#it could just be a normal size pillowcase

[c-rowlesdraws]

kindling hope in my heart for Mass Effect: The Next One to show some more variety and open-mindedness with regards to alien friends and romances by reminding myself that BioWare went from incredulous that players could actually want to romance Garrus to making and selling an official body pillowcase of him. They can be taught… they can learn & grow

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Could you describe how you see some of the creeps' rooms? Like what they havein there or if their roms are messy or always clean? :)

I decided that for this one, I would do my most popular creeps, if you or anyone else reading would like more headcanons on different creeps, let me know and i will be happy to!

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby

Toby's room is located on the third floor of the mansion/manor (havent decided which one i like better) and is the third door on the left

His door doesn't really have anything fancy on it, it is a simple wooden door with his name on a bronze plate, just like the rest of the creeps

His room has a very grunge-esc and indie vibe to it

His bed is a twin sized bed, with a deep brown comforter, faded yellow sheets and two pillows with no pillowcases on them

He has 2 squishmellows, the hamster and the mango, they sit on his bed, and when he sleeps he uses one as an additional pillow, and the other one he hugs tightly to his chest

He has a lot of tapestries, and not many posters

He has posters for the beetles, fleetwood mac, and ozzy osbourne, and they are all on the wall above his bed

The rest of the tapestries are generic designs with skeletons and stars

He has a small couch under the window of his room, that has a small purple blanket thrown over the top of the couch

He has a lot of fake plants and vines in his room, because he can't take care of real plants to save his life

He has a wooden desk, and on that desk he has his laptop, headphones, tablet, hairspray, books, and writing utensils

Amongst those other things, he also has a few dishes on his desk

He uses his closet as a makeshift house for animals he finds (often possums and raccoons) so that he can help them return to full health, before setting them free once more

However, he does have 3 pet raccoons that just kept on coming back after he set them free, so he just kind of uses his closet for them

His clothes are stored on a clothing rack next to his couch

He has one nightstand on the left side of his bed, where he keeps his phone, charger, and in the drawer, he has spare masks, gloves, medications, and bandages/bandaids

He has a tv in his room, on the wall in front of his bed

All things considered, his room isnt too messy, he has a few dirty clothes here and there, and a few dishes, but it's not terrible

Masky

His room is on the third floor, and is the second door on the right

His door is also not decorated, just a simple wooden door with his name on a bronze plate

His room reeks of cigarettes

His bed is right under his window, it is queen sized and is the first thing you see as you open his door

He has basic white sheets, pillows with basic white pillowcases, and a basic brown comforter

He has a desk on the wall to the left of his bed, where he keeps books, notebooks, writing utensils, and his laptop

Next to his desk, he has an array of weapons

Guns, knifes, crossbows, etc

He has them displayed on the wall, he absolutely just stares at them from time to time, very proud of them

He doesn't have many decorations, but he does have a few trinkets Toby and Sally have given him

He has two nightstands, one has a lamp and the book hes reading, and the other has an ashtray and his current pack of cigarettes

In the drawers he has his medications, and his reading glasses (he refuses to accept the fact he's old, be nice to him about the glasses)

The jacket he normally wears is almost always thrown over his desk chair, ready for it to be used the next day

His closet is only really halfway full, so he uses the other half to store his pajamas, socks and underwear

He has a bunch of records and loves to play them

Takes him back to the good ol days

He is probably the second cleanest on this list

Eyeless Jack

His bedroom is on the second floor, and is the first door to your left

His door has been painted black and his entire room is soundproof

The black door is partly because he just likes it that way and partly to differentiate himself from Laughing Jack, which both door plates just read "Jack"

He has a twin sized bed with grey sheets and pillowcases, and a black comforter

His windows are covered by blackout curtains, making his room one of the darkest

Next to his bed, he has a nightstand with a lamp

Thats the only light source he allows

On the other side of his bed, there is a book cart with books (duh) and a few plants

He also has a bookshelf, but all of the books on the shelf are strictly educational books (studies on anatomy, different illnesses for different creatures, etc)

His desk has his laptop, tablet and a stack of notebooks, all full with his neat handwriting and labled with different things

He doesnt have many decorations in his room, but he does have some framed pictures of his friends from around the mansion

He also has a mini fridge with his stash of fresh food, it is kept clean and is restocked once every 2 weeks

He keeps his room spotless, no dust on anything, bed always made, etc

Definetly the cleanest on this list, if not in the entire house

Jeff

Jeff's room is on the second floor, and is the second door on the left

His door is very much decorated with crime scene tape, a stop sign and a small band poster

His room is very dirty, clothes, trash and dishes are strewn about the room, with a small path from his door to his bed

He has a twin sized bed (if you can even call it that) it is a worn out matress on the floor, with no sheets, pillows without a pillowcase, and a black comforter

He has a nightstand with his vape, medications and phone on it

He has a desk with a pc, nintendo switch, hairspray and makeup but he doesn't really sit at his desk much

His walls are completely covered in band posters, pride flags, road signs, and of course, his tv

He has an electric guitar, but he doesn't play it much

He only knows how to play MSI songs, but he is suprisingly good at them

He has a mannequin in his room as well, "Lucy", he named her, she is missing a leg, and four of her fingers on her left hand, jeff has stuck a knife through her eye and placed stickers over where her nipples would be as makeshift pasties

It is a running joke that Lucy is Jeff's one true love, but they have to keep their love a secret because people wouldn't understand them being together

BEN even bought lucy a cheap wig off of amazon, which sits crooked and tangled on her head

Lucy holds Jeff's bags, and his knives

His room doesn't exactly smell bad, but it doesn't smell pleasent

0/10 PLEASE DO NOT GO IN THERE WHATEVER YOU DO, YOU WILL BE MUTATED

BEN

He is on the third floor, and is the third door on the right

His door is a simple wooden door with a bronze plate that says his name

His bed is very low, almost touching the floor

There are no sheets, no pillowcases and a basic blue comforter

He has LED lights on the ceiling, which are almost always turned green

His desk has a full gaming set up, double moniters, and LED headphones, keyboard and mouse

Behind all of that, he has his hairspray, deodorant, and nintendo switch OLED

On the wall in front of his bed, his tv is mounted, under his tv he has a ps5, an xbox1 and an n64

He also has a small bookshelf where he stores all of his physical game copies

He has a bunch of blue light tapestries, almost all of them have at least one skeleton on it

He also has some posters for his favorite animes and video games (Black butler, one piece, the occassional hatsune miku poster...)

