#is this a drabble?

[8-rae-rae-8]

This was meant to be a drabble I swear 😭

Soap had always looked up to him. His captain, his boss, the man he trusted to have a clear head on his shoulders. Price was the one he could safely go to when he needed him.

But then John was captured and he was suddenly the captain of two new men. He wasn't cut out for it - he knew. How could he wrangle two masked men who were definitely wrapping themselves in each other's arms in the showers and kissing before bedtime?

Who was he to judge? He'd done the same years before. It got lonely on base constantly, and they were comfortable together. Mactavish knew the rules against it, but he never called them out.

He'd do anything to get Price back, to feel his hugs and gentler affection. He put so much effort into being just like him. Gruff, smoking cigars that he hated, drinking the gross alcohol in his desk, loud and a bit forceful.

It felt like it all for nothing when they finally found Price and he was so, so very different. That wasn't the man he looked up to anymore. The destruction he caused drove a wedge between him and Soap. Johnny was so eager to give the captain back his spot, not realizing how bad of an idea it was before it was too late.

The man he trusted with everything turned into a man that had lost his head. Soap didn't want that, he didn't want the rough words and the harsh touch. It was all different. For way worse.

The whole time he thought he wasn't as capable, but he had to be. If that's what his captain had turned into and still had wanted to trust him, maybe he was enough to actually be good... He had Roach and Ghost to worry about, after all. Price was only thinking for himself.

The old office was abandoned for his own room instead. Small but perfectly fine otherwise. He didn't want to see Price around. The paperwork he filed would put the man behind bars, hopefully for good of the courts worked in their favor and the favor of those he had hurt.

It was only a matter of time before Ghost and Roach had noticed his silence. The way he recoiled at Price's presence. The only right thing to really do was check on him, right? In his room like always these days. Unless it was mission planning, training, or keeping the peace between men, he didn't feel like he had to leave the space. It was safe.

But because Roach and Ghost were so good at messling in things that weren't really their business, they managed to get themselves comfortably tucked into Johnny's room for a chat.

"Captain," Ghost spoke, Roach just leaning onto his shoulder from the side. He didn't speak much, not that Mactavish minded. One less man to talk back.

"Ghost, Roach.." Johnny greeted, leaned back in his desk chair as he looked at them. Not the proper place for a serious conversation but there was a hardly anywhere else.

"You're hiding in your room, sir." Ghost pointed out the obvious, looking forward to the captain.

"At least ye can still see, Riley. Why're ye here?" Soap forced his voice to remain in an abrasive tone.

"it's been too quiet, sir. You're usually out with us." He replied.

"well, it's different now." Mactavish muttered, pinching his brow.

"come on, captain. You're acting like a bloody teenager..." Ghost sighed. "You haven't even met us at mess to eat for two weeks."

"As long as he is here, 'm not planning on it." Maybe a little overdramatic, but it felt very fair to him. Price was different, it felt just like a betrayal with more than his life at risk.

"Then we'll eat in here." Ghost decided, and did not let Soap argue. Even though he was the captain, he let Ghost shut him down. Maybe he needed it, some kind of closeness.

Ghost didn't let any argument stop him and Roach. Everyday for the next week, they all gathered up in Mactavish's room to eat. The looks they got were a little bothersome, but they didn't stop for that. Ghost pushed for them to do it.

The longer they stayed, some papers got put down on the ladder of important things, Ghost and Roach taking that place. The two kept climbing that ladder each day that passed. And as soon as Price was out of there, off his base, out of his team and behind bars, he was open again. Laughing, joking, pushing just for fun.

Johnny was him again. A Captain but one that didn't feel the need to keep Price's things. He didn't feel like he owed him anything. But he owed Roach and Ghost for getting him to laugh freely again. Hell, he owed them for getting him to feel something other than regret. Even the littlest of butterflies in his stomach when they'd talk about literally anything. It could be the saddest talk, and he'd still feel something tug at him, something make him want to lean closer and just listen.

Whenever Roach would talk, his heart with thud against his ribcage. Ghost's laugh would make him breathless. Fuck, what was happening to him? Getting all giddy about just hanging out with the men he knew were already together. It felt stupid, but when they both took off their masks, he felt so incredibly warm. It was a privilege to see their faces, things he never wanted to stop looking at.

It started happening more and more. In the privacy of Johnny's room, they'd take off the masks and just talk. Sometimes Mactavish couldn't help but stare. Jagged scars painted Ghost's face, he swore he never wanted to kiss something more. Roach's face was a little softer, freckles dotted along his nose and cheeks, his unkempt hair falling in his face from time to time. Ghost would brush it away, but Johnny imagined it was him doing it instead.

Fuck, what are they doing to him?

Neither would comment on his staring or the lovesick look on his face. But they'd smile knowingly at each other. Mactavish was sneaky in the field, but at home base, with the men he was growing to adore? No secret was hidden well.

It really didn't take long before Roach had somehow convinced Johnny to sit with them on the bed instead of across from them. It wasn't a big bed by any means, he didn't need one. Their knees and thighs pressed together in the tight space, similar to how they sat on transport to a mission location.

On rough days, he'd sit right between them and lean on Ghost's shoulder, only to have an arm wrap around him. All of them gross from training, or a shit mission, but they'd settle on the bed and relax for a little while.

The comfort, adoration and safety he felt with them was unlike what he felt with Price. This was warm, unforced, clean (dispite the dirt of the job). It wasn't rough with anger and a need for dependence on each side.

They all had their moments. Sometimes it would be Mactavish welcoming Roach into his arms after something went wrong. Other times he'd fall into one of their arms and let himself be comforted. He let them help without feeling like he owed anything in return. There was no 'i owe you's, nothing that would be hurtful in the long run.

