#further committing them to memory

[silna-pdf]

two virologists who are going to be ok

[sacred-treasure]

𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧

𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝘅 𝗙𝗘𝗠!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

Summary: Toji comes home after a long shift to you, his sweet roommate, asleep on the couch. His innocent admiration turns into something darker as he gives into repressed desires

Warnings: dark content!!—dubcon, somnophilia (touching over clothes, reader orgasms while asleep), age gap (toji's in his 40s, reader's in her early 20s), pet names, smut, 18+, do not read if any of these are upsetting to you!!

Word Count: 2.75k

Author's Note: This is loosely based off of @holeforzenin's Roommate Toji series. That version of Roommate!Toji would not do something like this, but the idea of that dynamic had us both reeling and I absolutely had to write something about it!!

Toji was tired. No, exhausted.

He’s honestly not sure there’s a word in the dictionary that can truly sum up the total depletion of energy from his overworked muscles. Each work day is never just as short as the schedule says and with him working a blue collared job, there’s absolutely no way he gets to clock out unscathed.

Every night he comes home to a silent apartment, a cold bed, and dinner already packed up in two tupperware containers in the fridge. They have matching sticky notes attached to them; one says “dinner!” and the other says “for lunch!”, and if he’s honest, he finds the little smiley faces you draw beside the messages endearing. But he probably would never admit to it. Not to your face, at least.

He’s used to the hum of the microwave as he lets the scent of spices from your cooking fill the small space of the kitchen. Toji may not be good at expressing it but he’s truly quite thankful to have you around the apartment. It’s hard enough having a job that demands every waking moment from him—not to mention the stacks of billing statements sitting on the dining table—but having to plan meals after each night is truly something he doesn’t have time for.

But tonight, he has something better than a homemade meal waiting for him.

Toji unlocks the front door with one of the keys attached to the old carabiner hanging off his belt loop, the simple action feeling immensely laborious. Grabbing hold of the doorframe, he toes off his shoes one after the other and neatly sets them beside your pair of converse, the soles scuffed and worn with their age. When he finally raises his head, he’s met with your sleeping form draped across the couch.

Typically, you finish separating his meals after eating a portion yourself and spend the rest of the night in your room studying until your brain physically can’t cram any more information inside of it. He never asks for your attention, though he misses it dearly at night, and tends to cling onto the memories of your laughter filling the living room.

A sudden applause snaps him back to the present and he turns his head toward the sound. The television is still on, one of the old cartoons you mentioned you grew up watching plays softly in the background. He scoffs and shakes his head at some joke that falls flat before stepping with heavy feet further into the apartment until he’s towering over the couch where you lay.

The light from the screen bathes your face in a warm glow. He takes this moment to really commit your features to memory, although he doesn’t know the exact reasoning behind his actions. The scene from the show changes and the colors illuminating your face alter their hue. He thinks you look pretty like this, peaceful at last after all your running around between chores, classes, and work.

Toji doesn’t even think before reaching down and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Your nose crinkles from the tickle of his finger brushing across your cheek, but your eyes remain shut. A smile tugs at his lips as he finds the action kind of adorable.

His eyes begin to wander lower as he focuses on each one of your steady breaths. The rise and fall of your body is accentuated by the thin tank top that clings to your chest, the strap beginning to slip off your shoulder and exposing another inch to the line of your cleavage. He feels heat slowly begin to crawl up his neck and he immediately fixes his gaze on the wall above your head.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, you know better,” he scolds himself.

Has it been a while? Yes. Has he ever viewed you in that light before? Well, if he’s honest it has crossed his mind. He can’t exactly blame himself. All he’s had time for is work and barely getting enough rest before doing it all over again the next day. There hasn't been time to even think about getting into a relationship, much less having time to find someone for sex.

However, having a cute, young girl in the house certainly makes things interesting. He’s only had thoughts that involve you for a brief moment, and the second he realizes what he’s imagining, he forces himself to stop.

Though, there’s something about this scene that stirs in his stomach before settling below his belt. It’s a feeling he can’t name, but one that isn’t altogether unfamiliar. It’s something akin to lust, but there’s another emotion curled around it—guilt, or maybe shame. He knows the role he plays in your life and he knows damn well he shouldn’t even be considering something like this.

But today Toji is just too tired.

That indescribable feeling in the pit of his stomach returns but for once, he allows it to stay. His fingers reach for the remote to the television, sparing only one glance to press a soft button to mute the sound before placing it back on the table. 

You look so pretty like this: hair sprawled out across the throw pillow, lips parted slightly with silent snores, pretty legs draped along the length of the couch. He doesn’t know why, but even with all the immense tons of guilt, he can’t stop himself from sinking down on the cushions beside you.

He tells himself he’ll only touch for a second. That’s all—he just needs one second to feel your warmth. But once his hand finally touches you for himself, he wonders why the hell he hasn’t done it sooner.

Soft doesn’t even begin to scrape the surface of just how heavenly you feel. His calloused palms lightly trail over the length of your shin, fingers curling around your smooth skin before brushing his thumb over your knee. Each touch is soaked in affection in its own specific way. Toji’s emotions blend and create something new he’s never felt before.

He lets out a heavy sigh through his nose as he halts his movements altogether. Reasoning and desire fight within him, his head is screaming protests that are ignored as his body’s instincts win the internal battle.

As he shoves the remaining guilt aside, that small spark in his stomach roars to life.

Toji leans down and presses his scarred lips to the bend of your knee. The touch is featherlight and innocent in its own way. With the close proximity, he can smell the scent of your body wash layered underneath the sweet smell of the lotion you lather yourself with after each shower.

The contact of his warm skin is met with goosebumps and he watches with awe as they scatter along the expanse of your leg. A smirk tugs at his mouth when he sees just how sensitive you are, even while unconscious. His eyes trail along your thigh, watching as the bumps spread higher and higher before they disappear under the hem of your pajama shorts.

The thin matching set you’re wearing does nothing but aid in the sense of guilt he’s already drowning in. It reminds him of how vulnerable you look like this, but he tries to reason with himself that he’s been good up until now, right?

His rough fingertips glide over your thigh but come to a full stop when they’re engulfed in the warmth pooling from your core. He hasn’t felt anything so welcoming in months—he doesn’t remember the last time he felt another person’s presence, besides the little moments he’s spent with you. But sexually? He feels like a goddamn teenager all over again.

The twitch of his cock behind his jeans is undeniable and he’s gritting his teeth in frustration at just how easily this is getting to him. But still, he presses on, his thumb swiftly pulling the hole of your shorts to the side and exposing your pink panties.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself in the otherwise silent room. The tension is so thick he wonders if choking on the air would be enough to kill him or if his racing heart would give out first. His hand moves of its own accord, traveling down to the worn denim and cupping the growing bulge below his belt. It’s screaming for relief, for any kind of friction, and his palm does little to stop the continuous blood flowing to the area.

Toji hesitantly reaches for your clothed center, his fingers pressing gently to the supple skin between your thighs. The heat nearly makes him flinch and he swears he hasn’t felt something this soft in his entire life. You let out a quiet sound from his touch as you stir in your sleep. His eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights but you merely change the angle of your arm before drifting back off once more.

Toji swallows once before continuing, his eyes trained on the barely noticeable line along the center of your panties. His thumb reaches blindly to the gentle slope of your body and makes contact with your clit. He applies the slightest bit of pressure, smiling as he notices the way your leg twitches, unsure of whether to close or not.

Your head turns and your eyebrows pull together in pleasure at the slow circling of his thumb. On a particular hard press, your breath hitches before breaking off in a pitchy whine. He’s absolutely certain he’s never heard anything sound as sweet as that noise and he’s determined to hear more.

He runs his pointer finger along the center of your folds and watches in awe as the fabric darkens immediately from your slick. He feels his body react strongly to the sight and suddenly his own underwear are sticking to him after a rush of precum leaks from his swollen tip. His freehand curls around his cock and squeezes just underneath the head, refusing to loosen his grip.

The sensation of the damp fabric sticking to your most sensitive area has a shiver creeping up your spine and your skin pebbles once more. Toji’s lust-filled, green eyes follow them in their wake up until they dive under the thin material of your tank top. Your nipples harden in response, peeking the fabric as they stiffen.

This is the most restraint Toji has ever shown in his life, he’s absolutely sure of it.

Every nerve in his body is set alight and is screaming out to touch you more, touch you the way he truly wants. His mind floods with the most perverted images: your eyes shiny with unfallen tears, his name falling from your swollen lips, you seeking him out when you just can’t finish yourself off. Every scene piles on top of the one before until anything left of his conscience is fully submerged in the thought of you.

“T…Toji?” Your voice weakly calls out into the quiet space, shattering the silence. His eyes immediately lock onto yours, taking in the dazed expression on your face. You’re blinking sleep out of your eyes but still drowning in the unconscious fog you were just under.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Toji placates gently, neither of his hands even attempting to stop their motions.

“W-What are you doing?” The tremor in your voice is notable as your gaze casts downwards, watching his wrist moving between your thighs. You gasp at the feeling, suddenly aware of how alarmingly tight the coil inside your stomach already is. “Mmm, Toji, I don’t know if you should be—,” you attempt to warn him, but he cuts you off once more.

“Let me take care of you. Just like I always do, right?” His deep voice is different than you’ve ever heard before. It’s rougher now, something gravely laced into his tone that isn’t the usual fatigue that you’re used to hearing after his late night shifts.

“I take care of you, don’t I, sweetheart?” He presses further, awaiting an answer. You hesitantly nod your head before resting it back against the pillow you had been sleeping on, letting the sensations of his experienced hands roll over your tired body.

“Attagirl, there she is. I got you,” he mutters to himself as he sees your eyes beginning to flutter shut. He pulls his hand away from your clit and begins to rub the inside of your thigh soothingly. His touch makes the slight panic flea your mind, he can physically see the tension leave your body as you give into your unconsciousness lulling you under the waves once more.

“So good for me…” The whispered words fall on deaf ears but he smiles at your features falling back into the peaceful state again. His cock is pulsing faster than the rise and fall of your chest, aching to be freed from the old denim of his jeans. But he focuses all his attention on you instead.

He brings his calloused palm back between your legs to cup your covered pussy once more. This time, he tugs at the bow at the center of the waistband, watching with a stifled groan as the panties bunch up between your folds. The action only defines your body even further and he has to bite back the urge to tear the fabric entirely.

“You’re fuckin’ ruining me,” Toji grunts as he presses his thumb back to your clit. He moves quicker this time, determined to make you feel good. He applies more pressure on each circle around your sensitive spot and your body begins to reel from it all.

Your thighs shut around his hand, rocking up into his touch subconsciously. Small whines begin cascading from your mouth and it only spurs him on further.

Toji doesn’t slow his actions when he notices you coming for him. He merely watches as your back arches, hips chasing after your orgasm as breathy, broken sounds spill past your parted lips. Your stomach clenches, thighs tensing as your hand comes to weakly push his larger one away when the pleasure blurs into overstimulation.

“Tojiiiii.” Another weak whimper escapes your slumber as your leg faintly twitches with his slow circles. Pride soaks the smile that adorns his face and he can’t even help the whispered praise that leaves him.

“Good girl. Did so, so well,” his speaks softly, the words dripping with adoration. You begin to move again and his eyes follow to your fingers that softly curl around his palm. There’s a fondness in his chest as he watches you reach out to him, looking for his support even in your subconsciousness.

Any remaining energy is completely drained from your body after the orgasm he brought forth. He watches your body fall into a deeper sleep than before he even interrupted, your chest reverting to its slow rise and fall. He gives a light squeeze to your curled fingers before standing up to finally retreat to his room for the first time tonight.

“Get some rest, pretty,” he whispers against your forehead as he bends down. His lips press a gentle kiss to your temple as he cups the back of your head, the act completely innocent in nature.

When Toji finally sinks into the soft mattress of his bed, he’s drowning in the memories of what just occurred. His cock still aches for his attention, swollen tip flushed and shiny with precum. He frees himself from the confines of the denim, wincing when his hard length slaps up against his stomach. The same hand that brought on your orgasm wraps around his thick dick. It doesn’t take long until he’s spilling white, a choked back grunt stuck in his throat as he pictures your soaked panties.

The next morning, the both of you dance around each other with a thickness in the air. Toji’s unable to meet your eyes due to the knowledge of what he’s done.

“Did you sleep well?” You ask innocently from the kitchen counter, your back facing the man twice your age. Toji chokes on his coffee, setting the mug down all too fast while clutching his chest.

“Shit,” he curses as he catches his breath. “Y-yeah. Guess I did?” The statement twists highest at the end and comes across as more of a question. “Late night. ‘M beat. How about you, kid?”

“I slept okay, I think? Had a weird dream last night,” your voice grows quieter as the flashes of Toji’s face foggily return to your brain. “Felt so realistic, though…”

[s0lidar1ty]

SLUTTED OUT

SYNOPSIS. Aftermath of the SAG Awards

NOTE. We’re gonna pretenddd this is Rafe instead of Drew cause writing for actors as said actor (if that makes sense) just isn’t up my alley

CW: pure SMUT, praise, sweet talking, pet names, overstimulation, choking, raw sex, breeding kink

The SAG Awards are over, but the real celebration is happening behind the locked door of RAFE CAMERON'S penthouse suite.

His tux jacket is long forgotten, discarded somewhere between the entrance and the bedroom, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck. The crisp baby blue button-down he wore hours ago is unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms flexing as he holds himself over you. The scent of his cologne—deep, expensive, unmistakably him—lingers in the air, mixing with the champagne fizzing in two half-empty glasses on the nightstand. But neither of you care about the drinks anymore.

Rafe is a man intoxicated by something else entirely.

His body is a furnace against yours, his hands everywhere—possessive, teasing, gripping your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he can’t get enough. Because he can’t. There’s something different about him tonight, something deeper, more desperate. The high of the night still lingers in his bones, but underneath it is something raw.

"You looked so good with me tonight," he murmurs against your skin, lips dragging over the curve of your shoulder. "Had every guy in that room watching you like they had a chance."

His voice is rough, heavy with pride and something dangerously close to worship. He punctuates his words with slow, burning kisses, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, making sure you feel every inch of him.

His movements are deliberate—pushing you to the edge only to pull you back, a smug smirk playing at his lips when you whimper his name. Rafe loves control, loves watching you come undone under his touch, loves knowing he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. And tonight? He has no plans of stopping. No plans on slowing down. Not until you see stars behind those pretty eyes of yours.

The city lights glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting his skin in shades of gold and shadow. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration as he watches your reactions, committing them to memory as he grinds his hips into yours, hitting that one spot that makes your breath hitch and your fingers dig into his back.

You let out a strangled moan, your manicured nails—paid for by yours truly—leaving red lines along his shoulder blades. You go to muffle your whines into the crook of his neck, but Rafe knows you; moves quicker than you. He leans back, his hand wrapping gently around your throat, forcing you to look at him. Keeping eye contact until your eyes roll back and your thighs start shaking as your orgasm crashes over you.

"Not done with you yet," he rasps, lips brushing against yours, but never quite giving you what you want. His fingers tighten just slightly around your throat, his other hand gripping your hip like he’s keeping you in place. He chuckles lowly when you arch into him. "Just like that, pretty. Oh, you're doing so good, baby."

"I—oh my… God, Ray," you gasp, your hand gripping his around your neck, nails pressing into his skin.

"Yeah?" His grin is wicked, eyes dark with amusement. "Tell me how you feel. Use your words."

"Fuuuuck," you whimper.

That’s all he needs to hear. He knows exactly what to say to push you further, to keep you teetering on the edge. He’s smug about it too, his smirk only growing when he sees how wrecked you are beneath him.

Your head starts to spin—from the lack of oxygen, from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure flooding your veins. Each deep, measured stroke sends a sharp, delicious pressure up your spine, making your fingers clench at the sheets, your breath hitch in your throat.

Rafe notices. Rafe always notices.

"Too much?" he taunts, but there’s no real concern in his voice. Just that cocky tilt of his head, that barely-there smirk as he watches you unravel. "Or just enough?"

Your legs tighten around his waist in response, pulling him in deeper, and that’s answer enough. His jaw clenches, a quiet groan slipping past his lips as his head dips to your shoulder.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing hot against your skin. "Taking me so good. Always so perfect for me, huh?"

You can’t even form words anymore, not when every nerve in your body is alight, not when he’s moving like that—like he knows exactly how to break you, exactly how to put you back together again.

Then, his voice drops, low and wrecked, a whisper meant just for you. "You’d look so good carrying my baby, you know that?" His thrusts slow, deeper now, like he’s savoring every reaction, like the thought alone is enough to make him lose it. "Bet you’d love that too, huh, princess? Letting me fill you up, watching that pretty belly of yours get all 'round just for me."

