#cw body weight discussions

[solarmorrigan]

No one looks like they did in high school forever (be kinda weird if they did, honestly). Changes catch up with everyone sooner or later. For Steve, it seems to have happened sooner.

Personally, Eddie is in favor.

It isn’t that he hadn’t thought Steve looked in good in high school – god knows it isn’t that (Eddie may have thought Steve had been an asshole at the time, but he’d been a pretty one). It’s just that high school had been a time of basketball and swim meets and carefully watching his diet and carefully curating his appearance to match what he’d thought other people would want to see.

The time since graduation has been spent putting on the type of muscle that would better facilitate fighting monsters and keeping a band of misfit children safe (because after three times around, Steve hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to believe that the Upside Down was really gone), being fed by a rotating cast of mothers who appreciate him being there for said misfit children, and in letting himself decide how he thinks he looks good.

The first time Eddie really gets a good look at Steve after he’s left high school, he’s gone from lean muscle and looks a bit closer to the tank that Dustin’s been insisting he is. The first time Eddie sees him in action, he decides he wants to climb Steve like a tree.

Broad shoulders, strong biceps, solid core, thick thighs, that ass—is it objectification if you’re dating the guy and also madly in love with him? Whatever—Eddie is of the opinion that the time since high school has been very kind to Steve, appearance-wise.

He’s startled to realize, then, that Steve does not always share this opinion.

It doesn’t happen often; it’s rare enough that even Robin almost misses it, and Eddie is a big enough person to admit that she’s a more experienced Steve-watcher than he is.

For the most part, Steve is comfortable in his skin; he knows he looks good, he knows Eddie thinks he looks good, he knows what he’s capable of, and he’s pleased with where he is. Some days, though – some days just aren’t good days.

There are times when Eddie will catch Steve lingering in the mirror, frowning over a shirt that used to fall differently, or a pair of shorts that used to fit a little more loosely. He might reach for one of the cookies that Claudia sent them home with after their last dinner over at the Henderson household, before faltering and grabbing an apple instead (or, sometimes, nothing at all). He might wear extra layers, steal one of Eddie’s slightly oversized flannel shirts, go on an extra run, or he might not be in the mood to cuddle up to Eddie in bed (in spite of the fact that Eddie knows how much he loves getting to be the little spoon, even if he still refuses to say it out loud).

Most of these things by themselves don’t really have to mean anything, but somehow, Eddie can always tell when it’s one of those insecure days.

(And if Eddie had ever thought when he was younger that Steve Harrington could feel insecure about the way he looks, about his body, he might have cracked a crass joke about King Steve’s obvious need to overcompensate for something. Now, though, he knows better. Also, he’s a tiny bit more mature than that.)

So when he comes into the living room one afternoon to find Steve practically crammed into the corner of the sofa, curled in on himself just enough to suggest that he’s trying to take up less space, Eddie decides that that will just not do.

Eddie loves Steve’s confidence. He loves the space Steve takes up in his life (metaphorically and literally). He loves Steve, and he sure as hell isn’t about to let him spend the day feeling bad about himself, so he ducks back into the bedroom for the book on his nightstand and then plops down on the other end of the couch.

He reads for a little while and doesn’t really have to worry about getting too distracted from his plan, because he always finds himself tilting towards Steve like a compass to magnetic north, whether he’s actively trying or not. So he reads, and he shuffles around on the couch a bit, and he lists to the side a little, and then he’s finally just close enough to Steve to plausibly ask, “Hey, d’you mind?”

Steve glances up from the magazine he’s been reading, brows furrowed. “Mind what?”

Eddie points to the way Steve’s legs are drawn up almost to his chest. “Stretching your legs out? I wanna lay down.”

And normally, Steve doesn’t hesitate – hell, normally, Eddie doesn’t even need to ask; it’s almost as if he can just tell when Eddie wants to rest his head in his lap and automatically moves to welcome it. Today, though, he rolls his eyes.

“We have pillows on the couch for a reason,” he says, jerking his head towards the throw pillows at the other end of the couch (as if Eddie could forget the throw pillows; they’d spent a goddamn hour at the furniture store staring at the choices and had walked out laughing about how boring and adult and great it felt to be decorating their apartment with fucking throw pillows – but that isn’t the point).

Eddie scoffs. “Why would I settle for a pillow when I could have something way more comfortable?”

“Yeah, there’s no way my lap is better than a pillow,” Steve drawls.

“Baby, your lap is the most comfortable resting place known to man,” Eddie states, so dramatically intoned that it makes Steve laugh, even though Eddie is fairly serious. “Now why would you deny me my favorite place to lay my head?”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but obligingly (if slowly) stretches out his legs and rests his socked feet on the coffee table to make space for Eddie.

“Thank you,” Eddie says primly, before flopping down on the couch and making himself comfortable with his head situated on Steve’s lap, then giving a demonstrative little wiggle to settle in. “Yep, that’s the stuff. Perfect.”

“Man, shut up,” Steve mumbles, turning back to his magazine.

When Eddie glances up to check that he hasn’t gone too far, there’s a bit of a flush high on Steve’s cheeks, but no real displeasure on his face, so he doubles down.

“I will not. Not until you acknowledge the perfection that is your thighs,” Eddie declares, pressing his head further back into Steve’s lap. “Firm, but with just enough give–” he reaches up and pinches the side of Steve’s thigh, smiling innocently when Steve jolts and glares down at him, “always warm. Perfect.”

Steve turns his eyes resolutely back to the magazine he’s got balanced on the arm of the couch. “Not perfect.”

“Well, sure, perfection is subjective, means different things to different people, blah blah blah.” Eddie waves his hand in a vague ‘et cetera’ gesture and accidentally smacks Steve in the arm before he turns his head (and his hair is absolutely going all staticky after being rubbed against the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants, which is going to be a nightmare later, but that’s a problem for future Eddie) and presses a kiss to the spot just above Steve’s knee. “But they’re perfect to me.”

For a moment, Steve is still. Then he shifts slightly in place, and Eddie has the feeling that if he were standing, he’d be shuffling from foot to foot.

“And I have it on pretty good authority that my opinion counts for something,” Eddie goes on. “So if you ask me—which you should—your thighs are one of your best features.”

Finally, Steve glances back down at Eddie. “You think so?” he asks, soft and a little hesitant.

“Absolutely. One of my favorite parts of you, on a rotating basis with every other part of you,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve scoffs, because this time Steve is smiling, too. “What? There are so many good features, I’ve gotta make sure I pay them all equal attention.”

And the thing is, Eddie does know that what got Steve into this mindset in the first place was spending so long seeing himself as valued only for what he can provide physically: a handsome face, a lean figure, a human shield, the Party tank – whatever it is. Most of the time, Eddie makes sure Steve knows what he loves about him as a person, not just about his body. He could gain one hundred pounds, he could lose all muscle mass and be as skinny as a rail, he could look like anything, and it wouldn’t matter, because Eddie loves him.

But that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t also want a little reassurance now and then that Eddie loves his body, too – which Eddie does, and is happy to provide.

“And today, I’m paying attention to your thighs,” Eddie concludes.

“Stop saying ‘thighs,’ it’s starting to sound like gibberish,” Steve shoots back, but there’s a pleased tilt to the corners of his mouth now.

Eddie hums. “I especially love when you let me lay in your lap. Love having your legs under my head. Or wrapped around my head.” He waves his hand around his face, smirking up at Steve. “Just, in the vicinity of my head, really.”

Steve loses the battle with the laugh he’s been trying to hold in and it overtakes him, shaking with mirth under Eddie while Eddie smiles along with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says, once he’s gotten his breath back.

“I’m just putting it out there,” Eddie says.