Ghost and Roach welcomed him into their space, and let him rest with him. Resting their weary bodies on the same bed together. He was strong, but nothing compared to how warm it felt to accidentally fall asleep against them. Nothing felt like the butterflies that seemed to worsen every day.

None of them commented on how they could easily see Johnny actually relaxing around them. He put away his rough exterior just for a few minutes to themselves.

But every time he saw Ghost and Roach share a kiss, he wanted nothing more than to be in it too. He could be seeing what he wanted when he saw the way they didn't seem as at ease when Johnny wasn't at their sides too.

All parties wanted something more. They wanted Soap in with them. Sharing the more intimate affection and falling asleep together almost nightly.

Soap was caught off guard when he woke up in bed after a small nap and a kiss was pressed against his forehead. A thin mask between the skin and the lips. He practically blue screened. Ghost to his left, and Roach on Ghost's other side.

He didn't say anything, neither did Ghost. But he leaned gently against his side again regardless. It was soft, softer than he deserved. He could still feel the impression of the masked lips on his forehead for minutes after.

"hey..." Ghost whispered as he watched Johnny open his eyes.

"mmh.." Soap mumbled back, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Interactions like that continued for a few days, Ghost and Roach getting closer with him. Slowly opening him up to minimal affection.

And then it happened. Comfortable in his room, working on a piece of paperwork when Roach and Ghost entered. Gentle hands found a place to settle on Soap's shoulders.

"Captain, take a break... We need to talk." The tone was gentle, serious but not firm. Still, his stomach dropped a little as he nodded. His pen stilled and he set it aside.

"Talk about..?" Mactavish prompted.

"About us?" Ghost breathed out.

"what 'us'?" Mactavish asked as if he didn't understand. He understood, probably too well.

"Me and Gary-" Ghost looked down at him, Soap not even looking up. "I- we.. we want you to be with us."

The captain paused. Be with them, meaning they both wanted to be with him... His stomach twisted in knots, but the butterflies still formed.

"We know the rules, but.. we want you anyway." Roach spoke from Ghost's side.

They want him regardless of if it was wrong, illegal or otherwise... They wanted him still, knowing it could be dangerous. Mactavish had taken bigger risks... Like putting his life in Price's hands before. Ghost and Roach were different, he didn't want to say no.

Slowly, Soap nodded. "Okay."

"..okay?" Ghost softly put pressure on the tensing muscles on Johnny's shoulder. "You have more words than that, captain." He teased.

"You want me, then have me." Maybe not great phrasing, but his head was going a mile a minute anyways. A captain of a deadly team and he couldn't even think before speaking.

There were two sighs of relief from behind him.

"We don't want to just have you, you'll have us, right?" Ghost asked, kneading gentle circles against Johnny's back. A display of affection.

"Any day, Si... I'd have ye both any day." Soap murmured, his head tilting back to see the creases of Ghost's eyes when he smiled. The red of Roach's unmasked cheeks.. Yeah, even without his thoughts straight, he wanted them... If the giddiness and the butterflies weren't enough to say that.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

l want to know more about this morning fuck with Tarquin on the balcony 😩

Well okay 🫡

You would wake up before him and already be out on the balcony, watching the sunrise.

After a little while, you’d hear soft footsteps, and Tarquin would approach from behind. He’d place his hands on your waist, give a gentle squeeze, and kiss your shoulder.

You would smile and turn your head to the side to capture his lips with yours. No words are needed. That’s your “good morning”.

It’s while you’re kissing — slowly, unhurriedly — that his brilliant hands would begin roaming your body. It’s a lazy morning, and he’s taking his time with you, his fingers inching between your legs.

He would stroke over your clit with his thumb and press you against the balustrade so that when you writhe, your ass brushes up against his bare, hardened cock. The strokes, like everything else, are languid. He smiles at every little breath and gasp that you land on his mouth.

He’d make you cum at least once, maybe even twice, just from playing with your clit. And when you’re panting and gripping hard at the balcony railing — completely ready for him — he would slowly push into you.

For a moment, he would be still inside you, partly to allow you to adjust to his cock, but also because he just loves the warmth and correctness of being inside you. But you would need him to move, and a whimper is enough to tell him that. He would grasp your hips, kiss your shoulder, and begin his slow slides in and out of your cunt. He would let out a little grunt and bury his nose into the crook of your neck.

It would carry on like that pretty much the whole way through. Languid, unhurried, hushed. He would take his time fucking you and exploring your body while he does. His hand lands between your legs again, and he’s circling your clit and fucking into you until you’re coming around his cock.

The sun is rising up and up, making the crystal blue waters below sparkle. And Tarquin is close. He begins speaking guttural, filthy things into your ear, and he picks up his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips. You rock on him, meeting him thrust for thrust, spurring him on. You want to feel him finishing inside you.

He gives a few more hard thrusts, and then he explodes inside you with a deep groan that gets muffled as he presses his face against your shoulder. His cock is twitching inside you, and he’s holding you still, drawing out every little sensation.

After a while, he pulls out of you, dragging some of his seed with him. You know you’ll be bathing together in a moment, cleaning each other up.

Tarquin presses a soft kiss to your neck, and only then does he murmur — “good morning”.

It’s a good morning, indeed.

[jilyydoe]

You guys.

