my favorite upper moon. Thanks for this thirst, anon! I hope you enjoyed the meal!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

X O X O

TAGS: @doumadono @mrskokushibo because we started a cult with the upper moons✨

[holylulusworld]

Cat shows

Title: Cat shows

Written for @buckybarnesevents HotBuckySummer Week 9: Free Week

Summary: You’re in trouble.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader; Alpine x Reader

Warnings: crack!fic, fun, fluff

A/N: A random drabble.

Catch up here: Shopping trips

“Mrs. Barnes, your husband is here to bail you out,” the cop mutters under his breath. You refused to leave the interrogation room without your cat. You fought tooth and nail, telling them you’re going to sue them if they don’t bring Alpine back to you.

You reluctantly follow the cop out of the interrogation room, grumbling under your breath. Arresting you was unnecessary.

“Doll, there you are,” Bucky jocks toward you. “I was worried sick when you didn’t come home. I thought you wanted to have lunch with your friends, and you were just gone. Alpine too.”

“Oh, yeah…that,” you chuckle. “My friend got this crazy idea to go to this cat show. She said Alpine is too pretty to hide.”

“Where’s Alpine?” Bucky looks at the cop standing next to you. “You! Where is my cat?” The cop swallows thickly when Bucky steps closer. He didn’t miss that your husband is the former Winter Soldier.

“Uh—the cat is…uh,” he stammers. The cop starts to sweat seeing the angry look on Bucky’s face. “The cat will be right there, Mr. Barnes.

You watch the cop run off, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry, Buck. This is all my fault. If only I didn’t listen to my friend. I find these shows stupid and hate how they treat the pets but Alpine looked so pretty with their new collar.”

“What happened?” Bucky gently cups your face. “Baby doll, you got to tell me what happened. I can only help you if I get all the information.”

“Okay,” you sigh deeply. “I attended that cat show with Alpine for fun. We weren’t that bad. Alpine looked cute, and we got a nice ribbon. We didn’t win, but it was fun. Alpine even won some cat food.”

“Alpine won food,” Bucky snickers. “How did you end up at the police station if you won cat food at a show?”

“Uh-“ you drop your gaze and sigh again. “There was this bitch, the one who won all the competitions. She wanted the ribbon Alpine won too, and the food. I told her to leave Alpine alone.” You sniff and glare at the cop carrying Alpine in a pet crate. You can hear Alpine hiss at the man, and smirk.

“I sense there is more to this story, doll,” Bucky presses on. He quirks a brow and you throw your hands up. “Baby, tell me everything.”

“She said Alpine, my pretty princess, and queen of our castle, looks like a mangy stray. She wanted me to give her the ribbon and the food.” You grit your teeth seeing the woman and her spoiled cat walk toward you and Bucky. “I told her if she wants the food so badly, she can have it and—” you grin at Bucky. “I threw it at her.”

“You threw cat food at the lady,” Bucky snorts. He watches the arrogant woman pass you by and laughs. “At least you didn’t threaten to kill her.”

“I was tempted,” you giggle when Bucky snatched the box with Alpine out of the cop’s hands. He rips the box open to free Alpine. Alpine lifts their head and slowly walks toward Bucky, hissing at the cop as they pass him by.

“Come here, punk,” Bucky says as he crouches down to help Alpine jump on his shoulder. “There you go, Alpine. Did you miss me and mommy.” Bucky asks while slowly getting back up.

“Aw, I bet Alpine missed me,” you say. Looking Alpine all over, you sigh. At least your cat didn’t get hurt.

“Sir, you should talk to your wife,” the cop mutters because Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him. “Next time she won’t get away so easily.”

Bucky turns toward the cop like in slow motion. He cocks his head and stares the cop down. Your husband doesn’t say a word. It’s unnecessary because the man murmurs something before walking off.

“You still got it in you,” you purr his name and pat his chest. “You’re scary as shit when mad, baby.” You take his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Let’s get Alpine home. Our champion deserves the best food.”

