#an ungodly volume of teeth

[bookshopsbizarreblog]

Did you know that you'd need to eat ~260,000 human teeth every second to fuel the Flux Capacitor?

Okay, so, the sources behind this beautiful statistic

As is stated a number of times by Doc Brown, the Flux Capacitor requires 1.21 gigawatts of power

According to a 2017 article by Science.org, eating all of someone's teeth would give an average of 36 calories [1]

The typical adult human will have 32 teeth, including their wisdom teeth. I don't know whether the 36 calorie statistic was taken with or without wisdom teeth, so I'm going to assume that it's with them. That way, we get a bigger number of teeth!

And the math!

Gigawatts are a bit frustrating to work with, because we can't just get a specific amount of teeth we'd need to eat to power it. Much like a 100 watt light bulb, that number is about how much energy it consumes every second of its operation, rather than a set quantity we need. And since it is stated that the time travel happens instantaneously (and looking at the frame-by-frame of the stop watches demonstrating the time travel shows that they are still synced, further showing this) [2], there is no time for the energy consumption to happen within. So whatever number of teeth it would take to fuel the Flux Capacitor via metabolic processes (assuming all of the calories a human would gain from digesting teeth are perfectly transferred into electrical energy and ignoring the energy cost associated with digesting the teeth in the first place) needs to be some rate of teeth / time.

So let's break it down unit conversion style

To turn that formula into plain English, we start by finding the energy each individual tooth has. If a set of them has 36 calories, and there are 32 in a set, then each tooth is 1.125 (36/32 -> 9/8) calories. By flipping that number, we are expressing that, for every calorie we wind up needing to run the flux capacitor, we will need 8/9ths of a tooth.

Next, we can convert the (food) calories into joules. They both measure the same thing--energy--and they're just different units for it. Similar to how feet and meters work. Joules are more useful for this formula, since joules and watts are easier to convert between, and the flux capacitor's energy requirements are measured in watts. Each calorie is 4184 joules, so we just convert between them.

Then we can covert the joules directly into watts! A joule is a watt second, meaning that something that consumes one watt of power for one second will have used a joule of energy. To use the example of the 100 watt lightbulb, if it was running for 1 second, it would use 100 joules. If it was running for 2 seconds, it would have used 200 joules. And so on.

(a watts * b seconds = a * b watt seconds = a * b joules)

Now that we've converted from calories to joules, and joules to watt seconds, we have:

The section on the right is splitting out the different aspects to make it slightly easier to understand. Essentially, this formula is saying that for every 4,707 watts of power we need, we must consume one tooth per second. That isn't a lot of teeth,,, yet. Unfortunately, 1.21 giga-watts is a lot of watts. 1.21 * 10^9 of them, to be precise. And after running that number through the calculator, we get a grand total of 257,064 teeth per second. But as we don't know the exact number of calories per teeth, it's safer to round up to ~260,000 teeth per second.

So, if Doc Brown built his DeLorean with the capacity to metabolize teeth at 100% efficiency, he would need to feed it around 260,000 of those enamelous little morsels every second to travel through time.

[1]

[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HV6wO_UVfWo

[katszumi]

every room stood still. your kitten, katsuki insisted on naming 'skullcrusher', also didn't dare to move.

your head hung low, feeling the stuffy air sneak into your lungs. you glanced at the clock on your watch. 7:19. the usual time katsuki arrived at the doorstep.

normally, you'd rush to the door, showering your boyfriend with short pepper kisses on his face. but you remained on the velvet couch, the same couch you picked out when house shopping with katsuki.

a click sounded, indicating the door was recently unlocked. you harshly breathed in the same stuffy air, forcing yourself to swallow the panic that resided inside of you.

katsuki slugged through the door, immediately dropping his bag at the front door. his eyes met yours then to the kitchen, his face contorting slightly at the sight. it was empty?

"no food. what's up with you?" his words came off more formidable than he liked, especially when he knew something wasn’t right.

katsuki inched towards you, his eyebrows wearing an expression of its own. they were furrowed, his right eyebrow a little deeper than the other.

"katsuki," you started, breaking your words off.

he slightly cocked his head in confusion and worry. as he came closer, not only did he see your presence shaking alongside the couch, but he also saw two suitcases behind you that were clearly filled to the brim.

you watched how his eyes widened, how his teeth unclenched leaving his jaw to drop. his ruby irises instantly shot back towards you, scanning your face for any signs that you were playing a joke on him.

"what the fuck." the words leave his mouth too quick for him to register.

you swallowed nothing. "katsuki, we need to talk."

"talk?!" his mouth opened to continue yet no words seemed to come. oddly enough, for the first time, he was speechless.

"i-i need you to listen to me." you hated the fact that you stammered on your words.

"and then what?!" he paused, "you leave me?" katsuki's voice lowered in volume, a tone of angst leaked within his words.

you attempt to stand strong. you weren't even sure if this was the right choice now by looking at his wounded face.

slowly, you nodded.

"yes."

katsuki was expecting that. hell. who wouldn't when their girlfriend has two suitcases behind her? but hearing the words leave her mouth was entirely different. it was like a shot through his heart, the bullet penetrating every piece of restraint he had.

his head turned to the side. he was battling his thoughts; every fucked up thing he did occuring to his mind.

"is it because i left my bloody rag on the counter the night before? because if so, i promise to god, i will never do it again. i know how much you despise it." he went on his own plethora, his words and body language holding enormous amounts of panic.

"katsuki." you reinstated again. if he went on like this much longer, you were afraid you'd never have the strength again to walk out of the door.

"or because i yell too loudly at ungodly hours?" he ignored your words.

"katsuki." you repeated.

"i understand i'm not the easiest person. fuck. i'm even shocked i've gotten this far." he rambled, not caring about a word you have to say. he had to say something, do something, in order to convince you. bargaining with all of his strength. "what have i done? what do i need to fix?"

you reach for his hand, molding your hand to fit in his. you placed your open hand on top, soothing small circles into his skin.

"it's not you, katsuki."

katsuki's face fell. "then, why are you leaving me?"

"i can't live like this. i was not taught to be a housewife. to clean, cook, wait for your arrival every night at seven o'clock just to eat dinner with you." you shook your head. "i don't have a job or even a hobby! i am stuck within these walls everyday, the paparazzi at damn near every corner doesn't help either. i am exhausted being alone all day."

you could feel the sweat accumulate on katsuki's palms.

"i'll tell the media to back off. i swear to it. a-and, i know somebody who's looking for help with their business, i can set it u—"

"katsuki, i am miserable here!" you interrupted his words, slightly raising your voice. "i can't do it anymore! you are a pro-hero, dedicating your life to these people everyday. and what am i doing? making sure that your stomach is filled and that there's no stains on a countertop!"

katsuki was quiet, allowing the words to settle in. taking the moment of silence of advantage, you slipped your hands from his.

"you're a pro hero. you've made the ranks. you've accomplished everything you've hoped for." you sighed. "i just don't fit within your schedule."

katsuki remained silent, reality now kicking in for him. he bit the inside of his cheek to restrain the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"i'm sorry. i truly, really am. i just need to accomplish my own goals before it's too late."

katsuki's eyes fell to the ground, a very slow nod coming from him. he cleared his throat, also sniffling to remove the snot that was aching to run down his nose.

"where will you be staying?"

you echoed his action from earlier, turning your head sideways. you couldn't face him anymore after utterly destroying his heart.

"it's best if you don't know."

he paused. "right."

you spun on your heel to bend down behind you, grabbing your overly stuffed suitcases. you increased the height on the handles, slowly trudging them towards the door.

you couldn't believe that this was happening. it was a last minute decision. lying down in bed, realizing that if this continued, you'd be nothing more but a trophy wife that's made no true accomplishments on her own.

you were more than that. more than a cleaner and cook.

"i didn't accomplish everything." katsuki broke the silence.

you halted your steps, peering at him over your shoulder. you hoped he took the silence as permission to continue.

"i wanted to marry you. have a big ass wedding reception and drink until we could barely see anymore." he dryly chuckled. "maybe even have a few flowergirls of our own. that goal mattered more to me than any accomplishments i've made before in this life." your heart clenched at the fact.

tears covered your vision, your breathing starting to become sporadic.

"you can keep skullcrusher." you faced forward, grabbing the door handle. "i love you, kats. thank you for everything." your words trembled, tears uncontrollably streaming down your face.

as the door shut behind you, katsuki buried his face into his hands, and cried like a little boy in his now empty, silent home.

[manias-wordcount]

The Hunt (Shirou Oogami)

Kinktober 2022 Day Twenty: Predator/Prey

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

When the streets are dark and everyone is asleep, the night becomes his.

 That’s why you race across rooftops,and you jump from ledge to ledge at this ungodly hour. Quick steps and fast strides beneath a blackened and endless sky. The wind will force you back and the impact may stutter your steps. Your feet will ache and your legs may burn. Though it does little to make you stop. And so, you’ll keep going under big, bright moons and beautiful twinkling stars. For as long as you can. For as long as it takes. You keep going. 

 Because you may close your eyes for a second. And you may clear your mind for a moment. But you can never stop running. 

 He will catch you if you do. 

 Without fail, your sensitive ears pick up on the sound of his approach. The heavier impact of his feet against the same surfaces- they’re too telling. They share with you stories of his wants and his needs. His desires and his longing. You may not have the nose that he does. It may not be able to paint you pictures that are as clear as day in your head from one sniff alone. But you can feel your opponent. You can imagine your enemy. 

 You know your hunter. You know him well.

 So well that as you take the daring chance to use a fire escape as a shortcut, you can picture just how he’ll look in this moment now that you’ve faltered. The crazed look in his eyes. The hungered breathes. The drool dripping front the sides of his unhinged jaw, ready to coat his prey and satisfy his need for the hunt. His need for the chase. 

 You run faster. And you try to ignore the harsh beating of your chest. You will not survive otherwise.

 In hindsight, you knew you should have done better. You took too much time on your decision. To take the safe path and travel above? Or to go down and hope the city will provide you with the cover you needed. Roofs and ledges made so much sense. They worked for you before, so why couldn’t they work for you now? But that didn’t account for him. The slow yet steady increase of the volume of noises alerts you to his presence. He’s getting closer. Roofs and ledges be damned, he’s catching up to you. And he’s catching up to you quick.

 So this time when you landed on a new building, home to someone you might never know, you decide on something different. Instead of taking your usual path of straight and forward, you duck to your left, and you jump off the side of the building. It takes all of two seconds for your feet to land on something metal and hard and almost unstable as you make it onto the first platform of this building’s fire escape. It makes a loud sound- a sound that is almost easily drowned out by the city’s nightlife now that you’re closer to civilization. But you don’t stop to think. You don’t stop to consider. No, you just turn on your heels and you make a mad dash for the stairs down.

 Up high, he can see all of you. He could hear all of you. But as you grip onto the lightly rusted black railing of the fire escape, you know that could gain the advantage. Even with the head start you had, you’re nowhere near as fast as him. And while he may know these city streets as well as you do, he can’t chase you in public. He can’t hunt you in crowds. You may duck and you may weave to get out of the way of those in your lovely city. Out of the way of the ones who never seem to need sleep. But your enemy cannot bare his teeth and show his claws where the light may touch him. You know him too well. 

 Asphalt is in sight. So you grip the railing, and you grip it hard as use your hand to thrust yourself forward and down the last flight of stairs. You land and it’s a little hard on your aching feet, but it doesn’t stop you from throwing yourself into a sprint. Past bags and bags of trash that are piled outside dumpsters. Past dumped boxes and crates, left for someone else to handle. Past closed and locked doors with no windows to tell you who’s home. You run past all of it.

  Because right in front of you- you see it.

 The bright and shiny lights of a main road. A hundred feet away. The hum of cars coming and going every now and then. The shouts and music of those who never seem to need sleep. Fifty feet away. A sanctuary littered with nighttime vice and sins. But you’ll take it. Twenty-five feet away and you’ll taste it. With just ten feet left, you’ll reach out your arm and you’ll grab it and you’ll pull it close.

  Five feet. You’ll be safe. 

 Four feet. You’re almost safe. 

 Three feet. You escaped the chase.

  Two feet. You’re finally fre-

 It happens so fast you can’t even tell what direction he tackled you from. 

 Hope is ripped from you in a cold, dead instant. The wind is torn out of your chest as your eyes blur and blur and blur until suddenly, your back is being slammed against a brick wall. You do not have to open your eyes to see who pinned you to the wall of this alley you tried desperately to use as an escape. And yet, you still open them. The dark eyes of a wolf, hungry and enraged, stare down at you. There are a lot of words you could use to describe the wolf beastman in front of you. Intimidating and terrifying. Hungry and impassioned. A monster. A predator.

 A human. 

 That’s what you call it as the fur and the fangs fall away to a body you could relate more towards. A body that presses up against you and dips its head into your neck inhaling your scent. A body that uses its hands to trail up and down your body, taking its time to run against your curves before giving a possessive squeeze. A body that seems to thrive off of the sounds of your soft moans as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer impossibly closer. Thrive almost as much as he does under the light of the moon when you and he play your little hunting games. The games that he has and will always win. Because the truth is, after time and again you haven’t done it. After attempt and attempt, you haven’t made it. 

 You have yet to outrun the silver wolf.

 But that doesn’t mean Shirou doesn’t love it when you try.

[lowaltitude]

Passive | Billy Hargrove

— Stranger Things

— Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

— x Reader (Y/N)

❪ FEM! ❫ ❪ prompt: ‘ “don’t you know who i am?” “yup. i just don’t care” ’ ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Billy Hargrove x FEM!reader, in which William “Billy” Hargrove is pushed to his limit by some girl he just met in his Biology class.

𖥻 OR in which Billy‘s charming act doesn’t fool you in the slightest.

𖥻 No connection to Stranger Things series timeline. 2.4k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I tapped my foot impatiently, staring at clock just wanting the day to end. It felt like every second took 100 seconds.

After contemplating skipping this class today but deciding to come I was now regretting it. All I’d done was have to sit and look infront if me at Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagen being the most obnoxious couple ever.

“Tommy will be with Nick, Daisy with Richard, Carol with Fred—“ Mrs Green’s rambling about our class pairings was cut off when the bell finally sounded. Everyone rushing to get out of their seats and go home, or to wherever they had plans to be. “Oh. And Billy your partner will be Y/N”

Perfect. I inwardly groaned. Not only did I despise partnered work, but I was with the biggest douche in the school. Mr Popular, the ladies man himself. Billy Hargrove.

I looked at Billy, watching him light a cigarette between his teeth and walk out the door without a care in the world, and I felt like slamming my head against the desk.

“Mrs Green?” I sighed, approaching her desk “Can I work alone? Or at least with someone else”

“Pairs are final, you get a new partner next semester”

I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her about the things I’d heard he’d done, the way he treated people. He was constantly angry! Perpetually unsatisfied! He was just an ass! He wasn’t even passive aggressive like most of the mean people here, he was just aggressive aggressive.

“Fuck” I muttered, earning a pointed glare from the woman. Tugging my bag over my shoulder and trudging into the halls.

As I made my way out to the bus stop I spotted Billy leaned against his car, a young girl skating up and climbing into the passenger seat. He waits a moment before climbing in and speeding away from the school zone.

Another reason I knew Billy was ‘the worst’? He lived a few houses away from me, and almost every night I was woken up by him coming home at some ungodly hour with his music playing at full volume and the engine of his muscle car revving.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I kept my headphones on the next morning, resting my elbow on the table and holing my face up as I stared out the window and contemplated why my family had to decide to live here of all places.

People hollered as Billy walked in, giving him high fives and pats on the back. Presumably for his latest ‘conquest’. Mrs Green directing him away from the empty seat next to Tommy H and towards me in the back row. And, unfortunately, he obliged.

“Hey” He smirked, nodding his head at me and giving me a once over. Ignoring him, I kept my attention on the window hoping he would think I just hadn’t heard him.

“Alright!” Mrs Green said, and I reluctantly took off my headphones, ignoring Billy’s raised eyebrow. “First group to correctly identify all the cells under a microscope will not be receiving homework tonight. You and your partner must work together to complete the list.”

Rolling my eyes, I grab one of the samples in front of me and put it under the microscope.

“Hey” Billy repeats suddenly.

“Hello” I keep my eyes on the work in front of me. Billy doesn’t seem pleased that I wasn’t staring at him in awe, he scoffs and moves closer to the table in his chair. Grabbing the microscope, he looks at the sample and furrows his eyebrows.

“What the fuck is that?”

After he moves away I pull it back to me, looking at it for a few seconds and grabbing my pen. “It’s Prophase. The first stage of mitosis” He looks at me, confusion evident on his face “The topic we’ve been working on for almost 2 months.”