Steve cocks one eyebrow at Eddie and turns back to his magazine with a smirk. “Uh huh. Well, I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh, sure, me too,” Eddie says easily, bringing his book up over his face as if he’s going to continue reading, even though he isn’t even sure he’s on the right page.

They do settle after that, though, quiet and close and comfortable being draped over and under one another. Steve’s hand finds its way into Eddie’s hair and cards through it absently like he’s petting a cat. Eddie would probably purr like one if he could.

“Love you,” Steve murmurs, glancing down as he flips from one page to the next.

“Love you, too,” Eddie replies, tilting his book away just enough to smile up at Steve.

Maybe later Eddie will get to prove how much he loves Steve’s thighs wrapped around his head. Maybe not. For now, though, he hadn’t been lying – just this is perfect.

[Prompt: Resting your head on your partner's lap]

[ayeforscotland]

Some of you have probably seen me write about issues with my weight and general body image before. It's something I've gotten a lot better at but there's still days when I feel like shite. Part of the problem with being a young athlete and then putting on weight as you get older is the complete misalignment of what your "ideal" weight should be. And one of the things that really pulled me out feeling really shite was just how fucking laughably wrong BMI can be. Like I think it's pretty common knowledge that BMI is utter dogshit, but in case any of you don't know that - BMI is such utter fucking nonsense that I find it hard to respect anyone who takes it seriously. Going off my BMI - My "standard healthy weight" is 53.5kg to 69kg. I weighed 69kg when I was 16 years old. If I was to weigh anywhere in that range just now I would look critically ill. I have naturally broad shoulders, big legs and a big arse. If I was aiming for what BMI deems a healthy weight I would look unbelievably silly.

[karomiiz]

squishy is okay squishy is okay squishy is okay squishy is okay squishy is okay

[h0neyfreak]

***

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumpuary Day 14: "I didn't know where else to go..."

Warning for Physical abuse, verbal abuse, physical violence, injury, illness, weight discussion, blood, bruises, projection

[faetreides]

oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!

cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)

Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.

You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.

You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.

“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.

He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.

You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.

“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.

Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”

You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.

“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.

“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.

Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.

“I want you to eat me out like this.”

Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.

“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”

He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.

Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.

You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.

You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.

He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.

“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.

You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.

Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.

“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.

His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.

Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.

You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.

Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.

“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.

“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”

[manriah]

FBF: 🎉 Disco Demigirl 🎊

CW: Body Discussion, unwanted weight loss, health issues

You may have noticed I've been editing throwbacks and not taking new pictures for a while now. I'm working on taking care of and loving my body after some massive changes in my health. This was the first photo set that while editing pictures I noticed I had lost so much weight I didn't recognize my body anymore, and its only gotten more noticeable that I look and feel sick. My weight is still dropping from visceral hypersensitivity and suspected ehlers danlos syndrome making me vomit daily, and I'm trying my best to be patient with my health AND body while doing tons of appts/tests/waits to get diagnosises/fundraising for treatments!!! Being kind to my body means getting comfortable and at least okay with these changes in myself before posting full body pics. I'll be taking pictures again hopefully soon but I will not be rushing it!

[cookiescribble]

Interrupted

A/N: this is just a short little thing i’ve had in my head for a while, and the writer’s block is finally clearing up a little so i’ve been able to write more again :) hope you like it! - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer finally have an evening off, and are happy to spend it together. But nights off are never a guarantee when you work at the BAU. (based on 9x23)