“Next time you want to throw cat food at someone insulting Alpine, give me a call.”

“See, that’s why I love you,” you giggle as you walk out of the police station, holding hands with your husband. “You’re ready to throw cat food at ladies messing with me and Alpine…”

Tags in reblog.

[sickficideas]

☠️ and 🧹 for dazai?

Sick or Treat!

Thank you anon!! Here's what I chose for these two and they're both below :)) I like them I might post them on ao3 too just for fun hehe

🧹 (Motionsickness) - ADA Dazai + Kunikida (Warnings: emeto)

☠️ (Spiked) - PM Dazai + Chuuya (Warnings: emeto, vomiting blood, references to Dazai's unhealthy eating habits, poisoning)

🧹 (Motionsickness) - ADA Dazai + Kunikida

“How come I didn't know about this sooner?” Kunikida says with an exasperated sigh.

“It's, uh - usually not very - hic - consistent,” Dazai half jokes, not able to keep up the charade for much longer. One hand is pressed against his tummy and the other grips the armrest, like he's somehow hoping it'll make him less nauseous, but it's a losing battle.

Kunikida is kind of a race car-style driver, and not in the fun way, the kind where Dazai can usually only handle small amounts at a time. That usually works out pretty okay, they're never in the car for long, but today is an exception.

“I'm trying to pull over, give me a second,” Kunikida murmurs nervously.

“Not sure how long I can wait, partner,” Dazai manages, mistaking the pressure in his esophagus for a burp that he tries to cover up with a fist pressed to his lips, but it's much more than that. Suddenly a mouthful of hot liquid fills up his mouth and splashes against the back of his teeth, but he's lucky that it's small enough for him to swallow back with a sickly gulp. He knows there's more coming, though, with the way his tummy is sloshing around under his hand.

“Did you just -” Kunikida stammers, wide eyed for a moment before he reaches back behind Dazai's seat and pulls out a little trash bag. Dazai's lucky he's the type of person to keep his car in order. He really doesn't feel like throwing up all over his shoes today.

Dazai takes the bag with shaky hands, and it feels as if the moment he takes his hand off his tummy is when the floodgates open. He burps as he rustles the bag to open it a little more and that bit of vomit he swallowed comes right back up, rushing over his tongue and splattering into the thin plastic bag in his hands, sagging at the bottom.

“Shit, Dazai,” Kunikida mumbles, reaching a hand over to lay on his shoulder as the car starts to slow down. Dazai would very much like for it to drop but he knows there's not much Kunikida can do where they're driving right now, but before he can reply, he groans through another nauseous burp that brings up a thick gush of vomit into the bag, nearly missing it and landing on the floorboard.

“Sorry,” he manages, leaning back for a moment to catch his breath, a belch forcing itself up and nearly threatening more of his lunch to come with it as Kunikida is finally able to stop the car.

“It's fine,” Kunikida assures him, his hand moving to Dazai's back to rub circles into it. “Thought I was an okay driver.”

“My tummy - bllrpp - disagrees,” Dazai whines as he leans forward again, spitting up the saliva that's pooled in his mouth. His tummy is still turning and twisting even now that the car has stopped, but he's hoping it'll calm down soon.

Dazai thinks he might be done, but of course the second he lets his guard down, a third, much thicker gush of hot vomit comes up from his throat, forcing a gag out from how heavy it is, and he's unlucky enough to actually have the pleasure to completely miss the bag and throw up all over his shoes, thick chunks of vomit sliding off the leather and onto the floorboard to join the rest of the pile.

Dazai's noticed that Kunikida's hand has suddenly stopped.

“Now Kunikida's really gonna kill me,” Dazai mumbles, sheepish eyes trailing up to meet Kunikida's, who looks as pale as a sheet.