I need an au harry-never-went-to-hogwarts

-age old argument between ron and ginny about her most recent (ex)boyfriend because some things never change

-"choose someone better next time"

-"if your such a love guru then why don't you pick someone for me and we'll see how that goes" (bonus points for a Hermione barb thrown in)

-ginny bringing up this non existent person to ron everytime they see each other trying to prove that his standards are so high they are unrealistic

-harry shows up unexpectedly to rons flat (when ginny is over) excited about a break through in the case they're working on (they're partners) and he couldn't wait to show ron because he's a big dork and gets too invested and Ron's feels more like a best friend than just a partner but Ron's suddenly shoving the files to the side and smiling at him broadly and clapping him on the back and pulling him to the dining room table because Ron's a genius and an excellent love guru if he does say so himself

-Ginny is fuming because ron is smiling smugly at her and she refuses to let him win even if harry is fit and smart and funny and brave and loves quidditch and no. No. No. No.

-harry is baffled because Ron keeps talking to him loudly about all the cases they've solved (but not about their current case) and how he's a holy head harpies fan (except he's a puddlemere united fan) and about a joke he once made (he's pretty sure that was actually Seamus finnegan)

-and the bushy haired brunette girl keeps glancing awkwardly between ron and his sister halfway between amused and nervous

-and the pretty redhead woman sitting next to him turning redder by the minute and glaring at ron but harry can't help but stare at her and how her freckles still managed to stand out against the pretty blush on her cheeks and how her eyes blazed with wickedness before she sent a clever retort back at ron and Harry marveled at how someone could simultaneously have such soft full lips while biting out a sharp witted remark

-and before he knew what was happening Ron was pushing him and ginny out the door with directions to the ice cream shop down the street claiming they forgot about dessert (even though harry could see the apple pie on the kitchen counter)

-and now it's too quiet in the hallway outside the flat and harry nervously ruffles his hair because he not quite sure what happened, what's happening now or what he's supposed to do..

- and ginny is rolling her eyes at the door and sending it once last glare (they're both sure rons just behind with his ear pressed against the wood) before turning to harry embarrassed and apologetic and tells him he's free to go about his evening without visiting the ice cream shop

-and even though two seconds ago harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do he's also just as sure now that he's not quite ready to part with her yet so

-" well to be honest I'm not a big fan of ice cream anyway..."

-and there's a flash of something behind her eyes that was gone so fast he barely had time to register it

"But I do know a pub that makes a decent treacle tart...if you're up for it"

- and he almost regrets asking as he can sense the brief hesitation and her small smile seemed unsure and harry felt his heart sink before her smile smile broadened much like the one ron shared with him earlier (except rons smile didn't make his stomach flutter and his chest feel warm)

-they get to the pub and harry orders treacle tart for himself and she orders chocolate cake because cake is by far the most superior dessert and when he refuses to change his mind she quips that she should have known better about his preferences (after all he prefers puddlemere to harpies) and he willing sought out Ron For friendship

-and when he tells her he has excellent taste excuse me very much "I just happen to be partial to red heads"

"Unfortunately, Ron's heart is taken by Hermione even if he's too daft to realize it. Sorry, you'll just have to find someone else"

- and "I'm heartbroken, how will I ever find another smart, funny, quidditch loving gorgeous red head?"

-"I may just know someone who happens to check all those boxes you know"

-"Yeah? Think they'd be willing to go on a date with me?"

-"Well... if Fred isn't willing, then I've got 4 more brothers after him..."

[iamther0t]

Everything Is Fine -- [ Marble Hornets Oneshot ]

Basically, a bit of the aftermath from after entry 87, from Tims pov! its very short T_T

Word Count: 530

Warnings: Pills, sort of vague gore, mentions of murder

Genre: Angst

POV: Tim Wright

Dealing with the aftermath of…everything had become quite the challenge for Tim.

He had a vague idea of how to deal with some of it; drowning himself in pills and trying to remind himself it’s over now were two things he’d grown comfortable doing.

Sometimes, they worked to help him, even if it’s just a little bit, but other times they just aren’t enough.

He’d resorted back to bad habits some nights where nothing else helped. But even that just numbed him, if anything.

He hadn’t had another night where he woke up in an unspecified location with a mask strapped to his face in a few months. Sure, it was great that it hadn’t happened in so long, but the on-edge feeling of not knowing when, or if it was gonna happen again was like a ticking time bomb; or a disaster waiting to happen.

Despite the constant worrying and anxiety, things felt normal for Tim.

Too normal.

It felt like every night he was curled up in the corner of his room, clutching whatever weapon was closest to him and just waiting for that thing to come back, things got both increasingly less, yet more normal.

His new doctor tried reassuring him that so long as he kept taking his medication, it wouldn’t come back. It wouldn’t just show up out of the blue.

While that helped with the paranoia of The Operator coming back, he didn’t have anyone to reassure him that Alex Kralie was truly dead.

Not Jay.

Not Brian.

Not Jessica.

Not even himself.

When he said that phrase over and over, Alex is dead. He’s not coming back, he felt it starting to work.

And when he started calming down, and feeling just the slightest bit safer in his apartment, he felt the blood on his hands.

His knuckles turning white from his grip on the tiny pocket knife as he plunged it deep into Alex’s chest.

Alex’s corpse laying there unconscious.

Passing out on the stairs.

That’s why he moved.

A fresh start, where he wouldn’t be swarmed with old memories and people that he wished he’d never met, for his sake and theirs.

Where, maybe, everything could be normal.

Tim had got his wish.

Everything was normal.

But he was still the same.

A new town wouldn’t erase his past and what he did.

He knows Alex deserved it. He knows it was his only choice. He knew the moment he saw Jay bleeding out on the floor, a bullet wound pierced through him.

Alex was dangerous, and so was The Operator.

Tim just wished he wasn’t the one to have finished the job.

These thoughts haunted him at night, and even at day, too. An increased heart rate, sweaty palms, hyperventilating as he tried to get out, get out, get out–

He’d grown to know the feeling all too well.