CW: suggestive but not explicit behavior, reader gets a little wine drunk, mild discussion of sex lives.

~~~

You were enjoying a nice, quiet dinner at home, soft music playing in the background. You were a little dressed up, wearing a casual dress and some jewelry to match, trying to pretend it was a date night and not just spaghetti and wine you got from the grocery store. Making the best out of the little time you had to plan this.

Spencer was sitting across from you, smiling as he held his glass of water out to you. “To finally having a night off?”

You smiled back at him, clinking his cup with your wine glass. “To finally having you all to myself tonight.” You winked at him as you took a sip of wine. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it made the night a little more special.

He took a sip of his water, gesturing to your wine glass. “Be careful with that, you turn into trouble when you have too much wine.” His words sounded like a warning, but his tone was teasing, a grin on his face.

At that, you smiled mischievously, taking a bigger sip of wine. “I think I’m allowed to cause a little trouble on our day off.” You put your glass down, picking up your fork to start eating your dinner. “We deserve to have a little fun tonight.”

Dinner wasn’t much different than it usually was when you two were home together, but it felt nice to be able to sit at the dinner table across from each other after dealing with so much work lately. There was light flirting back and forth between you and Spencer through your meal, setting the mood for the evening. Every sip of wine you took made you feel a little more flushed and bubbly, making the flirting start escalating a bit. You could feel yourself noticing more things about Spencer as he ate across from you: the way his fingers moved around his fork as he twirled it in his plate, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed his food, the way his lips parted when he took a sip of water…

“That’s a dangerous look you’re giving me, you know.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Spencer spoke, a smirk on his face as he set his fork down. You met his eyes, matching his smirk, reaching out to grab his hand from across the table. “Is it?” You asked innocently, starting to trace patterns in the palm of his hand, making him shudder softly.

“It is,” he replied, his voice soft and deep. “I think you know what you’re doing when you look at me like that.” He slowly stood up, walking over to you and tilting your chin up with his finger. “You better be ready to take responsibility for this.”

You stood up, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing your faces close, your lips stopping just short of touching his. “Oh, I’m definitely planning on taking responsibility…” One of your fingers started to trail down his face, slowly tracing over his bottom lip. You could see his face start to heat up a bit at your touch, his breath hitching. “If you’re ready, that is,” you said in a quiet, breathy tone.

That little touch seemed to set him off, as he grabbed your face and crashed his lips with yours, bumping you into the table with the abrupt force.

Suddenly, you both were stumbling through the living room, hands all over each other as you made your way to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You fell back onto the bed, Spencer taking you into his arms after shrugging off the shirt you mostly unbuttoned on your way here.

His lips were on yours again, the weight of his body starting to push down on you as he settled on top of you. He started pushing down the straps of your dress, his lips moving down to your neck. He started peppering kisses there, quickly at first, before they started getting slower and deeper.

“You look really good in this dress, you know that?” His voice was husky as his tongue met your skin, earning a lustful sigh from you in response. “So pretty…” he whispered between kisses, starting to gently bite down on your neck.

“Spence…” you moaned out, already turning into a mess underneath him, even though you were still fully dressed. The wine mixed with his sweet words and lustful bedroom eyes, you could hardly stand to wait anymore. Your hands tangled in his hair as his teeth grazed your skin, his eyes closed in concentration as he felt your body react underneath him. His lips started slowly trailing downward from your neck, starting to move under your collar…

Suddenly, you were startled by the sound of your phone going off, making you both groan.

“Please tell me it’s not what I think it is,” you pleaded as Spencer stood up to look at your phone. He held it out to you, showing you a text indicating that you had to go into work for a case. You grumbled as you sat up, readjusting your dress. “I swear to god, I am quitting this job. I mean it.”

Spencer laughed, opening the closet to start putting on a purple button-down shirt. “Relax, we’ll get some time to ourselves at the hotel later.” He took out a tie, putting it around his neck as he reached out his hand to help you up out of bed. He placed a quick kiss on your forehead. “Maybe we can continue this then?”

You sigh, starting to rifle through drawers to throw on a sweater over your dress. There wasn’t really time to find a whole new outfit. “I hope so, but I don’t know if I realistically see that happening.”

The two of you rushed to get dressed and ready, knowing you needed to be out the door as soon as possible. You skipped brushing your hair, tying it up for now and just throwing your hairbrush in your go-bag with everything else you needed. Spencer was pulling on a cardigan as he reached out to hug you from the side, kissing your temple before grabbing his messenger bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “Ready?” He asked as you started walking through the door.

“I guess,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Spencer reached down to kiss your cheek as he locked the apartment door behind you, making you smile. “The hotel rooms better be nice,” you added, grabbing his hand as you walked to your car.

“Agreed,” he replied, laughing lightly as you both entered the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for the office.

…

You were walking fast after getting off the elevator, rushing to meet up with everyone, when you heard some of the team members talking.

“So…” You heard JJ’s voice down the hall. “We get Henry to bed, and, y’know, we’re about to finally have some alone time with mommy and daddy, and…” She trailed off, and as you entered the room, you saw her roll her eyes from afar. “You guys know the rest,” she finished, sounding annoyed.

“Ah, trying to dust off the ol’ cobwebs,” Derek joked, laughing.

Penelope hit him on the shoulder. “Inappropriate!” She exclaimed, before turning back to JJ. “Seriously, though, how long has it been?”

You laughed, seeing her intense face as you walked closer to joining everyone. Always so curious. Or nosy, you could say. But it was a part of her that was endearing.

“Too long,” JJ replied flatly.

You finally reached the group, putting your stuff down and greeting everyone.

JJ looked over at you and Spencer, a slight smirk on her face. “Well, looks like I wasn’t the only one interrupted,” she remarked, noticing how you both still looked a little disheveled after rushing to get here.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Bite me,” you replied sarcastically.

She gestured over to you, pointing at your neck. “Looks like someone already did,” she snickered.

You looked down to see a small bruise starting to form on your neck. You didn’t really look in the mirror while you were getting ready, so you didn’t notice the mark there.

You looked pointedly at Spencer as your hand went to your neck. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he mouthed silently, looking a little guilty.

You quickly took your hair down, grabbing the brush from your bag and starting to smooth your hair down. You could see Penelope open her mouth to ask probing questions. Everyone seemed to be too curious about your relationship, asking way too many questions when you finally told everyone you and Spencer were dating. Especially Penelope. Thankfully, she was cut off before she could say anything.

“Do we know what the case is?” Alex asked, letting you drop the subject of your evening activities and shift the focus to work. You snuck one last glance at Spencer, who smiled at you and reached out for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you settled into your new evening plans.

[urhoneycombwitch]

ovulation is INSANE

imagine trying to explain ovulation to Eddie as "my body is evil and it wants to get me pregnant" and you have to preface the week like "if I tell you not to use a condom, do NOT listen to me, it's the demons" because you're horny but don't wanna take any chances and he's like... ah, the demons... interesting... so can I still hit or...?

+18 mdni, cw for cumming inside that hasn't been prev discussed, daddy & breeding kink 🫣

you explain it to him and he goes "oh right like the plot in The Silver Chair." and you're like...?? and then in true Eddie fashion he goes on a ten-minute descriptive story rant about some old book that he read back in grade school where a character was cursed to be confined to a chair and no matter how hard he pleaded no one was allowed to break the spell.

or something. ur not really paying attention because Eddie looks so engaging as he speaks, all doey eyes and big hand movements and curly mane of hair that he shakes out to emphasize his points. it really shouldn't come as a surprise to him when you throw yourself across the couch and into his lap as soon as he's done with the story (he recovers quickly and valiantly, have no fear)

and he's never seen you like this before, desperation leaving no room for a proper dressing down- his pants and boxers are shoved to just his mid-thigh, your panties still on but hooked to one side so you can ride him, with quick rolls of your plush hips that he's currently gripping for dear life.

"fuck, sweetheart," he's gasping out, watching your eyebrows pinch together and your mouth part in a soft O, familiar signs of impending orgasm. "already?"

"told you..." you're swallowing down a whimper so you can speak, gathering the strands of hair at the nape of Eddie's neck between your fingers, his head lolling back against the couch, pliant under your touch. "ovulation horny is a- shit, right there- different beast..."

since you're the one riding, you're doing most of the physical work, but Eddie manages to angle up into that spot that makes your walls clench, his feet planted firmly on the ground to support your weight.