“No, it's…it's fine,” he somehow manages to say, even though he's clearly seething with something. Rage, disgust, who knows. Fair reaction to someone who has just thrown up in his newly cleaned car.

...

☠️ (Spiked) - PM Dazai + Chuuya

“Chuuya,” Dazai murmurs, pulling at Chuuya's coat like a child and whining like one too, just like he always does.

Chuuya doesn't have the patience for this today. He wants to leave this snobby mafia party and go to bed, and he's sure Dazai wants to do the same. He's not sure why he needs to waste their time by going on his nerves, too.

“What, Dazai?” he grumbles, whipping around to see Dazai's half-concealed pale pace, pouting at him. Chuuya's a little too loud, evidently, a few suited men turn around at the sound.

“My tummy hurts,” Dazai mumbles quietly, keeping a loose grip on Chuuya's coat.

“It always hurts. You're shit at taking care of it,” Chuuya reminds him, not having the heart to swat his hand away, for some reason. “Maybe you should eat some of this food they have instead of starving every day for fun.”

“I did eat some,” he whines. “When they were bringing the trays around, they had crab…and they served it with liquor, too…”

“Yeah, you love your crab, don't you…” Chuuya sighs. He really shouldn't drink at something like this, but he'll do what he wants. “Let's go out to the halls. I hate being around all these people.”

Dazai doesn't agree or disagree, but he doesn't let go of Chuuya's coat, so Chuuya takes that as a sign to lead him out of the fancy ballroom and into one of the outer halls, away from the crowd. Dazai's hand loses its grip as they're walking and Chuuya just keeps weaving through the crowds and wandering forward until he makes it to the hallway, relieved to be away from all the people.

But the moment he turns around to make sure Dazai followed him, he realizes the latter is leaned against the wall, a hand pressed up to his mouth, very clearly only seconds away from vomiting, and Chuuya's eyes are there to witness it. It sprays from between his fingers with quite a bit of force and he pulls his hand away with a little whimper, only to burp up even more of the thick substance over the ornate carpet.

Okay, he was serious about his stomach hurting.

Chuuya's a little afraid of getting close to him, he doesn't necessarily want to get puked on, but Dazai loses his balance the very second his extra hand lifts off of the wall, and Chuuya runs forward to catch him.

He's careful about getting his face too close to his clothes, he doesn't want the vomit from his lips to smear, but as he takes Dazai's shoulders back to make sure he stays upright, a shiver shoots up his spine when he realizes it's blood.

It hasn't been blood this whole time. His eyes dart over to the splatters on the floor and they're the color he would expect of vomit, with that same consistency - slimy and gross, but this on his lips is blood, and he leans over Chuuya's arm to gag and spit up an entire mouthful of it.

“Dazai,” Chuuya says sternly, so nervous he feels nauseous himself. This isn't normal. He presses a hand against his cheek, expecting a fever, but he's cold. He's horrifically pale.

“They pois’n’d me,” Dazai murmurs, evidently already having realized this, hardly able to say it, “Chuuya needs to help me…”

“Who was it, Dazai?” Chuuya stammers, wracking his brain for a face, but he doesn't think he was even looking. It must have been when that tray with the crab came around. Dazai groans in pain, his body starting to go limp, but not before Chuuya hears him swallow back what he can only hope is sick.

“I don’ wanna die like this,” Dazai murmurs as his body falls forward, against Chuuya's smaller frame, “gonna hurt…it hurts real’ bad, Chuuya…”

Chuuya grits his teeth. Dazai is dramatic, ridiculously so, but he's not kidding, the symptoms Chuuya can see are proof enough.

“I'm gonna get someone to help you.”

[anundyingfidelity]

DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH? — Billy Butcher

Summary: Butcher gives orders for you to stay back from the fight. You hardly comply and prove differently; he starts thinking in a very improper manner about you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female!supe reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: smut!! hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to fuck buddies, reader can control blood and explode shit (like Victoria Neuman lol), the usual mentions of violence.