“What are you listening to?” He tries to reach past me to grab my cassette player but I put a hand up to stop him, switching out the sample and looking in the microscope again.

“Fourth phase” I mumble, looking at my paper and keeping my other hand up as I write “Anaphase”

Billy doesn’t move, he just stares at me with one arm reached out, my hand blocking it, and his mouth ajar before slowly pulling his arm back.

“Metaphase” I smile, looking at the last sample, I raise my hand, Mrs Green walking over to Billy and I as I slide my open notebook to him.

“Yes?” She asks cautiously

“We’re done” I turn to Billy, gesturing with my head towards the notes.

“Uh” He looks down at it “1 was Prophase, 2 Anaphase, and 3 Metaphase.”

Mrs Green smiles and gives us a nod, pulling away the tray of samples “Nice work, I knew you would be a good pair.”

I exhale out my nose sharply, taking my book from Billy and putting my headphones back on as I look out the window again. But just as I press play on my tape, Billy leans over and pushes stop.

“Don’t you know who I am?” Does he know who he is? Despite what he might think he’s not some celebrity, he’s not Rob Lowe or John Stamos, he’s some boy that moved to a middle of nowhere town from California and thinks he can take over because women think he’s attractive.

“Yup.” I nod, putting my finger on play again “I just don’t care”

Thankfully the bell rang and I managed to rush out into the hall before meeting his infamous ‘wrath’. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I also didn’t really handle being yelled at very well.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“You don’t care?” Billy’s voice in my ear makes me practically jump out of my skin. I hadn’t seen him all day and he decided to startle me as I walked out of the school.

“Oh my god” I put one hand to my chest “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“If you’re trying to get my attention, congratulations, you did it.”

“What? You’re so full of yourself, I do not give a shit about you or anyone else in this godforsaken town” Spinning on my heels, I turn away from him and start towards the bus.

I hear Billy groan as he jogs to catch up with me, his hands buried in his jean pockets. “Yeah, sure. I believe you” His voice is drenched with sarcasm. “I’m in a charitable mood, i’ll throw you a bone, you’re not exactly below my standards.”

“That’s disgusting” Ew. I shuddered at the thought.

I pick up speed, Billy stopping as he seems to realise i’m not joking. He stands there until i’ve taken my seat on the bus and I see him quirk his head to the side slightly before turning to walk to his car as I pull my headphones on again.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Thankfully I didn’t have Biology the next day, and I thought I had managed to escape Billy’s sights until I found him talking to some girl right next to my locker. Leaned against my locker actually.

“Move” I huff, not in the mood to even pretend to care about seeming polite.

The girl glares at me, tossing her hair over her shoulder as Billy rolls his eyes and slides slightly to the side off of my locker. He growls when I aggressively pull my door open, hitting him in the arm.

As I shut my locker door and turn to leave the school, Billy shakes off the girl and jogs after me. “Let me drive you home, sweetheart”

“I’m sorry— Do you not know my name?”

“Of course I do” He scoffs, and I stop walking tapping my foot and folding my arms across my chest as I wait. “It’s…”

Unsurprising. “Goodbye” Billy touches his palm to the small of my back and I tense, trying to shake him off. “Stop touching me”

“Never heard that before” He mutters, putting his hand back into his jacket pocket and stopping, leaned against the school door.

“You should get used to it, because girls aren’t always going to throw themselves at you. They’re going to realise that you are a self centred idiot who’ doesn’t respect anyone, and that they deserve so much better.”

Billy only smirked as I stood their, pointing my finger at him.

“What?!” I almost shout

“Sure you don’t want that ride home?” Raising an eyebrow at him, he begins to spin his keys around his finger. I look behind me, groaning as the bus pulls away.

Begrudgingly, I stomp away from Billy and head in the direction of his stupid car. Actually, I liked his car it was really pretty. But it was stupid because it was impossibly loud.

He walked alongside me, content with my annoyance. The young red head girl leaned against the passenger side looked over her shoulder at us, sighing and moving the seat so she could sit in the back.

“No, it’s okay.” I smile at her, putting my hand in her shoulder before I duck into the back seat. Both her and Billy stare at me like i’d lost my mind.

“Get in the car” Billy huffs at the girl, presumably his sister. She takes her seat and he starts there car, I repeatedly catch her trying to look at me in the mirrors. “Where’s your house?”

“Are you serious?” The girl laughs

“Shut up” Billy spits back, and I’m tempted to kick the back of his seat as hard as I can.

She sinks in her seat slightly, her voice going a little quiet as she looks down and spins a wheel on her skateboard. “She lives next to us”

Billy smacks his lips and nods, tapping his hands on the sterling wheel and I lean forward, peering between the gap in the seats to look at the girl.

“I really don’t want to be here, don’t worry” She raises an eyebrow at me “I like your sneakers”

“Oh. Thank you…?”

“Y/N” I smile. Billy snaps his fingers, as if he had triumphed in finding out my name, and I roll my eyes. “That’s him learning my name.”

A small smile plays across her lips “I’m Max”

Nodding, I move back and look out the window, Billy brings his hand up turning up the stereo and I glance at him as I recognise the song. Great, now I have to hate this band because he liked them.

He pulls into the driveway and Max climbs out, moving the seat for me and I thank her, throwing my bag over my shoulder and starting to walk away from their house.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Billy calls after me, folding his arms and leaning in the roof of his car.

“What part of ‘I DONT LIKE YOU’ wasn’t clear?”

“Can I drive you to school tomorrow?”

“No!”

Max grabs her things and goes inside, leaving Billy watching me as I walk down three houses and straight in my front door. I can see him lighting as cigarette as I get to my bedroom and close the curtains.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Why do you hate me?” Billy asks, his voice low as he puts a hand by my head, practically pinning me against my locker

“Go away”

“Answer.”

“Because you’re rude, and arrogant, and I saw the way you talk to Max. You’re inconsiderate and treat women like they’re made to serve you.”

“Is that it?”

Furrowing my brows I scoff at him “You keep forcing me to be around you when I clearly don’t want to, you—“

I’m cut off when Billy decides to press his finger to the wrinkle between my eyebrows. It’s as if he had pressed a mute button because I try to continue but nothing comes out.

“I’m going to make you like me” He licks his lips, smiling as he meets my eyes “You’re going to beg for my attention”

“It seems like I already have it” I smack his hand away, but he just puts it on the other side of my head, caging me in against my locker.

“Y/N” Billy says breathlessly, and I’m almost taken back by how much softer his voice is than normal.

Realising that I was just having positive thoughts about Billy Hargrove, I shake my head and use my strength to push him back slightly. “We’re late for class”

He chuckles, but follows me towards biology. Sitting at he table and waiting, drumming his fingers on the desk. What the fuck.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Billy was, once again, leaned at my locker at the end of the day. Girls flocking to him like he was free chocolate. As I closed my locker he waved his hands and the girls, who seemingly had extremely low self respect, did as he wished and scurried away.

“Hey” He smiled, walking along side me “Can I take you home?”

“No, thanks”

“Come on, it’ll be fun”

“I think i’d have at least the tiniest bit of respect for you if you understood what ‘no’ meant.”

“Oh sweetheart, you never take no for answer when you want something this badly”

I made a fake gagging sound and Billy rolled his eyes, grabbing my hand and planting his feet. “Let go”

“Don’t get on the bus”

“Billy.” I glare, pulling my hand out of his grip. It wasn’t even that tight it was just strange.

“Say my name like that again, I like it” I turn back to the bus and Billy sighs, jogging so he can walk backwards in front of me. “Let me drive you. Please”

Had he just actually said ‘please’ or was I delusional? I don’t know what Billy’s angle was, but I wasn’t going to fall for it.

“If you’re trying to prove a point to someone just lie and tell them whatever it is you need to say”

“What?” He stops walking and I almost run into him.

“You know, the fucking cliche. Popular hot jock gets dared by his asshole friends to make an advance on some loser. Tell them whatever you want”

“Y/N, my friends don’t even know you exist.” He holds in his laughter “I just need to make you like me for my own personal gain. Plus, then you’ll beg me to forgive all the times you berated me”

Tucking my lips into a line I stare at him, trying to see if he was telling the truth or not. Accepting his response, I turn in the direction of his car and smiling when I spot Max approaching it.

“You really think i’m hot?” Billy whispers

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued…?

— now read billy’s retelling here!

[one-winged-dreams]

Screaming

ship: (pl: Adriel & Zack) AU: Monster AU source: final fantasy vii word count: 795

But I'm screaming Living in tragedy And now nothing is how it once seemed

Monster AU except Angeal died anyway. I'm a machine that turns unrelated trauma frustration into angst.

Hope you like fics where they don't end sweetly. :)

tag list: @kylars-princess @adoredbyalatus @dearly-beeloved @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@dear-gambler @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitosoulmate @goldenworldsabound

"The screaming just won't stop," they had said.

Zack had been on fieldwork for three days. Three days of apparent ceaseless blood-curdling screams.

Someone should have called him. He shoved his way past any form of logistical procedure on the way into containment, the cacophony only getting louder with every entry point. 

Why had no one called him?

No one had had time to clear the containment bay if the way various inconsequential objects were strewn about had anything to say about it. Not only strewn about, obliterated beyond recognition. 

Adriel had had three days to tirelessly rampage.

"Hey," Zack called out to the larger-than-usual figure slumped over, back facing him as it slammed a free fist down into one of several widening craters in the floor. 

Again and again and again. 

"Hey," Zack's tone became more stern as he approached, the absolutely ungodly screaming starting to become painful to behold. Usually his voice was enough to start the process of coming down from this emotional peak, not to outright stop it, but diminish it to a painful wailing. 

And yet this time the thing that his friend sometimes became didn't so much as react. In fact, his fist began to rain down on the ground with more intensity.

"HEY!" Zack raised his voice. He hadn't wanted to, but he wasn't even sure he was audible over that screaming. That fucking screaming, ceaseless and full of pain that was nearly palpable. 

And nothing came of it. And Zack tensed. 

"They let you do this? For three days?" he called out, his tone that was usually oh so carefully curated to calm and soothe these episodes tinted with anger. Not at Adriel, not at the thing that he couldn't stop himself from being. 

It was... everything. 

He let out an aggravated sigh as he received no response, no inclination his presence had been registered. 

"Adri, stop it."

He didn't plead, more so beseeched in a fashion that was clear he wanted this to be over. Not just for his sake, there was no mistaking what kind of pain that screaming was evidence of. 

And scream was all that Adriel continued to do.

"Stop it, please!" 

Now he DID plead, going forward with his decision to approach and finding himself instantly rejected by the sweep of an arm, falling onto his ass as he narrowly avoided being backhanded.

Frustration gnawed at him.

"I didn't LEAVE you, nobody told me you were like this!" he tried to find a reason for the violent rejection, going at it from any angle he could think of.

The way that Adriel swept aside an amount of rubble with a growl and a shriek, sending it flying into the wall, Zack became aware he wasn't making progress. 

"What, what is it? What is it that's hurting you so damn BAD?" 

Zack didn't bother to pick himself up. On the contrary, his own fist came down on the ground. The impact grounded him a little, opening his thoughts and making him suck in air through his teeth.

"I can't... I know I'm not who you need right now. But I'm here. I'm here, dammit. Let me HELP YOU."

His attempt at grounding seemed to only hit a sore spot, his only consolation an ear-splitting scream and the knowledge that he was right. 

"He's not... He's not here anymore! He's not HERE anymore, Adri! He can't help you, but I CAN!" 

Zack's attempt at pulling himself to his feet was slightly hindered by the way the volume of Adriel's shrieking was enough to send his head reeling. 

"HE'S NOT HERE ANYMORE! HE'S NOT COMING BACK, I CAN'T BRING HIM BACK FOR YOU!" 

The hot tears of what Zack wanted to assume were frustration began to build beyond what he could hold back. It was just frustration, nothing else. He couldn't let it be anything else. 

Adriel stood, and Zack had to take a cautious step back. 

Though the Martyr form's legs faded into nothing towards the base, the impact of Adriel's steps was clear and solid. Zack avoided his trajectory, taking several more steps out of his path and only watching as he lifted an object that had been reduced to nothing more than twisted, unrecognizable metal. 

He sent it into the wall with an impact only loud enough to make the screaming seem even louder.

"I CAN'T, Adri! Get ahold of yourself, for FUCK'S sake!" 

He hadn't even realized what he was saying until he said. Did he regret it? The uncertainty of that answer gnawed at him with an amount of guilt. 

"Please..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"You can't go on like this..." 

And at that point, he wasn't even sure who that statement was directed at anymore. 

[vivalaraptor]

Does my next door neighbor know that when he sits outside in his car playing music at full volume for over an hour; that it shakes my house and makes my teeth hurt?? Or do his big truck and small feet make him immune to the suffering of others?????

-a poem by me at an ungodly hour

[thebigshotman]

(Roasting) Big bird. Get in the oven, big bird. You'll go great with potatoes. You even come with your own tinfoil, how convenient.

ROASTING TIME

Now that he is done reducing that last anon to ashes, Spaul can properly focus his attention on this one now. And what they have to say isn’t much better, but at least it’s slightly alright by the sheer virtue that it isn’t another practical joke. The strings lower his wings so they wrap around himself, almost as if to mock what they’re saying.

*WH4T??? YOU THINK I’M S0ME [[Thanksgiving Turkey]] WHO SHOULD B3 [slowly roasted] AND-AND-AND [nom nom]ed????

He sighs, having been rendered a bit calmer after killing that insolent anon before. They’re right, if only just a little. With his feathered hair and wings and “beak”, he probably looks more than a little like a bird. The whole “tinfoil” part though.

*[Smooth Taste of] NEO 1S NOT [[tinfoil]]!!! IT C0ULD [*explosion*] U IN 5 S3CONDS OR [[your money back!]]!!!

As if on cue, though, his wings go to shield him even more. The strings lessening their hold just to mock him. He grits his teeth as an unholy amount of static plays at an ungodly volume, before sighing and putting out his hands.

*…WHERE-WHERE’$ THE [industry grade oven]…???

[hansensgirl]

baby, but you.

summary. | He hopes you can feel it, because nobody else can heal it but you. Baby, but you.

warnings. | smut, hate fucking (ish), enemies to lover, slight angst, birthdays, degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, yearning, crushing, riding, couch sex, breeding, possessiveness, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI AND DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES.

word count. | 3.6k

pairings. | Bucky Barnes x Reader.

a/n. | happy birthday @asadmarveltrashbag ilysm!!! thank you so much for being there for me since like day one, for being such a good role model and for just being amazing. thank you so much for listening to me rant and giving me advice, i’m so grateful for you. i hope your birthday is amazing today, i love you so much!! don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know.

He stands afar from you. A cold, calculated stare that you’re almost tempted to challenge with your killer one. There are only about two and a half meters of space separating you two, and even that’s not enough. You’re like a cat and a dog, constantly fighting about God knows what. Sometimes it’s the stupidest of things; other times, it’s the most reasonable. Either he has the television on too loud, or you come home too late. The other neighbours… Well, frankly, they don’t live here anymore.

It’s because they can’t handle his screaming when he has nightmares. You scoffed when you first heard it from your landlord, finding it absolutely insane that nobody is used to the sounds of a nightmare. As if they’re any better. You handle it like a champion, simply just putting on earbuds and your favourite songs at the lowest volume until you fall asleep. You almost feel bad for him when you see him with deep bags under his eyes.

But one short, snarky remark from him has the sympathy in you draining. Almost like the way his hands are the palest colour ever, and his skin doesn’t have the redness it should have. Almost as if the colours on a painting have been scraped off. You shouldn’t be noticing these things, really, but you just can’t help it. He’s almost a shell of the man he once was, at least in his words, but you believe that with some care (not from your hands, ew), he’ll be back to normal.

He shouldn’t notice the way you sigh every time you get home. The way you drag yourself through the carpeted hallway, out from the metal box that Bucky doesn’t trust. He doesn’t charge anything that has to do with heights, so that’s why he’s settled for the second floor. The drop in his stomach brings back so many memories that he can’t bear to remember.

Sometimes, he picks up the rumble of your stomach that he knows you’re embarrassed about, only because when it happens, you become the most fearful sailor to ever cross the shore. You always arrive right before Bucky falls asleep, leaving him at peace. ...No, no, no. It’s not like that. He totally doesn’t wait up until you come home safely before he can actually fall asleep so he can have a sense of calm. No, that’s absurd. Another absurd thing is the ungodly hour that you arrive home.

“Listen, you’re the one who bumped into me, okay? Let’s just leave it at that,” you huff, swinging your keychain between your fingers. Your digits are so soft, only ever coarse when you touch the skin between them. His hands, however, are almost the opposite. They’re rough and dry, but the crevices are a bit damp with sweat from pure nervousness. “No, no, you bumped into me, and we’re going to leave it at that, okay? Okay,” he nods, even though he’s talking to you.