you're so close, he can see it in the way your eyes glaze over and thighs tremble. he's watching you with tipped-back head, half-lidded eyes, staving off his own release to get you to break first when he gets an idea.

"you like riding my cock, baby?" he purrs out, one of his hands leaving your hip to rest warm against your stomach. "want me to fill you up? get you good and pregnant? make you mine?"

any worry that he has about your reaction to this melts away with your moans, the idea shooting straight to your core as you shift your hips faster, pleasure mounting.

"that's it, honey," Eddie encourages, panting out your praises as he feels your walls spasming, choking his cock. "come for daddy and he'll fill you up, just like you w-"

he's cut off by your long, low groan as you obey his words, crushing your forehead against his as he helps you ride out your high. you're gushing around his cock that's quick to follow your lead, spilling his seed deep into you with a throaty groan of his own.

you're both covered in a light sheen of sweat as you come down from your highs, soft laughs mingling as you find your breath again.

"bet that didn't happen in your Silver Chair book," you chuckle, pulling back to press a kiss against Eddie's slack jaw.

"C.S. Lewis can go fuck himself," Eddie says, smoothing a hand down the slope of your back. "got the best plot ever right here."

[temis-de-leon]

MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist , Part 2 (kind of)

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

.

.

Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

.

.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

.

.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

.

.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

.

.

Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

 “Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

.

.

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.  

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

.

.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me”

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

.

.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

.

.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

 “Hey Lev…”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

.

.

.

@ourfinalisation

[calumfmu]

divorce lawyer steve is the loml 😍

could we see him finally meeting the husband you’re divorcing? 😉

Shorter one, but you know--had to do this to build the little universe better.

Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader [part one. part two.]

cw: smut-ish (interrupted), vulgar language, slut shaming, older!Steve, two idiots in love

“What are you doing here?”

Steve stood in your doorway, semi casually dressed—to his standards. White button down, pushed to the elbows, navy blue pants, brown loafers. His glasses were missing from his face, hair disheveled as he seemed to be more dressed down.

“I was in town?” His voice was gravelly, as he hadn’t expected you to open the door before he even knocked. You were on your way out, a normal visit to the inner city to drown out the past few months with partying.

“You live on the other side of New York.”

“Ah.”

You two sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. It was the first time around him you had felt uncomfortable, if you had even wanted to call it that.

“What’s that?” Your finger pointed to a box, wrapped in black paper, glossy, with a single bow.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He was acting suspicious, not quite meeting eye contact as he stood in your doorway, looking like a scared cat that could flee at any moment. You grabbed the box anyways, snatching it from his hands before turning on your heel to go into your living area, plopping down on the couch.

As you began to unwrap the gift, he remained at the door, hands shoved in his pockets. You eyed him, raising an eyebrow as you took off the last bits of paper on the box.

“Stop being weird, old man,” an exasperated sigh left your mouth as he grumbled to himself, not pleased with your comment referencing his age.

It had been about a month of being his client, discussing paperwork, the details of separation, fucking him behind closed doors. The last part shouldn’t be apart of the equation, but one look at him, you couldn’t resist the temptation.

As the door to your apartment closed behind him, he stepped in, taking a wide look at the room around him. Moving boxes were still present, shoved into the corners of the room, scribbles of your name on the cardboard. You didn’t know what he was expecting—you to be living this lavish life in a lavish apartment, but it was home to you. Home to you at least for now.

You gasped loudly, slapping your hands to your mouth as you finally took a look inside of the box. Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane’s, patent leather shiny as ever, sitting there and dying to be worn.

“Steve!” Your mouth was wide open, surprise evident as you were had no idea was even aware of this side of heaven—shoe heaven. Grabbing the shoes, you immediately toed off your others, trading them for the gifted heels. Perfect fit. “You shouldn’t have!”

Giddy with emotion, you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. A sloppy kiss landed on his cheek, the grimace in return as your entire body weight leaned on him. Slowly his arms came to snake around your waist, gripping the skin around your middle section.

His eyes met yours as he stared down at you, warm, chocolate brown with a whole world to offer. In this lighting, you could truly see his beauty, how age only made him more angelic, filled with fine lines and moles dotting his cheeks.

“You said I owed you, so…” he shrugged, a smug look crossing his face as he took in how grateful you truly were for the gift.

“You didn’t actually have to,” you replied, trailing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “The other pair wasn’t actually ruined, and these are so… so-”

“Think of it as an early separation gift.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. Just as you turned to lean into the kiss, he pulled away, a slight dip of his eyebrow in teasing manner.

“Steve Harrington, what am I going to do with you?”

He looked away from you, smiling into the distance as you looked down at your shoes once more, squealing with delight. This was all too domestic, too inappropriate for what your relationship should be with him, especially only a month in—yet not a relationship at all, but who was anyone to tell you differently?

Sinking down to your knees, you were careful to not scuff the gifted shoes, settling on the balls of your feet. You reached for his belt buckle, hastily working the metal between your fingers. His hand instinctively came to your head, tangling in the hair as he gasped.

“What-what’s—no, you don’t have to-” His words became jumbled as you smirked up at him, blinking through long lashes.

Faux pouting, you freed his zipper, slowly pulling it down with the lightest touch of your fingers.

“I could tell you about this Ferragamo dress I’ve been eyeing,” you whispered, biting your lip as you began to palm his through his exposed underwear. His head dipped back quickly, his eyes rolling shut. “Or—I could show you how grateful I really am.”

He nodded down at you, tightening his grip in your hair as you pressed a kiss to his groin, staring up at him through it. A shuttered breath escaped him, slow and jagged, his eyes watching the quick dart of your tongue dampening the material.

Just as you pulled him out of his restraint, a rapid knock was heard at the door. Steve craned his head back, silently cursing to himself as you wrapped a hand around him, moving slowly over the velvety skin of his shaft.

“Should you get that?”

“They’ll go away.” An open mouth kiss was pressed to his head, licking away the beaded pearl at the tip. The salted skin had you drooling, already craving more.

The knock was more urgent this time, a male voice heard through the thick wood of the door. It made the both of you pause in your tracks, Steve’s eyes widening, your mouth half way around him.

“Is that-?”

“You think-?”

It took only one more knock before the two of you were making haste, Steve’s pants sliding up with a jump, you wiping the corners of your mouth. The both of you were trying to appear normal, appear like actual lawyer and client inside of whatever this was.

Rushing over to the door, you have one last look at Steve, him lingering over the kitchen island as he grabbed a random folder, grateful that it had been documents relevant to the divorce settlement.

Your soon-to-be-ex’s eyes were small as he took you in, eyes dragging down your figure. His looks, those in which you had once thought were beautiful, seemed devious, up to no good while he stood before you.

“New outfit? Looks slutty,” he muttered, pushing his way into your apartment. He looked around, focusing on the boxes in the corner of the apartment, taking in every minuscule detail of the room.

“Aw damn, I was hoping for more tramp-y,” you were firm in your words, but insecure nonetheless. You felt exposed as he stood there, nervous that he would instantly know what you and Steve had previously been up to.

Taking notice of the older man in the corner of the room, your ex adjusted his suit, shirt unbuttoned down to below mid-chest exposing firm muscle that had your eyes rolling. He put on a bravado-type show, puffing out his chest like some animal trying to intimidate its prey. Steve didn't notice.

You leaned a hip against your couch, arms crossed against your chest, eyes rolling back as your ex continued to do whatever he was doing.

"Is there a reason you're on my side of town?"

Steve finally turned around at the sound of your voice, pulling his wire frames out of his pants pocket and sliding them onto his face. If there was just the privacy of you two, you would've jumped him by now. Barely looking at the younger man, his eyes focused on the papers in front of him.

"Your side of town?" His NY accent was thick, home to the city you now call home. "Didn't realize that was on the table for the divorce."

"Speaking of terms of settlement, I don't think it's quite appropriate that you're here right now," Steve's voice drew the staring competition that you two began, two stubborn attitudes gnawing at each other. You were reluctant to pull your eyes away from the man, noticing just how cheap his expensive suit looked on him.

Your ex turned towards Steve, hands on his hips, chest poked out, styled hair coiffed on his head. Its style didn't compare to the older man—and he had about 20 years on him.

"And who might you be, old man?"

Steve's reply was a tick of his jaw, tongue smacking against his teeth as he walked up to meet the man. A hand shot out for him to shake, although it was left unmet. Your ex-partner just stared down at it, thumb reaching out to rub against his bottom lip.