Your head is spinning, and he knows it—knows you’re too far gone to fight the way his words sink into your overheated brain, making you nod before you even realize it.

"Yeah?" His grin is wicked, pleased. His hand slides down, pressing against the soft plane of your stomach. "Can feel me right here, baby. That’s where I’d be. Right inside you, right where I belong."

[kurooh]

would literally risk it all for muscly osamu...like when he has you trapped under him and he has his biceps around you in a headlock...could you please write a little drabble on osamu muscle brainrot 🙏

being manhandled… 🧘‍♀️ you are onto something babes

osamu doesn’t take it well when you, as he puts it, try to ‘run’ from him. dragging your hips away and whining his name, complaining about how it’s too much so many times that your words start to run into each other—he doesn’t want to hear it.

he arches a brow and loops his arm around your neck in a way that makes you gasp. “stop kiddin’ yerself, babe.”

“‘samu,” you wail, sounding more pathetic than you intend, “wai—wait, it’s too much . . o-oh, i can’t.”

his abs flex against your lower back as he presses himself into you, nibbling at your neck. osamu’s got no idea as to why you doubt yourself so much, but it’s probably just a side effect of being fucked so well—you’re drunk on him, and getting dumber with every inch.

cream spills from your overflowing cunt, sloppily running down your inner thighs in thin rivulets while the rest squelches at the base of his cock. he almost feels bad for you, although he looks over your wrecked body with a sense of primal delight.

fuck, you’re shaking from the sting of having your ass slapped sore and then because of the way he’s fucking you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to.

thick muscle ripples under his skin, and osamu’s arm gets a little tighter around your neck. “yer talkin’ too much, baby. ya know ya can, and ya will.”

you moan deliriously, arching against him as if that was all you’d been waiting to hear. the corners of his lips lift in amusement, and he nips at your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“like it when yer told what to do, huh?”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you whimper, called out. the tip of his cock kisses deeply, passionately against that sweet spot inside you, and it doesn’t help you to stay steady on all fours. osamu’s arm flexes again, and he rears back onto his knees, keeping you pinned against his chest.

you’re so cute, shaking like a leaf and mumbling his name now that his cock is able to go much deeper. “ya do, don’t ya? fuck, my baby’s so nasty.”

“all yours, osamu,” a sob leaves your parted lips and you reach desperately for your clit, “just don’t stop, ngh—right there, gonna make me cum.”

all his, huh? just for saying that, he’s gonna give you the most euphoric orgasm humanly possible. osamu’s faster than you, getting his fingers on your clit and touching just the way you like—you grasp at his fingers and grind into them.

it’s hard to say anything coherent when you’re seeing this many stars, and osamu’s cock twitches, just a little further from the edge than you are.

“f-fuuuck, oh my god—cumming, ‘m cumming!”

you ride the blissful wave, squeezing hard around his cock and dripping more sweetened slick. still rocking his hips into you, osamu holds you like a doll, mapping your body out with his touch and committing everything to memory. you’re shuddering by the time you come down, panting into his bicep and sinking comfortably into his grasp.

“good, baby. that was good,” he murmurs against the nape of your neck, feeling the pressure grow tighter in his body. “wanna be a doll ‘n give me another?”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 53: Meeting the Family

Summary: You travel to Scotland with John and Johnny to meet his parents, your caretakers for the next couple weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,190 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, angst, emotions, language, a bit of PTSD and anxiety

A/N: The amount of time I spent looking at maps for this chapter is insane. I'm more acquainted with parts of the UK than I ever thought I'd be. Anyway, not entirely happy with this one but it's done. It's out.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re not ready to say goodbye.

It won’t be forever, but right now it feels like it.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Kyle says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You’re clinging to him tightly, not ready to let go yet. He’ll be retiring soon as well, ready to join you and John, but that will still take time, longer than it will for even John.

Despite that knowledge, you’re afraid to let go too soon, like he might change his mind.

“Just a few more weeks.” He says, patting your back. It’s warm today, but still you’re wearing a sweatshirt, a big one, one of Simon’s.

You’re not ready to face him yet either.

John pats your shoulder, reminding you you’ll have to leave soon. It’s a long drive to Scotland and you’re already leaving later than you know John would have liked to.

Finally you let go of Kyle, leaning up to kiss him softly. You’ll miss him a lot. You’ll miss all of them. You haven’t been without them since before you were kidnapped. That thought tickles something in the back of your brain, another irrational fear popping up.

You turn to Simon, his eyes almost sad as he looks at you. He’s sans mask, looking sickly under the bright fluorescent lights. You want to say something, tell him to get out and get some sun, but you can’t bring yourself to be sassy right now. He reaches out for you and you fall into him, pressing yourself close to his chest, wrapping your arms tight around him.

With him, it is goodbye.

Sure, you’ll see him every once in a while, but he won’t be coming with John to pick you back up once the paperwork is in. He’ll be staying here, running the task force, leaving to go on deployments with Johnny. The risk of losing him will still be there, the risk of something happening constantly flashing through your mind. The times you’ll get to see him will be bittersweet with the knowledge he’ll have to leave and go back to the dangers of this life.

Tears leak out of your eyes as you hold him, wetting his shirt. His face is pressed into your hair, breathing you in. You take the time to breathe him in too, committing his scent to memory. You’ll wear his sweatshirt until his scent is gone from it, until he disappears.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You say quietly, voice muffled against his chest.

“I know.” He mumbles. “We’ll be there as often as we can. Every chance we get.”

“Just come back.” You say. “Always come back.”

“We’ll do our best.” He bends down further, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call as often as I can.”

“Good.” You sniffle, releasing him just enough so you can stare up at him. “If you don’t I’ll come down here myself and yell at you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t doubt that.”

He cups your face, leaning down to press his lips against yours. You kiss him hard, pouring all of your emotions, your fears into the kiss. You don’t want to leave him, but you know it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to leave for you. Not right now, not yet.

“I love you.” He breathes, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smile, another tear sliding down your cheek. “I know.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you before standing up straight. “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, wiping the tears off your cheeks before turning around, facing the door. It’ll be the last time you walk out this door, the last time you’ll have to be inside the barracks. Once you step out, there’s no going back in. You’ll never see this base again, never have to step foot in it again.

It’s almost bittersweet.

This is where you got your start, this is where everything happened. This is where you thought you’d live for the next few years until John decided to retire, if he decided to retire.

Now here you are, getting a chance to leave it all. You’ve never been happier, but at the same time you’ve never been so sad to leave something...someone behind. Months ago you had been afraid of your pack fracturing, being driven apart by you, and now here you are, parting ways. You’ll be leaving, then John, then Kyle. Simon and Johnny will be left behind, a satellite to the rest of you. It’s not entirely uncommon, but with how close you know your pack is, it has an ache blooming in your chest. An ache that will always be there, a longing for your other alpha and his beta.

You step out the door, taking in a deep breath of warm spring air. It’ll be cooler in Scotland, Johnny had said. A good excuse for your sweatshirt. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take it off until the scent wears away.

You climb into the back of the car, making yourself comfortable next to the box of your belongings coming with you. John will bring your other things when he leaves, when the two of you set off for good to start your new life. Johnny climbs in the passenger seat, turning to look at you.

“Ye alright, kitten?” His brows pull together in a frown.

You wipe the tears spilling down your cheeks. “Yeah.”

“I know it’s hard.” He says, reaching back to squeeze your knee.

“I’m scared.” You say quietly.

“Don’t be.” He grins at you. “My folks will take good care of ye. Ma will love ye to death.” he makes a face. “Perhaps literally.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. That’s not what you’re afraid of, though the prospect of meeting Johnny’s parents has been a stressor for the last few hours. Johnny knows what you’re afraid of, and you know he’s trying to help you in the way he knows how.

John climbs into the drivers’ seat, letting out a quiet sigh as he leans his head back, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Ready?”

You try to smile but you’re sure it comes across as more of a grimace. “Do I have to answer that.”

The corners of John’s lips lift in a smile. “No.”

The car starts, Johnny putting on his seatbelt as he settles in for the long drive.

“We’ll be there in six and a half hours if we make good time on the motorway.” John says, pulling away from the barracks. You turn, watching it disappear. Kyle and Simon have stepped out, watching the car drive away. You try not to let your emotions get the best of you, your hands hastily wiping at the tears still falling.

“Ma knows around what time to expect us.” Johnny says, passing over his ID as the car pauses at the gate. “No doubt she’ll bully us into staying the night.”

“I’ll be obliged to accept.” John says, pulling away from base. You don’t turn to look back at it, a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you leave that world behind. “I’d rather not drive thirteen hours today.”

“I can drive partway.” Johnny says, glancing at John.

John is quiet for a moment. “Like I said, I’d rather not drive that long today.”

You try not to smile. You know Johnny is notoriously ridiculed for his wild driving, though he was less wild than you expected when you rode with him and Simon into town that one time. Then again, he knew John would have his hide of anything happened to you. You can only imagine what he’d be like if you weren’t in the car.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, wisely holding his tongue as he settles into the seat, flipping on the radio. You lean your head against the window, watching the green outside pass by.

The green morphs into buildings as John drives, the car quiet aside from the radio. You pass through city after city, green and grey morphing back and forth. You want to sleep, but you can’t get your mind to quiet enough to allow it. You’re going to be exhausted after a restless night and a day of traveling, and no doubt you’ll sleep little tonight in a new place.

“We’re about halfway there.” John says as you stop in Lancaster for lunch.

“Another hour and we’ll be in Scotland.” Johnny grins excitedly. You assume he doesn’t get home much, given the distance. This chance at going home must be exciting for him. You know they haven’t seen their families in at least a year, the time you’ve been with them.

You wonder how long it’s been.

The drive quickly shifts back to green as you leave Lancaster, the towns becoming smaller and the hills starting to grow taller. You do manage to sleep for a few minutes, lulled into a nap by the quiet hum of the car.

“We’re officially in Scotland.” Johnny says, pulling you out of sleep. You’re passing by a town, grey on one side, green on the other.

You’re drowsy, eyes fluttering as you lay against the window, watching the green continue outside. You had no idea just how green England and Scotland were outside of the cities.

The hills shift, growing taller as John continues to drive, a quiet conversation happening in the front seat. You’re too tired to listen in, the emotional turmoil starting to wear at you. You’re ready for a bed and a long nap. It almost makes you miss the familiarity of the barracks. You’d probably be napping right now on the couch if you were still there.

You’d still prefer this, though. Anything to get away from that place, even if it does mean some initial discomfort.

“We’re close.” Johnny says, sounding excited as you rub your eyes. You had drifted off again into a hazy sleep for a few minutes. “Just twenty miles once we’re through Glasgow.”

You hum, sitting up straighter in your seat as the green starts to disappear. You rub your eyes, fighting back a yawn. You can’t attempt to sleep anymore. With your luck you’ll dose off as you’re pulling in the driveway. You want to be wide awake and alert, not that you think you have anything to worry about, but at the same time...your brain won’t let that nervousness disappear.

John and Johnny’s entwined hands rest on the center console, John’s thumb brushing Johnny’s knuckles as the beta nearly vibrates in excitement in his seat. It nearly brings a smile to your face, seeing him so excited to go home.

The trip through Glasgow takes longer than expected due to traffic, but soon you’re leaving the world of tall buildings behind. The world outside grows green again, sprawling hills made up of farmlands passing by as you get closer and closer to your destination. Excitement and nerves begin to bubble up as you get closer and closer to finally meeting Johnny’s parents. You’ve been a bit nervous since last night, since the reality set in that you’d not only be meeting one of your pack mate’s families, but also that you’ll be living with them for a couple of weeks.

It had seemed daunting at the time, but that fear has lessened a bit. You have wanted to meet their families eventually, you just expected to get a little more warning than you got.

“Welcome to Fenwick.” Johnny says as you pass through a small town, hardly more than a main street and a couple neighborhoods. “My parents live on a farm just outside town.” Johnny explains as John turns off the main road and onto a country road.

A farm? You should have guessed given the surroundings, but it’s still surprising to you. Then again, Johnny does act like he was raised in a barn sometimes.

The nerves intensify in your stomach as John turns down a private road leading up to a house. It’s cute, quaint and cozy looking. The door opens as John parks, a woman stepping out followed by a dog. Johnny is out of the car quickly, nearly running to envelop the woman in his arms.

This must be his mother.

John opens your door and you climb out. Johnny had been right, it was cooler here than it was on base. Funny how drastically the weather can change even in such a short distance.

A man steps out the door, John walking over to greet him. He greets him by name, shaking his hand. Of course they’d be familiar with each other’s families. John has probably even met Simon’s family. It was his duty as head alpha. And of course now he’s met yours, or at least part of it.

The woman, Johnny’s mother you assume, turns her gaze to you as she pulls away from Johnny. A big smile forms on her face, the same smile as Johnny’s.

“Look at ye.” She says, reaching out for you. You step forward into her grasp, nerves pulsing in your stomach. “Such a bonnie lass.” She cups your face, taking a long look at you. “Johnny’s been singing ye praises but he didnae do ye justice.”

You’re not quite sure what to say. Of course Johnny would talk about you to his family. They all probably knew about you, but just how much Johnny’s shared...you hope it’s nothing embarrassing.

“I’m Johnny’s ma.” She says, thankfully not letting you stand in silence for very long.

“It’s nice to meet you ma’am.” You say.

“Oh none of that.” She says. “Ye can call me Lily. Or ma.” She gives you a smile. “We’re so glad to have ye here. I’ve been wantin’ tae meet ye since Johnny told us about ye.”

“I didn’t even think he’d told anyone about me.” You say, your face warming just a bit under the attention.

“Oh he was right singing yer praises nearly before ye joined.” She wraps an arm around you. The soothing scent of beta fills your nose, along with the warm scent of spices. “I think ye could say he was excited.”

You giggle, imaging Johnny being excited about your joining the pack before you even arrived. He had been one of the friendliest at first, him and Kyle. You thought it had just been politeness, but now you’re questioning that.

The man approaches you, Lily steering you towards him. Johnny’s dad you assume. Johnny takes more after his mom as you study his face, though he has his dad’s ears.

“It’s an honor to meet ye.” He says, holding out his hand.

“I could say the same, sir.” You say, taking his hand.

“Call me Murray.” He says, giving your hand a firm squeeze. The scent of alpha is spilling off of him. You hadn’t put much thought into Johnny’s parents’ statuses. It makes sense though, that Johnny would come from an alpha/beta pairing. He’s always had that cocky confidence that comes from being around an alpha, even if he is a beta himself. “Been hearin’ about ye nonstop for a year now. Was wonderin’ when we’d get to meet ye.”

Your face warms at his words. Lily was right, Johnny really has been singing your praises for weeks. You had no idea.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” You say. “I wasn’t sure when I’d get the chance.”

“We’re so glad ye’ve finally made it.” Lily squeezes you before releasing you to turn on John. “John, give me a hug, boy.”

A smile forms on your lips as John hugs Lily. Out of everything you couldn’t imagine someone calling John ‘boy’.

The dog that had come out with them sniffs your feet, its tail wagging. Border Collie, you think.

“Who’s this?” You ask, squatting down in front of the dog.

“This is Storm.” Murray says. “Our old herding dog. Bron is our other dog. He’s out back still.”

“Hello, Storm.” You say, holding your hand out. She sniffs it before licking it softly. You pat her head, her tail still wagging. You hadn’t expected a dog, but then again, you hadn’t expected an entire farm either.

You push yourself back up to stand, Storm turning to head back into the house. Lily wraps an arm around you again. “Let’s go inside. Get ye out of the cold.” She says.

You let her lead you inside, warmth radiating through the door. There’s a fire in the fireplace, the door opening to the main room. It’s cozy inside, decorated warmly with photos all over the walls, well loved furniture, lots of blankets and pillows. It’s like heaven to your omega as she settles in comfortably. You’re going to like being here.

The three of you sit on the couch in front of the fire with mugs of warm tea on the coffee table. Murray has gone back outside to tend to the sheep while Lily bustles around, making sure you’re all comfortable.

“I assume you’re staying the night.” She says, putting a tray of biscuits down on the table. “Wouldnae want ye to drive all the way back so late.”

“If it’s alright with you.” John says, picking up his mug.

“Of course.” Lily says, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Ye know yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” John says, giving her a soft smile before taking a drink.

Storm lays herself down at your feet, and you lean down to pet her head.

“She likes ye.” Lily says. “Have ye ever had a dog before?”

You shake your head. “No, my dad wouldn’t let us. We moved around too much and there were too many of us kids, he said. Of course, it was his fault there were so many of us.”

Lily chuckles. “Aye, if we didnae have the farm I doubt we’d have them either.”

“You had lots of children?” You ask.

Lily turns to Johnny. “John Lachlan MacTavish did ye tell her nothing about us?”