“No, you bumped into me, and that’s that. Goodbye, Mr. Barnes,” you finish, throwing your bag over your shoulder and stomping down the hallways. You don’t look back once, simply just strutting your way to that darned elevator that you loathe. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your arm and turns you around. “I didn’t say you could go; we’re not done until I say we’re done,” he growls, gripping your arm tight enough to have you whimpering.

“No, fuck you. I’m tired of constantly listening to you bitch and moan about things that aren’t even my fault. God, it’s like you’re twenty fucking years old with no maturity, it’s fucking pathetic,” you spit, trying to yank your arm away. But compared to a supersoldier, your strength is equal to a cool spring breeze hitting a concrete building—basically nothing. Bucky’s chest heaves, and for a moment, you’re scared.

But even though he has a temper, he could never hurt you. He’s not the Winter Soldier; you’re sure of it.

His jaw clenches, and you stare at him intensely. Work is long forgotten, just like the fact that today is your birthday. That nervous, jittery feeling that would pool in the pits of your soul isn’t there. You wonder if it’s because you’re all grown up now, or maybe it’s because you’ve been so busy that your birthday seems like any other day in your eyes. Your eyes fall to his lips, almost on instinct. They’re pink and plump, slightly damp from the wetness on his tongue.

He gently pushes you inside his home, and you stumble back in shock. “I have to go to work–” you start, but he cuts you off. “I don’t give a shit. I need to teach you a lesson,” he snaps, pulling off his leather jacket. It has blue hues to it, sometimes grey if shone under the correct lighting. It’s overall black, suiting that dark soul of his that some people claim he has. You keep your mouth shut, clutching onto the strap of your backpack that rests on your right shoulder.

Suddenly, that fiery haze of yours has faded out, and you just watch him dumbfounded. Your jaw is slightly slack, but your eyes aren’t bulging out. Bucky pulls off the unusual leather gloves that always seemed to be a little too big on him. The space between his fingers and the cloth is always too much, and you even contemplated ‘accidentally’ giving him a new, better-fitting pair.

They flop onto the floor with an almost laughable sound, but you know you shouldn’t even dare to crack a smile. “Always going on and on about something. You just need to be shut up for once, don’t you?” Bucky questions, snapping his head towards you. “N- No…” you whisper, looking down to the ground. Suddenly, you prefer looking at wood floors to handsome men such as Bucky.

“Oh… Right, I forgot. You don’t know what’s good for you, that’s why you go to work and come home so late in the night. Bet you don’t have any time to fuck around with those pathetic twenty-year-old douchebags. That’s why you touch that little pussy of yours before you head to work, right?” he questions, and you gulp thickly.

Did he really hear it all?

“Please, I heard the way you finger fuck yourself in the shower all the way here. You really need to learn how to properly lock your door. You’re lucky those old ladies were here when I heard you, or else I would’ve come all the way over there and taught you a real good lesson,” he snaps, and you genuinely feel like doubting every little thing you do. “And you know what’s so funny, doll? I even hear the way you moan my name when you’re about to come,” he whispers, standing so close to you, and you wonder how he even managed to get here.

Your faces are inches away, His warm breath fans against your skin, and Bucky can feel the nervousness seeping through your pores. “Need a refresher? Or are you just going to stay quiet?” he questions, raising his eyebrows. He has a stupid smile on his face, and you’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or slap him. Both seem very appealing, but God, that devil on your shoulder always did have a loud voice.

Your bag joins his gloves on the floor, and you tilt your head upwards to kiss him. Your lips slowly slot against his, the taste of stale coffee immediately fills your mouth as Bucky shoves his tongue past your lips. He cups the side on your face, and your hands remain bent in the air. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you place them on his shoulders, hoping for the best. He tenses up for a bit, and you start to pull away.

He doesn’t let you go too far. His hands keep you near him, and he stares into your eyes. Blue, blown-out orbs give Bucky an even darker look, and you’re practically sailing the same ship. “Don’t… Don’t go,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. “I won’t, but-” you begin, but he cuts you off with an open-mouthed kiss. It’s so rough, so passionate. Teeth and tongues clash at each other, and you whimper against him as his hands move from your face.

They run down your body before gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. His front presses against yours, and you can feel his defined muscles through that black t-shirt of his. You wrap your arms around his neck, such a simple act and yet he’s swooning like the lovesick fool he is. No, no, no, he’s not lovesick, and he’s not swooning. He’s just wanting, and that is all, just like you are.

You roll your hips for friction, desperate for something. The faint feeling of Bucky’s hard cock sends shivers down your spine, and you just know he’s huge. He could probably split you in two if he really wants to, and maybe it’s what you want as well. God, just the mental image of his cock sliding in and out of you is so pleasurable. Wetness soaks your panties, and you moan into his mouth.

“Say ‘ah,’ slut,” he mumbles before pulling away from the kiss again. You quickly do so and watch as Bucky puckers his bruised, red lips. You’re not sure what to expect; a stupid, silly kiss or something else. Your tongue is stretched out inside your mouth, and you wait for him as your chest rises and falls. Your eyes watch him as he spits into your mouth, a wad of spit dripping onto your tongue and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.

You quickly swallow it as if it’s some sort of antidote to an incurable disease. “Oh, you’re such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? I bet you’d let me do anything to you, right? Let me fuck you silly, throw you around, treat you like the spoiled brat you are,” Bucky growls with a fierce smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. Sculpted by the Gods themselves, you wonder why the world has been so mean to him.

No, no, no, you don’t. You’re just desperate and needy.

“You really are stupid, and I haven’t even touched that little pussy of yours yet, and you can’t even answer a simple li’l question,” Bucky says out loud, expressing pure shame and disgrace. You shake your head before placing your hands back on his hard, defined chest. There’s a specific spot on his chest where the fabric is too sheer. You can see the way his soft hair has been shaved down to a mere stubble, and you wonder what he’d look like if it was grown out.

“I- I’m a dirty girl, I’d let you do anything to me, James,” you whisper to him, looking up at him with unintentional doe eyes. “I know, baby, I know,” he smirks before pushing you backwards. You expect to collide with the wooden floors harshly and startle the downstairs residents, or maybe even on a carpet that would try to break your fall but would end up failing.

You don’t expect to fall back onto a soft, cushioned couch. It’s more so an armchair that is a greyish-blue colour, one that you’d see and Ikea and want so bad, but you’d quickly change your mind once you see the whopping price it’s set at. Bucky towers over you, and you tilt your head up, still watching has the features of his face twitch a bit. His hands run down to your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans before his nimble yet strong, thick fingers reach to the button and zipper.

He makes quick work of stripping your clothes off for you, and you try your hardest to do the same for him. But flying, clashing hands that are oh so desperate can’t really do much. So as he pulls your wet panties down your feet, you hurriedly kick them to the floor. Bucky pulls his shirt over his head, and you’re not sure if you’ve lost it or if time truly has slowed down. You’re able to memorize each freckle, each scar, each mole and each muscle of his upper body.

He’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Though everyone has their measly little flaws that can be so bothersome, in your eyes, he has no flaws. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he breathlessly tells you, making you struggle to fight the cheerful smile that forces its way onto your face. “You’re pretty too, James,” you tell him, reaching backwards to unclasp your bra.

Now, there’s nothing special about it, really. It’s plain black, and in some areas, it physically pains you, leaving branded marks behind that feel good when you gently run your hands over them. Nonetheless, you look gorgeous with it on. But when it’s on the floor, treated like nothing, you’re even more beautiful. Your slick has stained your inner thighs with stickiness, and your clit throbs with need.

Bucky parts your legs, watching as strings of wetness pull apart from each other. “Fucking hell, is that all because of me, slut? Say it, tell me who you’re so wet for,” he demands, and your breathing hitches. “S’all for you, James, I’m so wet because of you,” you whisper to him, and he smirks devilishly. You clench around nothing but air, desperate for his cock to be inside you. “I want you so bad, James, please fuck me,” you beg to him desperately, and he chuckles.

Bucky goes to start taking off his pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper that sometimes gets caught onto the fabric of his boxers a little too much. The black fabric slips off his skin like an extra layer of skin, and the sight of his hard cock beneath his briefs is so sexy. You let out a shaky breath, and you can just see how fucking huge he is. Impossibly long with a thickness that’ll leave you limping for at least a week or two.

“You know what’s so fucking hilarious, baby? Just moments ago, you were cursing me out, fuming at me and calling me pathetic, but look at you; you’re the pathetic one here. Practically drooling for my cock, so needy as soon as I put my hands on you,” Bucky scoffs, and you know he’s so right. He pulls down his boxers, and you watch as his cock springs out, slapping his lower abdomen and near his pretty Adonis bone.

He roughly pulls you up and sits down on the couch before dragging you onto his lap. You straddle the sides of his thick thighs, and his big cock presses right next to your pussy, between your legs. Beads of precum drip down the shaft of his cock, and some of it even sticks to your skin. “You want my cock, baby? Well, go ahead, you can have it,” he tells you, resting his hands on your hips.

You exhale nervously, knowing that his cock is gonna stretch you out so much, it’ll be borderline painful and pleasurable. You lift your hips up a bit, and Bucky’s hand grasps the base of his cock. He’s sticky and pulsating, a raging red that is almost purple if you squint your eyes enough. He drags it from your swollen little pearl all the way down to your drooling hole. The mild friction is absolutely amazing, making you moan softly.

Bucky shudders as he slowly pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He almost wants to tease you so badly, make you beg for it until you’re sobbing and going all ditzy for him. But he’s not all the mean, and he can’t possibly be so cruel to the birthday girl. In one swift motion, Bucky pulls you down onto his cock, burying himself inside of you. You toss your head back and cry out as he stretches you painfully. The wet squelching pounds of your pussy are loud, but your moans are much louder.

He curses and bites down on his bottom lip, falling in love with the way your pussy hugs him tightly and the velvet feeling of your walls. No, no, no, he is not falling in love. He’s just desperate, that’s all. It takes you both a few seconds to adjust, and the painful stretch dulls down to immense pleasure. You struggle to control your breathing, though, because you’ve never taken anyone or anything as big and him. Months of wanting and needing him have finally come down to this, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He hopes you can feel it because nobody can heal it but you. Every single day he thinks about you, and his heart hurts. His heart hurts when he watches you leave and come home, it hurts when you both fight, and it hurts when he believes you could never love him. His mind still tells him that, and yet here you are, riding his cock on your birthday. He notices the way your bottom lip wobbles a bit, and he pities you.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good. Ride my cock, birthday girl, I know you can do it,” Bucky praises with the most innocent smile ever. You nod your head and slowly begin to rock your hips, moving them up and down his cock. Bucky is torn; he doesn’t know whether he should stare at your pretty face or at where you’re both connected. Your slick coats his cock and leaves it glistening, and he watches as it disappears and reappears over and over.

His hand returns back onto your hips, and he gently guides you up and down his cock. Your pained whimpers soon turn to loud, slutty, desperate moans, and Bucky begins to fuck up into your cunt, meeting you at every thrust. “Fuck, yeah, that’s my good girl. Riding my cock so fucking good,” Bucky coos, and you can’t help but giggle. Warmth fills your chest, and pleasure blooms immensely in your core, and it’s the exact same for Bucky.

His balls slap against your ass, and his cock drives in and out of you. You ride him at a quicker pace, moaning loudly, and he nudges against your sweet spot. “You look so fucking sexy riding my cock, baby. Could watch you forever an’ ever,” Bucky purrs, gripping your hips even tighter. Electricity crackles up your spine, almost like a burning wire in a destroyed fuse box. Everything is so sensitive, and the searing pleasure builds up inside the two of you.

Beads of sweat drip down your neck, and it is the same for Bucky. His skin shines just like his cock does, and the veins on the side of it throb with every movement. The wet noises and the sound of skin on skin fills the room almost impressively. The neighbours would’ve already filed noise complaints if they still lived here, but they don’t. So Bucky’ll fuck your brains out until you can’t make a sound.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t you? Can feel the way that nice little cunt is squeezin’ my cock,” he groans, staring up at you with his jaw slightly slacked. Your eyes have glazed over, and you stare at Bucky’s face. You ride him using his dick for all your needs and wants. It’s just like you’ve imagined, even down to the pleasure you’re feeling. “Mhm, gonna come all over your big cock,” you whimper at a specific thrust.

And he’s close too. Though the serum should make him last longer, your pussy just defies those rules. He fucks into you faster and rougher, and your legs have turned to jelly. You collapse onto his chest and let him pound your pussy into oblivion. Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chain of moan and curses, and you look up at him. His metal arm is icy cold, just like his eyes. But his orbs are darker than regular ice. They resemble black ice more than anything.

The elastic band in your stomach twists up tightly until it can’t do anything but snap. And so it does. The dam breaks, and you’re suddenly coming around Bucky’s cock. Your cum coats his cock and drips down his balls as your body seizes up. Your jaw falls open, and your eyes roll back while you moan loudly. “Fuck, you look so pretty when you come,” Bucky breathes, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck.

You cry out loudly as Bucky sloppily fucks you through your orgasm and chases his own. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, knock you up with my kids. Fuck, you’d look so hot with a bump, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of your body,” he moans deeply, feeling his balls tighten up. He tosses his head back and curses, hitting his release. Ropes of cum shoot inside your cunt, painting your walls and even leaking out a bit. Somewhere, deep down inside Bucky, he truly hopes it sticks.

He moans loudly as his hips give a few shallow thrusts, prolonging his orgasm. You both sigh, slick with sweat and other bodily fluids that neither of you cares about. “Happy birthday…” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “T- Thank you… How’d you know, though?” you question, even though his cock is still inside you. “Just did… Listen, I’m sorry–” he starts, but you cut him off. “Shh, I don’t care about anything but you, baby,” you tell him, whispering gently.

“Baby, but you.”

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Just a Little Reminder

Pairing - Xiao x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW SMUT DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR, blood mentions, degradation, VERY SLIGHT dollification (like I mean it’s mentioned maybe ONCE), spitting, face fucking, this is just some nasty** sex man.

Word Count - 2.2k

Other Comments - It’s been so long since I wrote a good smut fic so this was nice and refreshing to write. It’s a break from all the angst you guys have been requesting for some ungodly reason. Anyway hehe enjoy you freaky weirdos.

      Xiao’s day could not get any worse. Something happened overnight that caused the gods to curse his day. Nothing was going correctly. He didn’t know why he felt so restless, maybe because he hasn’t seen you in a couple of months. Being an Adeptus had some drawbacks, one of them being that they could never leave Liyue. That didn’t exactly work well with your carefree spirit dragging you all over Teyvat, rightfully earning the title of a Traveler. That meant you left his side for an unknown amount of time, you always came back of course but you leaving never got any easier on Xiao. He was protective of you, and you not being in Liyue where he could secretly keep an eye on you made him anxious. The feeling of anxiety was not something new to Xiao, but it was different from the anxiety he had experience with. He was never anxious over a mortal's safety and well being. It almost made him unnerved how much you had already subconsciously changed in him.

      Xiao never really had much need to venture out of Wangshu Inn, so when he did he always wanted to immediately relax on the balcony at the top of the inn he resided in. Some days Verr Goldet would bring him some freshly made almond tofu, when he gratefully accepted once the young woman made it back downstairs. As he was staring out past the railing, he saw a familiar silhouette approaching the inn. Something sparked in him when he saw the way you limped up the stairs of the ground floor towards the elevator. Within seconds, before you could step onto the elevator Xiao grabbed you suddenly jumping back up to the top of the balcony. You squealed quietly, your arms quickly finding their way around Xiao’s slender neck, absentmindedly remembering to avoid the large spikes coming off of one of his shoulders.

      Before you could even think, you felt your back land on the soft bed the two of you shared at night. Sure Xiao never really slept much but the sentiment was nice. It also worked for these little moments. Xiao’s sharp canines poked the side of your throat causing a soft gasp to escape your lips.

      “Xiao- Hey wait… I just got here.” Your voice a little bit above a whisper as you bashfully looked at the man hovering above of you. 

      “When you were leaving for this little expedition, you promised me you would return uninjured. Are you really that stupid that you would break such a promise to me? I guess I have to remind you what happens when you make me upset (y/n).” The way Xiao’s voice rumbled low in his chest made warmth bloom in your chest, as everything slowly began to get warmer. Your face was beat red as you felt Xiao’s callused hand grab your cheeks and push your face to the side; giving himself better access to your throat. You once again felt Xiao’s sharp canines graze your throat, alongside his long tongue lapping at the delicate skin. Suddenly a sharp pain shot from your neck as he bit down, immediately licking your blood away, pleasure beginning to  bloom from the mark. 