Notes: this is a request made by @thatcharmingmushroom for my 400 followers drabbles celebration. I'm sorry I took soooo damn long on this, but I hope you like it and thank you so much for the idea because I had so much fun with it! I picked the Herogasm episode for this tho hehe

☕ if you like my writing support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

On the hunt for Payback, you made your way to infiltrate Herogasm along with Butcher, Hughie and the new asshole, Soldier Boy, not caring that the British dick ordered you a thousand times to stay back.

For different reasons, you were kind of forced to stay with the team, and while you didn’t really get along with any of them, Butcher was by far the one you hated the most. And, in the end, when Soldier Boy burned the whole place to the ground with a blast and Homelander arrived, you couldn’t stand there doing nothing. While the three men tried to hold down Homelander, you used your blood to create strong whips around his limbs, trying to tie him to the ground as Soldier Boy prepared to blast, yet again.

But just in seconds, Homelander recharged himself and pushed them all aside, cutting your whips, and flashing you quickly with his heat vision before storming out. Your blood blades barely made it to the hole he left in the roof as the supe just disappeared, flying away like a scared bitch.

“Well,” you started after an instant of staying silent. “I guess we fucking failed.”

Butcher shot you a dark glare as he walked straight until he stopped in front of you. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

You held his eyes as he towered you with his broad figure. He looked even more intimidating now he started playing the supe, injecting himself with Compund V. “I don’t care.”

There was this smug smirk on his face as you talked back. You knew he hated you; you knew you hated him. But as fucking weird your powers were, controling blood and exploding people with their own, Butcher found you interesting and stupidly astonishing. But of course, he wasn’t going to admit it. They were just intrusive thoughts about you and how hot you were, defying his direct orders of strictly not coming to the supe-orgy. Yeah, Homelander was a fucking cunt, and he would take care of Soldier Boy soon too. Right now, he just needed something to take the stress out after another stupid failure. His hand would work later once back at the motel, he decided.

Butcher leaned down, until his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

“Why do I have to keep listening to you?” you asked as Butcher followed back to the motel.

You stopped right out of your door, because of course you weren’t going to share a room with him and the old asshole. Hughie, who went inside their room, was the only decent human being between all of them, but still, you had to take care of yourself from those fuckers. Besides, the British idiot wouldn’t stop the verbal vomiting the whole fucking trip and you were growing sick of it.

“Because, for starters, you’re a fucking newbie here,” Butcher replied, smirking hatefully. “And second, your powers are fucking out of control. You need training and keep your mouth shut.”

You rolled your eyes, showing him your wrists. “I already healed myself from the cuts I made. Perhaps I should use your blood next time?”

“No, there’s no next time for you.”

“You don’t decide that, Butcher,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tired of being treated like a stupid kid. “I’m helping on this, I want him dead. And if any of you idiots don’t kill him, then I will.”

He curved an eyebrow, not showing any signs of being taken aback at your words, but inside, he was just in awe as before. You really hated Homelander as much as he did, however, you didn’t have a fucking plan. You would attack first, ask questions later. In any way, since when could he care about that? He had no idea.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy talked behind Butcher and stepped in closer between both of you. “You fucking stay back from this, you ain’t doing shit with your blood whips.”

Furious, you motioned your hand to draw fresh blood from a wound on his cheek and created a sharp blade, cutting his skin lightly. Soldier Boy clenched his jaw before smirking at you.

“Talk to me like that ever again and I’ll blow your dick, and not the way you like it,” you warned through your teeth.

Soldier Boy wiped the blood off the fresh wound, and smiled anew before patting Butcher on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, pal.”

With that, the old supe disappeared in the next room. You just wanted this to be over, so you turned around to get inside your room, but Butcher wouldn’t leave you alone just yet, putting his foot between the door and the frame, holding it with his super strength.

“What the fuck you want now?!” you yelled at him as he made his way inside, slamming the door closed.