Johnny’s ears go red as he sinks back onto the couch. “I’ve told her a little…”

Lily rolls her eyes, shaking her head before turning her attention back to you. “Aye, five wee ones, including Johnny. He’s the baby of the family. Two oldest are girls, then a boy, then another girl.”

A lot about Johnny is starting to make sense.

“They’re all grown and off in their own lives. Johnny’s the only one that doesnae come home often.” Lily says, giving Johnny a look.

“I told ye I’m busy.” Johnny nearly pouts.

“Too busy to visit your poor old parents.” Lily shakes her head.

Murray comes back in, dropping his boots at the back door before joining you in the other chair, sinking into it with a sigh. Another dog follows him in, another border collie. Bron, Murray had said. “Got them all in fer feedin’.” He says. Lily gets up, pouring him a cup of tea as well. “What were ye talkin’ about?”

“How yer son is too busy tae come see us.” Lily says, taking her seat again. The other dog wags its tail as it comes over to the couch, sniffing at John.

“Aye off savin’ the world, right?” Murray says, giving Johnny a wink.

“Something like that.” John says, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

“It’ll be nice havin’ someone here tae take care of again.” Lily says. “Been a long time.”

“I really appreciate it.” You say.

“Of course, hen. It’ll be a nice break from all those men.”

You giggle. “They are a bit much sometimes.”

“Hey!” Johnny says, offended.

“You know it’s true.” You say, turning to look at him.

He holds his hands up. “Yer right.”

“What about yer family?” Lily asks. “What were they like?”

You shrug. “As good as they could be, I suppose. We were a big family pack, lots of pups. I was the fourth oldest of eight.”

“Christ almighty, eight?” Lily shakes her head. “Yer poor mother.”

You smile. “She never complained. But then again I don’t think she could. We’re all purebred, mom was the omega. My dad was a traditionalist.”

“Traditionalist shite.” Murray murmurs.

“Murray.” Lily says exasperatedly, giving him a look.

“It’s true.” He says holding his hands up.

“Can’t say I disagree.” You say. “My dad was very strict. He had this vision of what his family had to be and that’s all we could be. He wanted all alphas so when I presented he didn’t like that very much.” John’s hand runs over your hair. “He sent me to an institute right away.”

“Ye poor deary.” Lily says sympathetically, tears in her eyes. “It’s not right being treated like that.”

“Couldn’t even imagine treating yer own children like that.” Murray says.

“I’m glad ye have the boys now.” Lily says. “They’ve treated ye well?”

“Very well.” You nod. “I’m lucky to have them.”

“Good.” Lily grins. “Don’t have tae smack some sense into them.” She pushes herself up to stand. “I’m going tae start on dinner.”

“Can I help?” You ask.

“Not this time, you sit and rest after a long day.” She says, Storm getting up from your feet to follow her into the kitchen.

Murray and John strike up a conversation as you lean into Johnny, resting against his side.

“I like your parents a lot.” You say as he wraps his arm around you.

“Good.” He says, kissing the top of your head. “They’re gonnae spoil ye rotten.”

You smile softly, already knowing that’s going to be the case. You can feel yourself starting to settle in, the warmth and coziness of the house soothing you into a state of security and comfort. You know that might change once Johnny and John leave, but part of you doesn’t think so. You’re going to miss them terribly, but at the same time, you feel you’ll be very much at home here.

“Ye can stay in Johnny’s old room.” Lily says, leading you down the hall. John is following, your bag in hand. She opens a door, turning on the light.

You step into the small room, looking around. It’s decorated as you’d expect a boy’s room to be. There’s posters on the wall of soccer players, old photos and drawings interspersed. The shelf in the corner is packed full of books and various nick-nacks, and on top are a few trophies, all for Soccer.

“I didn’t know you played soccer.” You say as Johnny steps in after you.

“Aye,” He says, his chest brushing your back as you pick up one of the trophies. “Was pretty good too.”

It almost makes you sad, thinking he gave up something like that to join the military. He had his heart set out though, given you know he lied about trying to join early, and he loves what he does. Maybe someday when he retires he’ll get back to playing recreationally.

You set the trophy back on the shelf, turning to face him. You stare up at him, those bright blue eyes hooded as he looks down at you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His lips turn up in a smile as he stares down at you, something shining in his eyes.

“What?” You ask, looping your arms around his neck.

“Nothin’,” He says, shaking his head. “Just thinkin’ about how much I love ye.”

Warmth floods your face as you turn a bit bashful. “Well, I love you too.” You say, scratching your nails across the back of his neck.

He nearly purrs, leaning down to kiss you softly. You pull back as footsteps approach the room, Lily appearing in the doorway.

“I pulled out the old air mattress.” She says, setting a box down on the floor. “Figured ye’d all want tae sleep together.”

“Thanks, ma.” Johnny says, pulling away from you completely.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” She says, smiling softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You say, giving her a small smile before heading for your bag as the boys work on the air mattress.

You head to the bathroom, getting yourself changed into your pajamas and ready for bed. You set your toiletry bag down on the counter before staring at yourself in the mirror. You look tired and worn out. It’s been a long couple of days. You haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since you arrived at the barracks, and you don’t doubt you’re in for another. You never sleep well in new places, even with two members of your pack here.

You have nothing to worry about, but at the same time, you can’t stop that nagging in the back of your brain. What if something happens? What if someone comes for you once you’re alone? Maybe it was a bad idea leaving the barracks. There was no threat there, only the one in your mind.

You don’t want anything to happen to Johnny’s parents.

Your hands are shaking as you leave the bathroom, heading back down the hall to Johnny’s room. They’ve got the air mattress set up in the middle of the floor and you have to step over it to get to your bag.

“You and Johnny take the bed.” John says, already changed into his pajamas. “I figure you’ll want more time with him.”

Right. Once Johnny leaves tomorrow you won’t see him for what might be months. He’ll be staying on base with Simon, still active in his duties. It’ll just be John coming to get you in a couple weeks.

You swallow down the emotions, climbing onto the soft bed. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but you’re used to that. No doubt you’ll wind up pressed against the wall as Johnny spreads himself out in the night. He likes to take up as much space as possible.

Johnny joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers. You both lay on your sides facing each other. Johnny’s hand slides down your arm before wrapping around your own. You lace your fingers with his, squeezing his hand lightly.

“You’ll be alright.” He says softly. “Ma and Pa will take good care of ye.”

“That’s not what worries me.” You whisper.

“There’s nothing coming for ye.” He says, squeezing your hand tightly. “There’s nothin’ out there that wants tae hurt ye. No one but us knows yer up here.”

“Yeah, but-”

“None of that.” Johnny interrupts you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “We’ll all be fine. Ma and Pa can take care of themselves if it comes to it, which it won’t.”

You sniffle, tears pooling in your eyes. Johnny kisses the back of your hand, slipping his other arm under your neck to pull you close.

“I’ve got ye.” He says, squishing you up against his chest. “Nothin’s gonnae happen.”

John enters the room again, closing the door behind him before shutting off the light. There’s a nightlight on the far wall casting a soft glow around the room. Whether that was already there or if John brought it for you, you have no idea. Either way it’s comforting, fighting back the horrors waiting for you in the dark.

John approaches the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and sweet, chasing away the fears and the tears for now. He leans over to kiss Johnny softly before he backs away, laying himself down on the air mattress with a sigh.

You lay there awake as Johnny’s breathing starts to slow, ear pressed against his chest so you can hear the soft inhale and exhale, the steady beating of his heart. John’s breathing slows too, soft snores starting to slip through his lips. You’re going to miss this in your time alone, the sounds of them breathing, the knowledge that they’re close. It almost makes you regret leaving the barracks so soon.

Almost.

“Be good for them, yeah?” John says, running a hand over your head. You nod, trying not to let any tears fall. “I’ll be back to get you in a couple weeks.” He bends down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Time will fly and I’ll be here before you know it.”

You hope he’s right.

It’s cold out this morning, earlier than you would have liked, but Lily and Murray were already up by the time the three of you got up for breakfast. It’s cold and damp, the air biting through your sweatshirt, Simon’s sweatshirt. John had left a shirt for you bathed in his scent, something to offer comfort until he returns.

“I’ll miss you.” You say softly, leaning against his chest.

“I know.” He says, rubbing your back. “I’ll miss you too.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek and you hastily wipe it away. You step back from him, turning towards Johnny. He opens his arms and you slide into them, resting against his chest. He’s warm, fighting against the cold nipping at your cheeks.

“I’m gonnae miss ye so much, kitten.” He says, pressing his face into your hair.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” You say, frantically fighting the tears threatening to fall.

“We’ll come visit as often as we can.” He says. “I’ll even drive carefully.”

You can’t stop the laugh that escapes you. Of course he’d be the one to drive. You’ve never seen Simon drive, but you’ve picked up enough to know there’s a reason for that.

You hold Johnny for a long moment, breathing him in for what you know will be the last time in a long time. He’ll be going back to work, back to deployments and the world of danger you desperately wish they’d leave behind. You know that’s too much to ask. This is their life, their livelihood, the thing they’ve dedicated years to. It was a shock John decided to leave, and you know it’s going to take a lot more than that for Simon and Johnny to finally make that decision.

“Take care of him.” You say softly.

“I’ll try.” Johnny says, leaning down to kiss you softly.

You lean into him, kissing him like it’s the last time you’re going to see him. It is, at least for a while. Just like a year ago, you’ll never know if this kiss will be your last.

You don’t want to let him go but you know you have to. John wants to get on the road, get back to Hereford. He still has a job to do for the next couple weeks. You wonder how slowly they’ll drag on for him, how time will pass so different for the two of you. Him waiting for his request to be finalized, you waiting for him to come get you. Here at least you’ll have distractions. You’ll be comfortable, safe.

Even if you don’t entirely believe that.

You let go of Johnny, taking a step back. You watch them get into the car, waving to Lily who's standing in the doorway before starting the car. You watch the car pull down the driveway, standing there until it disappears around the bend.

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[omgeto]

☆ THREE ISN'T A CROWD — SATORU & SUGURU

summary: your best friends, geto and gojo, rail you in a hotel bed. that's it. that's the fic.

cw: afab!reader, finger fucking, unprotected sex, double penetration so mdni !!

an: I wrote this whilst drinking a big fat cup of tea, and eating a packet of stale biscuits. so no angsty romance today, just two besties appreciating you in their own special way. it is 5:40 am so I did not proof read this so ignore mistakes pls <;33

gojo and geto were mischievous on their own accords – but when together it was worse. so when you were sandwiched between them in your hotel room, since of course there was only one bed, you weren’t even surprised.

“this is not fair,” gojo mumbles, his lips curling into a mock pout as he exhales a huff of air. 

“oh don’t be a baby,” geto scolds, with a chuckle . gojo and geto bickered over who got to sleep where and after a lengthy game of rock paper scissors – it was gojo who had to face the wall. “you’ll get your turn soon.” you could feel geto’s breath on your neck as he was placed firmly behind you, his hands stuffed in your pants as his fingers caress your wet slit. 

“don’t be mean sugu,” you chastise, your hand trailing up gojo's back to his shoulder to turn him over, facing you, “there’s enough of me to go around.” gojo is needy, pressing a feverish kiss to your lips, wanting to taste all of you.

gojo didn’t think his plan would work, when he proposed it to geto he was swift in his agreement — the only thing left was you. their pretty little best friend. who they've both wanted a piece of, for years.

now that he’s got you, he couldn’t contain himself – if he wasn’t careful he knew he’d be cumming in his boxers too soon. he latches onto your neck sucking and biting his hands grabbing onto your tits, tweaking and pinching at your nipples.

“you’re hogging her,” gojo complains, as his fingers slip down to your cunt. geto adds another finger spreading your lips wider as gojo’s forces his fingers into you. they were both rubbing your pussy. your wetness making it easier for gojo to piston in and out of you and for geto to stroke and flick against your clit with his thumb.

“g-guys fuck, you’re both too much,” you whimper,  your hips thrusting towards gojo, slotting onto his fingers further. geto’s slides his tongue from your collar bone to your jaw before his hand grips onto it, his lips remain at your ears as he whispers, “you gonna cum for us baby?”

“yeah c’mon make a mess for us,” gojo adds, continuing his pattern of rubs and pushes in your pussy, its almost as if he’s committed the rhythm to memory. he was effortless in working with geto, both aiding each other to help you reach your climax. geto pinches your clint, hard, and you spray both of their hands with your cum – squirting all over them.

gojo’s eyes widen at the sight, “shit, i didn’t know you could do that” he exclaims, taking his fingers out of you, examining them as they glisten with your juices, “suguru, did she know that she could do that?”

geto ignores him, rolling his eyes at his friends over excitement, “wanna be wowed even further, taste her, i bet she’s sweet.” before gojo could comply you take his fingers in your mouth, practically choking on them as you suck off all your juices. 

“you taste good don’t you?” geto muses, pressing a kiss to your neck, you nod dumbly as you lock eyes with gojo still nibbling on his fingers. 

“hey suguru, can we try something with her,” gojo proposes, and geto nods, prompting him to continue, “i wanna stuff her. i want both of us to stuff her. 

“we can make that happen, can't we?” geto smirks, rubbing on your ass giving it a light smack, “come sit on my dick, i’ll take of you.”

“what about me?” gojo whines, groaning as you're pulled away from him and on top of geto. 

“you’ll get yours in due time, satoru,” geto scolds, taking out his dick giving it some light pumps before rubbing it across your slit. you force yourself down on him, your hands clawing at his chest as you push it down. you were already gushing at the feeling of geto inside of you, filling you whole. so the idea of having them both in you had you excited, grinding down onto geto’s dick as hard as he was thrusting into you.

“are you seeing this?” geto asks gojo, gesturing to the way your head was thrown back and your lips were clenched in your teeth, “the way our pretty friend here is all strung out on my dick?”

gojo’s eyes were focused on the way you bounced repeatedly on his best friends dick, furiously pumping his as the sight. the way your grabbed your tits and played with your nipples, moaning to the beat of geto’s thrusts, he knew he needed to be inside of you. 

he gets out of the bed, coming to kneel behind you, peppering kisses along your spine. “i think theres room for me, isn’t there?” he jests, slightly pushing you forward, eyeing the way geto’s dick slides in and out of you. 

you take a shark inhale at the feeling of gojo entering you, “you’re good,” geto reassures, “you can take us.” and you moan as you get used to the feeling of the both of them, their dicks rubbing together as they drive into you, instantly finding a rhythm. 

“you feel so fuckin’ good, w-way too good,” gojo moans, holds you from behind, his chest presses against your back, his hands cupping your boobs as his head rests on your shoulders. 

“‘m close,” geto mutters, smirking at the sight of you, the feeling of you. “you gonna let us cum inside of you? really keep you filled up.” you moan out in agreement, your head felt so foggy with the feeling of them both charging into you. geto gives gojo a knowing smile, and as if on cue, they both load into you showering you with their cum. you finish at the same as them with a high pitched moan, releasing onto them, feeling stuffed with all their cum, and yours, resting inside of you.

“now that,” gojo pulls out of you, pressing an appreciative kiss on the corner of your lips before collapsing on the bed with a blissful smile, “was fucking magical.”

“yeah i guess it was good,” geto chuckles, still inside of you, kissing you on your forehead, his hand slinging over your ass, as you slump on top of him, “how are you feeling?”

“you two are exhausting,” you joke with a smile, “but i can see why i kept you around as my friends.” although this was something that you yourself didn’t plan, you weren’t gonna deny that being freshly fucked and laid up with your two best friends wasn’t all that bad.

AN: I think you can see my heavy bias for geto come thru in this fic but oh well DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE I wrote this more for time than anyone else tbf BUT TELL ME WHAT U THINK since I am iffy on my smut skills

[creati-bunny]

SHANKS CLINGS ONTO YOU LIKE YOU ARE NOT ENEMIES BY NATURE. Scratches and hickeys adorned your naked body, draped with a white linen blanket; black eyes savor the sight of your asleep form on his bed, a peaceful look plastered on your face—different from your usual scowl.

He is a pirate, and you are a navy admiral.

Your hair forms a halo all over his pillow, your body breathing calmly and evenly. A crest of your land is tattooed on your back; his lips gently press kisses on the mark; his nose breathes in your scent—wanting to commit it to memory. The smell of the ocean mixed with the floral scent of your perfume still marks your skin. His lips graciously caress every single mark he has left on you. Shanks yearns for your touch, even after having his way with you for many, many hours.

Shanks’ heart beat, sensing you about to arise from your sleep. Your fingers, scarred from your past battles, washed away the sleep from your eyes; you realized that you are currently being spooned by the man behind you—whose right arm tightened more around you, not wanting to let go of you.

“Good morning, dear.”