"Harrington, Steve Harrington. Representing the young lady over here." Sighing, Steve tucked the hand into his pocket, stifling his own eye roll at the rude gesture. He shared a brief look with you, understanding now why you wanted out of the marriage so badly. Even by this barely thirty second interaction.

"Mm, bet you're sleeping with her, grandpa," your ex's words had you stifling a giggle, your teeth digging into the palm of your hand to stop the sound. It wasn't that his words were funny, but more so Steve's reaction to it.

He had cleared his throat, rather loudly, tugged at his collar that hung loosely at his neck. Obvious wasn't the word to put it, just a surge of an uncomfortable feeling that overcame him. One thing you could count on was your ex-husband being dense as ever, grateful that he hadn't caught the movement he had made.

"Hardly ever professional," Steve answered, clasping his hands in front of him. "Even to joke about, young man."

He was met with a response similar to his original, a tick of the jaw and eyes cut towards him. The younger man hated the turn of the namecalling back, even despite calling Steve everything other than the word 'geriatric' itself.

"I can bet you want to. I mean, look at her."

"Sir."

The irritation that stemmed from the nicknames towards him geared towards the comments made about you, Steve pinched his nose bridge. He shoved the papers to the side, tugged on the sides of his jackets, straightened his posture. Taking a step towards you, he brushed past the younger guy.

"I have a meeting starting up soon," he said, crowding your space. One of his hands brushed against the side of your thigh, a gesture that went unnoticed by the other party in the room, definitely noticed by you. Butterflies began in the pit of your stomach, tingling lower as your skin burned with the touch of his hand. "We can meet at my office, our scheduled twelve."

As you began to answer, your ex spoke up for you, waving his hands in the air as he made his way towards the door instead.

"I'm heading out, you can relax, geezer," your ex opened the door, lingering for a moment more. "I was just stopping by to see what more my lawyer can collect."

He threw a wink towards you, nodding in Steve's direction.

"Better suit up well, pal. It's only going to get worse from here."

The door shut behind him, silence hanging heavy in the air as the two of you sat there—stunned silence. It took only seconds for you to start laughing as soon as that door closed, leaning against the couch with your hands covering your mouth, feet in the air as you sat on the back of the furniture. Steve shook his head at you, running his hands through his hair.

"Really? Him?"

You nodded, cackling at the mess that was left behind by the few words that were shared between the men. Taking a step in your direction, Steve found space between your open legs, hands resting on the couch outside of your thighs.

"There's no way he could've been anything other than that," Steve huffed a laugh finally, hanging his head as your giggles finally came to a stop.

You ran your hands up the front of his chest, the fabric of his shirt running between your fingers. Tugging at the material, you brought his face closer to your own, inches away from each other as you stared up into his eyes. That chocolate brown had you smiling softly, comfort easing the anxiety that had settled at your chest from the earlier interaction.

"Shut up and kiss me, old man."

Steve smiled widely, eyebrows shooting up. Humor found him at your words, different than the earlier reactions given. "Oh, you guys were perfect for each other."

You pressed your lips to his, slotting perfectly into his shape. It was a chaste kiss, a subtle press of lips that warmed your core.

"But I think you're perfect for me now."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

[froggibus]

Got Me Up All Night - Ramattra

Pairing: Ramattra x fem! reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Ramattra is used to putting you to sleep when you can’t, but he’s found a far more effective way now…

CW: slight somno (consensual), size difference + size kink, thigh riding, overstimulation, edging, fingering, Ram has a cock, spanking, dom! Ram (that rhymes lol), sub!reader, possessiveness, insomnia, unprotected sex (but he’s a robot so idk how that even works lol), creampie but not really (^)

guys I am so down bad for this guy rn it’s not even funny…trying to focus on my comp games but he’s standing there being this sexy and ugh

It’s well past three am when you’re rolling out of bed and padding down the halls of the monastery. It’s been a while since you went to sleep at a reasonable time, most nights you tossed and turned until you gave up and resigned to wandering around until you found what you were looking for. Or rather, who you’re looking for. 

You find him in his office, legs propped up on his desk while he studies a map. Though he doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, you know he knows you’re there. He says nothing even as you approach him slowly and climb into his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle your head into his neck. 

Ramattra freezes at your touch. He’s not an affectionate being by any means—he’s never really understood why humans are so caught up on it. But having you drape yourself across him, your warm body against his cool metal, he almost understands it. 

He wraps an arm around you, large hand settling on your back. “Another restless night?”

You hum in agreement, nodding your head. The skin of your cheek brushes his and if he was capable of blushing the way humans did, he would. Something about you just gets into his head, and while he’s never cared much for humans and their antics, he cares for you. 

“Do you want to discuss it?” His thick fingers tangle in your hair, gently tugging on the strands. 

“Just wanna sleep,” as if on cue, you yawn. 

He nods, going back to studying the map on his desk. Still, even as he concentrates, his hand still plays with your hair and rubs your back and brushes your fingers. 

You can’t help but stare at how much bigger he is than you. Ramattra, the omnic warrior who could crush you with one hand, but he’s being more gentle than anyone has ever been with you in your entire life and a part of you just melts. Ramattra, who you thought hated you and your kind until he lulled you to sleep in his office and carried you to bed. Ramattra, who can’t communicate his feelings for the life of him—but why would he want to have feelings for you? You’re just a human, after all.

As soon as he notices your heart rate steady and your breathing soften, he’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you down the hall. He’s as careful as he can be, supporting your body with just enough strength so that you won't wake up. 

He lays you down in your bed but your arms don’t loosen from around your shoulders. A quiet whimper leaves your lips. He tilts his head in confusion. You were asleep a second ago, and he was so careful. 

It doesn’t seem like you’re awake though. 

He sighs and lays on the bed next to you, letting your body weight drape over him. It’s a good thing he finds your sleepiness endearing. 

You subconsciously wrap your arms around him, slinging one of your legs over his muscular one. You’re completely draped over him, and though the omnic could remove you at any point, he thinks it’s a good excuse to stay the night with you. 

He relaxes with you, letting his thoughts wander from Omnic supremacy for a minute. He thinks of you, laying like this underneath him, showing him things he’s always been curious about. Of course, it doesn’t last long. Not when you’re suddenly whining and rubbing up against him. 

He can feel your heart rate pick up too, the steady thumping growing uneven. He’s not sure what to do—are you having a nightmare? Are you in pain? 

He scans you over, looking for any reason for your sudden change in attitude. He grips your shoulder and gently shakes you awake. 

Your eyes flutter open, squinting to adjust to the dark. “W-what?”

You try to gather your bearings. You were having a dream, a really good dream. It’s then that you notice the dampness in your underwear and the way your legs are wrapped around one of his. 

“S-sorry!” You stammer, and go to pull away your leg, but he grabs your hip and keeps you in place. 

He’s so big, so strong—his fingers reach almost to your belly button while his palm is on your hip, and he effortlessly holds you still. “What’s happening? Are you in pain?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, trying to keep your eyes away from his. Your pussy is still gushing and you fight the urge to keep rocking your hips against him. 

“No. I’m not hurt, I—I just…had a weird dream.”

Ramattra looks at you curiously. Your body temperature has gone way up, you can’t look him in the eye, and he can feel a warm wetness in the crotch of your pants. He’s heard of these symptoms before but he’s in complete disbelief. There’s no way you’re aroused, is there?

He holds you still with one hand while he slowly trails the other one down your side, slipping it into the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brush your swollen clit and you whine, trying to clench your thighs around his thick fingers. 

Your reaction confirms all he needs to know, and then he’s withdrawing his hand from your pants and rubbing circles on your thigh. 

“R-ram,” you whimper. 

He finds your pleas endearing. You’re so frail and desperate beneath him, straining your hips against his grip to try and get the friction you’re so desperate for. Still, he holds you in place. 

“Tell me what you need.” 

You whine again, looking at him with desperate eyes and trying to rub your hips against his thick metal thigh. “P-please, let me just—” 

He releases his grip on your hips and you let out a whine as you get the friction you’ve needed. You roll over so you’re somewhat on top of him, gliding your hips up and down his leg. He keeps a hand on your hip to guide you along, occasionally pressing you into him in a way that makes you lick your lips and roll your eyes. 

He’s in utter disbelief. He never thought he’d be close to a human, let alone having sex with one. But you look so fucking cute, and he loves how he has complete control over you. How he can give you so much pleasure or take it away at will. 

You look up at him in utter want and he knows what you’re trying to say—you need more. He rips the fabric of your shorts and underwear apart in one fluid motion, discarding them somewhere on the bed. The cold night air hits your aching pussy and the skin to metal contact is delicious. 