SPEAKING OF HATSUNE MIKU

He is throughly obsessed with her

He has a bunch of figurines he keeps around his gaming set up, he has a hatsune miku plush that sits on his shelf of video games, and he also bought a miku body pillow "as a joke"

And you better believe he has a few t-shirts

He keeps the body pillow stuffed under his bed, away from anyone who could possibly see her

I wouldn't say he classifies as a weeb, but he's definitely up there in the ranks

He also has a snack cart by his pc set up, one tier with drinks, the other two with snacks like chips, cookies, pastries, etc

As for cleanliness, i would say he isnt too dirty

He has a few dirty dishes on his desk, a few dirty shirts and hoodies here and there but other than that, his room is pretty clean

[ryngzmn]

₊˚ෆ | trick or treating | E.D

SUMMARY: You and Eddie take Christopher trick or treating!

WORD COUNT: 988.

WARNINGS: not proofread, lazy ending :P, also I tried to make the costume as unisex as possible😭😭

A/N: I wanted to try a new layout similar to what I have going on with the images in my masterlist and intro post, so if I’d love some feedback if you guys prefer this one or the normal GIFs I usually do! :)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You were sitting on Eddie’s couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as you waited for Eddie and Christopher to appear from his room.

You could hear their hushed voices and laughs — it made you curious as to what they were dressing up as. All you knew was that the two were getting matching costumes, as they often did on Halloween night.

Sadly, they didn’t invite you to match with them, not that you minded, of course. Maybe next year they’ll decide to invite you. But right now, you were dressed up in a simple vampire costume.

Eventually you heard the door creak open, and you quickly lifted your head just in time to see the two walk out in iconic Batman and Robin costumes.

Your heart swelled, you really loved these two and Christopher looked so cute in that cheesy Robin costume.

“You guys look so cute!” You gushed as she quickly walked over, your phone now forgotten on the couch.

Christopher flashed you a toothy smile, “Thanks!”

The Batman costume Eddie was wearing was actually quite intricate with the details considering you got it from Spirit Halloween for like forty bucks.

You also noticed that Eddie wasn’t wearing the mask right now, he’d either put that on later or just not wear it at all.

��C’mon, Chris, let’s get going before all the good candy gets taken.” Eddie ushered as he tapped his son’s shoulder blade in gesture for him to start walking to the front door.

Christopher nodded and quickly started making his way to the front door. Eddie took the chance to walk over and look over your costume before kissing your cheek.

“You look good,” He whispered, smiling at you.

You returned the gesture and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Just so you know, suddenly Batman’s my favorite superhero.” You teased lightheartedly before turning and walking after Chris.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he followed after you two.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

When you got out of the house, you took a moment to look at all of the costumes that people were wearing.

Most of them were comic book characters or costumes of characters from recent movies that had come out this year, as per usual.

And, of course, there were a few kids with really creative costumes out there and some with lazy, inflatable costumes.

You watched Christopher start making his way to the houses that had their lights on and quickly followed after him so you didn’t lose him.

It also didn’t take long for Eddie to catch up, matching your stride and interlocking your fingers.

“He really loves Halloween, huh?” You questioned, noticing how enthusiastic he had been when he woke up today.

Eddie hummed in agreement, “Yup, he really loves Halloween, but I think he really only like the dressing up aspect of it.”

You laughed, “Definitely.”

You two watched as he went up to the first house, ringing the doorbell and holding out his pillowcase he had as a candy bag and yelling the classic “Trick or Treat!”

Christopher grinned when he got one of those king-sized candy bars, something which was rare on Halloween night but this particular house always gave them out; which was why Chris always made a bee-line for this house as soon as he rushed out the door.

Chris scurried back to Eddie after the nice lady at that house closed the door, and he held up his newfound candy with a proud grin.

“Look! I got one of those big candies!” He exclaimed excitedly.

Eddie smiled, reaching a hand out and ruffling his son’s hair. “That’s great, bud. Maybe you’ll get more of those throughout the night.”

Chris quickly turned around and made his way to the other house, smiling when another parent complimented him on his Robin costume.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You three actually made good time, getting most of the houses within about two hours.

When you guys got back, Cristopher immediately went over to the coffee table and dumped out his candy to count it.

You walked over and kneeled down next to Chris to help him count rhe candies that varied from small candies and big candy bars.

Overall, you guessed that he had enough candy to equal three cups of sugar, which you hoped that Christopher wouldn’t eat all of it.

“Jeez, bud, you sure got a lot of candy.” Eddie commneted as he stood behind the two of you.

Chris looked back at his dad, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah! I don’t think I can eat all this by tonight though…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You chimed in. “If you somehow manage to eat all that, you’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Both Eddie and Chris laughed at that, and Christopher stood back up.

“I’m gonna go get dressed into my pajamas.” He said before walking off to his room.

You looked over at Eddie, noticing his soft expression as he watched Chris close the door behind him.

“How long do you think it’ll take for Chris to finish all this candy?” You inquiries curiously as you went to grab a bowl to put all the candy in.

“I hope it takes him at least a week to finish it all.” Eddie replied with an exaggerated sigh, helping you put the candies in the glass bowl you had brought over.

After all of you guys got out of your costumes, you all huddled up on the couch and started a horror movie; specifically one that Christopher chose himself for the Halloween spirit.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

feedback is appreciated! :)

tags! : @ryvkkr

[copperbadge]

You know, I don't mind getting older; I'm perfectly happy not to be the same dumbass I was in my late twenties (I'm a totally different kind of dumbass now). What I'm not a huge fan of is aging. I woke up this morning hurting everywhere -- basically every muscle from neck to knees was sore or cramped or both. I know it's because I've been doing a lot of different work than normal (crouching, applying pressure with my arms, etc) but it still blows.