So, as he kept a normal routine, living in his apartment in a normal town while he worked a normal job and was surrounded by normal people, he had technically gotten what he wanted.

He wanted normal.

He wanted everything to be fine.

And, it was.

It is.

Everything is fine.

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Tap tap tap.

It was rhythmic. Mind numbing. Soul sucking. Repetition.

Tap tap tap.

They weren't really sure why they still stayed put. Any grip on their mind had long since been relinquished. They took a deep inhale, chest expanding with the oxygen.

Typically they didn't mind the sound. If they did, they would have gone insane long ago. They would have found it more difficult to pull their tired body out of bed and get to work. But today was different.

Tap tap tap.

They were going to snap.

Tap tap tap.

They were going to break.

Tap tap tap.

They were going to shatter.

Tap tap tap.

They were going to go silent. And all that would be left would be that infernal tap tap tapping.

[hopepaigeturner]

Bridgerton appreciaiton week: Day 5

Day 5: Favourite episode & colours

2x03: Bee in Your Bonnet.

Honestly adore this episode for so many reasons—ofcourse Pall Mall must be mentioned. So, here’s a little something—the significance behind the sibling’s mallet preferences. (mix of book and show, done chronologically)

*~*~*~*~*

BLACK: ANTHONY

Summer 1792

“Here Anthony, take this one.”

The eight-year-old stared, wide-eyed as his father handed him the black mallet—the grip rough from years of being fashioned to his father’s winning grip. Reverently Anthony took it and, with a solemnity years greater than his small stature, lined up to the wicket.

That was the first game of Pall Mall Anthony won—and not his last.

PURPLE: BENEDICT

Summer 1794

“Mother why do you not play?” Benedict asked as his mother reclined under the canopy with two babies of various ages sprawled around her.

“Oh, I used to, but since having all of you I have not had the time! Or the arms.” As if to illustrate her point, Daphne crawled into her lap.

“That’s a shame.”

“Truly, my dear, I do not mind.” His mother lifted Daphne into the air, a bright smile mirroring Daphne’s delighted giggles.

“Which was your mallet?”

“The purple one—or Violet one as your father used to call it…” his mother’s eyes got that unfocused look in them, as it always did whenever she dwelled upon their father. “It is a little sad that it has been forgot for so long…”

Benedict scrunched his brow, looking at the collection of sticks.

“I can fix that.”

He ran over and pulled the purple mallet out and ran back to her. “I shall play it always, then it is as if you are playing as well.”

He gave her his best beam and was rewarded with one of her own.

“Oh, my lovely Benedict,” Violet kissed his brow, “I do love you so.” Benedict’s chest swelled. “Now go, my brave paladin—go secure our victory!”

Every game since, Benedict takes a moment’s pause to bow to his mother, violet mallet in hand, much to her amusement.

GREEN: DAPHNE

Summer 1800

“I want to play.”

“You cannot play.”

“I wish to play!” Daphne cried at Colin, crossing her arms.

“You are far too young to play,” Colin huffed, picking up the red mallet. “And this is a boy-only game.”

“You can play next time, Daph,” Benedict placated, resting on his violet mallet, “we have been planning this for days.”

“Just because I am a girl does not mean I cannot play. I shall tell mother!”

“Daph, Daph,” Benedict rushed forward. “We must not disturb mother, she is resting.”

Indeed, their net sibling was due in mere weeks.

“Look Daph, if you can find the green mallet, I shall let you play.” Anthony offered, sharing a smirk with Colin. “Careful, the last time we saw it was over there,” he gestured to the dense shrubbery at th edge fo the lawn. “It has been a whole year since it was last seen. Good luck.”

“Anthony—” Benedict sighed.

“Deal.” Daphne turned on her heel and strode off.

*~*~*~*

Colin just missed Anthony’s ball. Anthony crooned and walked over to his ball, perfectly positioned for a shot through the final wicket.

Suddenly a green ball smacked into Anthony’s, sending it rolling down the hill.

The brothers looked up to find Daphne, ripped dress and twigs in her hair, smirking.

Unfortunately, that was not the last time the brother underestimated Daphne at Pall Mall—nor the last time they paid for such ignorance.

YELLOW: COLIN (ofc)

Summer 1805

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to stay with you Pen?” Eloise asked a bandaged Penelope. The girls had accidentally fallen out of a tree the day prior.

Colin commended his sister. All could see that she was practically raring to sprint onto the Pall Mall pitch.

“No, no. I do not mind watching—I fear I would be no good.”

“Nonsense—Benedict still plays.”

“Hey!”

“Are you sure?” Eloise asked once more.

“Absolutely El, do not let me spoil your fun.” Regardless, Penelope looked rather forlorn as Eloise grabbed her red mallet.

That would not do.

Colin always liked making his little sister’s friend smile or laugh—he liked Penelope’s laugh.

“Come on Colin—grab a mallet.”

Colin took one last glance at Penelope.

“In honour of our guests then…” he whipped the mallet out with a flourish. “I shall pick yellow.” He winked at Penelope and Penelope giggled.

Yes, he did like Penelope Featherington’s laugh.

RED: ELOISE

Summer 1806

“No, I do not want it.”

“You can have it next time we play Francesca,” Daphne tried to placate.

“But I wanted the blue. Orange is an ugly colour.” Francesca cried, all eight years of insolence bursting out of her.

“Red can be a very lovely colour, Frannie,” Colin said twisting his favourite yellow mallet in his hand.

“No—it is monstrous!”

“Francesca!” Daphne cried. Francesca’s eyes widened when she took in little Penelope, two steps behind Eloise, twirling a red-orange curl between her fingers.