    Xiao slowly slid down your body, undoing your shoes and tossing them away. After that was done he rose back up, roughly undoing your skirt and pulling it off before once again throwing it away somewhere, much of the same work was done on your top and before you knew it you were left in nothing but your undergarments; while Xiao was fully clothed. Your cheeks got even redder as you felt a little embarrassed, trying to cover your face with your arms. Xiao’s hand shot to grab both of your wrists and slam them onto the bed above your head, a loud growl coming from him.

     “Don’t you even dare try and hide your face from me. You are going to face your punishment head on. Oh and don’t even think about making any noise lest you want an even worse punishment.” His sharp gaze softened for a moment, eyes silently making sure you actually wanted to do this. When you gave him a quick small nod his eyes immediately snapped back to the cold harsh glare he wore mere moments before. He began attacking your neck and collarbones with harsh hickies and sore bites. Your breath began to hitch in your throat, as you tried to hold back whimpers of pleasure.

     Agonizingly slowly Xiao made his way down your body, leaving bruises and bloody bite marks all the way down. You were shaking from the pure ecstasy coursing through your veins. Xiao ripped your panties with his teeth exposing your most vulnerable spot. The cold air that hits your hot wet lips, causing a shiver to wrack its way through your body, your clit pulsing with excitement. You looked down to see Xiao’s piercing auburn eyes staring back into yours, head so close to your core.

     “Don’t you dare cum tonight you filthy whore.” Was all that left his his lips, before his head was shoved between your thighs, his long tongue diving deep into your dripping cunt. Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to hold back loud moans. You were so desperate and needy from not seeing Xiao for so long. Xiao lifted your legs above his shoulders, hooking both of his arms around your thighs, his hands roughly kneading at the soft flesh; his tongue getting deeper from the new position. Soft muffled moans were beginning to fall from your covered mouth, your free hand trying desperately not to grab at his head, instead gripping the sheeting as tightly as possible. The noises coming from the man below you were obscene, loud slurps and laps being amplified by the otherwise silent room.

     Your nerves were on fire, the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to tighten. Despite tightly covering your mouth, your moans were as clear as day. Xiao pulled away from your pussy, lips shining from the slick of your arousal. His hand quickly gripped your wrist and ripped it away from your mouth.

     “Stop embarrassing yourself by trying to muffle your moans. If your gonna sound so much like a whore you might as well let it be known that your my whore to all of Liyue.” With that Xiao went back to attack your clit with his tongue, occasionally fucking it in and out of your cunt. Loud moans began falling out of your mouth, almost shocking yourself with how loud you were, and how you couldn’t care less about who heard you; you were flooded with euphoria and oxytocin. Your moans spurred Xiao on as his pace on your clit was relentless, not only that but he had unwound one of his arms and inserted a couple of fingers into you.

     You were getting finger fucked and eaten out at the same time, your breathing was beginning to get incredibly labored as your moans rose in pitch and volume. Your free thigh began to tremble against your lover's head as you got closer and closer to the edge; trying desperately to hold yourself back from cumming. Xiao felt the familiar flutter of your walls as you got closer and closer to cumming, and he suddenly pulled them out of you as he halted all actions. You whimpered loudly, thighs shaking desperately yearning for release.

     “Xiao please… please Xiao please let me cum… I’m sorry I broke the promise I won't do it again please Xiao.” Your voice was already wrecked and you sounded pitiful as you saw a smirk pull on your lovers lips. He was fucking laughing.

     “You are fucking disgusting you know? You are so desperate for me you are making yourself look stupid. You aren’t cumming yet. Now shut up and be my useless little fuck toy hm?” You opened your mouth to beg again, but Xiao shut you up by spitting in your mouth and closing it with his hand; forcing you to swallow. That action shot right down to your clit, and you needed him inside you now.

     You opened your leg wide open, hoping that would incentivize him to get on with it already. He knew what you were trying to do and rolled his eyes before standing up and beginning to disrobe. Your eyes were glued to him as his toned pale chest shone with a soft gleam of sweat. Then he began taking his pants off, letting the now loose waistband fall to the ground. Your mouth was basically watering from how horny you were.

     Xiao tightly gripped you thighs and pulled you towards the edge of the bed, which caused you to think he was finally going to fuck you; much to your surprise though he straddled your head as he looked down at you expectantly. Xiao’s cock was just one of those that you could only describe as pretty. It was long yet a little slender, and he kept himself well groomed.

     You eagerly took his dick in your mouth, trying your best to fit him all the way in; reminding yourself to keep breathing through your nose. Then Xiao started moving, harshly shoving his dick deep into your throat, your nose pressed against his body. Before you could get your bearings of you now deep throating Xiao, he just as harshly pulled out them thrusted back in; beginning to ruthlessly face fuck you. You were desperately trying to maintain your breathing but you just couldn’t with how hard Xiao was fucking into your mouth, so you tried your best to hold your breath and hollow your cheeks; trying and failing to suppress your gags. Xiao loved the choking and gagging sounds you made, his animalistic movements becoming erratic and uneven.

     He quickly pulled out of your mouth and fell back to the side of you before he came, not wanting to cum just yet. You coughed as you took in loud gulps of air, before attempting to even your breathing out. Xiao maneuvered your body and flipped you onto your stomach, hand coming down to rub your ass. You felt Xiao line up the tip of his dick to your entrance. You whimpered and wiggled your hips, and suddenly felt that same hand that was just gingerly rubbing your ass, come down and smack hard against it. You yelped and gasped at the sudden pain and pleasure that shot through you. Then while you were still in shock he shoved himself deep inside of you, ripping a pornstar-esque moan from your throat. Xiao groaned low in his chest, struggling to see straight from how tight you were.

     “You’re so fucking tight (y/n) relax you slut.” Despite his words, Xiao was pistoning in and out of you at an ungodly speed, your moans unabashedly flowing throughout the inn. Loud grunts could be heard coming from behind you as Xiao kept fucking your brains out. You were so blissed out, eyes rolled into the back of your head, and tongue lolling out of your mouth. Your mind was so clouded, as tears fell from your eyes. There was some twisted part of Xiao that relished in seeing you cry, you just looked so pretty and wrecked. He knew you were gone when all that would come from you were calls of his names and incoherent babbling.

     Both of you were reaching your limits, and you were reaching them fast. Blaring white hot pleasure filled yours and Xiao’s senses, overwhelming the both of you as you came. You wall clamping around Xiao forcing a loud snarl to come from behind you felt a final sharp bite on the back of your shoulder.

     Xiao stayed in you, rocking his hips lightly; gently letting the both of you ride out the rest of your highs. After that he pulls out before walking into the bathroom and running a rag under some warm water and cleaning himself off. He grabs another clean rag to dampen and come back over to your crumpled form, your mind still foggy and completely blissed out. Xiao gently cleans you up and tucks you into bed, before grabbing a glass of water for you and setting it on your side table. He then slinks into bed next to you and pulls you close to him. He’ll take a look at your “injuries” in the morning.

[elsieys-blog]

Perks of an insomnia-driven night (2)

Draco Malfoy x ravenclaw!reader

contains: NSFW! 18+ pure smut, praising kink, fingering, swearing and aggressive kisses.

summary: after your first encounter in the ROR, you didn't know he had other gifts for you besides his jewelry. it was the bragging of his talented fingers.

———————————————————

"Can I kiss you? And this time.. better?"

Draco looked like he was about to burst from the ever-growing impatience. "Fuck, yeah..."

His hand gripped your neck, the cold texture of his rings pressed against your skin made your body limp. When your mouth was ready to earn some bliss, you were a tad bit disappointed when his lips landed on your neck instead.

His tongue rolled and his teeth bit your flesh, alternating between sucking and licking. His nails began to rake your skin from how tight his grip was. You let out a soft moan and bit your lip instead to restrain anymore sounds.

He stopped. "Don't fucking bite your lip. Or I'll bite harder." You gulped and his head departed from your swelling neck. "I want to hear you make some pretty little noises, Y/n.."

Before you could reply, his lips crashed into yours, muffling your soft whining. His hold on your neck loosened and it cascaded on your draped breasts. His fingers traced your hardened nipples underneath your clothing, and when his index finger paused directly against your nipple that stands like a point, he began to rub in such a hypnotizing way.

You only know one thing. Draco's hands were skilled and experienced.

"Oh my god..." You gasped in between kisses but he was barely even starting.

"Such a sensitive girl." He groaned into your lips before aggressively pushing you as your back came in tact with the wall. After that, he closed the inches once more, pressing his chest closer to yours so that you share the same breathing pattern.

He stopped mid-kiss, staring deeply onto your thrilling eyes. "Lift your leg for me, love."

You did as what he commanded, lifting your one of your leg up until he pressed his hips further to your pelvis, feeling the thick line of his hardened cock. "Good girl. Do you feel that?"

You were tongue-tied, your mouth feeling as if it was about to drool from how badly you want to pleasure him. You sharply inhaled, taking in his ungodly scent. "Mhmm.."

"I hope you know how hard you make me, Y/n. And you're going to pay for that." He harshly spat and kissed you again. His hand tugged the hem of your skirt downwards and your panties in no time, a finger finding it's way to your clit.

He teased you, massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves as you jolted. You withdrew your head just enough to beg. "Please, Draco—"

"Please what?" He said just inches away from you that his hot breath fanned your face. He forcefully kissed you again, only massaging your clit in a faster tempo and tapping it every once in a while.

Your breath hitched and your body quivered and convulsed uncontrollably. "Please— I want you to make me come.."

"Is that all?" He sounded taunting, sarcasm dripping out from his tone. He scoffed unpleasantly, watching as you became fragile underneath the come-hither motions of his finger.

"No, just please— please do bad things to me." You moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head before shutting down. Your back arched with your lips wide open, allowing every moan to elicit from your lips.

"No, love. Eyes on me. I want your full attention on me while I finger-fuck you." He tower above you. The circular motions you felt began to go rougher and his fingers slid in between your folds, slowly getting to that one hidden part he had to touch until you fall to bits.

You held his wrist, ushering him to go further but he seemed to refuse. You moaned breathlessly. "Alright... I'll keep my eyes on you.." you opened and made eye contact with him and my god does he look predatory and sexy as fuck!

He grinned and looked as though he was ready to eat you alive. He swiped his finger against your pussy before inserting two fingers in a swift. You nearly yelped from the sudden sting, "Lord! You're so good—"

"Am I?" He whispered before lowering his head down until he approached your jaw. He fastened the way his fingers toyed you, creating wet and faint slapping noises as he grunted furiously. "Prove it. I want to hear you say my name, Y/n. Again. And again. And again."

You were short out of breath, unable to keep up and maintain your composure from his mesmerizing pace. So you tightened the grip of his wrist, informing that you were close... Really close. You cooed and choked on your own words. "Draco— Draco I want you—"

His breathing went ragged from the way you said his name. It was music to his ears and so he buried his fingers deeper with slower strokes. "That's my girl. My good little girl."

Your nails dug his wrist, scratches began to show prominence. You leaned your head on his forehead, sweat dewing on both your eyes.

He abruptly and harshly shoved your grip from his wrist away, pinning them above your head. "Stay still, love. I can't do my job if you're always moving..."

"I'm sorry, I— I can't help it." You cried out, gritting your teeth when he dove for stole another prolonged kiss.

It was urgent but just enough for you to enjoy his minty taste. The atmosphere went steamier as you got chaotically close to seeing the stars. You're panting, toes curled, tongues fighting for dominance and earth stopped spinning into it's axis.

"Oh my fucking god, I'm close Draco—" you husked, and ejected moans in full volume. It was as if time went slow as fire pooled low in your abdomen. Your guts twisted until juices began to sprawl on your pussy.

"Shit—" Draco withdraw his fingers and played with your wetness for a few seconds before drinking you like wine. Your veins hum from the view as he sucked his fingers with stern, placid eye contact with you, his tongue swirling seductively.

You shudder and dissolved in pleasure still, your legs shaking intolerably and the edges of your eyes began to see vignettes. Your head was pounding and dizzy but his devilish smirk brightened the hot space you were in.

"You taste delicious, Y/n. So fucking delicious." He praised, pressing your foreheads together to alleviate the hyperventilation. "Lord, your irresistible."

You smiled at him, a cosmic amount of butterflies filled your stomach. "We should see each other more often. Don't you think?" You giggled.

He sniggered and winked. "Beyond a doubt."

a/n: how's the steamy scene? *smirks. okay y'all I hoped you enjoyed part 2 which a part of me says this is a very irrelevant and abrupt scene but.. there's nothing wrong with blessing y'all horny asses with smut right? xx

[asmrtist-brainrot]

Poly Gavin & Vega + FL

... with canon events.

Specifically Vega.

Warning(s): Death Mentions. Inversion. Slightly Obsessive/Possessive Behavior. Kody. Mentions of Violence

~ Dari

He's possessive, what can he say?

No one harms what belongs to him.

You and Gavin are his.

While he could get a full bodied meal from feeding off of him... There is only a full-bodied fury that overcame him after you told him about that wet bitch.

You just watched his face turn into one of wrath, gritting his teeth as his tail lashed against the couch. But it only takes your big, watery eyes to make him set aside his fury for the time being. He begrudgingly does agree as D. U. M. P. is still watching him like a hawk... He wouldn't want to be removed from your or Gavin's sides and force you both to have to visit him at a facility.

Make no mistake though, Kody's days were numbered. As long as Vega was latched by the arrest clause, he's under the microscope.

When he finds out that Kody is there during the games, he has half a mind to hunt him down and give him a friendly little warning. Maybe some broken bones?

There wasn’t much time for him to think much about him once that portal cracked open and in came those shades...

Vega was used to feeling the emotions of fear, horror, and helplessness. It came with the type of people he’d feed on, often in those that are unfortunate to be on the end of that. But the utter panic and volume of all those feelings had him buckling - doubly as he feels them resonate within you, within Gavin.

It was their dual effort to pump out a ward twice as strong and twice as large, your presence like a true latch.

He didn’t care much for Xavier either... But you did.

Watching humans die was nothing new to him, he has long outlived many. Likely even falling to his hands at some point or other.

But he loved you.

Loved Gavin.

You both were his.

So that meant loving your friends.

Meant that they were his too.

Meant loving your shared of love of life.

And he protects the things that belong to him.

He holds a lot better than Gavin in the interim, strengthening the ward when he weakens.

After it all, he held every single one of you above water. Aiding in grief. Comforting the soft, gentle creatures that melted his heart of ice...

If he can help it, nothing will harm any of you again.

... Oh and he does meet Kody.

Not directly.

It was a given, the little parasite couldn’t even admit to himself that he’d been drawn in by your light - whether he deserved bask in your presence was debatable. So it’s a small bit of interference on his part to keep you from even knowing he was in the same space.

Vega promised you there would be no violence, not after Damien laid the fucker flat. Not while the Department was still so weary of him; double after the sudden suspicion tossed on all of d(a)emon kind...

So instead, he haunts the edges of shadows in Kody’s vision. In the deepest parts of his brain, in cold-sweat causing nightmares that set him awake at the most ungodly of hours.

A seizing, reeling terror that he now associates... With you.

It was for the best.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Ungodly Hour: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Suguru doesn’t know the meaning of “relief”, and neither will you. 

words: 1779

tw: nsfw (light smut) 

Slam! 

Your head hits the desk - well, more accurately, the book on the desk - and you jolt back up, hoping no one heard your head crack against the pages. Shoko eyes you over the divider in the carrell, frowning deeply. 

“Are you getting any sleep?” You don’t answer, giving her a sheepish glance before looking back down at the shapeless words. “You need to tell him to stop keeping you up so late.” 

“Huh?” You look back up at the brown eyes still staring at you and roaming around your high-necked sweater, looking for any evidence to use against you. 

“Suguru. Don’t be afraid to tell him to let you sleep once in a while.” Shoko chuckles, then closes her book and stands. “Anyways, we should get back to the dorms. With those two dimwits off campus right now, maybe you could get some sleep.” 

You walk back to the dorms in silence, taking in the fall air with appreciation. The crisp smell of falling leaves and fresh rain settles over you like a warm embrace, and you think of the long, black haired sorcerer who resided in the back of your mind at all times. You used to think that Suguru was like the spring: fresh, and energizing. But now, he felt like the fall… comforting, warm, and familiar. The furnace for your fire. The threads for your sweater. The cup for your tea.

“Hey,” Shoko nudges you when you get to her room. “Draw that line, girl.” You laugh a  little at her cheesy words, then walk the few hundred feet to your room.