I had a list of cleaning stuff for today, but all of it was high-intensity, so I scrapped it and decided to put on a podcast I knew I'd like, move slowly, and only do what seemed feasible. I queued up I Don't Even Own A Television's "Pet Sematary" episode and set to work on changing out the linens on the sofa -- just changing the sheet, making sure none of the soft goods were dirty, and replacing the pillowcases on the pillows. The cats think of this sofa, which I rarely sit on, as "theirs", and Dearborn was very nervous about all of this, supervising me carefully.

[ID: Three images; on the left, Dearborn the tortie is crouched anxiously on a lurid orange Ikea sofa with all its back cushions missing. In the middle image she is hiding in a niche between the sofa and the wall, looking up at me anxiously. In the final image, the sofa has been covered with a burgundy sheet, the cushions are back in place, and a heap of brightly-colored pillows are piled on one end.]

I felt all right after doing that, so I decided I was okay to clean my desk. I know it still looks pretty messy but that's because I am manfully restraining myself from putting things in bins, since I need to have them out to remember they're there. If the hand cream and lip balm are out, I'll actually use them. (It's the time of year when my focal palmar peeling acts up; here's your annual reminder that if the skin of your palms dries up and peels, that may be focal palmar peeling and there are treatments!)

Polk supervised from the tower of storage bins nearby.

[ID: Two images; the left shows a desk, made of a glass top on sawhorse legs, with a table runner on it and two monitors on stands; several knicknacks and some toiletries are also visible. On the right, Polk the tabby is sitting on a large tupperware bin topped with a rumpled pillowcase, staring into the camera.]

I could have stopped there, but last night I'd put out some papers to deal with and it was easy sit-down work. I used to have a box of art -- postcards, prints, souvenirs, etc -- but I didn't like that I had it and never looked at it because it was just this box, so a while back I bought a "tabloid" sized art folio with archival-quality paper and sleeves, and I've started putting all that stuff into it. The first two images are just examples of what's stashed in it; the third image shows what I put into it this morning, which is two postcards from the Europe trip and the original "annotated family tree" that shows up in The Lady And The Tiger.

Got almost exactly an hour into the two-hour podcast when I finished, so a good day's work done even if I was creaking along like a rickety house in a high wind.

[youling-the-ghost]

paralysed – a cliff & chip ficlet

TW: suicidal ideation When grief struck him, Cliff felt no sadness or anguish or anger, he simply felt...numb. (inspired by this edit by @i-may-be-an-emu) word count: 838

Cliff felt nothing.

Those words might feel like hyperbole, but they weren't.

Looking out the window, Cliff barely flinched as he saw a squirrel be reduced to a pile of blood and guts on the side of the road by some reckless driver. He should feel bad, he should want to rush out and cradle the squirrel in his hands and scramble to save it.

But he didn't.

He tried that once before; tried cradling her head, did everything he could to try and save her life, cried and screamed and begged. And yet here he was, sitting on the couch, the familiar weight in his lap no longer there.

Cliff took a sip of his drink. The tea had long since turned cold.

He wasn't sure when it started—last week, maybe? All he knew was that one night, he went to bed with tearstains on his pillowcase and woke up unable to cry.

His co-workers told him that it was a good thing, that he was finally moving on. Cliff tried to believe them.

"Dad?"

Cliff turned to look behind him. "Yes, Chip?"

Chip's eyes glossed over for a split second before they blinked back to normalcy and he said, "Um, I need you to drive me to school."

"Ah, yes, of course."

Chip was Marie-Claire's nickname for her darling son. For Cliff, his son was always "kiddo".

Cliff got up from his couch and looked at his son, his precious son that he once adored with his whole heart and more, his son who had Marie-Claire's eyes and Marie-Claire's smile and a hint of Marie-Claire's French accent when he talked. He felt no affection in his heart, even when he tried squeezing it dry.

Cliff grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

The steering wheel was cool against his hands. Cliff ignited the car and let the rumbling noises ring out.

"Um, dad?" Chip's squeaky voice piped up. "Your seatbelt..."

"Oh, right."

Frankly, Cliff didn't care to do up his seatbelt.

The seatbelt secured with a quiet click.

Chip stayed quiet as the car drove forward. Normally—no, formerly—Marie-Claire would blast rock music from the speakers and Chip would giggle at the songs that he recognised and Cliff would chuckle helplessly because he knew none of the songs. BBC News muttered some burglary case from the speakers.

Neither Cliff nor Chip knew how to connect their phones to the car speakers.

How unfair the world was, Cliff thought as the car approached a red light. So many rules and regulations and standard in place, just to ensure the safety of the people. And yet, one wrong move and it all comes crumbling down.

He could die right now, Cliff mused. There was nothing stopping him from letting go of the steering wheel and stepping on the gas pedal and crashing into some undeserving house.

But he didn't.

The school was visible through the light fog now. Cliff stepped on the brakes and stopped as a line of children marched down the crosswalk. He thought back to the squirrel. It was probably long dead by now, its skin cold and its eyes lifeless and its mouth curled into the slightest hint of a smile as it used the last of its strength to whisper—

Cliff sped back up as the children all made it safely to the other side. He drove into the drop-off zone and parked. Chip stayed silent the whole time.

"Take care, kid—Chip," he said as his son stepped out of the car with a backpack that was almost twice his size.

"Bye, dad," said Chip in a strained voice. Then he was gone.

Cliff sighed and turned his head back to the road.

Should he just leave?

It would be painful, his bones would hurt, but at least it would be something. He could be with his love again, and there would be no one in this realm to love him anyway. Cliff despaired at the way his heart didn't so much as clench at the idea of ending his own life.

"Wait!"

Cliff snapped his head up. It was Chip's voice.

There Chip was rushing towards him, his backpack swaying from side to side like a squirrel's tail as he did so.

"What's up, kiddo?" Cliff didn't catch himself that time.

Chip leaned through the car window and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, dad," he said with a smile—one of those pure smiles that only a child could wear. And he was off again. Cliff watched as his son sprinted towards the main doors and was scolded by the principal for disdemeanour, and his heart clenched in affection.

He seemed to have forgotten about the one other person who loved him.

Cliff unparked the car and went on his path home. A squirrel obstructed his path, and he slowed down to let the rodent pass.

He will live. For Chip's sake, for Marie-Claire's sake, and, maybe one day, for his own sake too.