Dear, huh?

His pet name for you was far too intimate, sending you awake straight away. You glanced at the clock above, already having missed the time for your meeting; you let out a regretful sigh, knowing you would get another earful from Akainu—a really good morning to you, alright.

“I have to go…” You sit down, yet your body feels heavy with the weight of Shanks on your shoulders, preventing you from moving; your eyes meet his half-lidded ones, his stubble brushing against your exposed shoulder—that look in his eyes is dangerous enough to make you want to come back into his arms. “Shanks…”

The man gave you only an innocent smile in return, heaving a sigh at your urgent expression. “Can’t you stay here any longer? You’re already late, my dearest; might as well enjoy it,” His lips seduce you, pressing them on your neck—his right hand stroking your waist sensually. “Come back to bed, please?”

“Clingy now, aren’t we?” You observed with an unimpressed look on your face.

“For you, always.”

You clenched your jaw. It gets under your skin knowing Shanks is aware that he is irresistible. A cocky smirk plastered on his face, he looks at you suggestively—the man takes advantage of his looks, his body also covered with marks you left on him; and he takes pride in it.

However, you have priorities and cannot afford to be distracted, even if it is him. “You’re pissing me off with that mouth of yours, you know that?”

“I distinctly remember you enjoying this mouth of mine last night,” he whispered in your ear; his words making you face him—and he did not hesitate to capture your lips with his own, his teeth nibbling your lower lip to let his tongue invade your mouth. Shanks let out a deep, muffled moan; the fire in him was being ignited, muttering a quiet plea to make you stay.

To his dismay, you pull away before it takes any further.

“Well then,” you stand up, already looking for your undergarments as well as your navy coat. The hickeys and teeth marks did not do well in hiding under your clothes, making you click your tongue. “I told you not to leave any marks, Shanks.”

Shanks did not give a single fuck about that. He wants people to remember that you’re taken, and that someone had already claimed your body—fuck, it was so hypocritical of him to have such thoughts, knowing damn well that you two are nothing more than just acquaintances.

He also stands up and gives you another wet kiss on your lips, savoring the last moments before you leave his ship. Shanks is this close to chaining you up and trapping you here forever. His eyes glinting in tenderness; a fixation with you, he makes his yearning for you so obvious—it twists your heart in an unusual way.

“I want everyone to know that you’re mine, dear,” Shanks comments in a playful tone. His eyes watch you hungrily as you do your business. “…and that I’m yours,” he claims with a fond tone in his voice, sending shivers down your spine.

You rolled your eyes in exchange for his response, glaring at him coldly.

“We are nothing like that. Have you forgotten about our agreement?”

The red-haired pirate is determined to change that.

reblog if you like it ♡ || image is by vamos_mk on X

[yanderestarangel]

ೀ goddess of the night — sevika x reader ೀ

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 summary: Doing a striptease for a few bucks on her lap, you got more than just a paycheck...

♡┊TW: fem!reader, wlw, afab anatomy, body worship, praise kink, fingering, striptease, dom!sevika, eat out, fluff ending.

✎ this smut is a commission.

She had been watching you from the moment you stepped into the brothel—drawn like a moth to flame. You were the center of attention, a vision of honey and ambrosia, pulling in patrons with a magnetism they couldn’t resist. But Sevika wasn’t just another admirer.

She needed you.

You weren’t some cheap whore, no, no. You were royalty—an untouchable queen, a divine seductress meant to be worshipped. Every movement of your body was deliberate, sensual, never vulgar. You knew exactly how to wield your beauty, controlling each motion like an erotic puppet master. And the entire room was ensnared.

Sevika was no exception.

She watched, entranced, her desire for you evolving from a passing indulgence into an all-consuming obsession. When she finally approached, offering a drink, her voice was smooth but edged with hunger. She complimented your performance, hinted at her craving to see more—privately.

You teased her, claiming your time was too costly, too exclusive. But she didn’t hesitate. She offered more than she’d make in months, just for the chance to have you to herself. Doubts be damned. If Silco had any objections, she’d handle it. All that mattered was you.

She followed as you led her to the back, sinking into a plush armchair, the dim light casting shifting shadows across your body. Cigar smoke curled from her lips as she watched you, unblinking, taking in every curve, every teasing movement.

Sevika could die right then and there. She was already in heaven.

Then the music started.

Her large hands found your waist, pulling you close. The scent of her cologne mixed with the lingering tobacco in the air, the heady musk wrapping around you. Her tired, battle-hardened eyes gleamed as she exhaled, smoke curling between you.

"Beautiful… You’re fucking amazing… So hot…"

Her rough palms squeezed at your flesh, encouraging you to move, to grind against her, and you obeyed—pressing closer, teasing her further. She groaned, deep and guttural, her breath warm against your skin. Bills slipped from where she’d stuffed them into your lingerie, fluttering to the floor. And then, her cigarette slipped from her lips. She barely noticed as she crushed it out against the wall, too captivated by the soft swell of your breasts in her face. When you didn’t push her away, Sevika took it as permission. She leaned in, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your skin, murmuring between them.

"I’ve been watching you for so long… So fucking long, sweetheart."

Her left hand drifted lower, fingertips ghosting over your panties. She hesitated.

"Can I?" she rasped, voice thick with need. "I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. I’ll pay extra. I’ll pay fortunes—just to touch you."

Her fingers trembled, waiting. But when your needy voice gave her the permission she craved, she didn’t hesitate. Sevika groaned as her fingers pressed against your core through the damp fabric, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit. Her mouth found your breasts, sucking and trailing wet kisses over each one, her touch perfectly in sync with the rhythm of your dance.

And finally, she pushed the lace aside.

A sharp inhale. A quiet curse.

"Huh—Look at this pretty little thing."

She watched, mesmerized, as you glistened for her, your slickness coating her fingertips as you rolled your hips, grinding against her touch.

"I want to fuck you so bad, sweetheart," she groaned— "Fuck you until your thighs tremble." Sevika's breath came hot and heavy against your skin, her fingers teasing, exploring—but never quite giving in just yet. She was savoring this, dragging it out, as if committing every second to memory.

"You're already so wet for me... dripping. Fucking perfect."

Her fingers traced lazy circles over your clit, pressing just enough to make you shudder against her. The soft fabric of your lingerie did little to dull the sensation—if anything, the slight friction made it all the more intoxicating. You arched into her touch, your body betraying you, craving more. Sevika chuckled low in her throat, her amusement laced with desire.

"So desperate already? Thought you were the one in control here."

Her other hand, rough and calloused, trailed up your spine, gripping your hip as she pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together. With a slow, deliberate motion, she finally slid the damp lace aside, exposing you completely to her gaze. She groaned at the sight, fingers sliding through your slick folds, spreading you open. Her thumb pressed against your clit as two thick fingers teased at your entrance, barely pushing inside before retreating again. She was toying with you, testing your patience.

"Tell me how bad you want it..." she demanded "I want to hear you beg for it."

She leaned in, lips grazing your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Be a good girl and tell me."

Your hands gripped her shoulders, nails digging into the leather of her jacket, your body burning with frustration and need. You could beg—but something about the challenge in her voice made you want to push back.

So instead, you smirked. Rolled your hips against her fingers, forcing her hand deeper between your legs. That smile; She loved knowing how hot you knew you were... Sevika's nostrils flared, her jaw tightening.

For a second, she just stared at you—then, with a growl, she obeyed. Her fingers plunged inside you without warning, stretching you, filling you. Your gasp turned into a moan as she curled them just right, pressing against the spot that made your thighs tremble.

"Fuck—there we go..." she moan, watching the way you clenched around her, how your body responded so perfectly. "Knew you'd feel good around me." Her pace started slow but firm, dragging her fingers in and out, working you open, making you feel every inch of her. Her thumb rubbed tight circles over your clit, pushing you higher, closer to that edge — you whimpered, head falling against her shoulder, but she wasn’t having that.

"Nah, honey— I wanna see that pretty face when you cum."

Her pace quickened, her fingers relentless, and all you could do was take it—take her—as the pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, ready to snap. Sevika grinned, sensing your impending release.

"Come on... Cum for me, babygirl."

And when you finally shattered, shaking apart in her arms, Sevika just held you through it—watching, savoring, completely fucking ruined for anyone else... Marking you as perhaps the best orgasm you've had in a while. Sevika didn’t stop—not yet. Her fingers slowed but didn’t retreat, keeping you trembling in her lap, riding the aftershocks of your orgasm. She watched you with something between hunger and fascination, her thumb still ghosting over your sensitive clit, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure.

"Good girl for me... accepting me so well..." she says soft, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. "So fucking pretty when you come."

Your breath hitched, body twitching under her touch, but she wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

"Think you can handle more, miss?" she asked, her tone almost mocking, knowing damn well you could barely think, let alone answer. But your body spoke for you—hips rolling instinctively against her hand, already craving another taste of that high.

Sevika chuckled darkly.

"That’s what I thought."

Without another word, she eased you back against the plush couch, spreading your legs wider as she settled between them. Her fingers withdrew from your soaked heat only to be replaced by something hotter—her mouth. A sharp gasp left your lips as she pressed open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, inhaling deeply as if memorizing your scent.

Her tongue flicked over your clit, teasing, tasting, before she latched on properly, sucking just hard enough to make your entire body jolt. Your fingers found their way into her hair, gripping the short strands as your thighs instinctively tried to close around her head — sevika growled, gripping your thighs in response, keeping you spread for her.

"Spread those thighs, little bitch."

Her tongue worked you over with slow, deliberate precision—alternating between soft flicks and deep, wet strokes that had you arching off the couch. She moaned against you, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure straight through you.

"Taste so fucking good.., you're a goddess..." she muttered before diving back in, licking into you like she was starving. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—your world had narrowed down to nothing but the wet heat of her mouth and the way she devoured you. Her tongue moved with agonizing precision—long, languid strokes over your clit, alternating between teasing flicks and deep, indulgent licks that had you gasping for air.

"That’s it, baby... So responsive… I could spend hours right here, just tasting you."

She sucked, slow and deep, her grip tightening on your thighs as she pinned you open, refusing to let you shy away from her hunger. Her groan vibrated against you, making your body jolt, your fingers tightening in her short, dark hair.

"You make the prettiest sounds..." she rasped, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh before dipping back down, dragging her tongue over your soaked heat again. Her pace quickened, tongue working in perfect, practiced rhythm—driving you higher, closer to the edge, until you were on the verge of falling apart all over again—

And then she stopped.

A desperate whimper left your lips as she pulled back, her mouth glistening, her expression smug and wicked. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand, then leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Without warning, her touch softened. She pulled back just enough to study your face, her dark eyes flickering with something different—something softer.

"Let’s get out of here."

Her voice was lower now, rougher, but not from lust—from something else entirely. She brushed a thumb over your kiss-swollen lips, so your dazed eyes met hers.

"I want to to know the pretty woman behind these curves... Let me take you somewhere nice. Just you and me— I'll pay for everything and also for your overtime, I promise."

Sevika leaned in, pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back, already reaching for her cigar. She smirked as she lit it, the glow from the flame casting warm shadows across her face. Flicking the lighter shut, she exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting her head toward the door.

"Come on princess... Your shift isn't over yet."

★ ! yanderestarangel©

[thbbie]

༄ higuruma hiromi x f!reader

the first time he said it, you paid little mind to it. just the sweet words of praise mindlessly slipping through during intimacy.

"i worship the ground you walk on" as he kissed up you neck, rolling his hips into you slow and rough. sensual.

higuruma is anything but a mindless man; meticulous and thoughtful. careful and gentle. kind and devoted.

he says it like it is simple fact. no embellishments or adoration. nothing grand or extraordinary, just those words. honest and simple.

"i worship the ground walk on"

like it's the most casual thing a person could say to another.

"i worship the ground walk on""i worship the ground walk on""i worship the ground walk on""i worship the ground wal-"

"hiro? " "yes, my love"

your sitting at the edge of your bed, watching as he sheds his works clothes. he loosens his tie, then sheds his blazer, unbuttoning his crisp white shirt- "what do you mean when you say you 'worship the ground i walk on'?"

his hands pause, the few buttons he's undone revealing teasing slivers of his delicious skin, his string chest dusted in short dark hairs. a fond smile at his lips, "it means exactly what it sounds like, my love. i worship the ground you walk on"

"do you?"

"i believe i do. do you doubt it?"

"can you prove it?" he raises a smug knowing brow at that. who do you think he is?

higuruma stalks towards you, standing so close his legs touch your bent knees. with his eye lids low and bored aside from the glint of mischief in both, a sleazy looking smile on his lips. what's he planning.

"ya want me to?" leaning forward, filling your space. the smell of him hits you, welcoming and clean. how does he manage to always turn the tables on you. ".. if you want to"

he looks amused, your flustered and shy. so much for worship, his antics are more torment than anything else. hiromi hums, standing to his full height again, taking a step back from you and kneeling. both his knees touch the ground yet he still looks so proud. wholly unashamed.

he holds you ankle delicately, bringing your socked foot to rest on his thighs, leaning down to kiss your ankles, making his way up your legs towards your knee. unrushed and unbothered by your embarrassment.

he presses little kisses and glides his nose along your skin. whispering words you cannot hear with how loudly you feel the blood rushing to your ears.

he reaches for your other ankle, issuing the same treatment before moving up further to your knees — to your thighs, to your hips. dodging the part you need him most. devotion. my worship, cannot be rushed, he says. so he takes his time with you.

keeping his your ankles held against his thighs until he places them upon his shoulders. the fabric of your clothes long discarded as he dives in. drinking you in like the finest wine the heavens have to offer.

his nose nudges against your clit, rubbing against the soft nub so delicately. you drip from his chin onto the ground as he laps away at your tender flesh, slow and feeling. committing every bit of you to his memory, allowing himself to get high of my your sent. his hands drag up and down your legs, massaging the muscles when they get too tense.

hiromi pulls away when he's satisfied with the works he's done, the bottom half of his face thoroughly soaked in you. he rests his head against your thigh, giving you a loving smile. flushed and sweaty you look like a wreck, and they only thing he would ever deem worthy of his worship.

"watch me close now"

he drops you legs off his shoulders and settling them back on the cool floor. his hands holding you by the legs to keep your attention (as if he needs to) , and he leans his weight over, forehead to the ground. hiromis tongue comes out and licks a broad stripe along the floor, collecting your essence on his tongue. not leaving a single drop of it behind.

and oh, what a view he is

passionately, he laps up all of you that has spilled out on the floor, licking and sucking it into his mouth as though he was eating your cunt instead and you've got know where to go. watching him, embarrassed as you do but all the same mesmerized.

higuruma raises his head, standing off his knees and he kisses you hard, drinking in the all the air in your lungs. his strong hands cupping your face; its messy and desperate but oh do you feel the same.

it might've have come off as strange to you to describe a kiss as worshipful, just a short while ago. how people can change.

his tongue dances around with yours, dragging along the walls of your mouth and the smooth surface of your teeth. you can't breathe. gripping at his shoulders, his shirt crumpling under your hold and nails digging into his flesh despite the partition between you. you taste yourself on him.

higuruma hiromi does indeed worship the ground you cum walk on.

inspired by this <33

[parfaitblogs]

oh my lover 𝜗𝜚 s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid undresses you for the first time. 

spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff/smut (18+ mdni). 0.8k words. established relationship. borderline body worshipping? actually he just loves you a lot. kind of soft dom!spencer but only if you squint. use of sweet girl and honey. 

a/n: i saw a textpost about this and thought it was wonderful beautiful incredible amazing. just a silly blurb because my motivation for writing has been almost nonexistent </3. enjoy my beautiful angels

spencer reid who didn't think he could meet somebody more nervous than him when it came to sexual intimacy, soon learning that he has fierce competition and that competition is you.

spencer reid who had to literally coax you into climbing onto his lap many moons ago because yes, he was kissing you, and you were close, but you weren't close enough and he had since discovered that he needs to feel every single inch of your body to be enjoying himself. 

spencer reid who was incredibly patient with you, allowing you to initiate quite literally every time you wanted to do something with him, for he was often in fear of pushing too many boundaries and screwing this all up. spencer reid who would ask before he made any moves, and you who had grown accustomed to quietly whispered phrases such as, 'can i kiss you, sweet girl?', and (more recently), 'do you want me to stop? no? okay, honey. i won't'. 

spencer reid who had you laying beneath him on the forest green sheets of his bed, kisses along your skin emitting the loveliest of whines and mewls from your lips, that had him borderline considering quitting every responsibility he had to focus on you. who was oh so hesitant about taking this any further, until you were so lost in a daze that you had subconsciously been pushing your shirt up your torso. spencer reid who had caught the sight, then your hand, stopping you from tugging it all the way off, an amused smile on his lips. 

spencer reid who murmured, 'can i take your shirt off?', and then laughed when you had feverishly nodded your head. who took his utmost of time with it, despite your complaints, pressing kisses up along the hot skin of your stomach with each inch the shirt uncovered. spencer reid who had to pause for a moment when he stared down at you, nowhere near fully naked but still so, so beautiful, to the point that his brain was malfunctioning. 

spencer reid who's fingers traced the outline of your bra, committing the image to memory the best he could despite the motor fry he was currently experiencing from the sight of you. who then took your bra off with so much ease, and began kissing the skin. again. who repeated every tiny ministration that tugged a moan from your throat, despite being something as small as an open-mouthed kiss on your ribcage. 

spencer reid who was trying to stay focussed on the task at hand (undressing you), but getting seemingly distracted by the way you arched your back when his lips had grazed oh so lightly over your nipples.

spencer reid who's fingers finally — finally — hooked under the waistband of your pants, kissing down your body once more, pulling them down your legs at the same time. spencer reid who looked up when he felt the air in the room shift, a layer of intensity coating the two of you, noting the almost worried expression on your face. 

who had asked, 'what's that look for?' and then been thoroughly confused when you expressed discomfort for him seeing you fully naked for the first time. who acknowledged that it was the first time anyone was seeing you naked, and it was a big deal, and he knew the feeling all too well. 

spencer reid who, instead of continuing straight away, lifted his head back to yours, kissing the tip of your nose and the corner of your mouth, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hip bones, slowly. who murmured, 'i'm going to think you're incredibly beautiful no matter what, but i will only go as far as you're willing'. spencer reid who swallowed the protests you had on your tongue about that matter with a kiss, shushing you and enforcing a silent promise that you are as beautiful as he says you are.

spencer reid who took his sweet fucking time removing your underwear from your body, marvelling at the sight of you and forcing his heart rate to remain at a normal enough rate so he could enjoy you properly. who kissed you again, and again, and again, mumbling incoherently about how pretty you looked in between each one. spencer reid who shushed you again, a little less seriously, because you were now giggling that he had this big brain of expansive knowledge, and the only word he could come up with for you was pretty. 

but, regardless, spencer reid who made you feel so immensely loved the entire night, successfully taking his time to kiss and admire each and every crevice of your body, until you were thoroughly exhausted, but pleasantly fulfilled. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[meowrimo]

˖˙ ꔫ — MAN OF DISCIPLINE ˚

꒰ synopsis : After a little persuading, Zoro let's you tie him up. But testing a tiger's patience will only get you so far...