Silence greets you when you open the door and walk to your bed, which is neatly made from the previous week. You never really spent time in your bed anymore; Suguru liked to sleep with you in his arms, in his room, under his sheets. You thought you would feel a deeper sense of longing when he was gone, but your body reacts only with relief as you collapse on the bed. You need to shower the day off and wash your face, but the exhaustion drags you down and soon, you’re asleep on top of the covers, arm tucked comfortably under your head. 

When you wake, you realize dreams elude your memory. It had been like that for some time - this dreamless sleep. You were grateful for the lack of dreams, because it also meant the lack of nightmares. You hadn’t yet mentally recovered from the incident with the special grade curse, and neither had Suguru. One month wasn’t enough to wipe away the foul smell or the taste of blood out of your mouth, and you were sure that your hyperfixation on your studies would only drive your ability to deal with the trauma into the ground. 

But you couldn’t help it. 

You watched Suguru throw himself into the books when he couldn’t figure out a solution, so you did the same. When you went out with him on any given night, you two would get drunk or high (or both) and then fuck each other’s brains out. Deep down, you know it’s not the best way to cope with things, but the inherent toxicity of the cycle only draws you deeper. 

The second thing you realize is that it’s impossibly dark. 

A glance at the digital clock on your nightstand informs you that it’s eleven seventeen, which means you slept through dinner and possibly even Suguru’s return. You roll onto the edge of the bed to reach into your backpack to fish out your phone. There are no messages on the empty screen you note. He must not have made it back yet. 

As you sit up and rub your eyes, the thought to shower comes back to you. Ignoring your grumbling stomach, you step off the bed and take two steps in the direction of the bathroom, the trip over something hard and large laying on your bedroom floor. 

“Shit!” 

As you precariously hold on to the edge of your desk, you hear a groan and a figure shifting up from the floor slowly. Taking two books off your desk and yelling, you toss the thick volumes at the rising figure and grab another book to throw, the previous makeshift weapons thumping to the ground after hitting their mark… at least, you think they hit their mark. 

“Y/n, it’s me!” The sound of Suguru’s voice first shocks you, then enrages you. Gripping the third book in your hand, you flick on the lights and see Suguru tenderly picking up the volumes you tossed at him. 

“Your dictionaries? Really?” You’re not sure if you throw the third book out of embarrassment or anger, but Suguru picks it up after it hits his chest and stacks them on your desk anyways. “Sorry for scaring you, kitten.” 

“Don’t ‘kitten’ me!” You huff, running a hand through your hair out of frustration. “What were you doing sleeping on my floor?” 

“You looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to wake you. So I thought the next best place to be near you would be the floor.” Suguru grunts, rolling his shoulder. “In hindsight, I should’ve sat in the chair instead.” You squint your eyes at the sorcerer, frowning, but choose to leave the argument where it is and go into the bathroom. You leave the door open while you wash your face and brush your teeth, letting Suguru eye you over the dictionary he had picked up out of boredom. “Yeah, the mission went well,” he finally called out over the sound of running water. “Thanks for asking.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply, turning the shower on and taking off your clothes. 

“I would like to shower, too.” The dictionary thumps back onto the desk, but you turn to kick the door closed before Suguru can even enter. Sighing, you run a hand under the warm water then step into the shower, feeling your muscles relax. Despite your obvious rejection, the door opens, and you hear the rustling of clothing. Suguru entered into the shower behind you, his spindly fingers trapezing around your body without a care. You instinctively relax into his grip, and his lips find your neck, pressing into the wet skin tenderly. 

“Su…” You whine, but he doesn’t relent. “Suguru, please…” His hard length rubs against your ass, and for once, you pray that he’ll give you just a few moments to shower before railing into you like a sex-starved man. 

“You need to be taught some manners, sweetheart.” The way his lips trail past your earlobe and across the minefield of hickies makes you shudder and lean into the hand cupping your neck. “Luckily for you, I’m the perfect disciplinarian.” You jerk at the feeling of his hand running across your stomach and to your ass before lifting it. But instead of smacking your flesh, he grabs your bar of soap and rubs it between his hands in front of you. 

“Sh-Shoko said I need to get more sleep.” You rush out, and Suguru pauses. 

“Oh?” His soft tone doesn’t betray his true feelings, but you know he’s tabulating all of the times he’s kept you from sleeping. “Why did she say that?” 

“I fell asleep in the library while I was trying to study,” You admit, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “She noticed the hickies, too.” At this, Suguru gives a derisive snort. 

“Who doesn’t notice them?” You had to admit that he was right; the purplish-blue splotches are his way of marking you as his, warning the other snooping males to stay away as if you were a poisonous toad with yellow and blue coloring. As if to prove his point, he makes another one, this time running his teeth along the previous markings. 

“Seriously, Su.” Your voice makes him straighten up behind you and his soapy hands rest on your shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. I should’ve been more mindful of making sure you aren’t kept up too late.” You look over your shoulder at his face- which is serious, unflinching, and with a tinge of red around the cheeks - and he presses a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “Let me clean you up and get you back into bed.” 

Surprisingly, Suguru kept his promise, only touching you if he needed to reach past you or help you with the tangled mess that was your hair. As you climb into bed, Suguru tucks you in and presses another kiss to your forehead before turning on the small lamp at your desk.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, then takes his familiar place at the desk, hunched over one of his books. 

That next morning, the warmth of Suguru’s body envelops you comfortably, and you wonder how he climbed into bed without waking you. Feeling unusually refreshed, you slip out of his arms and press a hand to his cheek, kissing the skin in thanks. Once in the bathroom, you stretch and yawn, hearing your bones crack - early in the morning and not late at night, for once - satisfied you deeply. You turn away to reach for your facial soap, when you hear it slide open unceremoniously. 

Fuck. 

A very alert Suguru leans against the doorway, observing your unclothed figure with a sinister look in his eye. 

“Early bird gets the worm.” And that’s how you found yourself staring at your reflection with Suguru’s hand holding your shoulder while he plowed into you from behind, his other hand rubbing circles on your clit. 

“You thought I’d let you get away…” he breathes into your ear, kissing your earlobe. “If not late at night, I’ll make sure you’re satisfied before you leave for class.” You can only moan his name, looking at your wanton reflection. “You look so perfect, kitten…” he groans. “All worked up so early in the morning for me…” 

“So, did you do it?” Shoko asks later, smiling widely when you nod slowly. 

“If I don’t want to be late, I have to get up earlier,” you mention, feeling the slick between your thighs that reminded you of how the morning had ended with you rushing out of the door. You barely had enough time to clean yourself up, which made for an uncomfortable two hours of squeezing your thighs together so Suguru’s seed wouldn’t stain the seat beneath you. The lecture was completely lost on you, you realize with acute self-consciousness. 

“Huh? Why?” Shoko eyed you carefully, then realized what you meant a second later. “So much for trying to help…” she muttered, looking away from you, embarrassed. So you walked on to class, and Shoko never suggested another thing when it came to Suguru.

[secretsickysideblog]

putting it lightly

'“m’not drunk,” abbacchio groans, rolling over.

bucciarati laughs, a bitter sound, and shakes his head in pure exasperation. “yes. alright. i am so glad you did not decide to pursue a career in acting.”'

after a day spent searching for his awol teammate, bucciarati comes home to find that abbacchio had been peacefully asleep on his sofa all along.

(sicktember day 6, alternate prompt: asleep on the couch)

read under the cut!

Bucciarati is, put lightly, seething.

There’s this rage he hasn’t felt in a long time bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and although it’s the type that stems purely from concern, his blood is undeniably boiling. Because upon stepping into the front door of his apartment, Bucciarati is greeted with the sight of a familiar someone asleep on his couch--the same someone who has been AWOL all day, refusing to pick up the phone.

Bucciarati considers himself to be a rather patient man on the best of days and relatively tolerant even on those days that are not so great. And he is--he tries to be--as understanding as possible. So normally, if this were any other day, if he had gotten so much as a text confirming that Abbacchio was alive, Bucciarati would be fine with this. Mildly annoyed, but mostly in the sense of preferring to know when things were wrong with the people he holds dear before the problem rears its ugly head and less from the standpoint of work.

But Leone Abbacchio has been dead on air all day long. Bucciarati had gone through the other man’s apartment twice, and, accompanied by Fugo himself, they’d checked the youngest’s apartment all the same as if Abbacchio would have any reason at all to be there. Internally, Bucciarati slaps himself in the face for not considering that Abbacchio would have wandered here--but really, what reason would Abbacchio have to be here while vehemently ignoring any attempts to get into contact with him?

Bucciarati sucks a long inhale in through his teeth. It won’t do him any good to yell right now; for all he knows, the man passed out before him might be too far gone to comprehend a word he says, and Bucciarati would rather not strain his vocal chords for a reason so pointless as yelling to what may as well be a wall.

“Leone,” he calls, and the man doesn’t stir. He tries again with a little more fervor. No response.

A cold feeling manifests in Bucciarati’s veins as the consideration that, maybe, Abbacchio had trudged his way here to die pops up in his head. Maybe Abbacchio came all the way here because he knew it was the end, or because he had opted for the end, and maybe Bucciarati should be calling an ambulance right about now and he looks awfully similar to--

Bucciarati squeezes his eyes shut and shakes that train of thought away. The only way to know whether or not any of that was true would be to approach him, and if it were, Bucciarati would just have to deal with it. He’s come to be an expert at just dealing with things over the course of his eighteen years and change. With a tumultuous mix of rage and fear turning his stomach, Bucciarati approaches the couch, and he watches for a moment until he spots Abbacchio’s chest rise and fall once.

Good. He’s alive.

And with absolutely no sympathy, Bucciarati gives Abbacchio a firm shake by the shoulder to jostle him out of what Bucciarati assumes to be an alcohol-induced stupor--the flush across his defined cheekbones says all he needs to know. Except when Abbacchio blinks his eyes open with a groan, they’re glazed over and hazy in an unfamiliar way; when that golden gaze locks onto Bucciarati, it appears to lock onto something behind him. Within him, even. Through him.

“What in the hell are you doing here, Abbacchio?”

Abbacchio’s expression turns confused and quickly contorts into something that looks rather pained. Bucciarati keeps himself firm, even though something in him wants to ask ‘what hurts?’ Perhaps it’s a selfish act, to be angry, but Abbacchio has been sober for nearly a month now and Bucciarati sees no good reason to be ruining that. Abbacchio is guilty until proven innocent.

When he speaks, much to Bucciarati’s surprise, his breath smells like mint-- shockingly, mint and a hint of sleep and not at all alcohol. Not even coffee, which has served as Abbacchio’s replacement vice, in a sense. (It gives him something to refine taste in. Something to be picky about, a type of fill-in high.)

“Your door...it was unlocked,” is what Abbacchio says, and it’s slurred, but not in the way that he slurs when he’s wasted. It’s slurred in a manner that’s groggier than anything else.

“It’s always unlocked,” Bucciarati snaps. That was not the answer he was looking for, because that’s common sense. His door is always unlocked for the two subordinates he’s recruited that might need something at an ungodly hour, Abbacchio being a frequent visitor just after midnight.

Abbacchio hums, and his eyes close again as if he’s struggling to keep them open.

“Abbacchio,” Bucciarati gives him a quick pat on the cheek to get his attention back. “Don’t pass out on me again. I want an explanation.”

Dual-colored eyes reappear. Abbacchio says nothing more.

“Leone Abbacchio, why the hell did you decide to fuck up now? It’s been nearly a month and you haven’t come close to a relapse since three weeks ago! Not to mention, you have avoided me all day, only to end up here? What if you had been dying? I thought you had crawled your sorry ass over here to die on my couch,” Bucciarati growls, tone undoubtedly dripping with poison, and yet some aftertaste of it is sweet. Vaguely sweet. Because he isn’t really angry. He’s worried, as is often the case.

“M’not drunk,” Abbacchio groans, rolling over.

Bucciarati laughs, a bitter sound, and shakes his head in pure exasperation. “Yes. Alright. I am so glad you did not decide to pursue a career in acting.”

“I mean it,” Abbacchio’s voice comes out muffled by the navy throw pillow he has his face buried in, and yet there’s a distinctive whining quality to it. He doesn’t sound drunk--he sounds off. It’s disconcerting, because Bucciarati’s only assumption is that he’s more inebriated than he’s ever had the displeasure of seeing him before, and yet that wouldn’t make sense because the first night they met Abbacchio had a foot and a half well in the grave and a heel slipping downward.

Flushed cheeks, glazed-over eyes, and this slurring, whining tone. A clear dislike for the light in his eyes, as shown by the way he’s burying his face in a pillow, and he’d managed to get out of bed and brush his teeth but he’d opted against coffee. Bucciarati looks over his clues, looks over the sight before him, and tries to connect the pictures with a piece of logical twine. All at once, it comes together, and that burning rage within him is ignited by a cold wash of guilt.

He must be sick.

Bucciarati presses the back of his hand to Abbacchio’s cheek, and then to his forehead, and the heat radiating off of his pale face (paler than usual, somehow, and devoid of makeup) confirms it. For the second time in the past ten minutes, Bucciarati mentally slaps himself, and then again for good measure. As ample punishment, he decides to give himself an internal kick to the shin, too.

He exhales a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, the high-strung tension in his body melting into a puddle at his feet. Sick, he can handle. He can handle sickness just fine, actually. He crouches down beside the sofa and nudges Abbacchio’s shoulder with more care this time, gently prodding for his attention for just a moment longer. Bucciarati knows from experience that sleeping on this couch is comfortable, but not nearly as pleasant as a bed, especially not on lead-limbs and fever pains.

“Come on,” all of the venom has drained away from his voice, and so has a good half of the volume, “let’s get you to bed, alright? This couch is cheap. It won’t do any good for your back.”

Abbacchio takes a long while to respond to the suggestion, but eventually, he sits himself upright and manages to force himself up onto his feet. He sways a bit, and Bucciarati prepares himself to catch him if he goes down even if he has more muscle in his left bicep than Bucciarati has in his entire body. Maybe it’s the sentiment--if he goes down, at least he wouldn’t go down alone.

It takes a couple of pauses for Abbacchio to lean against the wall and take a breather (and there’s a moment where even more color drains from his face, and Bucciarati just about unzips a hole in the floor to avoid having to clean vomit off of the hardwood). Ultimately, though, they make it to the bedroom. Bucciarati makes sure Abbacchio is settled. He slips off the other’s shoes, which must have been unpleasant to fall asleep in, and sets them by the bedroom door.

“Do you need anything?” Bucciarati asks, and Abbacchio shakes his head. “Another blanket? I’m getting you water, and that isn’t up for debate.”

His answer comes in the form of complete stillness. Quiet. And Abbacchio, for someone that must have a rather high fever, seems to be at peace. Bucciarati sighs, looks over his form. Now that he’s certain the other is sleeping and not dead, he wonders if he should address the fear he felt at the notion of losing Abbacchio with himself, because it was a different kind of fear. As though losing him would leave not only a gap in his life, in his heart, but in his being entirely.

He slips off to fill a glass of water, sets it on the bedside table. And he settles into bed on the other side of Abbacchio’s sleeping form, carding fingers through his silky hair as though it’s the most natural gesture in the world. He’s gotten far too used to Abbacchio’s presence in the handful of months they’ve known each other. And maybe it could be chalked up to the closeness they’ve been forced into, or up to the reliance Abbacchio has on him and the feeling of being relied on. Maybe it’s the way Abbacchio looks at him when he’s wasted. Maybe it’s the grateful way he looks at him when he starts sobering up later in the night.

Or perhaps, Bucciarati muses, he might be, lightly put, falling in love.

[one-winged-dreams]

Hungry

ship: all the devils are here (the Condemned x Blackheart) source: marvel words: 532 tw: gore

this is so short because it's gonna be a... SPICY fic. This part is cute enough that I thought I'd share it as a singular oneshot here though.

If one wanted to find him, one needed only follow the wake of carnage and half-eaten corpses, the literal trail of blood and gore notwithstanding. Savage hunger drove him out of obscurity, and now he had come here of all places to feed his insatiable appetite. He hadn't expressed an ounce of prejudice toward the demons he had fed upon, half or whole.

The final key to locating him was the ungodly sound of gnashing teeth and gluttonous snarling, disgusting slurping noises, and snapping bones accompanied by the wet tearing of flesh amongst a chorus of other such debased noises.

Blackheart found him huddled over a veritable pile of corpses mutilated beyond recognition other than that of meat alone.

"You're very bold to have come here of all places to satiate your appetite, Condemned," he addressed him as he approached, circling around to keep to his flank.

The disgusting noises stopped, the forsaken god's head tilting backward until the top of his face was vertical enough that it could lay its eye upon him. His 'tongues' slurped disgustingly across the jaws that separated his face from his head, splattering gore across and underneath his chin.

"Disgusting as ever, looks like. Care to explain yourself or are you going to let your teeth do the talking again?" Blackheart huffed, not sensing any sort of threatening presence from him.