[everybodyshusband]

Situations have occurred. i’m dealing with it normally.

just thinking. the ghoul tour bus.

busses are top heavy, they roll easily, especially on corners. and with all those energetic ghouls jumping around on the moving bus after an adrenaline-filled show…

mentions of blood, injury, and (NON-major character) death under the cut

It had been a tight corner, and the driver hadn't braked in enough time, leaving the bus to tip over and slide along the road for metres and metres before slowly skidding to a halt. The screaming had stopped once the bus ceased its sliding, but the smashed windows and broken interior wouldn't stop groaning and shattering, even once the crash was over.

Rain had climbed out of the wreck first, miraculously uninjured, and was now sitting with their knees drawn up to their chest, rocking back and forth, staring unblinkingly at the broken, side-turned tour bus. They didn't seem to be injured, just non-verbal and shivering from the shock, but that didn't ease Aether's worry at all.

Aether had been next out, scraping his arm on a piece of jagged glass as he clambered out as quickly as possible. He'd wrapped a pillowcase around it in a makeshift tourniquet. The wound wasn't too deep, but he wasn't going to take any chances; not when he had an entire busload to look after and account for.

Cumulus had been out fairly quickly, too. She'd crawled out through the shattered windscreen past the unconscious driver. She did her best to pull him out of his seat in case anyone could help tend to his wounds, but stumbled back in shock once she saw the damage to his face. A plate-sized shard of glass was sticking out from his face, and he wasn't breathing. It was much too late to help him, Cumulus knew, but she did her best to drag the driver out of the seat regardless; it would be better if anyone else crawling out of the same place she had didn't have to bear witness to the driver's bloody, cut up face. Upon finishing her task and finding Rain and Aether safe and accounted for, Cumulus was now helping Aether to climb back in and search for the others while she stayed with Rain, placing a blanket gently over their shoulders.

Reentering the bus, Aether had found Sunshine and Cirrus curled up around each other, squished up behind a couch that had fallen over them. Sunshine's leg had been trapped underneath the couch, and Cirrus seemed to have a mild concussion, but aside from that, the two of them seemed to be alright. Aether helped them to climb out of the bus and requested that—if they felt up to it—they help Cumulus in breaking away the rest of the windshield to create a larger space for the rest to crawl out from.

Swiss, and the band's two newest additions were the next to be found. The three of them had been curled around each other as the ghoulettes had been, except none of them were conscious. Alive, breathing, but unconscious. Aether shouted for help, and to his surprise, it was Copia who came crawling through the wreckage to aid him in dragging his partners to safety.

Copia, like Aether, seemed to be fine. His most obvious injury was a small cut trickling blood, just above his eyebrow. He may have had a limp as well, Aether thought, but it was hard to tell, especially given that both of them were dragging the unconscious bodies of their friends out of a broken, wrecked bus, meaning neither of them could stand properly and have a decent view of the other and their injuries.

As Aether and Copia dragged the ghouls from the bus, Dewdrop appeared, covered in blood, limping, and clutching his arm to his chest. "Aeth," he started, sounding completely wrecked, his voice shaking with emotion. Aether felt his heart split open in terror. "Aeth, I- I can't find Mountain."

"What." His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

"I- I can't find him. We were sitting next to each other, he- he should have been right next to me, but..."

Aether hands the task of ghoul-carrying over to Copia and turns to Dew, taking him in properly. Along with the injuries Aether first saw, the fire ghoul clearly has some kind of head injury, since Aether can clearly see the blood matted in his hair and dripping down one side of his face. It's obvious Mountain and Dew were sitting on the side the bus rolled onto and got the worst brunt of it.

"Dew, you go and climb out of the windscreen. 'Lus and Copia will help you, okay?" Aether instructs, moving further into the bus as he speaks. "I'm going to find Mountain."

As Aether walks further and further into the wreckage, he's struck by just how serious their crash was. The furniture is piled high on the wall-now-floor of the bus, and almost every window on that same side that Aether can see is smashed. He's suddenly struck with the knowledge of just how lucky they are that everyone in their pack survived. Except for...

No. Aether will find Mountain. The earth ghoul will be fine. He has to be.

After what feels like hours of frantic searching—in reality, it’s probably less than ten minutes, but time goes fuzzy when Aether panics—Aether finally spots Mountain's uniform jacket. The arm of it is peaking out from the smashed window. The rest of it is under the weight of the entire bus. He can't see an arm inside the jacket, which is a good sign, but Aether can't stop himself from panicking anyway.

He screams when he finally spots Mountain.

Mountain's body? No. No, it's Mountain. He needs to be alive. He needs to be.

The earth ghoul is lying on his side, on the very back bunk, facing towards Aether. His face is bloodied and bruising already, and the rest of him doesn't look much better, even hidden under his clothes. Aether yells for help. He doesn't want to risk moving Mountain in case he causes even more damage.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to worry for too long. He barely registers the paramedics pushing past him to get a proper look at the injured earth ghoul, or the kind person who helps him to stumble out of the bus after they carry Mountain out on a stretcher. He thinks the others are talking to him once he crawls out, but he can barely focus on anything, let alone the worried voices and faces of his packmates.

Later, when it's known that everyone is safe and accounted for, Aether doesn't really remember the rest of that day. Only worry, fear, worry, hospital, sleep, worry. Mountain will heal, the doctors assure them all. He's attained serious injuries, but he will heal, and in a few months, he'll be almost back to normal.

There's a collective sigh of relief, and although the doctor continues to list Mountain's injuries, none of them are really listening to her anymore; too relieved that their earth ghoul will eventually be okay.

[ciaossu-imagines]

So, I used the prompt [caramel apples] from Day 10 of the event, prompt 16, for the Millefiore family! I hope you’ll all enjoy 😊

Caramel Apples: Favourite Halloween candy?

Byakuran’s favourite Halloween candy? Obviously it’s those chocolate marshmallow pumpkins and witches. He’s someone who has a real sweet tooth and marshmallows are one of his go-to treats all during the year anyway, so it just makes sense that this is his go-to Halloween treat.

Uni is really happy with anything. She’s just grateful that anyone is giving her free candy and she’s not going to be picky about what she gets.