Eloise’s eyes narrowed and a flush of feeling welled through her.

“Give it here,” she snatched the mallet out of Francesca’s hand. “I want the red one. I think orange is a lovely colour—like fire! And fire is fun and very pretty.”

Eloise gave her family a resolute expression, when no one complained she gave Penelope a small smile. Penelope returned it.

Later when Eloise was only third—third, a record! —Penelope came up to her.

“You did not need to do that,” she whispered.

Eloise took a moment, remembering how they had spent their first afternoon together dreaming up an adventure with female pirates while laying on the nursery floor. Their place of dreams and worries.

“Nonsense, I meant every word. Your hair matches your spark Penelope—the spark we share. Just think of all the things we are to do!”

She hooked her arm around Penelope’s and squeezed.

No matter what they used their spark for, Eloise knew the pair of them would always be side by side—nothing would ever break that.

ORANGE: HYACINTH

Summer 1815

“Why do you always lose at Pall Mall?” Hyacinth asked her favourite, and only, brother-in-law.

Simon sighed and smiled ruefully at her.

“It seems I have not got the skill. Perhaps you Bridgertons have an inherent knack for this game, one passed over the generations.”

“But you married Daphne, so you are a Bridgerton.”

Hyacinth didn’t notice Simon touched expression.

“W-well…why do you not play Miss Hyacinth?”

He always called her that and it made her feel ever so proper.

“Apparently, I am not old enough.” She stuck her tongue out at her family spread across the lawn. “Their loss, for I shall have years of analysing their tactics, ready for the day I step froward and knock all their balls the lake!”

Simon chuckled at her fervour.

“Hmm, say Miss Hyacinth. Perhaps you could practice,” he gestured to his orange mallet.

“It is against the rule to collaborate among players.”

“But you are not a player, Miss Hyacinth, as you said, you are a spectator.”

Hyacinth beamed at the twinkle in his eye and grabbed the mallet, surveying the field.

“So, teammate—what is your move?”

Hyacinth’s eyes landed on Benedict’s ball causing her to grin.

“Chaos,” Hyacinth whispered.

BLUE: FRANCESCA

Summer 1824

Typically, Francesca did not make a fuss. Eloise never returning her book? Fine. Daphne borrowing her ribbon and losing it? Fine. Being ignored by her elder brothers whenever they went riding? She could live with that.

But the blue Pall Mall mallet was hers.

No one knew why. But gradually they had accepted it—after all, Francesca never quarrelled too hard for anything else.

One night, when the guilt of lying in Michael’s arms was swamped by the utter bliss of fitting into his embrace, she told Michael the truth.

The day before her father’s death the family had played Pall Mall. In that match she had held the blue mallet, while her father directed her shots, hands gently adjusting hers as warm as his words of encouragement.

That had been the first Pall Mall game she ever played.

PINK: GREGORY

Summer 1827

Unlike his siblings, Gregory never had the chance to pick a favourite mallet. More often than not he would be left with the pink mallet—much to his chagrin and Hyacinth’s delight. Consequently, he always blamed the mallet for his lack of Pall Mall wins or tried to bargain with anyone to swap.

Until finally, fate aligns, and he grabs the black mallet. (It does help that half his siblings are sequestered with their various spouses around the country). And he does so right in front of the beautiful Hermione. The pink mallet lands in Lucy Abernathy’s hand—the colour suiting her.

That is—until she starts playing…ridiculously well. The pair bicker around the entire course, giving each other pointed glares or smiles of triumph whenever the other inches ahead.  

Gregory barely looks at Hermione.

Nor does he find himself sulking when Lucy beats him at the final post. Because, for a moment, when Lucy seems to be lit from within, holding the pink mallet proudly above her head—his heart flutters.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Perhaps they ought not to have eaten the dragon. There had been people objecting to it at the time. Surely such meat was poisonous. Perhaps it was even an affront, an insult to some intangible order of nature they ought to honour.

But the city was starving, the siege had gone on too long, and the king's troops were still a week's march away. The scorched earth would be fertile again in time, but right now it was barren. Right now there were mouths to feed. So they changed their crossbows for butcher knives and got to work.

None of the royal commanders asked any questions that could not be answered. After all, their aid had come shamefully late. The dragon's horned skull made a noble gift, a fitting tribute from a triumphant city to its humbled king. Who would have thought to question them?

And none of the townsfolk spoke up, when the first golden-eyed babes were born. Children who grew up barefoot and fearless, clambering over the city's patched and rebuilt roofs like they had no notion of falling, with a strange glitter to their skin when the sunlight hit it just so. No one breathed a word about dragons.

Because soon enough there were deft, young hands taking loaves straight out of the oven, heedlessly lifting iron from the forge, plunging into boiling laundry water. And some of them more wondrous still, wild, warm-skinned youths, with inexplicable knowledge and peculiar remedies.

A blessing, their families said proudly. A blessing after so much hardship. Which it was, in its way. This city would never fear dragon fire again.

[moechies]

“shit, this pussy’s damn tight, girl.” toji chuckles, leaned against the wooden headboard of his mattress, with your pretty cunt impaled on his dick. you’re sat upon the man’s lap, back slumped into his bigger body as he lifts your legs to your chest with a singular arm.

“hnn—! thank y-you, thank you, thank you !” you slur, holding onto the man’s bigger arm for leverage as he pumps his cock against your cunt, your round butt slapping against his pelvis.

“tch,” he smirks, “thank you? haven’t heard that one b’fore.” his thrusts come to a slow, leaving you breathless and dazed. you lay back against the man’s chest as he continues lazy but brutal pumps to your poor cunt, pushing against him in an attempt to get him to slow.