You go faster, rolling your hips up and down in waves, the knot inside of you building. You know you won’t hold out much longer, and all you want is to finish. 

Ramattra considers stopping, lifting you up and ruining your orgasm. But he’s not that cruel. At least, not for the first one. He wants to see you come undone, he wants to see how fucking pretty you’ll be when you cum for him. 

It only takes a few more seconds before you’re clenching around him, muscles spasming and pussy gushing. He holds you still during it, large hand stroking your head, trying to keep you calm while you thrash around wildly. 

You let out a sigh of relief, rolling off of him. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I wasn’t really thinking straight and—”

Ramattra is on top of you, caging you in to the bed with his body above yours. “Who said I was done with you?”

You swallow hard. “I-I don’t think I can take another one.”

“You can,” his hand trails down your stomach, thick fingers starting to work on your clit, “and you will.”

You suck in a breath, your legs spreading against your will. You’re so wet and warm and waiting for him, your pussy practically begging to be opened up by him. He circles the tip of his finger around your entrance, admiring the way you clench the air in anticipation. 

He slips his finger inside of you. Just one of his fingers is so thick, so long. He reaches places you could never dream of reaching on your own, filling you up so damn good. He works you open, watching you writhe beneath him and whine from the sensitivity. 

It doesn’t take much to stretch you out enough to slip another finger in, the omnic pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace. You’re thrashing around so wildly that he keeps a hand on your stomach to steady you, pushing down and creating a pressure against the fingers he has inside of you. 

He can feel your muscles starting to tense again, hear it in the way you’re whining. He knows you’re not going to last long. He curls his fingers inside of you, trying to get you closer to your orgasm. 

You’re so close, you can taste it. You thrust your hips into his hand, desperate to finish. You can feel it, your whole body is begging for it. 

And then he pulls out.

You don’t waste a second in trying to shove one of your hands between your legs. Ram catches your hand before you can even touch your oversensitive clit, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his hands and pinning it above your head. 

“Do you want to finish?”

You nod furiously, looking at him with your messy hair and pleading eyes. “Y-yes, god, so fucking badly.”

He trails his other hand up your thigh, going so painfully slow. You arch your back, whimpering. Just before his fingers can slide back into you, just before he touches you, he pulls back. 

“R-ram!”

He squeezes your wrists in warning, reminding you who’s in control here. “You finish when I say you finish. You want to be good for me, yes?”

You nod. 

“Good,” he sounds pleased with your answer, and trails his hand back up your thigh. 

His finger barely grazes your clit but you shiver, arching your back off of the bed. He can’t help but laugh at your desperation, the way you’re so whiny and needy for only his fingers. The way you’re so desperate to be fucked by an omnic almost double your size. It’s so dirty, he loves it. 

He finally shoves two fingers back inside of you, returning to his earlier pace without letting you adjust. That burning need to cum mixed with your sensitivity from earlier and the way he’s so lost in your pussy is all too much for you. It only takes a few thrusts before you come undone around him. 

This time is way more intense than the first, walls spasming around his fingers. He releases your wrists, letting you arch your back and whine beneath him. 

He waits for you to catch your breath for a minute before leaning in close to your ear and whispering, “do you need more?”

You shake your head. Your skin is already feverish and sweating from cumming twice, and your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you can take much more. 

Ramattra slaps your pussy hard, staring at you expectantly. “Do you need more?” He emphasises each word with a slap, admiring the way you gush with each one. 

You like pain—he’ll have to remember that. 

“Y-yes!” You gasp out, clenching your thighs together. “I need more. I-I need you.”

He hums in satisfaction, happy with your answer. “That’s the slut I know.”

His words fluster you, making your head even dizzier than it was before. It’s so brash, so unlike him, but you love it. You love how he’s treating you like an experiment. 

Ramattra gets onto his knees in front of you, messing around with the plate just below his abdomen. Omnics aren’t built for breeding, they aren’t meant to procreate. But through years of the evolution of technology and omnic-human relationships, modifications have been made. 

You’re shocked to see Ram remove his plate, revealing a tentacle like cock made of the same organic metal as his body. It’s long and thick, and it’s bigger than anything you’ve tried to take before, but all you want is to feel it inside of you, stretching you out. 

Ramattra laughs at the size difference. He’s already much bigger than a human, and he knows that extends to every part of him. He knows that by fucking you he’ll be ruining you for every human man after, but he doesn’t care. Those human men can’t have you—no one can. They don’t deserve you. 

He lines up the tip at your entrance, rubbing his cock through your folds and gathering up your juices on his length. It’s such a funny feeling for him, you feel nothing like he expected but he loves it. 

He slowly pushes his way inside of you, feeling your gummy walls stretch around him. You whimper, desperately wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He pushes his way deeper, his cock stopping just past halfway. 

He frowns. “You can take more than that.”

You shake your head, toes curling. “Too deep,” you protest. 

He pulls out and slams back in, trying to force more of his length inside of you. He’s so much bigger than you, so much bigger than anything you’ve taken before. He completely stretches you out, reaching places you never knew were there. 

He picks up his pace, slamming his hips against yours in a way you know will leave bruises tomorrow. He’s so deep inside of you, you can hardly take it. Regardless of the pain and the stretch, you find yourself lifting up your legs to give him easier access. 

Ram uses this as an excuse to force himself deeper, hips colliding with yours with every thrust. He trails his hand down your stomach, squinting when he feels the slight bulge in your abdomen. He looks at it in shock—is he really that deep inside of you? Are you really that much smaller than him?

It only drives him to fuck you harder, throwing your legs over his shoulder in a mating press. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, crying out so loudly he’s sure half the monastery can hear you. Good, they’ll know who you belong to. 

You’re almost sobbing from the pleasure, alternating between squeezing his shoulders and burying your head in his neck. Everything is so hot and sensitive, and he’s so big and so deep you can feel him everywhere. But you want more. You need more. 

You moan out his name and please like a prayer. You’re not even sure what you want, what you need. Your brain has practically turned to mush at this point, and you’re getting close to the edge. 

Ram can feel it too, and his cock vibrates in response. The feeling makes you shiver, only begging him to fuck you harder. You’re so close, so so close. All you need is a little more…

His cock pulses again and you come undone, tugging him close to you while you cum. Everything is so hot and wet and the faint feeling of him fucking you through your orgasm only drives you even more. 

Your orgasm is enough to bring him close to his, cock vibrating steadily as he thrusts into you sloppily. He’s so desperate, collapsing on top of you in an attempt to get as deep as possible. 

Finally, he lets go. There’s a hot warmth spreading through your stomach, and you look up at him through teary lashes. “Did—did you just…?”

“Organic nanites,” he explains, smoothing your hair back. 

You nod slowly. It feels so good you don’t care, he could keep fucking his nanites inside of you all night as long as he makes you feel this good. 

It’s not long until you’re starting to drift off to sleep again, your head on his chest and a leg around either side of one of his. Ram strokes your hair, admiring how fucked out you look. There’s still more that he wants to try with you, but there will be plenty of sleepless nights for that in the future.

[strawberrystepmom]

NSFW - MDNI. cw: dacryphilia. self ship coded. gojo x f!reader. reader is a crier (couldn't be me....*looks away from camera insecurely*) gojo loves a crier he's sadist this isn't a new agenda but im still pushing it... | divider by cafekitsune, wc 1.3k

“And you know what he said to me? ‘You need to try harder.’ He actually told me, to my face, that I need to do more.”

Whatever was discussed today has clearly upset her, Satoru thinks to himself while laying on his back next to you on the floor of your bedroom, his hands folded beneath his head. Any criticism of you is rare and depending on how harsh it is, you react poorly. This is something he has learned many times over, coming to see you more than once to find you pouting about being less than perfection in someone else’s eyes thanks to the high standards you hold yourself to. 

If he’s honest though, his mind is barely focused on the comforting part of his “sometimes boyfriend” duties. He’s more interested in how you look right now, his head turned to see your chest heave with little petulant sobs and your palms pressed against your warm cheeks. The physical manifestations of your frustration look like glitter trailing down your face in the evening light, leaving the tips of your fingers glistening and wet while you wipe them away. Without thinking, he reaches across your body and moves your hands, wiping away what you couldn’t get with his thumb.

“I could trap him in the void if that would make you feel better?”

A giggle followed by another sob bubbles out of you and Gojo feels pinned to the ground, the weight of his own desire for you in this vulnerable state borderline frustrating. Seeing your girlfriend cry and sob and whine should not make you hard yet here he is, tip of his dick begging to press against the seam of his sweatpants. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m just being a baby.”

You are, but you’re his baby and he will not stand for you crying over someone or something else. He’ll just have to give you something to cry about instead, unable to hold back any longer, simmering desire turning into something bubbling over.