“Imma have to call the fucking CIA if you don’t calm down your ass,” he threatened between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t-”

“I can, and I fucking will,” he insisted, taking slow strides, making you step back from him until your back met the wall.

His eyes were getting dangerously dark and you could smell the sweat and dry blood coming from him. You noticed his pulse was increasing, and you grinned. Your mind jumped to an unsafe place where you probably knew what Butcher was feeling right now. The heat and coming down the high of what could have been the end of both yours and his enemy was too much to burden. Little did he know that you were the kind of person that used to take out the stress with something, or someone. Just like him.

“From one to ten, how much do you hate me?” you asked all of the sudden, looking straight into his eyes.

Butcher’s fierceful gaze turned into confusion. “What?”

“How fucking much do you hate me?” you repeated yourself steadier.

Butcher rolled his eyes before answering in a whisper. “I’d choose a one thousand scale for that.”

“Good, I hate you too,” you replied with a smirk before pulling him for a kiss that turned heated too fast, but you didn’t care.

You needed release. Something quick, hard and hot to take it out of your system. He was perfect for the task, and by the way his tongue tasted your mouth, you found out that he wouldn’t step back. At least you hoped so. The tension between both of you was so damn sharp and it was just a matter of time for that bomb to explode, and you preferred it this way instead of fighting each other to death.

Gripping the neck of his shirt to get even closer as you kissed, Butcher’s hands roamed all over your hips, running on your sides until he met the flesh of your ass on your jeans, pressing you towards his chest. You gasped against his mouth when he started to unzip your pants, you worked immediately on the buttons of his shirt. Desperately, you discharged his shirt, the fabric being followed to his pants, and he undressed you with the same eagerness until you were only panties and bra.

Butcher lifted you up from the ground, hands on your thighs as he guided you to the mattress. He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with his big, rough hands and leaning down to lick down at your chest and rip your bra off. His action made you gasp out loud at the same time he sucked on a nipple like a starved man.

“You're a fucking beast,” you whimpered, feeling his hands peeling off your panties and leaving you completely exposed at his mercy.

You tugged at his jeans and he pulled them down along with his boxers as quickly as he could, taking out his dick with that smug smile on his stupid face. He noticed your eyes taking the sight of his half nakedness, biting your lip slightly once you focused on his hard cock pressing on your crotch. It only made you wet.

“Well, I plan to fuck you like one,” he said, grabbing the back of your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

“Show me, don’t talk- fuck!”

You let out a rather loud moan when he rubbed your clit with his fingers, playing with your entrance until he inserted a single, thick digit in your pussy. Butcher stretched you out with a finger, then slid a second one, scissoring them to reach your deepest spots as your walls clenched around his digits. You kept whimpering and moaning as he increased the thrusts of his hand.

“Bloody fuck, these are the only sounds I like coming from your mouth, luv,” he hissed, sensing that you almost came on his fingers.

Right before you reached your high, he pulled out and you groaned in annoyance, feeling empty once again.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

He positioned between your legs anew, getting comfortable as he started to push his tip against your slit. The grip of his hands on your thighs became a little harsh once he entered you slowly, the thickness of his cock splitting you open.

“What a tight cunt I always knew you’d be,” he grunted, filling you up completely and leaning down to mark your neck with his teeth.

His mouth and thrusts earned him your sweet moans as he fucked you senseless. The burning soon turned into pleasure. Your nails scratched his back while moaning incoherent words. His hands on your thighs would leave marks on your skin, but it felt so damn good. You needed a little bit of pain to remind you that you were alive, rotting for that sweet bliss only sex could give you.

Moans escaped from your throat and mingled with his deep groans and the sound of your skin against his own, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every of his hard thrusts. You pulled him down for a wet kiss when you felt closer and closer to come undone.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped.

Butcher increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his cock throbbing as your walls started to clench around him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. You reached down to rub your clit. You were so close, almost there.