The Condemned slowly stood, swaying a bit as gooey viscera slid down his body to splatter upon the ground with sickening volume.

"Hh… HUngryyyy… So… HUNGRY… Let me eat, Blackheart. I want… To EAT!" he punctuated by hissing violently, near identical to the sound of an irate viper.

Blackheart huffed, folding his arms as he walked around him in a half-circle. "You're ALWAYS hungry, Condemned. Did it drive you so desparate that you would come to Hell to feed yourself with MY subjects?"

The Condemned opened his jaws wide to hiss and rattle and noisily make it clear that he was in no mood to be polite or civil. "Your subjects are nothing to me! I am a GOD! I'll take and take and TAKE WHATEVER I WANT!"

Narrowed eyes were all Blackheart could show to express his annoyance. "For a god, you sure don't act like it. And you certainly don't remember how easy it is to subjugate you. Weak little godling, past your prime eons ago. Slave to your base instincts. Have you forgotten every time I've bent you to your proper place?"

With a shriek of rage, the Condemned's hair flared and bristled like an angry cat. "YOU WOULD SPEAK TO YOUR MATE THIS WAY, BLACKHEART!? TEN THOUSAND PLAGUES UPON YOUR VILE TONGUE!"

"I DON'T EVEN HAVE ONE, GODLING!" Blackheart had fallen victim to the Condemned's fit as well, now making the argument two-sided try as he might to avoid it.

The two spitefully held each other in a glare, bristling with rage as gutteral growls and hisses rang from their throats like so many feral beasts.

With one fluid motion, Blackheart straightened, spreading his arms wide.

"Come to me, godling."

And, with the kind of leap that would be envied by the most agile of wild cats, the forsaken god did.

[widowsofchaos]

ill wind

summary: A drunken one-night stand takes a turn. pairings: dark!Wanda x black!reader x dark!Natasha warnings: (malevolent advantage of alcohol consumption, power manipulation, dub non-con/smut) I hope ya’ll enjoy! <3 ao3 a/n: Written for @that-damn-girl ‘s PRIDE challenge. Chose a scenario prompt “drunken one night stand” with my two of my fav marvel women. Many apologies for being rusty at my writing! Beta: by the beautiful @imanuglywombat Thank you, Laura for being such a great friend & for proof-reading! Thank you for the amazing commentary, you’ve been such a huge help on this fic! Xoxo psa: I had to repost this story again due to the original post being reported by tumblr for adult content, so here it is once again! Also, a big thanks to everyone liking this fic, I didn’t realize it would be a fan favorite until I kept getting tagged by other writers’ answering asks of readers asking about it! It means a lot, thank you!!

do not repost my works!

A surge of throbbing pain hits your head.

Somber shades of yellow and white marinate into a dewy flourish; trying to break through your fluttering lids. Three hearts beating under smooth silk sheets, limbs entangled, a blooming migraine bestows your crown.

A cheeky god who’s shit-eating grin is flashing before your squinting eyes, you huffed. Serves me right, I guess, you mulled. The rowdy tyke biting more than she can chew.

A cheeky god who’s shit-eating grin is flashing before your squinting eyes, you huffed. Serves me right, I guess, you mulled. The rowdy tyke biting more than she can chew.

Your hooded eyes sharply scan the bedroom, realization hits like a freight train – this isn’t your room. It’s familiar to memory, your mouth curves into a frown, you rub your eyes roughly. Trying to clear your vision, studying your surroundings thoroughly. Powering through blurry perception, your senses are a bit irregular, groggy.

You attempt to twist your body, metal clanks against the skin of your back. Nerves frigid at the slender-shaped leather sensation, your breathing is shallow, your brain is driving into overdrive, grasping at the assumption that it’s a belt; the horizontal form, and the shape of metal is a big clue of it’s identification.

The slick leather sliding against the nape of your back, traveling against the slope of your lower spine, regarding the patterns of the buckle that grazed against your ass.

Peering out of your blurry haze, your moist skin recognizes the flood of body heat.

Overwhelmed by your flush state, your crown shifts down and you almost choke on your spit and you almost choke on your spit. On your right, lying peacefully on her back is the Slovakian witch herself, Wanda. On your left, her face half-smooshed in the pillow, the Russian beauty herself, Natasha.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves. Naked, and satiated with pouty sleepy lips – yourself bare as the day you were born. Arm draped gracefully over her face, the twinkle of a glimmering rock adorning Wanda’s left palm mockingly winks at you.

Whining very lowly, you leisurely twist your head to face Nat, curled near her head was another shiny rock snickering at you. “Fuck.” You cringe. Biting the bullet, you navigate through the migraine, bent elbows dig into the mattress, lifting your head up, weak fingers grip the sheets to cover your indecency.

On the floor, spews of clothes are scattered – your Alice Cooper shirt, your lace black thong, your denim shorts, your strapless bra – along with other familiar articles of clothing. A red string thong, a pair of high-waisted blue panties, a black button clad blouse, a leather skirt, – it was an Armageddon of fabric.

As your brain fizzles to calculate your escape, a featherlight fingertip grazes and tickles your neck, you gasped at the intrusion. Your head snaps to your left, green orbs pierce through you, “Hey.”, it was sultry, yet raspy.

A twinge at your core – no, no, no – this can’t happen. Becoming a homewrecker isn’t on your bucket list. “Hey – um, I don’t fully remember–” You were stuttering, never have you lost your cool. “I – fuck.” Your eyes downcast from Natasha’s intense stare and shame seeping through your bones; a dark chuckle erupts from her.

“It’s okay.” She cuts you off, with her knuckles caressing your cheek. “No need to be worried – or scared”, a feral grin, all fangs. Your mouth gaps opened, and closed like a blubbering fish. “I’m so sorry, Nat.” A bit breathless, tears form in your eyes.

Your head running miles per hour, tongue thickened with sincerity – worried that you definitely ruined one of your best friendships.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Your fumes are running on auto-pilot. A coy flutter of her lashes, “Why are you sorry? You weren’t saying that last night.” Your chin wobbles, “Excuse me?” A devilish smirk dons her mouth, you can tell she’s entertained by your confusion.

Natasha’s calm stature, coolly lifting herself by the elbows to sit against the headboard, bare milky breasts bounce free from the blanket – it throws you for a loop.

“Whatever I said last night –” Your fidgety fingers grip your messy curls, seeking an ounce of control, “–I was drunk. I – can’t remember. I know I probably said some stupid shit.” You harshly bite your bottom lip, drawing some droplet of blood through split skin, “Not at all, miláčik.” A soft Slovakian timber looms behind you, your entire body stiffens.

French manicured nails graze your tender shoulder blade, weaving a hiss through your teeth. Crudely tracing red claw marks, a shiver crawls through your spine; Wanda stifles a chuckle. “No need to worry, Y/n.” A peck on your shoulder, you gasp, flinching a bit away from her lips.

“No, this is so wrong. I ruined everything – I – need to go.” You stutter, averting your teary gaze away from both women. Fumbling and shaky hands tugging off the sheets, embarrassment surges inside of you due to your bareness.

Covering your breasts with your arms in shame, a disappointed sigh can be heard, a whizz of mesmerizing magenta energy floats and surrounds you. Your brain becomes fuzzy – dizzy numbness infiltrates you. Brown orbs criss-cross, a force heaves on your chest, pushing your body forcefully against the mattress – an ungraceful huff escapes you.

“Oh miláčik, you’re not going anywhere.” Wanda whispers, her knuckles softly caressing your cheek. “I–” Your mouth gapes to speak but you are cut off, “Quiet.” Natasha sternly demands, trimmed brows pinch menacingly. Wanda’s slender fingers flicker hairs-away from your lips; muting you.

“Do I really need to refresh your memory? Or do you want Wanda to just show you?” Natasha pucker lips sporting a faded tint of pink – a hint of last night’s rendezvous. Something is different in their eyes now; something darker. It nerves you, a force is weighing on your chest slightly more — leaving you gasping a bit.

You nod your head in Wanda’s direction, peering through squinted glossy eyes. Wanda’s open palm waves over your face, a flared energy of fluid orchid pink and creamy white whisk in a blurry mix.

Transporting your subconscious through a tunnel of faded memories – a film reel of the past — neon rainbows of worldly splendor travel around you. Kaleidoscope splendor.

Through a murky veil, your airy presence arrives at the living area — Stark’s late night party from last night in full swing. You are befuddled yet amazed beyond belief. The scents of alcohol roars in your nostrils and the crisp clear cadence of your tipsy friends flow through your eardrums – goofing off, and chatting – you can feel the atmosphere differently on your skin.

The chilled air that flows from the open balcony imbibes your flesh, goosebumps littering your translucent skin in its wake; your breath hitches at the tingles soaring through your body.

The powerful gifts Wanda possesses never fails to impress you.

Nimble feet waltz through the hallway, reaching to the common area, it felt as if another unknown force was guiding you – searching for your past self. Assuming by this time of the party you were already impaired off your ass. Your silent steps were transparent, featherily light against the flooring; the cool sensation grazing your toes.

The cheers rising in volume, the coil of anxiety curling in the pit of your belly. Forcing yourself to cease your pace, nerves overriding. Afraid to face the truth – realization that you slipped. How easy of you fall into their bed, like a slithering snake. Tears formed at the brims of your eyes – wiping the droplets away by the back of your palms.

A push collided against your back, an ungraceful yelp escaped you as you toppled over – your entire form floating, twirling a bit. Wiggling legs falter mid-air, hovering over the ground; trying to find your bearings. A force guiding you towards the common area. The aroma of liquor tickles your nostrils and boisterous laughter rings in your ears.

Easily you found past you hanging off of Thor’s extended bicep – like a monkey climbing a damn oak tree. You attempted to face-palm yourself, but your hand went straight through your ghostly face. It was free reign to wonder about the compound.

Fascinated to just linger around, seemingly waiting for your own mistake to be replayed for you. In the corner, you see Sam and Clint chuckling like a couple of knuckle-heads at you trying to bounce off of Thor. It was odd, you felt like you were in the film Ghost.

Wandering among friends, they walk right through your invisible disembodied form. In the corner, you see Bucky and Steve smooching on the couch, stealing cheeky kisses – a bit tipsy chuckles from Thor’s ale.

Your drunken form catches your eye, incoherent words to Thor, Sam, and Clint --- most likely you’re telling them that you were gonna rest for a bit. You saw your past self flop ungracefully on the couch, your eyes wearily fluttering open and shut.

Two shadows peer upon your body and you almost choke on your own spit. Wanda and Natasha sat on both sides of you, petting your hair and caressing your cheeks. Delirious you were, you slurred a hello. You squinted darkly at Natasha’s palm – it was a flask in her grasp.

Taunting you with a shake, promising more alien ale, in exchange to ‘hang out with us’; Wanda’s fingertips grazing your temples, snickering lowly. You are frozen in your spot as if the soles of your feet grew roots planting in the flooring. Deceit. It was a simple trick dealt by your own hand, your own inebriation used against you.

For a millisecond, you feel it was your own fault – following the wolves in sheep’s clothing. Aided by the sneaky claws of Wanda, and Natasha; trolling towards the elevator. Your breathing is sharpening, choppy pants squeezed from your lungs. The walls of the living area began shaking as if an earthquake was occurring.

Your subconscious begins deteriorating piece by piece. Vibrations begin surging throughout your body and in a glimpse, you see every member of your team in a mid-frozen state.

But in a flash, you see Bucky and Steve grinning with toothy Cheshire Cat smiles – following the direction of their gaze, staring at Wanda and Natasha dragging you away. It gives you a weird uncertain vibe, making you shiver.

The walls of the compound begin to crumble upon you. Vibrations surge throughout your body, almost losing your balance on your toes. You hold onto yourself, hugging your head in your arms. An efflux of bursting colors blinds you, swirling and erupting upon you. A force pushing you through the familiar tunnel of mist.

Deafening white noise pound in your ears, as if you are breaking through the ocean surface – wheezing for air, a heavy weight crawling off your chest. The blurry veil clears, your vision sharpens to see Wanda and Natasha hovering over you, smiling like the cats that got the cream. “You tricked me,” You stammered, fuming with rage but a flailing thread of humiliation.

Wanda clicked her tongue, wagging her finger at you – scolding you like a child. “We didn’t trick you. You came willingly. Right, Nattie?” Wanda cooed to Natasha, dreamily gazing at her. Natasha hummed, “Indeed, Maxie. All we did was follow –” the tip of Natasha’s finger softly grazed Wanda’s chin upward, a slow turn back to you, “--- You lead the way.”

“I was fucking drunk. I don’t even remember shit! You took advantage of me!” You barked, green and hazy blue hues darken. Natasha’s palm grips your jaw, emanating an ow from you – a bruising touch.

“Would you like Wanda to give you a repeat of it? I must warn you –” She leaned forward, lips almost brushing yours, “–you were very loud, and wet.” Nat’s voice was laced with malice.

“No.” A muffled whine slip from puckered lips pinched between her fingers. “You know – we could just give her a demonstration.” Wanda purrs, delicate hands find your body; snagging the sheets off your body, Natasha groans at the sight of your bare breasts.

Bending forward Wanda’s pink tongue darts from her plump lips, licking long strides against your dewy skin. Starting at the navel, her tongue traveling up to the valley of your plush breasts.

Cowering thighs clench shut, “Nuh uh, none of that.” Wanda’s sing-song reprimand makes you twitch at the pit of your belly. A fiery carmine mist infiltrates the air, twirling presence swirls around your crotch, and thighs – the force snatches your legs spread eagle-wide.

“You have no clue how long we have wanted you, huh?” Natasha coos crudely as your thighs slowly lift upwards, slowly your thighs lifted upwards, your kneecaps coming to rest against your supple breasts.

“You’re soaked, miláčik.” Wanda’s body glides with smooth precision, downward like agile feline; legs dangle in the air, ankles locked. Comfortably tucked between your legs like it was her rightful reign. Inhaling your sweet tangy scent emanating from your glistening cunt, her pink tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. Long strides stroking inside your wet folds, shamelessly delving between short-fuzz mound.

“Delicious. Like a peach.” Tip of her moist tongue, twirling on your clit, “Hmph – fuck.” Your eyes fluttered to the back of your skull. Natasha licks a trail of warm saliva from your lush breast to your baring neck.

Suckling on your pulse point, you gasp a breathy groan. Teeth nip and scrape the skin ravenously, baring her fangs --- resembling her infamous Araneae emblem.

Sweet kisses to your collarbone, teeth nibble at your brown nipples, tantalizing tugging on the sensitive flesh – red nails painfully scraping into your ass cheeks, whimpers slither pathetically from your lips. Mewls from Natasha, a click of her tongue, tsking you as if you were a cat, a mere pet to play with. Your lips form into a thin line, forbidding any involuntary moans to slip.

“Twah. Don’t hold back those sweet noises, baby.” Wanda lulling you, following with a salacious bite on your inner thigh, you yelp trailing into a pathetic moan as she licks against the mark. “We had you singing like a canary last night,” Natasha speaks huskily against your cheek, nibbling a bit. “You may be restraining, trying to be quiet. But you’re just one loud girl, just like your mind.” Natasha said lowly, your dazed eyes trying to concrete.

“Loud thoughts, and vivid fantasies.” Wanda’s lips pucker to suckle throbbing clit. You grunt, Natasha pinches your nipple — earning a squeal from you. It was painfully delicious — you can’t lie — your body definitely can’t hide the fact. “There you are, darling.” Natasha’s voice drips with husky lust, a second twist.

You yelp, your head tilts back and strains against the pillow — welcoming the sting whole-heartedly. Natasha cups your breast jiggling it a bit; flicks her tongue against the erected nipple and suckles it in her entire mouth. Your whole breast devoured, you hiss, peeking through your lashes — it was sinful how her pink saliva glossed lips engulf your tit.

How her tongue lapped at your nipple with such hunger. Worships you into the cave of her mouth. Her sneaky fingers snatch the other one — twisting and twirling mercilessly between her finger-tips. It’s sloppy, filthy, and fucking dirty — and wrong. You feel as if you could pass out. The soppy slurps from Natasha and the leg-shaky clit bites from Wanda were pushing over the edge.

You push your waist up and down, riding Wanda’s tongue; for a moment you lose yourself. Her hot tongue gliding between your velvet folds, how her tongue coats in your essence.

Wanda’s soft palms glide against the curves of your thighs, her nails scraping against the flesh. You jolt as she swats against your underthighs. Harsh painful slaps, as she eats you out. The heat of the slaps is scorching in your pores, adding salt to the wound — Wanda digs nails a bit more to relish in your squirming.