Kikyo, honestly, is probably the only person in the world who actually really enjoys seeing those single packs of raisins on Halloween. He doesn’t have a huge sweet tooth, and most of his Halloween candy gets eaten by other people but he just really does like raisins.

Zakuro doesn’t eat a lot of candy and chocolates. A lot of his Halloween candy gets eaten by Byakuran and Bluebell. The only thing he insists they don’t touch, and what he gets really excited to see tossed in his Halloween bag is soda. When people hand out cans of soda, or even juice, it makes him happier than any candy could.

Bluebell doesn’t actually have a favourite Halloween candy. She likes all of them pretty equally and what matters to her is how much she gets. She’s someone who’s not going to be happy with just a single bucket worth of Halloween candy. She needs that full pillowcase by the end of the night to be happy.

Daisy loves candy that is more taffy like in nature. Things like molasses kisses, Airheads, or even actual salt-water taffy make him really happy to get. He gets to eat them longer, because they take a lot of chewing, so he gets to enjoy the candy longer and the flavours tend to stick around longer.

Torikabuto is a monk completely possessed by a cursed mask. He doesn’t need to eat and the other’s take him out trick or treating, without even putting him in a costume because his normal appearance is scary enough, to get more candy for themselves.

Shoichi is going with Kit-Kats every time. They’re nice and easy to eat, even when his hands are busy with any of his other work and projects, and because you break them apart, he can eat one piece and save the rest for another time.

Gamma is a fan of Rockets. He’s actually the only one in the family who really loves them, so he’ll sacrifice most of his candy in exchange for everyone else giving him those.

Iris Hepburn is a chocoholic! Any chocolate bar will make her pretty happy, though she especially loves peanut butter cups.

Spanner is one of those rare people who actually get really excited when he sees suckers in his Halloween trick or treat baskets. He doesn’t mind Blow Pops and Tootsie Rolls, but his favourite are those apple caramel suckers that only really show up around Halloween.

Tazaru is honestly a little boring in his candy tastes when it comes to Halloween. Those little fun-sized packs of Starbursts always get him so happy.

Much like Bluebell, it’s not what he’s getting to Nosaru so much as how much he’s getting. He, Bluebell, and Uni probably have fun little competitions to see who gets the most candy. For Nosaru, his highlight is always when people pass out the full-size candy or sodas. Bigger is always better in his opinion.

[electricbluebutterflies]

domestic prompts, 15 and or 21 for garcy!

Usual post-canon-divergence, PG-ish, also on ao3.

15 - changing the bedsheets

If one is lucky enough to have a bigger partner, Lucy thinks, one should use that resource as much as one can. Which is to say, she doesn’t have the patience for wrestling a fitted sheet and she’s been a relatively good girlfriend this week, she thinks, and-

“Want to help me with something?”

“That’s a loaded question from you.”

She gets it, she really does. Usually her requests are fairly small and mundane, but sometimes it’s how much do you know about electrical, which in fairness ended with her falling off a ladder because somehow the smaller person getting up on there made more sense, and after that one…

“Bedsheets. Much harder to get hurt with than-“

“Can’t rule out the possibility. You are talented.”

“That’s why I’m asking you to do them. That and your proportionally long arms.”

The thing is, Lucy’s never been in the position of having a relatively cooperative domestic partner – or a live-in one of any sort, for that matter. Now that they’re not at a life stage where her very survival depends on how much Flynn adores her, she’s stuck trying to find new ways to redirect said adoration, and-

“You lived alone how long and-“

“If you don’t want to do it, you could just say that.”

“I wasn’t-“

This is a stupid fight even by their standards, and she decides to let it go as he follows her upstairs. Wrangling new sheets onto a king-size bed is inherently a two-person job, it’s not like she’s just going to stand there and watch, and-

“Thank you,” she says preemptively.

“Can I say you’re being too dramatic?”

“Can you say why?”

“Normal people… do things like this. Good domestic partners don’t complain too much about it.”

There are moments she has some real questions about his past baselines, about what he might be subconsciously comparing her to at all times, and she knows better than to actually ask them but-

“If you say so.”

He responds with one of those unimpressed were-you-raised-by-wolves-or-something – it’s probably a good thing that she’s able to pin down the different flavors of judgmental eyerolls she provokes – and there’s apparently no need for conversation, just an attempt at removing the old bedding and-

This is what normal feels like, Lucy thinks. She’s not used to it yet. She could be, given enough time, given-

“Something wrong?”

She glances up at him, suddenly very aware of how tightly she’s clutching a pillowcase. “Nothing that’ll stick?”

“Lu-“

“I don’t know how to do this serious relationship thing, and I’m worried-“

“You’re doing fine. I would say if…”

“I know. But still.”

He clears the space between them and kisses her forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything, understand?”

“Trying not to be difficult is-“

“Unusual for you, but… don’t overthink this, okay?”

Some part of her mind really wants to turn this into a fight, but she’s not in the mood and-

“Fine.”

They have better things to do. For now, at least. And maybe by the time they finish…

“If you did something dramatically wrong, I would say.”

She can believe that easily enough.

[aqueousablution]

(March 2023) GRODAHAJ (Zamtrios if he BLÅHAJ)

Original post body under the cut:

If I ever have enough money to commission a big plushie someday, I'd love to get a BLÅHAJ-esque Zamtrios plushie made. It'd be 1 meter long like a normal BLÅHAJ, but instead of being fuzzy, it would be made of a smoother, cool-feeling fabric like you might find used in bedding (especially pillowcases), in reference to Zamtrios being an ice-element monster. (Addendum: Maybe if I have enough money I could also commission a Zamite based on those 55 cm mini-BLÅHAJAR?... actually, how do you capitalize "blåhajar" and other Swedish pluralizations in proper IKEA product formatting? Maybe "BLÅHAJar"? I think I got it right the first time but it looks... off. All the more reason to ignore IKEA's insistence on capitalizing all their product names, I suppose.)

I'm half-tempted to learn Blender properly so I can model it and put it in my hunter's room in Sunbreak as a mod (or more realistically a 6th-gen MonHun game, considering how long it's likely to take me to learn all the necessary steps), but that seems like a bit of a long shot.