“If I keep fucking you like this then I might change my mind- holy fuck!”

In that moment, you came hard with a string of curses and clenching your walls around his cock. The pound of his hips increased and he fucked you through your orgasm to reach his own. You continued rubbing your clit, fingers finding the place where you two connected, meeting his cock coated with your juices when he pulled out just slightly to slam back inside again.

Butcher emptied his cum inside you, mumbling dirty words against your ear. His rhythm slowing down eventually, fucking his seed in your pussy. Once he came down from his high, he pulled out and rolled by your side on the bed. Your body started to ache but in the best way possible. It was the best fuck you had in a long time. After a couple of minutes in complete silence you decided to talk, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I hope you keep hating on me…”

He turned slightly to see your blank face. “Why?”

“I love hate-fucking.”

He scoffed with a smile curving on his lips. “You bet I enjoyed this too.”

Within a second, you climbed on top of him. Thighs straddling his lap as you rubbed your cunt on his soft cock.

“Second round? You can eat me out and suck your cum out of me,” you gave him a wink, rolling your hips and leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Dirty girl,” Butcher whispered on your lips. “Perhaps put your mouth into good use.”

“I like how that sounds,” you smiled back at him.

Billy Butcher taglist

@delaynew

@thesilmarillionblog

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

[redcherrykook]

── ˙✧°📷 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚! 3 (𝙏𝙥𝙖𝙛𝙡 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚)

Drabble three! of Torn pictures and frozen lenses couple!

────୨ৎ────

content: fluff, comfort, period pain, crying, cuddles, Jungkook being a softie

note from cherry: i'm obsessed with this couple rn and i got my period today soo thats the inspo.

I need to be held by koo so bad :,(

────୨ৎ────

8 full hours of Jungkook working go by extremly slow on days he wouldn't be seeing you in the hallways,

This morning you'd stayed in bed due to feeling sick and dizzy, he let you sleep with a kiss to your forhead

The drive back home, all he was looking forward to after a long exhausting day was seeing you, quietly winding down together

Instead, he'd open the door to you curled up on the couch, stuffed hello kitty clutched in your arms,

"Baby?" He sighs, swiftly taking off his shoes and coat, crouching down in front of the couch

Upon further inspection on your bundled up form, you laid there in his hoodie, tears streaming down your pretty, sleepy face

"hey kook" you sniffle, wiping your tears with a small smile,

He knew exactly what was wrong, all the signs pointing towards it,

"Come here..my poor little lady, your period came right?" he speaks into your hair softly once managing to get on to the couch, pulling you into his lap,

His head nuzzles into your hair, big palms stroking your back, pressing you against his chest

You nod, completely burned out from the pain of your cramps, reaching all the way to your lower back, the pouding headache you have only worsening from having cried so much

"Its alright, come on i'll hold you"

"i missed you" you sniffle again, pressing your head into his chest and inhaling his sweet masculine scent

He humms, "i missed you too, its so boring without my favorite bad student" joking at that, he knew full well how much you improved, having spent hours together

He did miss you though, a lot

However, from the sound of your increased sniffling he could tell that this wasn't the right time,

Not at all

"you think im so stupid don't you?" you cry softly into his chest, feeling so overcome by anger and sadness,

His heart clenches a little; guilt quickly catching up to him

His hand moves to the back of your head, caressing your head so carefully,

The other one lifts you by your chin, making you look at him through sad teary eyes

"Shh i´m sorry baby i´m sorry.. i didn´t mean it, i was just joking. You're so smart baby.. i´m sorry" his gentle voice is accompanied by the many kisses he places all over your face

A small but sincere smile creeping up to your face immediately

"Hmm okay" you giggle and he smiles too, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and index finger

The rapid change of emotions almost making him giggle aswell,

What a cute mess he has got.