“hnn.. ‘m sorry..” you cry out, embarrassed, face growing flushed as your nose scrunches at the memory of a few seconds prior.

toji can’t help but fall into a short fit of laughing at your adorable innocence, soft lips curled into a mean smirk, “‘s alright, sweet thing. yer so polite, hm?” he taunts, pressing a weighted kiss against your lips. you slip your tongue against his before you lose the chance, pressing your face closer to the man’s touch.

“y’take cock like a naughty brat, though.” he whispers in between a breath.

his sloppy tongue overrules yours, slowly but surely swallowing you whole. he peeks through a sliver of his eye, watching you pant into his mouth with your eyes squeezed tight, drool leaking down your chin, so entirety focused on kissing him back. “toji—“ you mewl.

“ya started it,” he mumbles against your swollen lips, giving your cunt a soft slap. you jerk and cry against his hold, pushing the said assaulting hand away, making him giggle. “what a dumb little thing.”

“please ! ‘m gonna c-cum! toji, please, please—“ you cry as his thrusts get harder, pace becomes sloppier, before it all comes to an abrupt stop.

your pants slow, gentle mewls that leave your lips as you begin to fall into a fit of sobs. “no..” toji breaks a grin, petting against your hair whispering sweet praises, “‘m sorry doll, daddy’s tired. let me have a break, yeah?” he adores how you look up to him with bleary eyes, chest full of pained hiccups as you attempt to bounce yourself atop his cock in your position. “..w-wanna cum!”

“don’t be so selfish, sweet thing. ‘m old, ‘s what ya get for hangin’ around me.” he lies through his teeth. pace slowly resuming. his creamy, slicked up cock causes his thrusts to grow in noise, face flushing at the evidence of the use of your poor cunt.

“daddy —!”

“shhh, settle down and let daddy focus, yeah?” he mumbles breathlessly against the shell of your ear, “or else daddy might get too tired.. and won’t be able to finish ya off.” he sighs.

[list4r]

“Baby- it’s too hot for this shit, cut it out.” Toji grumbles as you once again, cling to him. It’s the hottest night of the summer and Toji is probably sweating in every crevice in his body. It doesn’t make it better when you cling to him like a koala. He tries to move you gently, just wanting a little room between your bodies. That turns into a failure as you tangle your legs together with his, only holding onto him tighter. Don’t get him wrong, he loves when you two cuddle. But not when it was hotter than any hell.

He finally gets a sense of relief when he hears the shuffle of the sheets behind him. The bed feels a little lighter and the room gets a little too quiet. Toji turns around and furrows his brows. “The fuck?” He leans over the edge of the bed and sees you lying on the floor with a pillow.

“What are you doing down there?” No answer so he tried again. “Baby get off the floor, that can’t be comfortable.”

“No you hate me.”

That causes him to scoff. “When did I say that shit?”

“You didn’t want to cuddle me.”

“It’s like a million fuckin’ degrees in here. It’s not because of you, I just don’t want to sweat my balls off.”

“Kay.”

So you really weren’t going to come back to bed and that causes him to raise an eyebrow. He stares at your back for a few minutes before getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. “You can get off the floor now, I’ll hold you… or whatever.” When he gets no answer he sighs loudly. “Fuckin’ fine.”

That’s how the both of you end up on the floor with your arms and legs wrapped around him. You basically use him as a pillow, but it’s okay. As long as you’re comfortable and happy he’s fine with a little back ache and sweat. “Lucky I love you…” Toji mutters before placing a kiss on your head and closing his eyes with a quiet sigh, but you don’t miss the slight upturn of his lips.

[kbwrites]

You climb into bed, Sukuna’s large body sinking into the space next to you.

You curl into his broad chest, making yourself comfortable. His four arms hold you tight against him, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth.

“Good night, Kuna~” you coo, snuggling closer into his embrace.

“Good night, brat.” he mumbles, nuzzling his face into your hair. He waits expectantly, growing slightly irritated at your silence.

“Hey...” he frowns, squeezing you tight—your soft snores making him more frustrated.

How did he get stuck with such a disrespectful human?

He shook you gently.

“Wake. Up.” His voice low and commanding, with a hint of impatience.

Your eyes flutter open from the rocking motion, you look up at your boyfriend confused.

“What happened?” You question, eliciting an eye roll and dramatic huff from the larger man.

“You did not give me a proper good night.” He mumbles, gaze not meeting yours. Your eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“I said good night… oh!” You reach up to peck his cheek, he grunts in response. “Sorry—“

“No.” He sneers, tightening his grip on you. “You are forgetting something else.”

“Say good night… correctly.” You can almost make out a pout forming on his lips. Your eyes widen in realization, a grin spreading across your face.

“The hell’s wrong with your face—“

“Good night Kuna.. I Love You.”

He grunts, the tension in his body easing slightly, loosening his grip on you as he takes a deep breath.

“Do not forget again.”

[moonymirah]

there’s a little boy staring up at you.

he has a dull expression but he seems entirely content and occupied sucking on a lolly while a tiny hand of his is buried inside his father’s big one.

“megumi. greet her.”

you take in toji’s stern but soft voice and smile at the child as he continues to stay still. megumi lets the air linger for a couple seconds before he decides to bring the candy out of his mouth.

“hello.”

waiting for a few more seconds it struck you that that was all he was planning to say. but it was ok. he just seemed to be a boy of few words.

“oh, hi. it’s so nice to meet you.” you’d hoped the expression on your face reassured him that he had no reason to worry as you noticed his hand grip tighter against toji’s.

a simple nod was all you got before you heard toji speak up.