Transcript of notes below the cut:

-

GRODAHAJ (Zamtrios BLÅHAJ)

[ frog ][shark]

overlapping fabric? embroidery? (pointing to texturing on top of GRODAHAJ's head, which lines up with darkened gills around where BLÅHAJ's are)

100 units¹ long (100 cm, or 1 meter)

like the gills on BLÅHAJ (pointing to a darker part of the aforementioned texturing)

folds that expand when inflated (referring to a cross-section of GRODAHAJ's belly, showing the folds, which are deepest in the middle of his belly and shallowest closest to his sides)

white eyes like Zamtrios in-game (pointing to the eye of the inflated GRODAHAJ)

inflated... how?²

- same fabric as a nice, cool pillowcase ↳ in contrast to BLÅHAJ being warm & good for Winter, GRODAHAJ is good for cuddling in Summer; he is an ice-element monster, after all! - no ice armor mode ↳ needs to be cuddly, not "badass"

As far as I know units are never labeled in-game in MonHun, so all the fan wikis tend to just call them "units" (if they call them anything at all, as opposed to just listing the raw number like the games), but they're pretty clearly centimeters based on some official sources and comparing sizes in-game. Thus, a 1-meter-long plushie (like BLÅHAJ) would be 100 units long.

My initial instinct is to just inflate it the old-fashioned way, but maybe there could be a cushion-like insert? If so, how would you conceal the fastener for the pocket such that it wouldn't be uncomfortable to cuddle (maybe hide it in a fold, and just not worry about it when it's inflated since it's too bulky to cuddle at full size)? Though that problem also exists with the valve for an internal balloon, not to mention the logistical issue of how to inflate it (inflated like a beach ball? That'd be a bit shit IMO, especially since some people struggle with those for various reasons).

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Pegging Thunder

Thor x plus size reader

I don’t think this needs any more explanation 

Warnings: SMUT, pegging, sub!Thor, queen kink, mommy kink, this is really a drabble

WC: 420

A/N: 2 stories in two days, who am I?!

Minors DNI

“P-please my queen.” His normally commanding voice was now a mere whisper, his pleading and begging almost a whine. His long blond hair was splayed out over the dark pillowcase, his face now red with exertion. His blue eyes were screwed shut as his broad chest heaved, struggling to take in air.

“More.” He moaned, attempting to roll his thin hips down and take more of the massively thick strap-on inside him. Your veins thrummed with power and arousal as you towered over the god. “You’ll take what I give you, little prince.” He whimpered at that, his bottom lip turning out into a pout. You chuckled and ran your hands down his muscular thighs which sat on your wide hips, to cup his pert ass.

The strap was barely half-way inside of him and yet he already looked ready to burst. His cock was throbbing, the head a dark purple, furiously leaking pre-cum. It bobbed against his toned abs, leaving little clear droplets on his tan stomach. You could feel him trembling beneath you.

Your pussy was pulsing, wetness dripping down your plump thighs but you didn’t dare reach down and relive that ache. Everything was about him tonight. Him finally giving up his power to you, letting you control his pleasure, his pain, his thoughts. You thrust forward and sunk another inch into him. 

“Fuck!” Thunder rolled dangerously outside. “My good little warrior, taking your queen’s cock so well.” You cooed, leaning forward as far as you could, to lay kisses to his sweaty collarbones. “So big mommy.” He slurred. Your breath hitched and unconsciously buried the rest of the silicone inside your lover.

Thor howled in pleasure, ankles locking around your thick waist, keeping you pinned inside him. “Mommy!” Big hands clamped around your ribs, squeezing almost painfully as you began to thrust into him. “My good boy, my perfect prince.” You praised through panting breaths. 

“So good for your mommy.” You moaned, the butt of the strap hitting your clit just right with every roll of your hips. You could only pull out an inch before ramming forward again. “Take me my queen. I’m yours.” His eyes fluttered open, the blue, which was almost entirely black with his blown out pupils, hypnotised you, sending a shutter down your spine.

You were punching into him now, making his entire body move with the force of your thrusts. With a slight change in the angle, you hit his prostate. “Cum for me little prince. Cum for your queen.”

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[worldsover]

Like a Trifling Little Thing ft. Jiu

words ✦ 5565

genres ✧ if The Curse of the Spider weren’t so cursed (maybe a little bit); praise kink; ruined orgasm; trying new positions; rough, exhausting, blindfolded, tied-up breeding; crazy, needy mommy!Jiu

Thanks to @ggidolsmuts, @v1ntrix, @panchatea, and @existslikepristin for your feedback. Happy birthday to Mommy—I meant Mommy—I meant Mommy—I meant...

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Minji had this pillow that wasn’t very unusual. Normal. Rectangular. Soft. There are certainly more sentimental souvenirs scattered throughout the house. Picture books, pottery projects, paintings you made together.

That she doesn’t use the pillow for sleeping wouldn’t even be that notable for most others; everyone has an aunt who’s gifted them a bland throw pillow, never used except as decoration.

A smidgen of specialness still existed in Minji’s pillow, however, when you consider the number of times she masturbated on it. She made the pillowcase wet with various juices: a stream of drool from her lips whenever she edged herself, a profane clear spray whenever she drank a bit too much water but prioritized her climax first, a lewd cream whenever her womb was feeling warm and tingly. The pillow doesn’t just smell like her the way her sweaters, her sheets, her plushies do; it’s absolutely infused with her carnal scent, and you wouldn’t trade it for any other pillow in this world or the next. You washed it thoroughly (after you smelled it thoroughly), but after enough misapplication, the stains became permanent though subtle.

Sure, you could fuck Minji any number of times in a row but she was like one of those small mammals with the big ears that multiplied like crazy—that is, no amount of dicking down could really satisfy the sex rabbit. So she rubbed her needy pussy on every surface, from pillows to doorknobs and the corners of desks, as well as fucked it with every toy and non-toy. You expected to have to wash the cucumbers regardless. The difference is that none of the phallic objects Minji found or bought amounted to your size and warmth and virile payload.

Everywhere else, Minji was truly the loveliest woman on Earth. One might even mistake her for wholly wholesome, and it’s a fair mistake to make if one were to catch you and Minji out on a sweet picnic date in the park, out shopping for more dog toys for Cherry with a buoyant smile, or out making colorful macarons at a bakery.