"Come on, let me get this pretty girl into bed"

quickly you're clinging on to him like your life depens on it, with a kiss to your temple he lays you down into the comfy, pillowy sheets,

Wrapping his arms around you from behind to sneak his hands on your lower tummy, pressing and caressing there to sooth the pain with pressure,

"Thank you kook" you say, stoking his arm,

He responds by placing a kiss to your hair, then moving his head down to rest on your shoulder,

"Did you eat? Want me to make you a nice sweet treat?" his suggestion sounds so good, not haven eaten all day because of feeling genuinely sick, too dizzy to even do anything other than to lay down,

"Couldn't yet.. but, please do.. that would be so nice" you hum, turning your head to kiss him lovingly,

He takes the kiss, smiling into it while continuing to massage your lower tummy,

"let me take care of you pretty, just lay here and look cute while you wait" he winks, hugging you tight and pressing a last, long kiss to your lips before standing up from the bed

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! Here's a drabble I wrote as a warm up, not my best work but it's short And it was written at three am, Enjoy!

The radio man's Wife

Alastor x female reader

Warnings:

Human Alastor, murder, Not much Alastor in here but he's here, victim blaming the dead people

You could ask anyone who had met her and they would tell you that The local radio host's wife was the sweetest person they had ever met, a real angel on earth, she'd help out her neighbors, delivering fresh baked goods to those in need, she'd help take care of the neighborhood kids while their parents got away for a night,

She was a saint, who was to know that she had married a monster? She was just another unwilling victim right?

After all,

She was just so kind!

but even those who appear kind could do the cruelest of things, sweet words secretly drenched in venom, dressed in soft unsuspecting colors, her eyes that held nothing but fondness for the person she married and distain for those who stood against him, for those who ran his name through the mud.

She'd gleefully turn a blind eye to the wicked acts he did, being nothing but a bystander, at most she threw a few sickly sweet words to the victims that left them feeling sick to the pits of their stomaches before they perished.

She'd clean up any remaining mess he left behind, making any leftover carnage into fertilizer for her beautiful garden, mopping up the blood stained floors, or digging up a deep grave in the nearby woods for him to drag a body or two into.

She willingly laid next to someone who had countless people's blood on his hands, she'd give nothing but a love-filled smile at him,

She'd dance with a repeat murderer while soft jazz played on the radio each night after dinner, after the dishes were done and dried He'd take her hand and they'd dance.

She'd give a small kiss on the cheek, telling him to stay safe and leave him to his business slaughtering folks.

After all they deserved it right? They weren't truly good folks, Her and her dear Alastor believed ? that wholeheartedly, and Honestly it's their own fault for being easy targets

Right?

No one would believe you if you told them beforehand that the charming radio host, Alastor was a cold blooded murderer who had claimed multiple lives,

After all he was so charming, always with that smile on his face that could make anyone swoon, although you could never exactly know what he was thinking, people adored his voice and his radioshow where he'd play the tunes of the time, and briefly speak about the recent disappearances of people, telling everyone to stay safe.

It's truly the charming ones you should look out for.

It was only revealed when someone hunting in the dead of night mistook her dearest Alastor for a deer, shooting him swiftly through the head, killing him almost instantly, leaving him to be bitten and torn by man's best friend.

The phonecall she got when it was discovered was heart wrenching,

Her beloved Radio host went from charming to his name being thrown around, treated like a monster, [Which he was, he killed people] his office was cleaned out swiftly after being searched for anything alluding to his crimes, the home they shared was searched and torn apart for evidence as she sobbed into the arms of a supportive, unsuspecting neighbor,

After everything went down she was either scorned or deemed a unfortunate lady who unknowingly married a murderous monster, she had parts of the community that took pity bring around casseroles and give her words of comfort.

It couldn't have been more then a year since Alastor had gone, a family member of one of his victims wanted revenge, however since the murderer was already six feet under, why not go for his widow?

In the dead of night carrying a gun he crept into the home she once shared with her beloved, he moved passed the picture frames on the walls, from events, Their wedding photos and pictures of family, all were hung up neatly.