“i know this is a first date but i wanted to introduce you to him.”

his words were simple and clear.

your heart could only throb as you took in the sight before you; a little boy who was stuck to his fathers’s side, a hint of wariness in his eyes before he quickly averted his gaze.

this must be new to him and you internally winced at the thought of him thinking you were trying to take his father away from him.

but you greatly respected toji for bringing along his child — it was a straightforward and easy move to show you how important megumi was to him.

“and i’m happy you did. i’m looking forward to getting to know you better. the both of you.”

the slight small raise in the younger boy’s eyebrow only had you widening your smile before you caught him stare for a little longer than before; a tint of pink appearing on his cheeks.

send in a request !

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[hiraethwrote]

Imagine trying to escape an annoying ex who just will not leave you alone. And one day, around lunchtime, you’re so unlucky as to run into them in a cafe. They start badgering you about grabbing a bite together when you just blurt out “I’m actually here on a date!”

They instantly start grimacing and asking all sorts of questions about who this might be, causing you to panic. “Aah, there he is!” You desperately grab the arm of the next person to enter the cafe, hoping they’re able to read the situation and then have the decency to play along.

That random individual is no other than Satoru, who looks absolutely baffled by the abrupt encounter. His eyes darts between your ex and you, pleading with your eyes to help you out.

It takes him less than a second to make up his mind, slinging his arm over your shoulders and flashing your ex a smug grin — and then he commits wholeheartedly to the bit. He starts lying through his teeth about how much he enjoyed your last date, that he just picked up that book you recommended and he thought you might want to go to a botanical garden for your next meeting.

Eventually, your ex has had enough of the sight and leaves the cafe — you exhale deeply and relief washes over you. And once you begin to thank the stranger, he notices just how pretty you are. Kind eyes, a warm little smile that lingered after having laughed along to his performance, and a frame that simply seems to fit next to him.

The little unexpected interaction has caused you to run late. Rushing out a million little thank you’s, before pulling out your wallet. You pay for what you came for, then hand him some cash, “I’d love to pay for your lunch but I have to run. So just, take this, thank you again!” You chuckle lightly before quickly backing out of the cafe.

In your hurried haze, Satoru barely gets a word in. What really bothers him, is how he never managed to get your name before you’re out of there, and from that moment you’re stuck on his mind.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, size difference, choking, size kinks, unprotected, dirty talk, praise, full nelson, mdni.

play fighting with suguru which later turns into him having you in a full nelson.

“awww, c’mon. don’t tap out on me now, sweetheart,” he purrs against the soft shell of your ear, hearing you sweetly gasp at the gaping barrage he creates with his thick cock. just a few moments ago—you were on top of him and now you were being stuffed full, legs dangling and weakly being held hostage while a beefy arm of his slings around your throat. your body collapses backward as you’re just idly bouncing on his lap, feeling each of his bulky muscles flex and twitch behind you. “biiiig stretch, fuck there we go. mhm, my baby’s all nice ‘n flexible.” he gruffs, peppering a few sultry kisses near the open curvature of your neck. you moan, feeling the secure grasp of his broad hands move from its original placement, gluing under the cracks of your thighs.

he’s got you in such a risqué position, your body continues to jostle against his, feeling his carved hard abs rub off against your skin. “ngh, suguru,” you squawk, and your hooded eyes peer down at yourself taking him in fully. his base had a pretty sheeny tan, resuming to pump in and out of you, already blissfully bottoming out. you felt him everywhere—and he’s just holding you upright with two burly arms, locking his arms under your plush pretty thighs. “ ‘m gonna cum again, fuck.”

with a husky snicker, he deepens his thrusts against you by moving his hands toward your rickety hips. a cunning simper spreads against his lips before he ghosts a few silvery slick fingers down your sopping wet slit. “well yeah, with a weak pussy like this, bet you are. you poor thing.”

your jaw couldn’t help but loosely hang itself open as he’s just ruthlessly lodged inside of your cunt, creeping a swollen fat thumb near your puffy hood to toy and flick with it some more.

his touch to you was like electricity, and you were very much on the verge of breaking. he was so thick — insanely thick, geto’s pearly poking crownhead mercilessly drags in and out of your pasty walls and you recognize the delicious curve of his dick all too well.

your moans grow even louder, so loud that it’s bouncing against the paper thin walls whilst the sharp slaps of skin create shivers all throughout your body. “fuck, more. put me in a chokehold, sugu.”

“dirty girl,” he grunts, his hefty base starting to slather up with sappy juices from your slick heat. a big brawny arm curls around your neck again and he presses a chaste kiss toward your cheek.

“my, you really shouldn’t say such things, y’know,” and as you’re still taking his cock, you feel his free hand grab near one of your breasts. he gives it a nice squeeze before focusing his attention back towards your neck, hearing your cute exasperated gasps. licking against your ear, he lowly whispers, making you slightly turn your neck to face his feral sly eyes. “i could just snap you in half if i really wanted to. all i gotta do ‘s jus add a little pressure like this ‘n . . my doll’s gonna be all broken and we can’t have that, huh.”

sweet sweet whimpers spill from your lips as his arm still remains wrapped around your throat. he makes sure it’s a safe hold, giving you a few frisky squeezes here and there just to hear you whine for more.

he’s so beefy. through your glossy doe peripherals, you could visibly see his veins pop out through his skin. you felt your pussy throb once you start to imagine all the times he goes to the gym alone, all the times he’s lifting weights.

if anything though, you wanted him to be lifting you instead.