“Ow.” It’s small, but it’s heard. Wanda removes her lips from your pearl, you pitifully whine — frantically, you hoist your head to glare at her. A trail of white saliva connects from her bottom lip to your clit, she twirls her tongue in a languid twirl; collecting all of it.

Licks her upper lip, like a feline just drank the dairy. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Wanda smacks your glistening cunt, a wicked snicker. You wail, it’s a tug of war for you. You don’t want to be here, getting eaten the day-lights out of you, and your tits suckled.

You need time to decompress on the fact, you had sex with two of your best friends — who are married. Who you had the biggest crushes on – but you can’t risk losing a full-fledged friendship over lust.

Two sets of slender fingers plunge inside you, snapping you out of your thoughts, as the pad of Wanda’s thumb rubs manic circle motions on your throbbing clit.

“Get out of your pretty head, miláčik.” Tears form at the brims of your eyes, shaking it no — you can’t risk losing this friendship. “Do you really think you can bypass a spy and a telepath?” Natasha’s voice was like a crackling fire, dragging you out of your conflicted thoughts.

“Did you think we wouldn’t see how you gaze at us, huh? All those thoughts swarming in there?” Her index gently taps the center of your forehead. It was difficult to fully concrete or even speak coherent words as Wanda was teasingly inserting her fingers in and out of your wet cavern; ceasing her thumb a bit.

Speechless — what could you say to that? “Worried on becoming a homewrecker?” You were stuttering a bit, you still needed space to adjust, what if this doesn’t work out, and you were stuck in the awkward middle? “I–I need some time —” Natasha’s eyes darken, refusing to accept your rejection. You didn’t even have the proper choice — you didn’t have a choice.

It was a drunken one — barely a choice filled with manipulation and trickery. “No.” She hisses, gripping your jaw, you whine lowly in your throat at her harsh grasp.

Without wavering her eyes from yours, as she steals a bruising kiss. Wanda’s eyes ignite to fiery red, hitting your sweet spot hard, and brutal. You shriek, trying to worm yourself from Wanda’s grasp — but no success. Wanda’s mist restricts and pins you against the bed, her jaw tightens and clicks.

“You can’t escape us. We want you just as bad as you want us.” Wanda’s viscous fingers split you open, squelching; not once allowing a second of adjusting. As if her powers were electric at the tips of her witchy fingers, you felt a zap inside you. Oh, how a wicked bulb lits upon her head. “I have an idea.” Wanda hums with an evil smirk, stopping her actions.

“I don’t even have to touch you to make you cum.” Wanda guides Natasha away from your aching body by the shoulder. Her slim fingers contort as she sits on her knees, red energy emits, and swirls from her hands.

Manipulating your senses, fire brewing at your nerve endings, unadulterated ecstasy brimming at the pores. Wails leave you like hymns, your lips forming into an O; eyes pinched shut as your back arches off the mattress.

Hissing through your teeth — it’s electric. Enthralling as you twitch under Wanda’s command. Jittery spasms as a coil at the pit of your belly began twirling bigger, and bigger. “She’s getting close. I can smell it on her.” Natasha whispers, her breasts heaving a bit from her chest swelling from excitement, her smug smile curling from her lips.

“I can feel her energy. It’s heavy and intoxicating.” Wanda’s head was in a haze, as she connected with your spirit, along with Natasha’s. A connection. To intertwine — but not for herself, with extra concentration, it is sizzling erotic as Natasha’s charka intertwine with Wanda’s as it chokes your inner essence.

Wanda’s fingers pinching in the air, weaving your life-force, your hips bucking into the air, as your impending orgasm is roaring — your pussy is swollen and soaking. Your soppy hole clenches and pulsates against an enigmatic fullness, Wanda exploring yet violating your cavern — touching against your moist walls, your clit throbbing and hot.

“Fuck — I — I need to c–cum!” Sputtering over your blubbering lips, a snarl rumbles in Wanda’s chest, as she hovered a bit by the knees, the power over three energies was carnal.

Natasha’s head tilts backward, her fiery hair curtaining her face, her baby-hairs sticking against her forehead from brewing sweat; pinching her nipples painfully between her fingertips, groping her breasts in the cups of her palms. “I need to feel her cunt against mine.” Her voice is hardened and desperate.

Natasha’s head snaps upward, staring directly at your sweltering face, the greenery in her pupils darken and dilate.

A growl seethes from Natasha’s wet lips, low and dangerous. Your muscles shake; pleasure engulfing your limbs, weakly trapped in this mystic force, forced to enjoy Wanda’s manipulation. Moving like rivers upon your skin, unraveling waves washing over you — suffocating, painfully sweet.

Despite Wanda taking unbridled control, ravaging your body as if she owns it, weaving pleasure from you as if she knows your body from the inside out, as if she knows every sweet-spot, and tick inside you for years — there is a layer of gentility. Impulsive, yet soft. A tender lover, a pinch to savor.

Groans, grunts, and high-pitched moans echo as corrupted sympathies and bounce against the wall pavements, ringing in your ears. Flushed cheeks, sepia skin now tinted with pinkish shades spreading throughout your body.

Bliss swelling and sealing in your limber legs, aching in the best possible way. Cattle-wails of desperation, a dribble of cum trails between your wet folds and between your cheeks hitting your puckered asshole.

Wanda’s witchy slender fingers fiddle, makeshift claws to create more pressure — releasing more telepathic vitality for Natasha and yourself to ride out your orgasms.

With a flicker of Wanda’s index finger – maneuvering to the form of a pistol – a trigger, a jolt of energy bolts at your navel. A bullet. You convulse, airy pants, your torso heaving with your thighs quaking in its tight hold.

A snap bursts within you, your eyes opening widely, translucent colors combust upon your vision — worldly satisfaction manifesting into reality. In unison, all three souls unleash guttural moans.

Wanda’s fingers tremble, sucking in breath through her teeth, her energy fading into thin air, retreating back into her palms. A sharp guttural groan spilt from Natasha, a skin-peeling frenzy; basking in the astral aura that is the Slovakian witch. Your thighs collapse down debilitating from your torso.

Almost falling like an empty sack, Natasha tries to steady her breathing, as she loses herself completely at the heightened senses of her orgasm. It was such a sight, heaving over, crooked elbows denting against the mattress — on all fours, her spine heaving upward as tremors convulsed.

Never have you ever seen Natasha lose her stature in all the years of knowing her, ever so the chilling demure nature — only in your wildest fantasies have you dreamt of Natasha torn at the seams.

At the corners of her jaw, was tinged pale pink upon a damp milky surface, with her glossy eyes, adding to the primal gaze. Zoned out, peering through her lashes, her eyes are feral. Unhinged, ready for the kill.

“Keep her legs open.” Natasha hisses, nostrils flaring. Wanda slithers away, wobbling a bit by her knee-caps. Humming with a knowing smirk at Natasha, licking her upper lip with her pink tongue – she knows what Natasha wants. “I want her mouth.” Wanda snickers, a glint of mischief at her eye. Hastening breath fans over your bare shoulder, from her button nose against your sculpted collarbone.

Choking a bit, gasping for a full breath to tame your heightened nerve endings; your mouth parted. Gulping back your dry throat.

Wanda clicks her tongue, her nimble fingers trace the lines of your lips. “Keep that mouth open, dove. I’m going to quench your thirst.” Sneaky mind-reader. Sultry thick accent spells you for a momentary lapse.

“Please, wait. Give me a momen — aggh!” A plea falling on deaf ears is strangled into a wanton cry. Your hands shake, hugging yourself against your chest, arms crossing; trying to comfort yourself.

A painful slap against your clit, over-sensitive and squirming. Heat blooming throughout your hooded clit. “I don’t think so. We’ll stop when we say, got it?” Natasha snipes.

A pregnant pause.

Smack.

“Understood?” Natasha barks again, with a vengeful clap of her hand — as if it possesses the power of a god, unmerciful; but worships you in the smooth rubs on the stinging flesh. Your lips parting into a moan, a few sniffles muffled — it’s whiny and pathetic.

“Don’t cry. We’ll make you feel good again. Don’t you want that?” Wanda’s lips hover over you, against your cheeks, her teeth slightly grazing against your skin. A bite at your inner thigh, a warning. Natasha’s more aggressive. Wild, impatient, and just savage to devour you, for you to comply with their demands.

“Yes. Just wait, I’m sensitive.” You needed a reprieve, a breather from the intense third-eye cosmic orgasm you just had a few minutes ago. “No time to waste.” Wanda perks, a soft kiss on your lips. The witch balances herself over your head, trapping your skull between her thighs. Above your lips was her peach-fuzz cunt, dripping and inviting.

A tiny voice at the back of your head informing you that this is beyond wrong, red flags and alarm bells ringing that the circumstances after this will be catastrophic.

Fingers sliding in your curls, glides open-palm against your head, “C’mon, dove. Open wide. We know you’ve dreamt of having a taste. Don’t be shy now. You weren’t last night.” Wanda’s clutch shifted into an iron grip, pain over-riding your humiliation.

“Loud, wet — very eager to please, to impress.” Natasha kept listing off how you acted in bed, closing your eyes shut in embarrassment. What if this is just a tryst? A mere game for a married couple to spice their sex life? Years worth of emotional baggage and scars begin surfacing to your murky mind. A good lay.

And when Wanda and Natasha are done with you without a second thought, using your body after a good late night and morning fuck, despite questionable undertones --- confusion.

Your body yearns for their touch, going against your better judgement; it’s best to sit down and discuss this like rational adults. Another part of you wants to claw at both of them, for lying to you. Using Thor’s ale against you to lure you to the lion’s den. What if after this, they don’t want you? A mind-game to throw you off. Fearing to lose a friendship over a momentary lapse of hot sex.

Restricting back burning tears, ‘very eager to please, to impress.’ That’s you, always ready to bend over to get people to like you — it even transcended into your sex life. Motivated by liquor and you lost yourself to lust and temptation, although these two used your drunk state against you. A humiliating sight you probably were.

“Get out of your head, miláčik.” You sigh, slowly opening your eyes. Your breath hitches, Wanda stares down at you with sympathetic hues. “We’re not going to throw you away. We’re not going anywhere.” Relenting her harsh grip, the pads of her fingers soothe the remaining ache.

“You’re ours.” Firm and demanding. Natasha spreads your weak legs open once again, positioning herself to sit interlocked with you. Natasha hums, “Don’t even think of leaving us. You know we’re capable of catching you. Chain you to the bed if we have to.” Her cunt against yours, clit to clit.

You can feel the wet slick that coated between her asscheeks, a slip n’ slide as her ass sprawled against your wet thigh. Her fingers clawing against your thigh to top it over her leg. Quaking a bit, a shiver crawls up your spine.

The insanity of it all, you just wanna hide away. “Be good, miláčik.” Wanda descends upon your face, her natural essence wafting deeply in your airways — flooding your senses. You shouldn’t be thriving off of this sex but it was hot and incredible.

Wanda comfortably situates herself as if she sits on a throne —- as if she owns you. Your protests are muffled into mumbles, as your lips wrap around her swollen snatch. Your nose nestled against her short curls, the tender skin was like silk against your palate.

A crude shift from Natasha’s waist, a strident thrust as she begins tribbing you, you are moaning against Wanda, herself shuddering as her hips sway up and down upon your cheeks.

Vulgar Russian curses heave from Wanda’s lips, high-pitched and transcending into orgasmic nirvana. Natasha is growling — slipping into Russian curses and wanton moans — taking what’s hers as she keeps riding herself on you. Sucking through your teeth, you nibble on Wanda’s clit, and tugging her slippery labia between sucked in lips.

Vociferous wails and whimpers, a cadence of sticky slick mixing from one cunt to another. A lubricant that was chafing against flesh. The lewd differences between these two women is clear as day.

Wanda is the bright sunny day and Natasha is the inky night. Soft is Wanda in shades and colors; with benevolent timbre. Amorous is Natasha but in darker tints, with a reserved mask; with raspy timbre. Both ravenous for control. The pinnacles of what many women strive to be with superior intellect, beauty, and brawns.

Being the gay bottom you are, it’s no surprise for you to be charmed by such powerful women. After many hookups with women over the years, this was the most intense and enthralling one yet.

Years of crushing on them from afar has led up to this. Fresh-faced and more enchanting than before, Wanda sighs in content and victory, as she gawks down at you from her tottering head. Her tousled tresses curtaining her cheeks, riding with more enthusiasm as your lashes flutter. With a dominant drive, Natasha’s groans as she’s close to cum.

Her wetness and yours adds to the sensation on your clit. All three bodies fumbling at bit from the brutal-pace of face-fucking and cunt riding. The headboard hits the wall a bit, matching the frenetic grinding of skin to skin.

Shedding their heroic femme skins and turning into savages. Nasty. Filthy. Corrupt. Your fingernails dredge into Wanda’s femurs, prowling skyward the sweaty region of her hips, to the toned plains of her tummy to finally the mountain peaks of bosoms.

Pinching her pink nipples between your fingers to the point of making her yelp, it was an unspoken incentive for her to ride your mouth harder. Teeth tenderly gnashing inside her pussy lips.

Ragged murmurs, clipped curses, and taunts – You like it? Yeah, you were made to be under us, withering, and shaking. You want me to cum all over your face, pretty girl? Have Natasha drown your pussy with her cum? Yeah, dove, I can feel your clit pulse against mine!

Shocked silence as your astonished eyes widen, your mouth is flooded with cum. Rendered speechless, airy gasps from Wanda and Natasha is still upon your cunt, small mewls from her, now beyond sloppy and wet; a mixture of your cum and hers. Natasha’s hips juddering against yours, riding the last of her orgasm.

“What a good dove, we have,” Natasha speaks through the thick silence. Wanda hoists herself up by the knees, as you gasp for more air — your entire mouth now glistening with her fluid.

“Yes, she’s so good. Took everything we gave her like a good girl.” Wanda coos at you, hooded lids with a sultry curve of her lashes flutter at you; jolting away as she laid back on the bed with a wheezing breath. Regaining her composure, her dainty fingertips graze against your sweaty forehead to flip curls that strayed on your eye-lids. It was intimate, too intimate — it is the touch of a lover.

Natasha releases your leg, it was a bit strained from her fingernails and tight grip. Her hands cup your tummy, kissing by the navel; as she repositions herself by your side, mimicking her wife’s action. Caressing hands on your arms, dainty fingers soothing against your breasts, and shushing your rapid breaths.

Sandwiching you between themselves, a sudden direction on your belly was taken. Both Wanda and Natasha soothe the smooth clammy skin, with curling smirks that were both devilish yet attractive.

With a silent conversation that you aren’t privy to, confused as they both looked at each other with knowing gloating stares. Wanda takes her own pillow and fluffs it between her hands, as Natasha upraises your curved hips. Once again, you’re left in the dark, thrusted back into demoralization and bewilderment.

Is this it? Now that this married couple — who you idolized, and cherished this friendship with — has had their fill, who are you to them? Words birthed during the mist of lust are empty promises most of the time. Is this friendship over? Do you even have the mental capacity to continue this friendship after this tirade?

Bone-shattering orgasm after orgasm was ripped from you, and yes, it was amazing to the core, but there was a part of you in the midst of clouded hazy sex, that you didn’t want it. To be touched, you just wanted some space to recollect and process your feelings about this entire messy ordeal. You’re not sure what you want really out of life --- especially out of a polygamorous relationship.

What does this say about Natasha and Wanda?

This was a scene contrasting their usual masks of personalities, yet it molds and blends into their psyches just accordingly. It’s terrifying.

You stiffen at the revelation, serrated images were slowly circulating around your mind like the stingers of raging wasps; the small brushes of knuckles against yours, the over-friendly back massages, the persistent need to have you in their presence at all times that was mislabeled ‘just to hang out’ and ‘we miss our best friend.’ And with your yearning affection, it was easy to follow the wolves to the den for the slaughter.

Facades of kind smiles, words of advice, late-night talks that delved into and entrusted girl nights — was something darker, something sinister boiling underneath the surface.

Palms driven with cursory attached upon your arms, gripping and digging; it is demanding. Scooping underneath your bum, open palms gripping your globes, and heaving upward so your hips are positioned in the air. Wanda grabs an extra plush pillow, and Natasha maneuvers your bottom down on the pillow.

“What are you two doing now?” You are a bit irritated – tone clipped – at your running-at-a-mile per second thoughts, and sore at the muscles.

“Hush, you’ll see.” Wanda snickers, as she plushes the pillow underneath your bum. Natasha gingerly holds you down as Wanda dashes to the nearby bedside drawer. Her open-palms caress your belly, ogling with much affection and pride.

“I can’t wait.” A soft smooch above your located uterus. Anxiety filling your veins at the unknown, you begin wiggling in Natasha’s tight hold. Wondering what in the fuck, she meant. “Relax. Let it happen.” Natasha’s words were not settling your nerves, it only makes the panic hitch.