He opened the door, a creaking noise rung out throughout the house,

He moved forward towards the bed where the widow laid, deep in a slumber she'd never wake up from,

The man lifted up the gun and shot her right in the heart, She didn't know what hit her.

Arising from the ground she brushed herself off, the sight of brimstone and the harsh smell of sulfur filled her nose,

She didn't know what killed her, maybe a heart attack? Perhaps she choked on something in her sleep? Well there was no use in wondering, what's done is done, and from the looks of it she definitely ended up in hell, wasn't surprising after all she did help out her husband in his crimes.

With a quick look at herself, she made a face at the animal ears that protruded from her head, along with the matching tail on her back, shaking her head she began walking around to explore the place.

She supposed it was time to go find her dearly departed darling now wasn't it?

Good evening folks! Thank you for reading!

I'm making my way through requests and a couple of them will hopefully be out within the week! Stay tuned!

[monarchberrysblog]

18+ mini–drabbles | miguel o’hara | 02

nerdy! miguel o’hara x fem! reader

✮ content warning: MATURE CONTENT IS PRESENT, VIEWER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. smut (obvi), overstimulation, cunnilingus, light fingering, and female ejaculation.

✭ author’s note: hello hello! i now have ao3! i’ll post my longer fics there instead of here! and here is a small drabble i worked on while sick! fevers always come in clutch…

main masterlist.

“Jesus…” Your jaw drops down, laughably down to the floor. “Oh my God!” Your moans fill the dorm before your hand caresses the back of his head, tugging at his wavy hair. With a heavy hand, your hand slapped against the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to your warm core. His hands squeeze your thighs in response before he allows the tip of his tongue to lick your entrance slowly from the bottom to your puffy clit. The wet muscle lingered before he eagerly took the bundle of nerves between his teeth, grazing his fangs.

“Careful…!” You slap the back of his head and scoot his head away from between your legs. “Sorry! Sorry…” He mumbles and places a gentle kiss against your clit, slowly pulling away. His face is coated, making it look like he helped himself to a serving of a sweet treat but went overboard. He licks his lips, licking the clear, slippery, and stretchy discharge. He looked like a kitten who fell into a bowl of milk face-first.

He resorts to soft, gentle nibbles against your clit before smoothing it out with the flat of his tongue, feeling the aloe vera-like sensation against the puffy ball of nerves.

“Better, thank you.” You sighed, back to basking in his touch and kitten licks. His eyes dart up, looking at you, seeing your head thrown back into your silky pillows. His mind did a double take, his sanity staggering at five miles per hour. What if he…

Those staggering ideas halted as your hands touched his face, removing those rectangular frames. His vision clouded, creating a jump, contrasting his once-assisted 20/20 vision—chills course down his spine like a snake climbing a tree. But it didn't phase him physically as he continued to bask in your warmth and taste. "Right there..." You exhale before you comb his hair back and pull him close to your needy pussy.

His nose smashing against your wet clit was not on his plans, especially on a Thursday night when he should be studying, not memorizing your taste (or anatomy) like he had a test over your warmth and taste.

"I'm close..." He hears the soft announcement but continues to savor you in bliss. He's listened to the words in some videos but didn't expect to hear you say them. His hand rests on your lower stomach, his thumb slowly rubbing the sensitive nub. "Keep it there!" The pitch in your tone jumps drastically before you wrap your legs around his head, trapping him like a spider grabbing its prey with sticky webs of deception.

The subtle nibbles and licks continue before a warm fluid waterboards him. He spits the small fluid out and kisses the inside of your thigh firmly. "Holy shit..." You reach down and gently wipe away the clear liquid off his chin. "Didn't mean to waterboard you." You giggled as you saw Miguel wipe away the mess you left on his nose. lips, and chin. "Didn't know that you were capable of..."

"Female ejaculation."

“Yeah, that…”