“nothin’ to say? aw, pity,” his gravelly voice lowers, and you’re brought back to harsh reality once his palm swats against your ass. you bite down on your tongue in attempt to suppress your incoming lewd whimper but it still comes out. “fuck, always so warm f’ me, god,” and his grip against your neck loosens. the pits of your tummy tense and coil up as your clammy thighs continue to tweak and spasm from his sharp thrusts. so deep. every few seconds, he’d pull your legs up or drag them further apart just to hear you gasp.

you’re almost marveled by the fact that such an obscene position even exists. your legs could barely stand and if it wasn’t for the help of his hands, you’d be screwed.

“s- sugu—ah!” you whine, feeling his bulbous head ram its way against your convulsing g-spot. he knows that spot like the back of his hand, the cute bumpy texture that never fails to present himself around his angered tip. shaggy long tresses of black hair tickle near the nape of your neck as you fall back. “fuck fuck fuuuck,” you loudly snivel, digging your nails into his meaty thigh. once he hits it, he keeps hitting it until your cute voice strains itself out. he’s still practically got you folded as you’re trying to ride out your euphoric orgasm. the bed devastatingly dips inward from the crushing masses of weight piling on top of it.

“there we go, that’s my sloppy girl,” he coos in a raspy tone. geto’s pitching his voice against your ear as he speaks and oh, his words a mere raunchy whisper. he hears your talkative cunt squelch out, faint strings of syrupy slick forming a little plash around his weighty base. geto holds your hips firmly, showering the crook of your neck with a plethora of balmy kisses as your body ruts and shakes.

“good girl, listen to how nasty you always sound for me,” he hums, sneaking his stubby fingers back down towards your weeping wet cunt, maneuvering a few circles near your drooling slit. “i know, i know,” he talks over your enraptured shrills, and he then gives your pussy a patting spank. you moan, falling back against his sweaty chest and a trail of his curly chest hair titillates against the center of your back. “this is a lot more fun then wrestling, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“y- yeah,” you swallow, and he teasingly wraps a stocky bicep around your neck again. he’s still merrily buried inside of your gummy walls, feeling you writhe around his lap and he chuckles. you’re panting, full lungs desperately trying to gather up any amounts of air that it could before you exhale. “again, sugu.”

with a purring hum, he lifts you back up, trying to pull your leg over your shoulder. “hm, fine. but keep up. ‘m not gonna go easy on ya this time,” and he gives your dribbling sensitive clit another playful pat. “and ‘m certainly not gonna go easy on her either. but, i’ll try not to break you too bad this time princess, no promises.”

[salsakiyoomi]

“you tempt me.”

sukuna says as you walk into the chamber, in nothing but a thin nightgown that clings to all the right places and leaves little to the imagination.

“...i didn't do anything?” you say, confused as you dry your hair with a towel and make your way over to the mattress where he is laying on his side of the bed.

“everything you do is tempting.” he says pointedly.

“i'm not sure whether this is an insult or a compliment.” you respond, smiling at him.

he stares at you for a few moments, and although he would never admit it — he admires the way you look, the curve of your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes and the way they sparkle, the way your damp hair frames your face — everything about you was just so tempting. that's the only way he could describe it.

and god, not to mention your body — your curves and contours and the thin nightgowns you usually wear that highlight your body so irresistibly.

“ryo,” you coo softly as you notice his lingering gaze, “what’s on your mind?”

“why must you infuriate me?” he asks, and you quirk an eyebrow, letting out a surprised laugh, “i literally didn't do anything.”

he scoffs — even the way you laugh was tempting him, and it wasn't in a bad way.

maybe that's what infuriates him.

it's sickening, the hold you have on him.

“ryo,” you coo again, and he scoffs again, “call me that one more time.” he warns and you laugh once more.

“c'mere.” you hum, climbing on his lap and instinctively his hands come at your hips, gripping and kneading the soft flesh gently.

your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him closer, pecking his lips for a moment and sukuna tries to convince himself that there is no growing heat on his face.

you pull away after a moment, resting your forehead against his as his gaze bores into you and he ignores the increasing speed of his heart.

he scoffs, “temptation.”

taglist : @samaraxmorgan

[nikkento-writes]

"Shhhh," you giggle wickedly against Choso's sweaty forehead. Your tits are stuffed in his mouth, muffling his slutty little moans as you ride him, bouncing your ass up and down on his lap, his cock hitting your g-spot with each deep thrust. "Your brothers are going to hear us."

He groans louder, drool wet on your skin, tongue hot on your nipples as you force another orgasm out of him, his second one in a row. It's too much now, way too fucking much, and still, you don't relent. Even after you're stuffed so full of his seed, you continue to ride him, desperate for more. He's such a fucking slut for you that he doesn't have the strength nor the willpower to stop you from using his oversensitive cock. All he can do is lie there and take it, lie there and act like he's at his fucking limit, when he actually is loving this so fucking much. Especially when you're fucking him inside his bedroom while his precious brothers are playing video games just outside.

He gets off on this shit, even he can admit that. Big brother Choso, who takes care of his little brothers, who dotes on them, protects them, caters to them hand-and-foot. Well, he needs to be taken care of too, and who better to do that than you, his horny little girlfriend. You, who smirks down at him as you pump more and more cum out of his cock while his moans get more high-pitched sucking on your nipples harder, trying to control the obscene noises being drawn out of him. "No more," he says weakly, not making any effort to lift you off him.

"One more, baby." You kiss him on the mouth, lapping at his tongue, wiping away the sweat and tears streaked on his face. "Just one more. Please?"

Sure, his balls are drained, his cock hurts from overstimulation, but how can he refuse you when you look at him like that? "Okay, baby. Just one more," he gives in, leaving it all to you yet again.

Yeah, he really, really likes being taken care of.