꒰ content : MDNI. zoro roronoa x bratty!reader ; rope play, oral sex (m!receiving), lots of teasing, brief pussy job, use of 'pretty girl' once, just filth honestly. — WC : 2k

The elaborate pull of twine seals in Zoro’s fate as sandswept rope glides along his tanned torso, looping around his shoulders to tie his arms behind his back. Fastened with a knot that only a seasoned sailor could pull off, you let your hands run over your masterpiece. 

Torturously, your lips glide down his torso, ghosting against his skin before your tongue twirls around his nipple. He groans lowly, tensing as you lightly suck on it. 

You don't linger there long, giving him just enough to want more before you nestle down between his toned thighs. With a quick glance, you gaze up at him with an innocence that betrays every other sinful action you’ve taken thus far.

“This is stupid.” Zoro's chiseled jaw clenches, feeling more vulnerable than he's ever felt before. Laid out on the bed, unable to move his hands, and completely bare – all too ripe for the taking. It’s a position he’d never envisioned being in but with one curl of your lip and that challenging glint in your eye, he found himself yielding to your little game, fully equipped with a stubbornness that demands he win it.

Each ripple of his muscles strains for relief, a call for power that leaves his hands itching to wield the familiar grasp of your plush skin but instead, he’s met with the loneliness of air. It’s a true testament of how much he’s holding back right now. Never before has Zoro sat back and let you take the reins in your sex life; he would always be the one to end up in control, and neither of you complained.

Before now.

The memory of how he ended up in such a predicament taunts him almost as much as your curious hand does as it slides down to where he’s painfully hard for you. Silently, he curses himself for goading the shitty cook that his self control towards women was one of his strengths, looking down at the chef like he was less for caving to a woman’s touch so easily.

It sparked a new idea in your head, the perfect kiss of rebellion against the act that he committed, one that would not go unpunished. You were going to prove that when it comes down to it, Zoro gives in to you just as much as Sanji gives in to any woman, if not worse.

“Want to back out? It's alright if you can’t take it.” The look you give him is almost laughable — eyes blown superficially wide and full of faux concern, your lip twitching slightly downward to create the pout that always drew him into your carefully construed traps. Your fingers dance along his length, fleeting touches of pleasure that melts away before he has a chance to savor it.

Flames of desire lick at Zoro’s gut, and he can’t help but settle deeper into his burning pride as it demands that he shows you he can handle whatever you throw at him. The room grew hotter, his nerves working overtime as they tried not to fray at the seams, willfully tearing them down to grow stronger like fractured muscles fibers cording back together.

It was just another form of his training.

“Just get it over with,” Zoro huffs out, cheeks dusted pink as he tries to keep his gaze set on you. The blush only spreads further down his twitching torso as your touch grows more purposeful, his heavy chest heaving in a glowy dew of perspiration.

“With pleasure.” 

Gently, your hand wraps around his base, your hot breath teasingly fanning against the sensitive skin and eliciting chills all throughout his body. His thigh tenses, and the familiar sound of strained rope graces your ear as he squirms above you.

With a quick glance up, you notice that Zoro tries to maintain his aloof persona, a stoic mask that veils the hidden truths he carries far underneath the surface. But his desire was steadily boiling, ready to burst; all you had to do was beckon it out.

Moving your head forward, you tap his sensitive tip against your tongue, letting him twitch in your hand before a spurt of pre-cum dribbles onto the warm muscle, a string that connects you two together in a way that isn’t nearly enough for him. You languidly clean it up, letting the slightly salty taste settle in your mouth, savoring every drop.

Zoro would never admit defeat, practically choking down his groans in protest, but he’s just so eager for you to take him all down your throat so beautifully like you usually do, using all of his self-control to stop from thrusting into your tantalizing mouth. 

“Taking your sweet time, aren’t you?” He grunts out, his body tense from the lack of progression. Every nerve was screaming at him to do something but his pride was working overtime to silence them all. “You and your damn games.”

“What? You know I like to play.” You bite back with a smirk, savoring the way his jaw tightens. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

The mirth that swims in your eyes only grows stronger as you swipe his tip along your spit-covered lips, making sure to wear his favorite gloss before you give him what he’s so desperate for. 

Your slick tongue traces along the pulsing vein that wraps itself around his aching cock, humming softly to let the vibrations tease the sensitive skin, his length twitching under your touch.

“Still think you’re in control, swordsman?” The taunt easily slips past your lips as you tilt your head in question, using the angle to kiss and suck down his length and letting your tongue lather all over. Your near vindictive gaze never leaves his, unwavering as Zoro’s mask begins to crack.

“I’m always in control.” He grits his teeth, longing for the comfort of something tucked in between.

“Is that why you’re trembling?” You murmur, welcoming one of his heavy balls into your earnest mouth and letting the sound vibrate against it. Zoro sucks in a breath, his body jolting at the touch.

Gradually, you take him further into your mouth. Every inch pulls a new sound from him. Zoro shivers – from sheer frustration or an overpowering sense of desire, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that you need to hurry the hell up.

Like an answer to his silent prayer, you begin to engulf the rest of his length down your throat, your eyes watering from the pressure. A ragged groan escapes his lips, the slightest twitch in his hips as you sink down further into his cock. Swallowing him down, the hot tightness of your throat squeezes him as you continue to take him all in.

“Fuck.” Zoro hisses out under his breath, but it wasn’t nearly as quiet as he hoped it would be — or as sturdy. The sound came in a broken, almost haggard manner that was music to your ears. “You and that damn mouth– hnng!”

The way he can barely choke his own words out only spurs you on, doubling down on your efforts as you begin to bob your head, letting his aching length glide down your throat and giving it much-needed reprieve.

As soon as it hits the back of your throat, Zoro lets out the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard — a raspy groan of your name that melted into the beginnings of a whine before he snapped his mouth shut.

That just simply won’t do.

You pull back, gasping for breath as your hand lazily works over his spit-coated length, squeezing it gently in all the right places. 

Zoro’s hands itch and yearn to touch you, to push your head back down on his cock so you can finish what you started. He has half a mind to say screw it, his restraint withering away with every pump of your fist.

“Just admit you were wrong, Zo,” You coo at him softly, “no one will have to know but me.”

“Tch. I’ve got nothing to admit.” He can hardly turn his head away, his pride demanding he face you down no matter the consequences. But every curl of your lip, every flutter of your lashes was pushing him towards the edge of surrender.

“So devoted,” The word slowly drags out like a drop of honey – sweet and sticky. Your wrist flicks, giving the head of his leaking cock an extra squeeze. “Even to your own denial.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything – he doesn’t have time to. His breathing grows heavier as you let your saliva drip from your tongue and smear along his tip before you take him in your mouth again. 

Thread by thread, the rope began to fray, unraveling Zoro further along. His hands may have been tied but his hips were unbound, gradually lifting into the air to meet the warmth of your mouth, groaning as he slid deeper down your throat. 

He loves it when you get like this, it was one of his weaknesses, one that was pushing him further towards the brink that he had been trying to evade all evening. The way everything turned so sloppy, so messy as your saliva mixed with his pre-cum and made everything so slick. It was enough to make his mind spiral into an oblivion where all that remained was the heat of your mouth and the way your tongue expertly curled around him. 

“God,” Zoro grunts out, his head falling back on the pillow in defeat, once again choking on his own words as he tries to get them out. “Just like that, baby. So tight — fuck.”

The praise caught you off guard, a moan ripping from your throat and wrapping itself around his sensitive cock. The distinct snap of twine echoes off, but you don't have a moment to look before Zoro’s large palm caresses the side of your head, eventually pushing down on the back of it.

With a loud groan, Zoro pumps into your mouth, coming deep down your throat and leaving you no choice but to swallow it all down — a task you take in stride. Each spurt somehow felt heavier than the last before it died down, his hips slowly rocking before coming to a stop.

Gently massaging his balls, you hollow your cheeks, ensuring that every drop was drained from him until his body was near thrashing underneath you. Strings of white dribbled past your lips as you did your best to swallow down the large load but no matter how many times you tried, you could never get it all.

The sight made his cock twitch, gaze trained on you as you pull back until just his tip is in his mouth, giving it an extra suck that almost makes him shout. But you relent, letting it slip from between your lips as a smirk takes up your face, licking your lips like a cat who finally got their milk.

“Not so disciplined, are we, Zo?” You can’t help but tease, the sense of victory rushing to your head that leaves you in a hazy bliss. 

You crawl up his body and settle yourself over his lap, sliding your sopping cunt over his length, relishing in how it jumps with interest as you begin to ride along it. 

“Feel that?” You coo, knowing that your time was running out before he snapped. But the remnants of your win was empowering you more and more. “Maybe you’re more like Sanji than you care to admit.”

With every glide of your soft, wet pussy moving against him, the haze in his slightly fucked out brain begins to clear, a primal instinct rising in its place. You slowly blink down at him as you continue to move, looking far too angelic for what you’ve been up to. 

The way Zoro’s chest heaves as he pants, catching his breath with a monstrous glint in his eye that tells you he’s nowhere near being done — in fact, he’s just getting started. 

“Cut the innocent act already.” Zoro roughly grabbed your thigh, flipping you under him in a swift motion, relishing in your surprised squeak. He caged you in, looming over you like a hunter who had ensnared their prey. “I’m gonna make you eat your words, pretty girl.”

“Zo-” You protest, but he’s faster, already grabbing the rope he snapped out of to gingerly tie around your wrists. “I-”

“What? Afraid you’re gonna lose?” He leans by your ear, his breath brushing against your skin before he nips the lobe. “Or are you going to be good and take it?”

thank you for reading ᰔ

[circesastro]

Circe's Synastry Observation

Note: These are just my own observations, ideas, thoughts and theories. This is just for entertainment purposes. Also, please be respectful of my observations! It is perfectly understandable to not resonate with some of my personal observations but please do not leave any disrespectful comments! Lastly, please don’t plagiarize any of my works! Without further ado, enjoy!

**All photos are from Pinterest**

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ VENUS IN 1ST

✿ I love when I have Venus in 1st house with someone because they always show their adoration towards you. I had this with a friend and she made me feel sooo loved 🫶🏻🥹

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ MARS CONJUNCT URANUS

✿ Mars conjunct Uranus could mean that Mars is the active pursuer and Mars could be the one pursuing Uranus. The relationship could have started thanks to a dating app/online.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ SUN CONJUNCT LILITH

✿ Sun conjunct Lilith causes Lilith's family members to be cautious about the Sun person. (Not sure why but I found this in multiple synastry charts and Lilith are both men)

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ PLUTO CONJUNCT MOON

✿ Pluto conjunct moon is NOT FOR THE WEAK I REPEAT. Both individuals act very obsessive over one another but also differently. Moon clings onto Pluto because of all the emotion they feel when they are with Pluto. Pluto holds onto Moon because of the control they have over Moon.

✿ In this Synastry aspect, the Moon person can still feel very attached to Pluto even after years of break-up. They will try to recreate the same experience/memories that they had with Pluto with someone else. They may be attracted to people who remind them of Pluto.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ VENUS IN 9TH

✿ Venus in 9th house synastry can indicate that both can come from different cultures and ethnic backgrounds. It can also indicate the two meeting in college. They can try to explore different cultures together and they can also love traveling together. Sometimes during the relationship they may have to do long-distance.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ JUNO IN 1ST

✿ Juno in 1st could indicate that both parties are loyal to each other and there is mutual attraction between the two. I see a lot of posts talking about how Juno may view house person as the ideal partner but I think the physical attraction goes both ways as in they both view the other as someone who embodies what they look for long term.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ JUNO IN 3RD

✿ If you have juno in 3rd house with a friend be prepared to talk a lottt about commitment, ideal traits of a partner, marriage, love, children etc 🥰.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ VENUS SQUARE MARS

✿ Venus square mars could indicate mars person feeling turned off by venus persons mannerisms (vice versa).

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ MERCURY IN 6TH

✿ Mercury in 6th house synastry could indicate the two talking on a daily basis. I have this with my sister and even when we are far apart (physically) from one another we still manage to communicate everyday <3

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ MARS IN 1ST/MARS CONJUNCT SUN

✿ People who have mars in your 1st house or mars conjuncting your sun always seems to approach you first? But for some reason, those who are attracted to men may naturally gravitate towards men with mars in their 1st house.

✿ This can also indicate mars person catching feelings for sun person first or finding the Sun "ideal" in some way especially if mars is a woman. If the woman is mars in sun conjunct mars synastry it can make the woman the chaser in the relationship...i prefer it the other way around where the man is mars and the woman is sun.

✿ I feel like, in general, people who have placements in your 1st house tend to naturally gravitate towards you and vice versa.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ MARS CONJUNCT NN

✿ Mars conjunct NN can indicate that the two constantly motivate each other to go after their goals. Mars can provide drive for NN (vice versa) to keep pushing forward. Expect lots of motivation from each other. The house that it's in can indicate the themes that they push each other on. Ex: If it sits on the 2nd house it can indicate mars motivating NN through their self-esteem and the two pushing each other towards financial opportunities.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ MARS IN 11TH

✿ Mars in the 11th house can indicate that Mars person can cause chaos or competition within the house person's friend circle or community.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ MERCURY-MOON

✿ if you have mercury-moon with someone, you can find yourself dreaming of them often.

⋆。·˚ʚ💗ɞ˚‧。⋆ IN GENERAL

✿ 2nd house synastry and physical touch is so real?? I have this with multiple people (me as house) and they're always so touchy with me 😭. For people I have 2nd house synastry with we both seem to always greet each other with hugs?

✿ Idk if its just my life and my inner circle, but it seems like individuals with Aries placements tend to attract more Aries placements into their lives.

✿ 8th house/pluto synastry the type to have each others location on at all time and constantly check where the other is. I usually end up sharing my location with friends or family members that I have 8th house synastry with 🤔

✿ People who I have 8th house synastry with tend to be more open-minded when I bring up astrology or other occult knowledge 🥹🫶🏻.

✿ 6th house synastry requires that both will put in the efforts to maintain the connection. I just checked my synastry chart with a friend and we have mercury in 6th house and we would have random chit-chats with each other throughout winter break to check up on each other.

✿ Also, 6th house synastry is the type of synastry where the two may take on each other's habit because they hang out with each other so often. For example, if one person has a habit of brushing their hands through their hair the other may pick up on that and do the same or if one person has a habit of talking with their hands the other person may pick up on that habit too.