On this bed, Minji had her adorable moments of playfulness. But with your hands happily tied behind your back by that ruined pillowcase, your eyes happily blindfolded by her used panties, she doesn’t seem so cute. You’re just like her pillow—a tool to use.

“Baby boy,” Minji says cutesily, “Mommy is going to make your cock extra hard with a show. That way you can last longer for Mommy and keep unloading your seed inside my hungry womb until I’m done. Okay?”

Your reply is “mnphgrblh.” While one pair of panties is around your eyes, the other pair is stuffed in your mouth. That one is fresher; you can tell because a couple moments ago, even though you had your eyes blocked, you could hear the slick noises of Minji’s pussy. Plus, the pristine flavor of her nectar is too obvious. Not as if Minji was trying to hide it. 

There are a couple flaws in her plan. 

First, as Minji was fingerfucking her cunt, her lips were wrapped around your soft dick, and the self-made pleasure turned Minji into her usual drooling disarray; that unending flow of saliva combined with the incipient blissful hum around your erection already solidifies you to a throbbing extent. You’re not certain you can get any harder.

Second, you spit out the panties in your mouth.

“Mommy, I can’t watch you with—”

“Oh, right!” The arrhythmic clicks of a person running in heels when they don’t have that much experience with it. Minji pulls the makeshift blindfold off of you. “I’m sorry, I’m so…”

“No, no, it’s okay.” You want to pat Minji’s head. She’s the mommy in the relationship but sometimes, she can be a bit dim and clumsy—that makes you want to fill her womb even harder. To take care of her. To tell her how good of a mommy she is. Minji is still cute here. But then your words fill Minji’s eyes with a fiery determination and the last layers of sweetness are peeled away. 

Minji goes to her phone and plays Something by Girl’s Day. She’s in the right attire for it too. You’re in your birthday suit—well, it’s her birthday suit now given that you don’t even own yourself, let alone your clothes, for her special day. (In fairness, that’s most days.) Meanwhile, both her black long-sleeve top and her long black skirt hug her body’s luscious form too well. A slit in the skirt shows off one of her svelte legs, then your eyes trail down to her tall heels, maybe three or four inches. So that’s what’s making her waist so shapely. Your jaw drops, your breath stolen. Minji is absolutely ecstatic at your desire for her, but again, she refocuses as the music starts, sitting on the floor.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Then, when the song goes “Drop it”, Minji does just that. She’s on her hands and knees, bending her back into a familiar arch. That’s usually how her body writhes in the middle of a doggystyle orgasm—you have the many climaxes of Minji cataloged in your mind from all the times your cock has made her cum. None of the moves of the song stray you away from the dirtiest memories you’ve made with her. Every sway of her hips side to side, each downward bend tracing the length of her leg with her finger, that iconic bounce in the chorus, they all remind you of the diverse intimate activities you've done with Minji.

Minji’s wrung your cum out of your cock with her hands in a movie theater; she’s drained your balls with her lips in a back alley; she’s clenched your shaft with her cunt at a beach. Now that you think back on it, was there any public place you haven’t defiled? There was that bar, the airport, your car, a café—hell, she gave her own parents an innocent smile on Christmas day as if you didn’t just anally creampie her a few minutes ago in their bathroom. She has fucked you in every position her fit and flexible body could manage, used you in every room of your house, yet inexplicably, a simple seductive dance is all it takes to do exactly as Minji foretold. Your best hypothesis is that this performance is distilling all those memories into a mouth-watering event.

Even if you can’t measure it, what feels like a lack of blood flowing in your brain must be going to your erection—with a swing of your dick, you could cut a skyscraper’s steel beams. Your whole body is wound tight. Your head is spinning.

Near the end of the song, as Minji does the chorus choreography one final time, she trips over herself. You get up from the bed immediately, but Minji shakes her head and waves.

“No, no, stay there.” After Minji catches her breath, she’s pouting. "I'm sorry, baby boy. Mommy's not used to heels."

You try your best to let go of the tension in your muscles. "It's okay. You look so sexy anyway, Mommy. You’re always right. That got me so hard.”

She stands up, but her heels snag on the floor yet again, making Minji wobble as she rises.

“Do you need help balancing, Mommy? I could give you somewhere to sit if you'd like."

Sometimes, you can’t tell when Minji is faux mad or mad mad; the same growl that comes out of her mouth either way. “You’re always trying to get Mommy hot and bothered. It’s supposed to be the other way around!”

You gulp.

This is all part of the choreography. Not the dance, but the overall choreography of sex. The foreplay, the tension. You have to make mistakes. 

How else would Minji punish you?

That doesn’t stop you from gulping.

Minji pushes you onto the mattress, making you feel fully trapped with your hands behind your back. She takes off her skirt, still keeping on the long-sleeved top.

“You want to get Mommy all wet and needy to cum? Fine then.” Minji starts by straddling on your lap, but she drags her ass up your torso. She weighs down on your chest, knocking a puff of air out of you. “Make me cum with that pesky mouth.”

Your gasping naturally leaves your lips wide open, your tongue out to receive the oxygen it needs.

Minji deems that perfect. She doesn’t need to say it; you can see the mischief on her face. As if you didn’t expect Minji to wrap her thighs around your head and nudge her pussy against your face. Regardless, despite the exhaustion in your breaths, you keep your welcome mouth open and push your tongue against her slick slit as she begins to ride you.

“Mmph! Mmm! Mm!” You’re not a singer, but you know Minji adores the hummed notes against her core. You’re not a dancer, but your tongue’s moves in Minji’s pussy are certainly up to par with her own deftness. While she grinds her crotch into your face, you work your mouth like a vacuum cleaner, sucking up every bit of juice. Her thighs rub against your cheek while her breasts jiggle under the black top. 

“Mommy doesn’t care if you can’t breathe. You don’t need to breathe anyway. I know you. You just need to slurp up all of Mommy’s yummy juices.”

Minji’s hands wander from tugging at your hair to groping the muscles in your arms before curiosity gets the better of her: She grasps your cock tight with one hand. With how her digits knead and massage your cock, it’s inevitable that she twists her torso and looks back. Her legs follow in rotation until your only sight is the full extent of the roundness of her ass. If you’re deprived of the impeccable sight of Minji’s face heated with lust, you can find solace in the supple flesh suffocating you.