In Wanda’s palm was a turkey-baster, filled to the brim with white sloshing liquid. Eyeing the baster with pure excitement shining in her eyes, her eyes nearly criss-cross as she inspects the foreign fluid almost oozing out of its confinement.

“Perfectly curated semen for the perfect womb.” A bulb breaks and explodes in your head — emptying your dome into nothingness — thrashing in Natasha’s lethal lock. She sighs with a disapproving shake of the head, stretching your arms into a pretzel lock against your chest; painting brown skin in splotches of lavender hand-prints.

Whilst Natasha confines your fore-arms in her restraints for hands, putting weight on your upper body into the bed; Wanda’s eyes glow with fury, once again forcing down your legs. “Relax, dove. This is what we wanted with you for so long. Don’t you want to be with us?” Wanda seethes with a crooked grin, as she leers down at your shaking body.

How she revels in your weak state under her touch. Makes her urges to fuck you with her strap and make you scream like the perfect little bitch you are. Their perfect dove.

“Why?” A watery cry, before succumbing to your fate — who are you to fight against a powerful telekinetic, and one of the world’s greatest retired assassins? The only outcome would be death.

“Because we love you. You’re the one to carry our baby. I can just —” Natasha groans, her eyes rolling back in yearning. “– imagine your belly swollen, waddling bare-foot. Breast-feeding — fuck — you’re already breath-taking, miláčik, but God, you’re going to give us heart-attacks.” Her voice drops an octave lower. Natasha leans her head lower, a kiss on the crease between your brows.

Your body shivers as you feel the chilled tip of the turkey-baster nearing your gaping hole, you begin weeping quietly.

Wanda shushes you, “It’s okay, milacik. You’re going to be a great mommy. Three mommies and two daddies. The baby will be the most beloved and protected little one.” A warm smile graces Wanda’s rosy cheeks. Three mommies? A dream of having a family now enforced upon you, this is a clusterfuck. Firstly, tricked by your own drunken state, second, pinned down for morning sex, and now you’re going to be impregnated by a fucking baster?

Wait --- two daddies?

“Two daddies? What? Wait, who’s the father?” You shrill, your head struggling to peak down at Wanda as she paused mid-way from inserting the cum; your eyes wild and glossy. Wanda chuckles, it sounds genuine — it’s anything but.

“Not just one father, miláčik. Our dutiful Captain and Sergeant.”

You feel light-headed, a hay fever flooding your dome. The tips of your ears feel hot, your head flops back down onto the pillow with a fluffy thud.

An incoherent whisper. “What was that, dove?” Natasha’s thumb rubbing your wrists, coaxing you to speak up. “How is that possible?” You wept, fresh tears coating your face.

“Anything is possible with modern enhanced technology. Now a baby can be genetically linked to two fathers. Isn’t that marvelous?” Wanda gleamed a cheeky smile, her eyes twinkling with unnerving mirth. “Why Steve and Bucky? Do they know what you’re doing?” You almost choke on a strained whine, your face scrunching up tightly.

Praying that Steve and Bucky didn’t have any involvement, nor a speck of encouragement of this insanity. “Of course, they know. We all made the plans together.” Wanda’s hand rubs your thigh to calm you but it only adds to your fright.

“Steve and Bucky are ready to settle down, they always dreamt of having kids. They love you and know you would be the perfect mother to their child. Our child. We’re all going to be one happy family.” And without any moment to spare, Wanda gently thrusts the baster inside of you, squeezing the silicone bulb firmly. You gasp as you felt every drop paint your walls white, drowning inside you.

You twitch in discomfort, your head thrashing side to side, your cheeks hitting the wrinkled sheets. Mutely screaming, teeth gnashing at the air, refusing to accept the inevitable. Natasha peppers your face with kisses to calm you down.

Whispering declarations of love, you restrain any more tears to escape. Wanda cups your belly, it was very subtly swelled from the massive load. “Look how much went inside, Nattie.” Wanda alleviating your distress by small circular motions.

Natasha halts her kisses. She titters a bit, “Well, I’m not surprised. Two enhanced soldiers will deliver a copious amount of cum.” Natasha joins in on the soothing strokes by her fingers. A splotchy memory of Steve and Bucky wickedly smiling while your drunk-self was dragged away to your fate.

Betrayal.

Two people you trusted for years – who you considered close friends — played a role in this capture of enforcing a life of motherhood upon you. You didn’t realize lone tears were trickling down your face until you felt a thumb wipe away.

“Don’t fret, milacik. This will be good for you. For all of us. We know what you need.” Wanda kisses your waist and travels upward your chest in a trail of kisses; as she climbs on you, cuddling by your side, wrapping her arm around your hips, and a leg around yours.

“We’ll treat you so well. Like a queen.” Natasha loosens her grip on your arms, easing the aches in your muscles, but detaining you, to ensure you won’t escape from their grasp. Natasha plants a leg over your legs, positioning next to Wanda’s, sandwiched, and suffocating.

Laxing your body from stiffening under their touch, just trying to mindlessly drift into an impending hazy slumber. “Let’s rest. We’ll tell Bucky and Steve the good news later.” Natasha says in a lulling tone, as both women cuddle to squeeze much closer to you as if they want to reside underneath your skin — tightly, and smothering.

Sedately, your eyes close. Tentatively, their breathing morphs into your focal point, to hear Natasha’s and Wanda’s settle into steady rest. Urgently needing your privacy in sound, and body --- away from nosey intruding psychic.

As you lay there, mute and digesting the perverse treachery like a dry pill ripping down your throat, your tongue weighing heavy, barely registering reality.

Murky thoughts try to align in correction, not to bemoan over the guile that is Natasha and Wanda that was akin to pistoling barrage upon your spirit.

The soft fabric of the pudgy pillow wedged underneath you was burning against your bum, an indicia that could compel an unsought future. The tact to force maternity upon your life, your womb is now without doubt, fertilizing soldier swimmers.

What can you do now? How can you battle against the odds of the inevitable? Cuffed emotionally, and intimately by ex-friends deformed into duplicitous lovers who are now dead to you, and buried in deep, fresh graves in the crevices of your heart.

You must learn from the suffering, and brace the ugliness of being a fool. Your shudder, and bite back a sob as jagged remnants began floating behind your lids of last-night that was thick of debauched moans as slim fingers plunging into your cavern; it was a fleeting splash of excitement but it simmered and dwindled into a piercing ache in your chest.

It was euphoric, but not simply euphoric, there was fear and confusion intertwined too. For many years, you had grappled many weights of trauma, but you couldn’t stomach two damaged hearts.

Love me, love my dog — or so the saying goes. Can you handle being a mother? Are you even capable of being a good mother? You almost snort at the ridiculous notion.

What if aborti--- Jesus, you wouldn’t be able to go far with that option. It’s not even a fucking option. ‘Not with these two.’ You internally huff.

So you’ll wait. Wait it out, move in silence, map out your next course of action. Figure out escapes, leaving behind your life as an Avenger, and the only family you’ve ever had — just be quiet, comply and wait.

All you could do is wait.

[savagetrickster]

Stay with Me | BNHA

request:  Hi! Can I request a scenario where Bakugou thought that reader was starting to lose interest, but in reality reader is just really busy and doesn’t realize she’s treating baku differently and Bakugou confronting her about it then it ends with some fluff fluff. 💖 p.s luv ur work

anime | character:  bnha | bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 1949

themes/warnings: soft!bakugou, insecure bakugou,  college AU

a/n: sorry for not posting a fic in such a long time, I’ve been SO busy. so anyway, okay I kinda went little off-track and ended up writing the way it is shown below but i hope you’ll still enjoy reading this, though i have to say I’m not really fond of how it turned out. this fic has not been beta-ed so pardon me if you find any cringey error.

The city of Musutafu moved as sluggishly as possible for a city of its size and caliber. It was one of those days when the moon was mostly hidden behind the clouds.

Kirishima let his eyes roam the street outside. The inhabitants of the boulevard were constantly on the move despite being a Saturday; it was a startling contrast to the cafe they sat in where a comfortable nonchalance clung to every aspect of the little business.

The slow, sleepy music playing from the speakers.

The casual yet practiced movements of the baristas as they prepared the orders. 

The lazy, idling manners in the way the customers brought their cups to their lips. Carrying every bit of thoughtlessness and indifference in their actions.

Well, almost everyone but them.

A perplexed frown pinched between Kirishima’s brows as he turned his gaze away from the window beside them.

Bakugou Katsuki had been sulking at the window ever since he plopped into the seat across him. 

He had been sitting in brooding silence for what felt like fifteen minutes and the expression on his face hadn’t changed. If there were any at all, it was only that his scowl grew bigger.

“As much as I like hanging out with you, I have to say this is getting a little…weird.” 

Kirishima briefly flitted to the counter to see curious eyes on them, “My colleagues are starting to think we’re dating.”

Tonight was the fourth time Bakugou had come to find him right as he was knocking off from his part-time job this week. 

“Who gives a fuck about what they think?” Bakugou muttered gruffly,  finally looking away from the outside.  

Kirishima had known him ever since they met in middle school to know the scowl on Bakugou’s face was…well, his default expression. 

Long enough for him to tell at one glance that the scowl he’d been seeing on Bakugou’s face was different. This one seemed to come right out from the depth of his fierce vermilion eyes — Bakugou was upset.

And it was about you.

No matter how hard Bakugou tried to hide how much he was a sucker for you, Kirishima could always tell. 

Even though they had matured into college students, Bakugou was still the same stubborn guy who wasn’t the most comfortable displaying his affections openly.

Mere mentions of you would soften the scowl on his face, and the rough edge in his voice. It was easy for anyone else to miss the difference but it was obvious to Kirishima. 

His grumpy complaints about how clingy and touchy you are were one of their common topics in their conversations. The annoyance scowling in his eyes when he did was always subtly soft and warm. 

But something changed, as Bakugou had mentioned, in the recent two weeks.

Nights in his dormitory room were spent alone. He was so used to falling asleep and waking up, to the sight of you curling up right next to him.

The last time he saw you were from afar, watching you rushing off to somewhere. 

Dates with you, even as simple as a meal in the cafeteria was scarce. 

Your replies to his texts were late and sometimes curt. The usual ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ from you, if you didn’t spend the night with him, were no longer…usual. 

Sometimes his messages to you would be left hanging for days before you replied.

The tone when Bakugou was telling him about all these strange distances between them was nonchalant, but the scowl on his face told Kirishima a different story.

Kirishima tried to think of something to say, but all he could think of in the end was the same thing he’d been saying ever since Bakugou shared this with him.

“Stop worrying man, she’s probably just busy?”

Bakugou’s face carried a carefully blanked expression as he raised his eyes to meet Kirishima’s.

“…Or maybe she’s losing interest in me.” 

His arm was tucked between his pillow and his head as his other held his phone to his face. Vermilion eyes stared blankly at the quiet chatroom he shared with you, particularly fixated on your last reply to him.

Two days ago.

The gloom hung over his gaze these days were like the dreary seasons of dull, gray monsoons. 

The hopeful morning sun filtering into his room through the wooden window blinds above him was a startling contrast, and so was the lively laughter ringing out from the basketball court somewhere near the dormitory blocks. 

Probably some idiots shoving snow at each others’ faces, Bakugou thought seethingly as he clicked his tongue in annoyance at a particular spike of volume in the ruckus downstairs. 

It was Saturday and the morning was already—

His eyes flitted to the time written in the corner of his screen.

— halfway to noon.

A quiet sigh left him.

Like on Saturdays, he should be on the way to meet you for your usual brunch. Except things weren’t quite ‘usual’ anymore.

Bakugou released another sigh as he let his phone fall away from his face along with his raised arm, landing on the bed under him with a muffled ‘plop’.

His forehead ridged with a scowl. Just how did he fuck things up?

His memories sifted through the times he called you names and how you would still smile back at him like he was your whole world as if he didn’t just call you an idiot, a nerd, or a moron. 

A bitter taste of guilt entered his mouth.

Maybe he shouldn’t have assumed that you knew he was feeling affectionate when he did?

Perhaps you’ve grown sick of him? And realized that you didn’t need a shitty boyfriend who called you insulting names or would shrug off your affections as if they were annoyances.

His jaw clenched to his gritted teeth as a frustrated hiss slipped from him.

Shit, maybe he did fuck up afterall. Fucked up big time.

And he was probably going to lose you. Everything that made you…you.

The way you smiled at him with a loving, bright glint in your eyes as if he was the one who put the stars in the sky.

The sweet kisses you love to plant on his lips and forehead.

How your hand would hold onto his — small but warm with your love.

Bakugou felt his throat swell with the presence of forming tears as his heart twinged in his chest.

The idea of losing all that spurred a rush of panic in him.

Bakugou shot off his bed, put on the nearest shirt and jeans he could grab, and hurried out of his room.

The first place Bakugou thought to look for you was your dormitory but his worst fear made him hesitate at your door, with a hand hovering over its handle. 

In fact, he’d thought about doing this for the past two weeks but the wisps of doubts whispering nasty things wouldn’t let him.

His jaw clenched to his gritted teeth.

What if there was someone else— 

Bakugou shoved the unfinished thought aside; it was unbearable to even think about that possibility. 

His scowling gaze snapped to his hesitating hand and his lips instantly curled into a sneer to a spark of irritation within.

What was with him? He was starting to remind himself of Deku, hesitating outside doors with twiddling thumbs like a wimp.

He was Bakugou Katsuki and he should be announcing his arrival by bursting through one.

Man, you thought you could finally enjoy a good night’s sleep after countless of sleepless nights.

But no…nope. 

The heater just had to break down at an ungodly hour when you were still trudging through the last thesis for your project and you could find no other alternative places to work on them. 

Bakugou came across your mind but again, it was crazy late or more accurately, early to budge into your boyfriend’s room.

Like every other night, you’d been tirelessly working on it so you could finally submit the project you’d been assigned since two weeks ago.

It was the infamous final year project you’ve dreaded ever since you heard about it from your senior — dubbed as ‘the project from hell’.

And indeed, it was a project from hell. It seemed to suck out your very soul. The exhaustion weighing you down like lead ran bone deep, that even lifting your head off your pillow was such a struggle.

With a broken heater sitting uselessly in your room, you’d spent the whole night wrapped in your blanket, with the lingering winter chill prickling at your skin. 

So you couldn’t help sighing at the sudden warmth enveloping your body after spending the night shivering away under your blanket at the mercy of the dropping temperature.

Your arms found their way around the heat source.

You didn’t see the tender curl of his lips when you sighed blissfully and nuzzled into his chest or the softening glint in the usual fierce edge held in his vermilion eyes.

It was like nestling inside a warm cocoon that…

— awareness seeping into your groggy senses pried your eyes open.  

…breathed.

What or rather who greeted you lifted you right out of your morning grogginess and struck you with an overwhelming barrage of emotions.

“…Ka-Katsuki!” You missed him so much.

Along with how the shadows and sunlight filtering in from behind you fell across and highlighted his chiseled profile, there was something about the way his intense eyes looked down at you with his head leaning against an arm. 

This sight gave your heart a fluttery squeeze.

You weren’t sure why Bakugou looked so strikingly handsome like this — maybe it was because you haven’t seen him for awhile?

“When did you come in here?” Words started pouring out of your mouth. 

You’ve always wanted to vent and rant about the dumb project to Bakugou so there was too much you wanted to say, 

“Oh my god, you’ve no idea how much busy I was these few weeks-” but the brooding look that hadn’t left Bakugou stopped you.”…Katsuki?”

You’d never seen Bakugou look this down before, and it didn’t sit right with you.

You hesitated but asked anyway.“…What’s wrong?” 

The cloud that fell over his eyes told you that something was definitely wrong.

“…I’m sorry, (Name).”

You grew concerned as you tried to understand his unreadable demeanor. “What’s this about— ”

“Are you losing interest in me?”

Your next breath was caught in your throat at his strange question and the only thing you could do was blurt out a —“What?”

You watch him exhale carefully with a bewildered look. 

Bakugou didn’t even care how he looked to you now.

“Look, I know I’m a huge fuck-up as a boyfriend and you probably think I don’t care about our relationship cause I act like I don’t.”

There was so much to say, so much guilt brimming inside him. 

“But shit, I do care.”

He was desperate. 

He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t. He loved you but he was an idiot for not showing that to you. 

So he needed to let you know now.

His hand on your waist pulled you up to him and his eyes were pinned on yours.

Your mouth opened, then snapped close at the silent, blazing gleam in his gaze.

Your voice had fled at the way he stared at you. 

Longing and heavy with remorse.

“Stay with me,” His lips brushed lightly across yours as his voice cracked with an aching need.” …please.”

He kissed you and the world fell away.