✿ Whereas, 3rd house synastry could be the type where one person starts the mimicking how the other person talk (accents, certain vocabs/slangs)

✿ If you have both 3rd and 6th house synastry together it can indicate that others may mistake you as twins or siblings or maybe just view you both as inseparable (3rd house, house of siblings and communication + 6th house, house of routines and co-workers so it can indicate linking you both together)

MASTERLIST

[bartxnhood]

god given solace | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: in which bucky realizes just how in love he is with you.

w/c: 1k

a/n: hey guys!! i know you must get tired of me saying the same thing lol but i decided to write again. i have been sooo busy these past few months. trying to navigate adult life with graduation and my new job, plus i had a surgery that knocked me off my feet but i have been ITCHING to write. so, even though this is small, i hope you all enjoy!!!

Copyright © 2025 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧

bucky never knew he could love until he met you. all of those sleepless nights, begging, praying to any gods out there just to make them stop. he just wanted peace, no more war, no hydra, no night terrors, and no more fighting.

he wasn’t aware that love is what he so desperately needed. someone to soothe those nightmares, to hold him close and hush him during the worst moments of his life.

but, bucky was convinced he was not capable of being loved. because, who in their right mind would love someone as tortured and damaged as him?

after all, that’s what he was. damaged goods.

but you? god, you were the purest things he had ever seen. you were like an angel that came before him, cascading in white light and warmth every time your gaze lingers on the super soldier.

even now, watching you from the doorway of your shared balcony, bucky finds himself unable to take his eyes off your frame. sometimes, he felt pathetic for the life he harbored for you. trapped in the memory of your first encounter.

relishing in the memories that he looked back on so fondly.

you, the angel, being the only person who could see through bucky. through the “i’m fine” and the “don’t worries” he’d spill, you never put up with his lies.

“you can’t fool me, barnes” you’d say while wrapping your arms around his midsection. bucky sighed as he rubbed his temples, “i know..” there was absolutely no fooling you.

“you can tell me anything, buck..” you pressed a kiss on his shoulder, just above where the metal began.

“does it hurt?”

bucky shakes his head, “no, not right now.”

he’d find himself leaning against the glass door, his eyes trained on your figure as you lean against the metal railing. the skyline of brooklyn in the distance, the moonlight shining on your skin, which only convinced him further into believing you were some sort of angel that was meant for him.

you could do no wrong in his eyes, you could commit a thousand crimes and bucky would still look at you like you hung the moon and stars for him. still, in the end, he felt satisfied knowing that you were his. his to shower with affection, to whisper sweet words in the middle of the night as your bodies lie tangled beneath the sheets of the dark bedroom. not even death could pry you from him.

in the beginning, he tried his hardest not to succumb to his feelings for you. he didn’t want to get attached because attachments always lead to heartbreak, and bucky didn’t know if he could handle another heartbreak.

but you were incredibly persistent, and ultimately it worked.

“i love you..” the words would spill from his lips like honey; the words came so naturally for him, easy as breathing.

the worst left a sweet taste in his mouth.

you turn on your heels just as those words left his lips.

“what?” you laugh, not at him though, but because it was random and very rarely did he. not that he doesn’t love you, but because he doesn’t want the words to lose their meaning.

“i love you,” he repeats as he walks towards you. his hand finds home on your lower back, his fingertips memorizing the texture of your skin that peeked from your sleep shirt.

you smile, hands coming to rest on both of his forearms, and for just a moment, bucky swore he could feel the warmth of your touch against his bionic arm. if he closed his eyes, he could picture it.

“i love you too, james.” you called him every nickname in the book, but sometimes it felt better calling him by his real name. especially in an intimate moment like this.

your brows furrow, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip from his grip. like you’re a figment of his imagination. “what’s wrong..?” you inquire, hands moving from his arms to the base of his neck. fingers entangling with his hair.

bucky shakes his head, “nothing, i just..i just love you s’all”.

you smile, looking into his baby blues that held so much affection when looking at you. like you were the only thing in the universe.

he loved spending his time with you, being in your presence, wrapping his arms around you, and finding peace. no nightmares, no flashbacks, no regrets, just you. just your soothing voice, the stillness of your breathing as you lie next to him. he was so in love with you.

“you are so..beautiful..” bucky found it hard to find a word to describe you. you weren’t just beautiful, you were so much more. you carried this gentleness about you that made him feel at home. home. you were his home.

a smile spreads on your face, a quiet giggle stuck in your throat as you watch his eyes rake over your figure. “bucky..”

“m’serious,” he mumbles. he pulls you closer against his frame, his lips pressing fleeting kisses just below your earlobe.

“you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, your hands still resting at the base of his neck.

“mhm,” he’s still pressing kisses to your flesh, relishing in your signature scent. a gentle reminder that you’re real.

“buck,” your words cut him off, hands finding either side of his face. “cmon..what’s goin on?”

“i don’t say it enough.” he was reluctant to pull away, but he was looking in your eyes again. his hands moved from your lower back to your waist, now. thumbs massaging circles absentmindedly.

you press your lips into a thin smile, tilting your head to the side while your fingers push some hair from his eyes. “oh..bucky..”

“no,” he shakes his head.

“you are my god given solace, y/n. you know that?”

you’re a bit taken aback by his sudden words, your hands pausing their movements. “what?”

“i know it hasn’t been easy to love me, but you’ve been there for me” he’s rambling now, wanting to get his words out while he still has it on his mind. “you’ve shown me love, doll” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, letting it linger for a moment.

“you saved me.”

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

The air in the Vanilla Kingdom is crisp and slightly thin from the high altitude, a far cry from the heavy dustiness that Healer is accustomed to from the village. Sadly, any refreshment he could have gotten from it is thrown off by the underlying sugary staleness.

The young batch of adventurers forge onwards in front of him, their chatter shaking the strange silence that blankets what Healer had assumed to be a populated kingdom. Plain Yogurt sticks close to his right, casually relaying descriptions of the battered and time-worn buildings they pass to him. It isn’t really necessary, because Healer can get an understanding of the area through the tap of his staff and the tiles beneath his feet, and he doesn’t have much interest in the visual details anyway. Still, Healer doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, endeared by the sweet sentiment behind his dedicated descriptions.

Flanking his left is a wary Black Raisin with a raisin crow or two, from the sounds of it. It is not ideal for her and Plain Yogurt to be on this venture together, but Healer appreciates both of their company regardless. At the very least, they seem to be ignoring each other for the most part, the typical tension between them mostly unnoticeable.

It is just as well, because Healer has enough to worry about as it is: the stale air, the silence slinking around them, the unsteady tiles shifting beneath the weight of his staff.

He hates to admit it, but it is all horribly unnerving.

Healer can understand his discomfort at the unexpected state of the kingdom, but he does not understand the twist of despair in his gut, something eerily close to grief. Everything feels wrong, and while that should be unsurprising coming from a place you expected to be inhabited, the wrongness Healer feels almost comes from a place of familiarity rather than expectation. Like it feels wrong because he knows it usually does not feel like this.

That is impossible, though, because Healer has never been here before. So he keeps that feeling tucked close to himself, following the sound of the group’s footsteps and Plain Yogurt’s elaborate commentary.

It does not take very long for them to agree that the Vanilla Kingdom seems to be abandoned, even more so than their own little village. There isn’t a trace of another Cookie anywhere, and the further into the kingdom they go, the more true that conclusion seems to be.

“This state of disrepair could be because nobody is around to maintain everything.” Wizard suggests as the young adventurers debate the cause, a contemplative lilt to his voice. “Perhaps the Cookies who once lived here fled from Dark Enchantress Cookie during the Dark Flour War?”

Dark Enchantress. Healer has heard the name before, but it has never hit him square in the chest like it does now, leaving him winded. Pain bursts behind his bandaged eyes, blurry memories of desperation and devastation ripping through him like a blade, dripping ice down his spine. It is all completely incomprehensible, ill-fitting with the reality of the village life he knows and upsetting because of it.

“Dark Enchantress– the things she’s done. The crimes she’s committed!” The gasp comes unthinkingly from his throat, and he suddenly knows with a startling certainty what Dark Enchantress has done. He shouldn’t. It is impossible, for someone to suddenly know things out of nothing, and yet–

The newfound power dwelling in Healer’s staff reaches weakly for him, drapes over him, cool and crisp like the high altitude air. It is meant to be soothing, Healer thinks, but a part of him recoils violently from it, because it must be the cause of these strange flashes of knowledge that do not belong to him. His hand jerks around his staff, as if he isn’t sure whether to throw it away or cling to it like a lifeline, before he stubbornly tightens his grip and plants it in the ground, trying to catch his bearings.

A hand lands on his shoulder, keeping him steady, and Plain Yogurt’s voice swoops in close behind. “Hey, are you okay? That was quite the reaction.” He asks, his words sounding heavy in a way that Healer assumes is awkward, even though Plain Yogurt doesn’t seem to get awkward often. “...Do you know Dark Enchantress or something?”

It is an innocent, almost casual question beneath its layers of concern, but it might be the worst thing Healer could have heard at that moment. It feels like it cleaves straight through his brain, peeling back his consciousness like an orange and dredging up ancient pain from the depths of his subconscious, so strong it is like it has been fermenting all this time. It crawls through his dough, and he is hit with the scent of burnt dough and ruin, of ozone and jam, of wilting lilies–

Healer’s gasp of breath catches wetly in his throat, sounding slightly strangled.

“Healer!” Black Raisin calls, and he can feel her pressing in on his other side, hands hovering over him but not quite touching, not quite as bold in her invasion of his personal space as Plain Yogurt is. Her concern immediately turns to anger, and she addresses Plain Yogurt sharply behind Healer’s head. “Don’t ask such a stupid question! Why do you insist on upsetting him over nothing?”

“I was trying to check on him!” Plain Yogurt argues, his hand on Healer’s shoulder tightening from his steady comfort. “If I knew it would make him worse, I wouldn’t have asked him that, obviously.”

“It is very easy to say that, isn’t it?” Black Raisin shoots back, and Healer can practically feel Plain Yogurt bristle beside him. He wishes they hadn’t started arguing at all, but at least it grounds him from the churning confusion of his unreliable mind, helping him recover his wits with something else to focus on.

“Black Raisin, please don’t make accusations like that.” Healer cuts in gently, the tone only slightly unsteady as he gets his breath under control. He lifts his free hand to pat her arm in consolation, closing the gap that she had been hesitant to bridge herself. “Plain Yogurt is right. He was only trying to help, and he had no way of knowing the question would be sensitive.” He pauses, then admits a little sheepishly, “Even I am not sure why I reacted so strongly.”

Black Raisin seems to hesitate for a moment, before sighing, her tone softening. “Are you alright now, at least?”

“I am, I promise you.” Healer insists with a little quirk of a smile, and it isn’t quite a lie, but it isn’t a truth either. He raises a hand to pat the hand on his shoulder too, tilting his head towards Plain Yogurt. “Both of you. Thank you for the concern, but we should catch up with our new friends before we lose them, shouldn’t we?”

Black Raisin makes a reluctant but ultimately agreeing noise, Plain Yogurt squeezes his shoulder once before his hand falls away, and that is that.

Healer is a bit relieved that the batch of young adventurers hadn’t noticed his severe reaction, distracted as they were with patching up some holes in their way forward, because he really has no explanation for it. He isn’t sure if he wants an explanation either. He tries to push past it instead, dismissing his own mixed emotions as they continue on.

Unfortunately, that is a lot easier said than done. It is like a lock has been unlatched, allowing memories that belong to someone else to seep in through the cracks, even as muddled and unclear as they are. Healer’s feet move as if they know this path, as if they have walked it a hundred times before, and it unsettles him more than if he kept tripping up.

Swarmed by his own creeping discomfort, Healer can barely pay attention to Plain Yogurt’s descriptions, let alone anything else. Plain Yogurt must notice his scattered attention, because he has always been oddly good at reading Healer, but he doesn’t seem offended. He just continues to talk, and Healer clings to his voice like an anchor even though he doesn’t quite process every word.

With the descriptions he does catch, Healer somehow manages to imagine exactly what is in front of him, so clear it is as if he can see it for himself, caught in his mind like a picture. But that is impossible. It must be, because Healer has worn his bandages for as long as he can remember, so he has never seen anything.

Healer is finally and suddenly pulled from his queasy confusion by a new voice up ahead, shouting indignantly. “Scrap? You’re calling my perfect toys scrap?! How dare you!”

“Uh, who are you?” Gingerbrave pipes up, slightly bewildered.

Healer feels the same, complicated further by disbelief, worry and an unexplainable dose of hope. “How can there be another Cookie here?” He turns to where he thinks Plain Yogurt is, waving his free hand to get his attention when he doesn’t manage to find his arm. “The rest of the kingdom is definitely abandoned, isn’t it?”

Plain Yogurt, as if in silent apology for not being where Healer expected, suddenly presses their shoulders together, staying for a long moment before pulling away again. “Well, it definitely looked abandoned. Maybe they’re the only one here.”

“Huh?” The new voice sounds just as bewildered as Gingerbrave was, and Healer aches a little as he realises how young the voice sounds, paired with Plain Yogurt’s suggestion that they might be here all alone. “Wait, are you really Cookies?” There’s a subtle rise of hope in their tone, and Healer’s ache worsens, knowing that reaction only makes Plain Yogurt’s deduction seem more likely. “Pfft, what am I saying? Of course you’re not. Now, where are your data chip interfaces?”

There’s a few quick footsteps, before Chili Pepper is shouting, “Hey, get off of me!”

The little one doesn’t seem to show any sign of noticing her protests, based on Chili Pepper’s continued grumbling and the little one’s muttered…calculations?

Then, the little one gasps. “No way! You guys are all really Cookies?” There is a flurry of more footsteps, followed by startled complaints from the rest of the young adventurers as the little one presumably turns their inspection towards them. “It sure looks like it! Woah, I haven’t seen another Cookie in…” The movement briefly pauses as the little one drags out a hum. “...forever!”

That is rather concerning in itself, and Healer wants to ask about that, to understand the situation so he could possibly offer the little one help, but in the next second, everything happens too quickly for his questions to have a chance.

The little one’s footsteps storm towards them, followed by a split-second scuffle, dough hitting dough, and a yelp of surprise. Healer sucks in a breath, but he already has an idea of what happened, even before Plain Yogurt says, “Don’t you dare.”

The words are low and flat, a warning that hangs in the air like thunder. Healer finds it to be a bit harsh of a reaction, but he knows how sensitive Plain Yogurt can be with unwanted touch and he can’t really blame him for that, so instead he tries to smooth things over amicably. “Sorry, he doesn’t like physical contact all that much. You should have at least asked beforehand.”

“He didn’t seem to have any problems making physical contact with you.” The little one sniffs petulantly, slightly muffled like they were covering their face.

“That’s because we’re friends.” Healer explains patiently, before his worry finally gets the better of him, taking a step towards the sound of the little one’s voice. “Are you hurt at all? I’m sure Plain Yogurt didn’t mean to, but I can help if you are.”

He reaches his free hand out in a friendly offer, but the little one doesn’t take it. They scoff, footsteps stumbling back. “Whatever. I don’t need to be here for this. Have fun getting lost!”

The footsteps scurry away before Healer can muster up a proper response, and he deflates with an odd twist of guilt in his gut, dropping his hand.

“Um…that was weird, right?” Strawberry mumbles in the quiet aftermath.

“They were weird, more like.” Plain Yogurt snorts humorlessly, a mostly unfamiliar edge to his tone. “Talking about equations and grabbing everyone willy-nilly like that. Suspicious, isn’t it?”

“I hate to say it but I agree.” Black Raisin mutters as if it pained her, a judgemental caution thick in her voice. “I don’t trust that Cookie one bit. They acted strangely, and I doubt that they are really alone.”

Plain Yogurt snorts again, louder with more genuine mirth. “You don’t trust anyone.”

Black Raisin huffs, but says nothing. In any other situation, Healer would have been thrilled to see them agree on something, to get along semi-amicably, but unfortunately he doesn’t quite agree with their joint stance.

“Well, suspicious or not, we should still go after them, right?” Gingerbrave argues. “It’s probably dangerous for them to be running around here alone.”

“Yes.” Healer smiles slightly, relieved that someone else had the same idea as him. “I have a few questions to ask them too, about their personal situation and this kingdom.”

Healer is not sure why he feels such a strong sense of responsibility over this little one, a deep-seated guilt as if whatever happened to them is his own fault. It doesn’t make sense. Still, focusing on the little one is better than focusing on anything else, because at least the little one doesn’t prompt disorienting fragments of memories that tear at his mind with impossible familiarity.