“Hey, look at me”

Rolling from his back onto all fours, his knees touch the carpeted floor and his palms are planted on either side of your head, framing your pretty face from his perspective. A shimmering tear trails over your cheek that leaves a wet trail behind it, your skin damp and dewy. The tip of your nose shines, your eyes are red rimmed, but Satoru finds it irresistible and always has. The reasons why aren’t a mystery to him, given how badly he wants you regularly but the blood rushes from his cheeks downward to his cock more quickly than he anticipated when he’s faced with you like this - needy and ripe for his picking. He’s half-hard thanks to nothing but the sight of your teary eyes. What an effect to have on someone who could bring the world to its knees if he were to wake up one morning and choose to do so.

“You look so good like this,” he croons and you squirm beneath him, a poor attempt to free yourself from the weight of his gaze. There’s nowhere for you to run or hide. You can’t play off his desire as a show when it’s just the two of you and he moves his knee to wedge it between your barely parted thighs. 

Your palms press against his chest, legs kicking out pathetically around him. All it takes is a bend of his elbows and your chests are practically pressed together. Is it difficult to breathe because he’s so close or because you want him so badly? The tips of your noses touch and he dips his face, making you pucker in anticipation of his lips coming to claim a kiss from yours. 

“Satoru,” you whine, mouth still half puckered in preparation for a kiss that doesn’t appear to be coming. “What are you doing?”

This draws a laugh from him, his tongue darting out of his mouth to brush against your cheek and the side of your mouth. The tear that left at trail is gone, a salty taste across his tongue, his mind associating that taste with nothing but you. His cock jumps in response.

“It’s always Satoru this, Satoru that, ohhhhh Satoru!” He mocks you lightheartedly, tone jumping into something nasally in his best impression of your higher pitched voice, the one he hears when his fingers are pressing deep inside of you. “Can’t I make you feel better like this too?”

Another tear falls from your eyes, following the same path as the one before it, settling in the cradle of your lips. Gojo leans down and kisses you on the mouth, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips to soak up every bit of the tear that remains. Your saliva mixes with his, your tears, the viscosities mixing into something more erotic than you could have imagined. Thin and sticky, just like the nectar that seeps from your cunt and drenches the cotton gusset of your panties that is wedged between your folds while you kiss him.

“Just let me…” he breathes between your lips, tongue slipping against yours. Even his voice is higher than usual, laced with desire and need you do not understand and are not about to question. “Let me do this.”

You hope he realizes that you aren’t “letting” him do anything, mind spinning in dizzying circles with every tear that runs down your cheek and hits your lips that he’s quick to take for himself. This is just as enjoyable for you as it is for him, one of his hands moving from the side of your head downward to your hip, playing with the waistband of your shorts. Your hips cant upward and he smiles against your mouth, your neediness more obvious than ever while reaching to grasp the back of his neck and hold him against you. He stops you, the palm on your hip pressing your ass back down to the ground. 

“Have any more for me?” Satoru’s chest heaves when he asks, breath leaving him in warm puffs that live and die against your mouth. “You’re so pretty when you cry, baby, can you blame me?”

His tongue darts out again and he licks up anything that may have been neglected in his haste, the muscle running over the seam of your lips and the plushness of both lower and top. A moan, wet and breathy, leaves you and another round of fresh tears follow the path of the others before them. You want to argue with him, well aware of how you look with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, but your pussy aches and clit throbs in response to him. The words you want to say wouldn’t make themselves appear even if you tried harder to find them than you are now.

“Come on baby, gimme some more.” His encouragement makes you sniffle and his hand sinks below the waistband of your shorts and panties, fingertips trailing downward until they press against the sticky cleft of your pussy. “Just a little more and then I’ll make it better, okay?”

Nodding, you glance up at him and the shine of unshed tears makes him growl low in his throat. His fingers spread your folds open beneath your clothing and wetness soaks his fingers, tongue searching your face for wetness that can match what he is feeling right now. The mix of tears and saliva and your arousal are too much and he cannot wait any longer, pressing his knee against your clothed mound.

“Don’t stop crying for me,” he begs and you nod again, acquiescing to all of his requests as usual. You grind into the hardness of his knee and he chuckles, glad he followed his instincts to keep you here and like this, the kind of girl who will gladly cry and grind against a thigh if it means she feels better. 

“I’ll make you feel better,” he assures with a chant against your lips, words interrupted with the sounds of how insatiable for one another the two of you are, smacking and sliding and pants and moans. 

As if you don’t already.

[gojonanami]

SWEET NOTHING - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: satoru always comes running home to your sweet nothings -- except maybe this time. ✴︎ cw: spoilers for jjk 236, discussions of death, fluff, angst, implications of delulu twitter theories of survival ✴︎ wc: 1,175 ✴︎ song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

Satoru didn’t know when it happened.

But he had started running home to you far before the two of you shared one. 

Was it when Suguru left? Was it even before that? Or was he just always by your side at night, sneaking into your dorm room to sleep beside you. He’d tangle your limbs together so escape wouldn’t be easy for you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you slept all too easy with him. Your soft pants and snores was the metronome that put him to sleep, the weight of your body was the only warmth he needed, and your quiet hums in the morning after he finally stirred was the thing that made him want to wake in the first place. 

“Morning,” you’d mumble, your voice all too thick with sleep, as you tried to pry yourself from exhaustion’s embrace, and he was too eager to help you with that — with sweet kisses and splayed fingers under your shirt. 

“It’s always a good morning baby,” he’d jokingly chide you, as he would kiss your neck, as you always made sure to say the phrase without the ‘good,’ if only to elicit his kisses (though he’d give them to you anyway), “cause I get to wake up with you,” 

Satoru didn’t kiss you for a long time — he couldn’t — he knew it was foolish to date anyone seriously — after everything ended in disaster with Suguru, he knew the burden of being the strongest was only his to bear — no one else’s. And besides, loving someone as Satoru Gojo was as good as taping a target to their chest, and he’d never do that to you — no matter how much he wanted to. 

But what could he do when you were the one to kiss him? Kissed him one night after the two of you shared a meal — barely a meal, scrambled eggs and bread — and he had cracked some stupid joke about Nanami that made you snort. And then you tried to shove him, but he caught your wrist, and you were close — too close because he could practically count the number of eyelashes on your eyelids. And right when sense was setting back in, and he was going to turn away, you kissed him. 

And he couldn’t turn away after that. He never could — you had pulled him into your orbit and now you were never gonna let him go. 

Not that he ever wanted you to. 

He’d come running to you, even after running away, because he couldn’t stay away. Because it was you. 

And it didn’t truly hit him, until he had come home this time, to the home you both had shared, and heard you in the kitchen, the faint sounds of clinking utensils and your humming. He removed his shoes, lips curling into a easy smile, as he stepped inside, opting to surprise you instead of announcing he was home. 

He whispered the words instead, “I’m home,” walking to find you just where he thought you would be. He leans against the doorframe, watching you hum along to whatever song was stuck in your head, as you prepared his favorites cake — only stopping when his arms wrapped around your middle, a small gasp on your lips that turns into a wide grin. 

“Toru—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, and he could taste the sugar on your lips, but nothing was ever sweeter than you, “welcome home, baby,” 

And he gets the goofiest grin, as he sweeps you off your feet, making you yelp and laugh, a sound that vanished all the exhaustion of the world from his shoulders. From the industry disruptors, soul deconstructors to the voices that implore he should be doing more — only always taking more, and more, and more. But as he kisses your neck, the soft skin against his lips, only with you he could admit, he’s all too soft for it. And he could find more, more to life than the life that was stolen from him because of his abilities, the youth that he lost far too long ago, and the line he had drawn between him and the rest of the world. Because he wasn’t the strongest when he was with you — he was just Satoru Gojo.  

He buried his head in the nape of your neck, your arms curled around him, holding him impossibly closer, his breath tickling your skin, “I’m home now,” he whispers against you, eyes sinking shut. 

He spent his best moments in the company of your sweet nothings — your feet thrown over his as the two of you ate dinner on the couch, swiping food from your fork and stealing kisses between bites; the walks you took in the cool evenings, cicadas singing their symphony as the sun blazed against the sky in its final moments, where his six eyes would narrow to a pin, and all he would see was you; and the moments he spent beside you in bed, your touch, your presence, your being — the only thing he ever wanted to perceive with his entire being. 

Home was not a place, but it was you. And he had remarked that to you when you both were discussing the possibility of moving in the future and he had shrugged off giving suggestions. 