“A splendid idea!” Custard declares, just as upbeat as before. “After all, every king should understand their loyal citizens’ perspectives.”

Plain Yogurt sighs, setting his elbow on Healer’s shoulder and leaning into him. “Well, if you say so. It would be good for us to know what really happened here, anyway.”

There it is again, that strange lilting tone that Plain Yogurt sometimes gets, the one he can never parse. Healer turns to face him at the contact, suddenly reminded of his earlier unanswered question. He asks quietly, “They weren’t hurt, were they? I heard contact, but it didn’t sound too hard.”

Plain Yogurt pauses for a moment. “Of course not.” He assures in a soft, hushed voice. “Nothing more than a little scratch, at most. I’m not someone who likes violence, you know that.”

Healer nods, understanding. “No, I know. It was an instinctive reaction, as unfortunate as it is.”

Plain Yogurt hums, the sound trailing off. Then, he straightens up from Healer and announces, as if to dismiss the topic entirely, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your answers. We’re heading towards the castle anyway, so we’re bound to run into them again eventually.”

It is phrased ominously, but Healer accepts it as the support it is clearly meant to be with a small smile. “You’re right. Let’s get going, then.”

So, onwards they go.

It does not take them long to run into the little one again. Although they had retreated of their own accord, Chili Pepper’s penchant for rummaging through the scrap in their path quickly draws them out again.

“Hey, those parts are mine! Give them back!” The little one shouts from further away, clearly keeping their distance from the group. “You have no idea how precious those are.”

“Well, I do now!” Chili Pepper crows, a smirk colouring her voice. “And if they were really yours, how was I able to swipe ‘em up so easily?”

“Just give the parts back.” Wizard sighs in palpable annoyance. “We shouldn’t be picking unnecessary fights.”

“Yeah! You should listen to that Cookie with the high ice cream percentage, 13 grams of chili sauce!” The little one declares smugly, the tone rivalling Chili Pepper’s own smirk. They completely ignore both Wizard and Chili Pepper’s exclamations of confusion and offense, a bang or two suggesting that they had hopped up onto a box or ledge of some kind to lord over them. “This is my playground, and these are my toys. In fact, everything left in this kingdom is mine! So–”

The little one cuts themself off with a shriek of alarm, and Healer straightens up, mind racing as he whips around to try and ask Plain Yogurt what happened.

“Let me go!” The little one shouts indignantly, stopping Healer in his tracks. He can hear grunts of effort as they presumably try to struggle out of a hold.

“Hah! Not so funny when you’re on the receiving end, huh?” Chili Pepper retorts, a little too vindictive. For a split second, Healer assumes she must be the one to have grabbed the little one, even though the direction and distance of their two voices don’t match up.

“Woah, Plain Yogurt Cookie, you moved so fast, I didn’t even see you!” Custard says in awe, building to an innocent excitement. “How would you feel about becoming my Royal Bodyguard?”

Healer freezes, silently reaching a hand out to where he thought Plain Yogurt was. Sure enough, his hand only meets air, and he quickly tucks it close to his chest, not wanting to attract attention in his own confusion. He hadn’t heard Plain Yogurt move at all – but then again, he had suspected that Plain Yogurt could move silently for a while now, based on a collection of instances where, in Healer’s blindness, he seemed to disappear into thin air.

“Where did you even come from, you- you–!” The little one sputters, a frazzled irritation spiking their tone. “–What are you?!”

“What, you can’t figure it out?” Plain Yogurt muses, condescending to a degree that honestly surprises Healer. He had never heard him like this, even in his spats with Black Raisin; something so close to toeing the line of cruelty. “What a pity.”

“Plain Yogurt, be gentle with them.” Healer says, suddenly realising that he might need the reminder. He assumes that this odd behaviour stems from the little disagreement the two had earlier, when the little one grabbed at Plain Yogurt without permission, though it is still a little uncomfortable to reconcile Plain Yogurt’s usual behaviour to this.

“I am, I am, they’re just fussy.” Plain Yogurt replies, his tone lightening back to a much more familiar one. Since none of their companions refute the claim, Healer accepts that as truth, though he likely would have done so even if he hadn’t had the assurance. “Well, my dear, you said you have questions. Now is your chance to ask them.”

Healer, admittedly, cannot help being slightly flattered by the implication that Plain Yogurt did this for him, even though he doesn’t agree with his methods in the slightest. “You didn’t have to–”

The little one groans loudly, and the sounds of struggling stop as they must have finally slumped into Plain Yogurt’s hold. “Just ask your stupid questions and let me go, before I stop being nice and do something you’ll really regret.”

The threat washes over Healer’s shoulders as he moves over to where their voices are coming from, drawing closer to them. “Sorry once again, little one.” He apologises, because guilt gnaws at him, though he isn’t fully certain what specifically he is apologising for. “I don’t have too much to ask but… where are the other Cookies of this kingdom?”

The little one answers quickly and scornfully. “I don’t know and I don’t care! This kingdom fell a looong time ago, and nobody stuck around after that. Literally everyone knows that.”

Healer had guessed as much anyway, but for some reason, the confirmation makes him slightly queasy, his breath catching in his lungs. “No, that can’t be… all of the Cookies that once lived here?” Unwanted, the sound of a bustling crowd cheering dances in his ears, a sugary scent thickens the air, and Healer shakes his head to try and dismiss the ghosts of something that does not belong to him because it can’t, it can’t. “But then, where did you come from?”

Plain Yogurt must have loosened his grip, because the sounds of a scuffle return, and this time, the little one audibly escapes with a laugh that sounds only slightly hysterical. “I’m not telling you! Leave me alone!”

With that, the little one scurries off, even faster than before. Chili Pepper shouts after them, and one after another, the batch of young adventurers take off after them without giving much consideration towards whether such a chase is needed.

“Where are you all going? This is completely unnecessary!” Black Raisin scolds, but she still runs after them, her crow cawing impatiently. She must have accepted that, regardless of her own hostility in the village, the adventurers are her wards on this expedition, and treats them with protectiveness accordingly. “Be careful, the tiles are loose, remember?!”

Healer, with little choice left in the matter, goes to follow the sound of their disappearing movements, only to startle when a familiar voice appears on his left.

“Sorry for leaving you alone all of a sudden.” Plain Yogurt says, sweet but not quite as apologetic as his words should have been. “I saw you reaching for me earlier.”

Healer finds himself fighting a small flush of embarrassment, but he presses it down behind a breathy chuckle. Admittedly, he hadn’t heard Plain Yogurt approach him, and had assumed he had followed the initial rush after the little one, since he had been their captor. “Your movement really can be impressively silent when you want it to be.”

“What can I say?” Plain Yogurt hums, playful and weirdly sardonic. “It’s a gift.”

Healer sighs, reaching out expectantly and relaxing in places he hadn’t realised were tense when Plain Yogurt gives him his arm. “You shouldn’t have done that to the little one, though. You must have scared them.”

Plain Yogurt tsks, the sweetness in his voice taking on a begrudgingly bitter tang. “Why? I was only returning the favour.”

“Even so. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, you know.”

Plain Yogurt laughs. “And you, my dear? Are you speaking from experience?” He teases warmly, in the way he always teases Healer. It is not meant to be taken seriously.

But the question triggers a snap of pain at Healer’s temples, bringing in the scent of choking smoke and the sound of crumbling destruction, as if the whole world were wheezing in pain. Flashes of stark red dance in the pitch black behind his eyelids – red, definitely red, but how does he know what that is – and the phantom claws of an unfamiliar magic scrabble through him, freezing and wild and near uncontrollable. A last resort. A dangerous gambit.

“Dear?” Plain Yogurt repeats, now with concern, it must be concern because Healer must be imagining the rise of a smile in his syllables. “You keep getting distracted. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Healer exhales the reply, perhaps a bit too quickly, desperately trying to empty his mind of anything but the tangible, understandable present. He tentatively loosens his painfully tight grip on Plain Yogurt’s arm, unsure of when that had happened. “Yes, I am. We should catch up with the others before we lose track of them entirely.”

Much to Healer’s relief, Plain Yogurt accepts his blatant diversion gracefully and they finally start walking. Healer is genuinely worried, to a certain degree, by how far they have fallen behind, but Plain Yogurt seems unbothered. He leads him along as if he is certain he knows exactly where the rest of their group has gone, even though Healer cannot seem to hear any evidence of them. Perhaps there is a more obvious visual trail that he cannot see.

“They’re in this big fortress.” Plain Yogurt comments offhandedly as Healer feels the wind cut off abruptly, held off by sturdy walls. He hears a commotion of familiar voices coming from up ahead and quickens his pace, half-dragging Plain Yogurt behind him in his haste. Plain Yogurt makes no attempt to complain, instead letting out an interested noise. “A warehouse of Wafflebots, no less! It looks like there are dozens sleeping in here.”

“Wafflebots?” Healer parrots in alarm as they finally reunite with the rest of the group, who all seem to be discussing the same thing.

“The Vanillians seem to have originally built them to help with tasks too difficult for Cookies, like defence and construction, not as weapons.” Wizard explains, his words slightly slow and stilted like he is still trying to piece everything together. Then he gasps, the audible manifestation of a burst of excitement. “And just look at that Wafflebot Goliath! According to this blueprint, they all have a permanent enchantment on their machinery which allows them to perform up to twenty-seven different commands. It’s incredible!”

“All of that only proves that we should destroy this place.” Black Raisin insists, her determined voice holding a precious thread of fierce hope. “The more impressive it is, the more danger it poses to the village.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Custard interjects with a nervous waver to his voice that steadies out as he clears his throat. “As future king, I should take a closer look first. If we can fix them, then they won’t attack anymore. They could even be a great help!”

Healer hears Custard stepping closer to what must be one of the Wafflebots, and dread drips into his stomach. “Uh, I don’t think that is such a good idea, Your Majesty.”

“No need to fret, my faithful subject!” Custard chirps cheerfully as his feet continue to tip-tap closer. “This one seems docile, so it should be–”

Before he can finish that sentence, a sharp whirring fills the fortress, echoing through the large space and ringing in Healer’s ears as the screech of moving metal synchronises with the thump of robotic feet.

Healer can hear everyone jump into the fight, though it is difficult for him to track what exactly is happening past the squeal of metal, the buzz of magic, the rumble shaking his feet and the battle cries. What he does know is that Plain Yogurt is still lingering behind him, and Healer backs up into him, throwing his free arm out to protect him just like he had back in the village. He tightens his grip on his staff, but is discouraged from trying anything by the sluggishly low amount of magical energy he finds.

The acrid smell of explosions and laser smoke wrap around him, thick on his tongue, and Healer tries not to choke on his own disgusting sense of déjà vu.

Thankfully, Plain Yogurt is not as panicked as he was during the attack on the village, grounding him in the present with his steady assessment of the situation. “They look like they’re struggling to beat it.”

Which sounds bad, yes, and makes Healer queasy, but it at least brings him back to the here and now. He tries to think of what he can do to help, hearing the group’s enthusiasm to fight begin to slowly flag, his thoughts tangling uselessly with one another.

“There’s a secret passage somewhere here.” Healer blurts out, and the words scald him because he knows that they are true but he shouldn’t. He can’t afford to question or reject it when it could save them now, though, so he continues. “Near one of the, uh, control stations? I believe?”

He could not sound less convincing if he tried, and yet Plain Yogurt grabs his elbow and begins steering him towards the wall without question. Healer makes sure to keep himself between Plain Yogurt and the Wafflebot fight as they move, tense with anticipation, until they slow to a stop.

Under the din of the ongoing battle, there is the creak of rusty hinges.

“Found it!” Plain Yogurt confirms as he tugs on Healer’s sleeve.

Relief finally rears its head, and Healer twists around to yell over his shoulder as Plain Yogurt pulls him into the passageway, “Everyone, follow us! There’s a passageway here, we should be able to follow it to safety!”

It doesn’t take long for the rest to enter the passageway behind them, banging against the walls in their haste and panting as they try to catch their breath. The trek through the narrow passage gives them time to calm down, adrenaline levelling out as the clanging of the Wafflebot Goliath fades away. Plain Yogurt leads the way, at some point releasing Healer’s sleeve, until the walls fall away from their sides and the crisp, open air greets them once more.

The crisp, open air and the unmistakable whirring of a fleet of Wafflebots overhead.

Healer tenses, tilting his head upwards to try and gauge if the fleet is approaching them or not. Plain Yogurt must notice him doing that, as he always seems to, because he answers his silent question. “Don’t worry, they’re not attacking us. Actually, it looks like they’re leaving the Vanilla Kingdom.”

“But then where…” Black Raisin trails off, before sucking in a sharp breath. “No! No, they’re heading towards the village!”

The words alone are enough to make Healer��s heart sink, but the spark of genuine, unadulterated panic in Black Raisin’s voice makes it even worse. Out of all the time he has known her, Black Raisin has never sounded like that. Even in the worst calamities, even when the Wafflebots first descended, she has always been able to take control and keep steady, directing her energy into protection rather than panic.

Then again, she has never been this far from the village before. She has never been in a position where, when a crisis occurs, she cannot immediately take action to protect the village.

“Healer, we have to go back immediately.” Black Raisin demands, and he can hear a raisin crow take flight somewhere, spurned by her urgency. “If we hurry, we might be able to make it back before too much damage is done.”

He can hear her marching back past him, to try and go back the way they came, and Healer’s hand flies up to catch her shoulder. Her panic makes his dough crawl, but uncertainty and the thinning curl of power in his staff glue his feet to the tiles below. “Wait, I– unfortunately, the power in my staff seems to be depleted from creating the portal up. If we go back now, I’m not sure if we will be able return up here.”

He can feel how stiff she is beneath his palm, almost trembling with the wound tension, but Black Raisin still stops at his touch. Her voice, however, is unyielding, only growing in agitation. “Why does that matter now? The village is in danger. We can worry about things like coming back here once we make sure everyone back home is safe.”

She is right. Healer knows that she is right, but there is a clashing sense of responsibility swelling from the depths of his mind, pulling his heart in two dizzying directions. “But we have yet to fully understand what has happened here.” He argues, though he isn’t quite sure he wants to know either, unable to verbalise the foreign guilt that has sneakily tethered him to the path forward. “We still don’t know the situation surrounding the little one, and there could be other Cookies here in need of help that we don’t know of. And there is the matter of- of Dark Enchantress–”

His throat spasms thickly around that name with something eerily close to grief, and he is almost relieved when Black Raisin immediately cuts him off.

“What has gotten into you?” Her disbelief almost fully eclipses her outrage, all of which is undoubtedly stoked by the pressure of the situation. “None of that is our problem. Our only priority should be keeping the village safe, and our only fight is with the Wafflebots that descend on us. There is no need for us to involve ourselves any further.”

“But the world is larger than just our village.” Healer says, his words gaining a strength he doesn’t really feel. “Something awful has happened here and–”

“And that is still not our problem! We are not here to be heroes, Healer, we are just Cookies trying to live.” Black Raisin shoots back, shrugging Healer’s hand off her. The gesture stings a little, because she has never rejected his touch before, but he lets his hand fall. She sighs, her voice leaning closer towards a plea. “Please, Healer. You've been reacting strangely ever since we got here, and you’ve been almost constantly distressed. Don’t you think it would be in your best interest to go back anyway?”

Healer understands her point, but it scrambles into the complicated knot of emotions swirling in his chest. Half of him is tempted, half of him really has no interest in knowing any more, but the cold sting of the waning power in his staff keeps him grounded like an obligation. When the words finally and clumsily tumble out of his mouth, he is speaking to himself more than anyone else, sharp with self-inflicted reproach. “No, no, turning back now would be cowardly.”

He doesn’t realise his mistake until he hears Black Raisin reply, “...Are you saying I’m a coward? Is that what you truly think of me?”

There is a shiver in her voice, a crack of hurt so much worse than her anger and panic, and regret washes over Healer in an instant. His face falls, and he quickly, furiously, shakes his head. “No, that’s not–”

“Well, he’s right, isn’t he?” Plain Yogurt deadpans as his hand finds a place in the junction between Healer’s shoulder and neck, his presence pressing in from behind. “Cowardice is why you kept trying to crumble me behind his back, isn’t it? A shame none of those attempts ever worked.”

It is like the air itself freezes between them, Healer’s muddled mind momentarily going blank.

“...What?” He chokes out weakly, completely caught off guard. His head automatically tilts towards Plain Yogurt, like it always does when he tries to search for confirmation on something or other.

There is a moment of thick, unbearable silence before Black Raisin finally, finally bites through it with her teeth.

“You!” She barks, a brittle sound that is both harsh and unbearably fragile, her audibly shaking breath acting as punctuation. She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, her words grow wobbly as if she is holding back an angry sob. “Healer, I…”

Black Raisin does not immediately try to refute the accusation. Healer can feel his heart hammering in his own throat. The whine of lasers gathering power reverberates from somewhere.

“I don’t have time for this.” Black Raisin mutters dejectedly, gruff and low, followed by the scratch of her boots against the tiles as she spins around and breaks off into a sprint back the way they came.

Healer hears the retreating footsteps multiple into tens of dozens, hears the screams and panic, sees glimpses of Cookies cradling growing cracks as they beg for him to save them, as they lose hope in him and–

“Wait! Black Raisin!” Healer lurches forwards, reaching a hand out to try and grab her even though she has long since moved out of his range, his own desperation ringing in his ears.

Plain Yogurt’s hand tightens its grip on him, and he is reeled back before he can try and run after Black Raisin in earnest. “Let her go.” He murmurs, rubbing his hand along the length of Healer’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. "It won't do either of you any good to keep talking when you're both stressed."

Healer ignores the attempted comfort in favour of twisting around to face him fully, fumbling before he manages to gather the front of Plain Yogurt’s robes into his fist. It isn’t meant to be a threat. Rather, it is the only thing anchoring Healer as his pitch black world seems to spin.

“Is what you said true?” He asks, his chest aching. The power in his staff thrums lazily as if in response, but he stubbornly ignores that too. “About Black Raisin?”

“I guess she didn’t trust your judgement on me very much.” Plain Yogurt replies softly, evasive and yet an obvious answer in itself.

His judgement. Healer's judgement. The villagers always trust his judgement, but they aren’t the only ones. The last Cookies to trust his judgement, for better or for worse, were–

No—

Healer’s head explodes in spiced pain and he feels cold, right to the tips of his fingers, swaying and collapsing into Plain Yogurt. Smells and sensations and images pop incessantly through his mind, barbed and vengeful, and Healer rejects them all, recoiling, writhing, sinking, sinking, sinking—

Until he, blissfully, enters dark nothingness.

[comatosebunny09]

off the grid | sylus

summary: his chest swells with emotion. there’s this gnawing feeling in his gut telling him not to leave. that he belongs at your side for the rest of the day, drawing little sighs of his name from your mouth. “fuck the deal,” he husks with pinched brows, dipping down for a taste of your honeydew lips. warning(s): female anatomy described, cunnilingus, bodily fluids, p-in-v intercourse, mating press, unprotected sex, explicit language now playing: fire - sir notes: thank you so much for reading!

He says he has some business to attend to.

Ever the businessman on the move, even while on vacation.

You don’t pose much of an argument. Offer a slight pout, clawing at the side of the king-sized bed where his body’s residual heat and indentation still reside. But you’re surprisingly docile. Trusting, knowing he always comes back to you in one piece.

Sylus promises he won’t be long, locking eyes with your reflection in the mirror. Finishes buttoning his shirt, straightening his collar, and fussing with his cufflinks. He turns with a hand stuffed in his pocket to fully appreciate the view on the bed. And what a pretty picture you pose.

You’re quiet, playing on your phone. Have the gall to be so gorgeous in the calm glow of the sun, hair fanned around you on the pillows like a halo, breasts swelling in his dress shirt. Thighs thick as honey, legs splayed open and inviting on the ivory sheets.

His fingers twitch with the need to touch as something primal stirs in his belly, mouth filling with sand.

You catch his gaze over your phone. Offer a demure smile and a wave before returning to whatever’s got you so enraptured.

His chest swells with emotion. There’s this gnawing feeling telling him not to leave. Telling him he belongs at your side for the rest of the day, drawing little sighs of his name from your mouth, mapping out the contours of your body until the moon sits high in the sky.

It isn’t often he gets to sweep you away like this. Has you tucked all safe in a beautiful bungalow on an island far away, the air dense with salt and the idle crash of ocean waves enmeshed with the soothing cry of distant seabirds.

He scoffs inwardly. Wonders when you made him such a clingy mess as he studies his feet. Shakes his head, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck while losing that internal battle with himself.

He leans against the dresser with crossed arms, pondering how long he can stave off this deal he’s worked so hard to orchestrate. And yet—

You giggle, tickled pink by a video on your socials. The sound of it makes his heart pull. Makes his lips crook with a smile. He pads towards you without thinking, wrapping a tender hand around your ankle. Smooths his thumb over the jut of bone with such reverence, watching you with all the fondness of the world. His cute little kitten.

Goddammit.

Sighing, he resigns himself to his fate. Glances off to the side as if the beach beyond the window can offer some sort of solution. An out. He circles back, foolish to think he could resist you.

The twins can manage this, he muses. And suddenly, he’s pulling free the buttons he so carefully fastened on his shirt. Climbing over you like a panther onto the bed, bracketing you between lean muscle and heat.

“Fuck the deal,” he husks with pinched brows, dipping down for a taste of your lips.

You squeak, but the surprise soon peters as you wrap gentle hands about his wrists, your phone on the floor long forgotten. He hums all throaty, smiling against your lips. Kisses honey-slow, committing the texture of your lips to memory whilst easing your hands over your head, twining your fingers together. Pushes a knee between your thighs to encourage them further apart, and the heat of your muff radiates up his quad, burning through the material of his slacks.

He’s glad he stayed. Couldn’t live with himself if he left you like this, all hot and pliant, wasting away in bed. You deserve to be worshipped, savored, devoured.

You melt into the kiss. Keen all pretty for him, arms instinctively snaking about his shoulders, and he swallows the intoxicating sounds you make. Chuckles low and alluring, notching his hips to yours, anchoring you to the bed with his weight half on you.

“Thought it was—oh—important,” you breathe when he breaks away with a soft smack to brand your neck with the heat of his lips. “Your deal.”

Who can think about work when you have the audacity to smell this good? Like night-blooming jasmines and everything inherently safe.

“Was,” Sylus parrots on a deep rasp, mouth on an unhurried excursion over your throat, and your laughter is bewitching. Heady, transitioning into a pleasured exhale when his teeth graze your carotid.

He shackles your wrists together beneath one hand, freeing up his other. And it’s dangerous, skating over the pucker of your nipples, the swell of your tits. Coasting over the ripples of your ribcage, making your body vibrate and curve with excitement.

“Nothing outweighs this.”

He drives his point home, knuckles trailing down your belly, down, down, down to the swell of your pubic bone. You arch, and he bows into you when his palm closes around your muff. And he’s open-mouthed on your neck, sighing hot, his dick heavy and throbbing against the inner curve of your thigh.

Two fingers curl inward, teasing the seam of your cunt. Circling in the way you like until the lewd squelch of your pussy kisses the air. You bite your lip. Head falls back against the pillows, and you do that endearing sad puppy thing with your brows. He admires the sight of you through parted lips and lidded eyes, wondering how he could ever think of leaving you alone.   

You’re so pretty like this. So perfect, your lips kiss-swollen and shiny, formed around a whine. You arch so nicely for him as his fingers play between your legs, stroking you until you’re nice and wet. Swollen and pulsing, outer labia spilling over the seat of your panties.

He’s wasted enough time, he thinks, your earthy scent overpowering his senses. He frees your wrists, easing down your body and between your legs in favor of something more appealing. More appetizing. The crooks of your knees find his shoulders. And he’s enamored by how the fat of your thighs crater between his fingers when he holds them apart, slightly hauling your hips up to fasten your thighs to his shoulders.

He licks up the span of your cunt, tasting you through the cotton of your panties. Growls something distant and abrasive, gaze flicking to yours through the headiness. His pupils blow wide, and his heart pounds a war cadence in his skull.

You’re a dream he doesn’t want to ever wake from. A spell that’s bound him to earth, but he doesn’t think he would ever want to leave.

His irises burn like the flicker of a flame. And he doesn’t look away as you ruck your hips up against his tongue, chasing that sparkling edge pooling in your stomach.

You thread your fingers in his riotous hair, guiding him into a choppy rhythm against you, your hips stuttering each time his tongue agitates your clit. He doesn’t fight it. Loves it when you take control, when you take your pleasure. Use him like the docile toy he is, fucking his mouth until he’s red-faced and panting.

He steadies you, briefly taking his eyes off you to drag your panties to one side. His mouth waters at the sight, and he sucks in a ragged breath. Your pussy is all sticky and puckering; gossamer strings of your nectar spread like dew-speckled spider spins between your lips and panties.

He splits you nice and open on two fingers. Spread like a flower bending towards the sun. His gaze finds yours once more before he dives in, working your pretty pussy with a wide and sweltering tongue.

You’re scrambling for purchase of the sheets, keening all nice for him. Rock your hips in tandem with the glacial pace of his tongue, and he reaches out to tangle your fingers together at your sides to anchor you.

You’re so cute; it makes his chest pull. Makes his heart all fluttery, and he’s a flushed, sloppy disaster beneath you. All for you. Just for you.

He ruts against the sheets as he feasts. Grunts into your pussy, not caring that he looks unhinged or that his pants are stained dark with pre. He’s chasing that unfathomable rush of endorphins. Pursuing the upward arc of his own pleasure, mind awash with how pretty you sound. How good you feel. How wonderful you taste, and he’s more drunk off you than any bit of brandy or whiskey.

He eats until he’s full. Until your hips leave the mattress with no intention of coming down, and his hands mold around the globes of your ass to keep you steady. Straining on toes dug into the mattress, calves stretched taut, fingers squeezing his wrists in a vice grip, and your thighs locked around his head.  

You’re wet and sloppy, arousal dribbling down the cleft of your ass to stain the sheets. His chin is slick with it, and he licks his lips after reluctantly leaving the bewitching seal of your cunt.

There’s a smile in his eyes. Devilish as you pout, and he lowers you back down to the bed as if you’re glass that will shatter if he doesn’t handle with care. He kneads your thigh placatingly, the heat of his palm promising something better. More filling.

You watch with shrouded intrigue, all hot in the face and panting. Drag your fingers over your lips, biting down on your middle. He could come from the sight alone. You spread open and leaking, gaze screaming fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Sylus sits back on his haunches. All big and smug, palming the heavy throb of his cock through his slacks. Looks down at you from his nose, your eyes tuned to his every move, tongue swiping greedily over your lips.

You’re an eager little flower whilst he unlatches his belt infuriatingly slow, tugging his pants down with equal sluggishness. Down, down until his dick springs free from his briefs, slapping his belly intimidatingly, a glob of pre-spend dribbling honey-slow from the tip.

“You should see yourself,” he husks around a chuckle, gathering up his pre to smear it around his cockhead, and stroking himself so good. Bites his lip, dragging a languid hand down your sternum. “I’ve hardly had my fill, and you’re already about to blow.”

He traps a pretty nipple between his knuckles and pulls, luring a bitten-off sound from your throat. Angles himself forward to take your nipple between his lips, sucking in that way that makes your thighs quake and your voice come out all shrill and broken.

He then teases a thumb between your pussy lips in search of your entrance. Finds it once more with laser precision, and he rubs at it meticulously, slowly shoving your juices back into you.

You keen and clench around him at the knuckle, thrashing against the sheets, your tongue wrapped around his name. He groans in reply, caught in the haze of it all. You ruin him. Bring him to his knees, but he’d never admit it aloud.

“So eager,” Sylus teases. Like his voice isn’t strained from the effort of pumping his cock into the clench of his hand. Like he doesn’t want to spear you on his dick; feel your velvety walls squeezing the head of him so good.

The thought makes his hips stutter, and he’s squeezing his sensitive tip to reign himself in. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough, sweetheart. Just be patient.”

And you are as he taps his heavy dick against your muff with a wet and sticky plap plap. You ruck your hips up to chase the feeling, squeezing a sound through grit teeth. Hate when he teases, when he edges you like this. But he doesn’t keep you waiting, pressing the mushroomed head of his dick to the pucker of your pussy. Eases home past the tight ring of muscle, pushing into you with a sound as thick as seafoam curdling in his chest.

“So beautiful. So perfect.”

He can’t help himself. You feel so good. So wonderful, swallowing him up to the hilt like that. You sigh in tandem at the union. Relief wading through your bones, and you lock eyes through the dusk as the sun seeks shelter behind the horizon, casting you both in its otherworldly glow. Sylus needs no further goading as he grabs your ankles, driving your legs up until your knees press into your tits.

His mouth falls open. Gazes at you through his bangs clinging to his forehead. Through thick lashes, and you’re even more beautiful like this. Ethereal, and he could never tire of the sight. Of the sounds you make, so pretty for him as he rolls his hips, abs contracting and relaxing with each movement.

He plays a steady rhythm thereafter, rolling his pelvis like the slow drag of a tide as he fucks into you. Feels every detail of the channel of your sex constricting around him, and it takes every bit of him not to fuck you harder. He wants to savor this. Has all weekend to drive you wild; to orient himself with every sensitive clump of nerves in your body. So for now, he’ll take his time.

And he does. Driving into you at a maddeningly slow pace. But then, you’re sobbing and thrashing and clawing at the sheets, and he knows you’re close to spilling over the edge.

He doesn’t stall. Reaches between your bodies to find the unfathomable button of pleasure between your legs. Presses and rubs until your voice is shrill and stuck in your throat. Until you’re a shuddering mess, and the look in your eyes tells him all he needs to know. His own peak creeps progressively up his spine, tingling like static, prickling in his stomach.

He suddenly bows forward, your thighs clenched in his palms as he presses his torso fully against you, mooring you to the bed. Pistons in and out, battering against your cervix, your breaths choppy and intermingled, bodies bathed in a dewy sheen of sweat.

You cling to him with arms snaked around his neck. And his mouth seals to yours, swallowing your pitiful huffs of air. You’re his vice. His IV drip, and he can’t live without you. Doesn’t want to, finding himself chanting your name like a broken hymnal as the beginnings of his orgasm seep through him like magma.

He’s coming before he knows it. Ushered to the brink by your walls shuddering around his dick with your own orgasm. And there’s so much of it, his cum dripping hot and milky white down the inner trajectory of your thighs.

He catches himself on shaky arms before he collapses onto you. Laughs while trying to catch his breath, and you chuckle alongside him, hands perched on his waist, ready to catch him if he falls.

You’ll be the death of him, he muses, craning his head down to kiss you. To write the sweetest words of all against your lips, and he thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

masterlist

[luludeluluramblings]

Ooh the angst on your Witch/Wizard Batfam post!

*Clutches heart as traitorous brain conjures an image of Witch/Wizard reader mentioning they were offered a job in the wizarding world and the family slowly realizing if they don’t act they will lose reader*

Fun angsty idea:

Warning: Yandere Themes, Bit of Angst, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Wizard/Witch/Magical!BatSib!Reader pulling a Hermione on the family and wiping their memories of them.

Like, they were already the neglected and forgotten child, but now they are fully committing to a magical lifestyle and leaving non-magical life behind.

(Probably not what you had in mind. Sorry ‘bout that.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

It’s not necessarily you running away that’s the gut wrenching part. It’s the way you remove the trace memories. Not only from the manor, but from everyone’s mind. It takes true skill to be messing with Batman and his protégés memories.

But, then you see first hand just how little you take up their thoughts. Practically a blink and you’ll miss it moment. How quick it takes you to pull the memories and passing thoughts of you from their heads.

You don’t bother to look at them. You don’t want to see what they thought of you in those tiny little wisp.

It’s almost easy in the to transfigure your old bed room into a guest bedroom, completed with an authentic layer of light dust.

Cool washes over as you finish with Bruce. Your father. Standing behind him in the Batcave while he focuses on the monitor. By now you had mastered the memory charm. Silently casting it and pulling the wisp away before vanishing from their lives.

It’s a kindness you decide. Bruce hates magic, maybe even hated you. By removing yourself you free up his and the rest of the families thoughts, even if only by a small bit. It was for the best.

Or, it should have been.

Did you really think Bruce wouldn’t notice the faintest gap at some point? The man was too aware of himself. To trapped in his own head not to notice the small missing piece.

He may not have known the method, but he was livid at the audacity. His mind was his most powerful weapon, his most used tool. And, someone had tampered with it.

It doesn’t help that the added mystery to it further entices the family to discover what is happening. Further draws them to whatever they lost.

Really you should have known better.

You taking yourself away from them left them digging their fingers to that small little space. Stretching it wider and wider to figure out what used to fit in there. Like they were digging at a tiny cut and turning it into a weeping gash with their nails.

And, when they find out that it wasn’t anything malicious, that wasn’t an enemy trying to tear at their psyches? That instead it was just a lost forgotten child leaving them? Well, they have plenty of space made for you in the minds they tore apart searching for you.

How Bruce would despise the magic you do for taking you from him. How he would blame every book you read and every mentor you ever had for your erasure.

He’s a generous man. He really is. But, stealing yourself from him leaves him enraged.

But, not at you, baby. You just believed in a fairytale. It’s not your fault. He’ll bring you back to reality. They all will.