“Come on, Toru, there must be somewhere you’d want to live,” and his lips only curled, as he stared you — beautiful pout and all — and he knew his answer. 

“Home is anywhere you are, baby,” he leaned over and kissed your neck, “so pick anywhere in the world and I’d follow you in a heartbeat,” his hand guides your hand to his chest, “because it’s yours,” 

And now, it seemed like the end was coming. He had to leave home, and he couldn’t go home to your sweet nothings — he thought as he stared ahead at the sky. Death was painless — it was easy for the dead, they held the power over the living, of leaving before being left. But he had to leave his home behind, and he swore he could see your face, could hear your screams, your pleading, your cries. And it wasn’t only yours. His students. His friends. 

Was it enough to leave? He glanced at the departing flights in front of him, his smiling friends and the regrets that were lifting off his shoulders, and wondered was it time? 

And he saw your face again, two words on your lips, “come home,” 

And his lips curled into a smile, as his legs fell back, his fingers twitching, as they had done once before when he had fallen — fallen before the sorcerer killer. He would give it all up — his lower half topples over, closer, closer to his torso — give up all the power in the world to just be with you. And he swore away his six eyes in favor of two legs and one life—

He had to run home — home to your sweet nothings.  

☆ a/n: so i was listening to sweet nothing by t. swift on repeat and got super emotional thinking about how this song fits gojo while scrolling about post-236 fan theories, so this is the result.

[nkogneatho]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

ೀ kuroo x fem!reader ft. iwaizumi

—cw: exhibitionism, blowjob, webcam sex, male masturbating, pet names (kitten), cum swallowing, deepthroat.

—a/n: this was supposed to be a small blurb but oh well. Also this was supposed to be just kuroo but being the hajime whore i am i had to include him.

Tetsu made sure to give you all his time and attention. He was there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, arms to hold you into and of course a dick to fuck you stupid when you were horny.

But today he had a meeting with Iwaizumi to discuss the financial aspects while funding and sponsoring the volleyball tournament the recently partner for. He wasn't close to Iwaizumi, more to the former captain of Seijoh, but Hajime and Tetsuro clicked during their first proper meeting. They even went out for a few beers and shared laughs. He told him about you so since then Iwaizumi would always ask how you are. You met him once during a party Kuroo organized and the man looked big. Bigger than Kuroo but you love your rooster head too much so you don't care about any other man.

You walked into the bedroom to find kuroo in his sweats. He had tight wine red tshirt on with black sweats and you peeked to find iwaizumi wearing a black compression shirt. It was obvious he was an athletic trainer the way his body flexes at ecah move. But your eyes were fixated on your man. Or rather his grey sweats. Shit. The fabric was loose but the way he sat, you could see his dickprint. Shit. shit. shit. You didn't know what plagued over you—maybe lust, maybe desperation, but you carefully drop to your knees and crawl to him. He doesn't notice you, his eyes fixated on the calculations he was writing on the desk, that until your freshly manicured nails trace his dickprint and his eyes shoot to you.

"wh—"

"Shhh." you gesture putting your pointer on your lips. "don't want him to find out baby," you grinned. Kuroo pushed his chair a little forward dragging the wheels from his weight. If he wanted to, he would've excused himself, turning off the camera and tell you that he'll let you do whatever you want later. But the man has always fancied adventures.

When you start stroking his boner, he lets out a heavy sigh, audible enough to catch the attention of the man on the other side of the screen.

"Is everything alright?" Hajime's processed computer voice pulls Kuroo's attention back to the meeting.

"Y-yeah yeah. Dude, I just had a pretty tiring day," he replies.

"It's 12 pm, man."

"Ah, right. I meant morning—fuck." He wasn't someone to lose his composure so easily but the last fuck was something he needed to moan because now your mouth was wetting his dick, taking him inside.

"We could've just resched—uhm...Kuroo," Hajime's tone shifted. Drenched in curiosity, drenched in something dark. "I can see her head."

You stopped. You literally stopped while he was still inside your mouth. You expected Kuroo to make up an excuse. He always handles these thing easily, right? Only now this man decided to drag the chair a little backwards so the man on this laptop screen had a clear view, a clearer angle to see what was happening. You peer up at him with a dumbfound expression.

"Don't look at me like that, kitten. You're the one who wanted to play games while I am working." His fingers wallowed in your hair, pulling you further close to his inner thighs. "Don't you dare run now." And you didn't. You obeyed him like a pet wanting to impress his master.

"Aw shucks. Would you mind turning sideways, Kuroo? So I can see her take that dick in clearly."

"I wouldn't mind," he shifted you to the side, turning his chair. "Enjoy the Show."

You started bobbing your head up and down. Even though his hands were in your hair, he didn't force you down his cock. Atleast, not yet. Your tongue tasted a hint of sourness, probably his precum. As you moved, your eyes prompted to the corner to find Iwaizumi's cock full on display as he stroked it with his big hands. Your cheeks burnt up immediately. Tetsuro caught the change in your expression and his pupils were fixated on you. He didn't know you enjoyed this so much.

"Iwa-chan."

"Don't call me—ugh that," he spoke in between moans.

"Aw c'mon. Why not? Shit, baby no teeth. You've seen my cock so I guess we're pretty close now."

"I am more focused on her. Ngh—look at her. Now I know why you call ker a kitten. fucking hell. lapping her tongue and all'at" Iwaizumi's balls were tightening. He was getting closer and closer. You knew because his gruntsbstarted getting heavier and louder. You were a few meters away from the laptop but it felt like he was right their, groaning in your ears.

"ah! fuck. yeah. Keep going, kitten. I am close. He is too—gorgeous fucking girl. yeah. fuck fuck. shit. ah! ah!" Now was the time when his hands started pushing you further down his cock till your nose bumped in his crotch. "fuck yeah. yeah. yeah 'm close. ah ah ngh—" tetsu's hand held your held in one place, forcing his dick until all his seed spilled down your throat. he knows you alwayd swallow it like a good girl. and you did. Noticing you gulping down his cum, gave Iwa the sweet release he was chasing.

"NGHH! Holy fuck," hajime cursed. You looked at the screen to find thick white ropes spilled all over his knuckles. Some even managed to shoot up to his black compression.

"Hmm," Kuroo chuckled. "Wanna say something to him pretty? Go ahead." You bit your bottom lip, still gazing at his softened cock. It looked big even when it was soft.

"Wish I could taste your cum too, Hajime." And his dick sprung up again. He didn't expect you to call him by his first name let alone say nasty things like that. That innocent image of you in his head was gone.

"Haha. See? Isn't she so cute?" Kuroo petted your head. "Aw look. Our meeting time is almost up." Hajime looked a little disappointed but Tetsu knew better. "How about we reschedule...in person?" And the smile at the end of a sentence confirmed that he was not going to discuss anything even remotely related to volleyball in the next meeting.

[starrywilliams]

guilty as sin? | abby anderson

“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”

warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)

notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭

cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x

wc: 1.8k

likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.

you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.

but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.

she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.

now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.

she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.

she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.

but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.

her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.

before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.

having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.

you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.

it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.

when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.

yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.

but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.

every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.

but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.

maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.

abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.

owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.

but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.

they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”

they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.

but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?

abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.

she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.

she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.

she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.

she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.

if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?

her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.

another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.

she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.

she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.

she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.

she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.

her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.

it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.

a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.

but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.

her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.

fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.

her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.

the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.

it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.

until next time.