The manual clasp of your cock never ceases; in fact, now you feel both of her hands stroking, one on the top half of your shaft focused on your cockhead, and one on the bottom half rolling around. If only you can watch her elegant fingers performing their magic, but again, you’ll settle for the blissful sensations. 

When you feel Minji shifting around once again, you’re not entirely sure exactly what she’s doing—apart from riding your face and drowning you in nectar—but then the ambiguity diminishes as her familiar hot breath bounces off your dick. To confirm that she’s leaning down in a sixty-nine position, she lifts her ass for a moment, giving you a show of her pouty lips an inch from your cock.

“Fuuck, your cock is twitching like crazy. No, no, I have to, I need to, just, just lemme taste your pre-cum again.”

Not that Minji needed or ever cared about your response. She was going to take a greedy lick of the slight flow of pearly beads from your tip no matter what.

“Should I give it another lick? Ahh.” Minji’s tongue knows you far too well. That she knows the perfect spot, the perfect swiping motion, drives you mad. That she only does it once before she rolls over giggling turns your brain into coarse mush.

You can only stare at her catatonically as Minji bites her fingers.

“Aww, baby. Am I messing with you too much?” Minji sticks out her lower lip in mockery. “How sad.”

Minji sits up and returns to her spot on your thighs. Your house is only a second home for Minji; your lap is her true home with how often she’s on it. However, instead of her usual frantic aligning of your cock toward her cunt, she patiently grinds her pussy lips against your thigh and your shaft. You can’t believe it. When Minji’s hole is this creamy, when she’s worked herself up this much, your dick is inside of her before you can blink and it isn’t outside of her until you’re both asleep. Yet here she is, one deliberate roll of her hips up, dragging herself a glistening trail along your length, then back down.

The particulars of how Minji stimulates you don’t worry you too much. Even without your hands bound, you’re bound anyway by her blazing gaze. While you’re near motionless save for the shuddering sighs, Minji reaches behind herself, and you feel that experimental hand seeking your ballsack underneath. She rolls your balls between your fingers, taps on them, lets her fingernails rake against the skin.

“Ngh. So heavy, so tense, so full,” Minji says. “I can just imagine them twitching around in my mouth while my tongue swirls around the bottom of your beautiful cock.”

By their very nature, your testicles are sensitive, so you can’t help but moan at her grip, just a touch rougher than you can handle.

“Mhm, I feel that. The sack is pulled tight, all that sperm backed up in there. Just begging to shoot out. Begging. Beg. Beg for me.”

“Mommy, please. I need to cum, I need to cum so bad, please Mommy, your pussy lips feel so good on my cock, your hands so good on my balls. Mommy, you’re so perfect and so good at milking all my load, I need it so bad, I’m just a needy little boy for Mommy, please!”

And the choreography continues in words. No practice needed when Minji pulls the raw truth out of you with her constricting warmth, brain optional for the automatic response. As desperate as your voice can get, it can’t possibly be as desperate as your body, every part of you imploring to let you climax. You’re trembling. Opening your eyes is an impossible burden. Your dick is spasming. 

Minji scoots up to your stomach, knocking some wind out of you, from her weight and from the sudden revocation of her touch. 

“Ha. Too bad,” Minji says. The only consolation you get is the coarse sensation of her fingernails scraping from your tense chest to the edge of your jaw, and you want to say something, anything because you just need her touch and you’re so sorry but you need to—slap!

You’re cumming and while you know exactly when that started to happen, you’re not sure when (or if) that’ll ever end. All over her asscheeks and her back, you spurt pathetically. Despite the lack of any actual physical stimulation, your fresh load keeps shooting, your cock throbbing on its own.

Scooting back down to your thighs, she cleans up the seed from your crotch, from her sticky back with her hands.

Minji’s hearty laugh unnerves you, especially when it becomes a frown.

“Tsk. Wasting this precious semen when it could’ve been going in my womb. Just because you creamed my pussy yesterday doesn’t mean you get a break, mister.”

Minji licks up all the semen from her hands, looking more like a little pet than your mommy.

“You always give me the biggest loads when you know your delicious cum is going straight into my cervix. Maybe you can turn my torso into a canvas, or maybe you can feed me enough yummy seed to quench my thirst for a week, but none of that is ever going to compare to a beautiful creampie.”

Already, her words retrieve some hardness from your cock again. Minji does the cutest little clap when she notices.

“Are you sensitive, baby boy? Should we just stop this and go to sleep?”

You don’t hesitate. “No, Mommy. I want to feel your soaking wet pussy embrace my dick.”

“Really?” Minji strokes your cheek.

Nod.

“Okay. If you say. Mommy will be really careful with your cock,” she says but she can’t even hold back the dumb smile on her face in the middle of her sentence.

You’re about to be ruined.

Perfect.

“I saw this position that I had to try out.” Minji turns around. You wish you could knead her buttcheeks, but your hands are yet restricted behind your back. You could even do nothing but stare at her ass all day long; however, Minji springs into action, pulling your right knee up to bend your leg. “See, I really like grinding on your thigh. B-but, I neeeed your cock inside of me too, and I saw this position and it was just perfect!”

“Is there anything I have to do, Mommy?”

“Just stay right there and let Mommy do the work.” 

Minji straddles your raised leg with a thigh on either side. Again, she’s grinding against your thigh, but this time, your cockhead threatens to penetrate her. She’s holding onto your knee for support as she starts to rock up and down, pressing her vulva against your upper thigh. With each up and down, she dips lower and lower, swathing more and more of your cock inside of her. You’re not even fully hard yet. Just the tip alone is enough to make you reel, but then she drops. Half your length disappearing becomes most of your length gone—and then her ass is planted on your crotch while she’s glossing your thigh shiny with her juices.

“Oh, yes!” Minji exclaims.

You want to express your own contentment—the plush grip of Minji’s pussy will do that—but her other hand, which was on your chest for leverage, moves to your mouth to cover it. Your body protests instinctually, your tongue lashing out, but you take a quiet breath through your nose before holding it in—that’s just what Mommy would want. In addition, it’s this lack of air that instantly brings your erection to rock solidity inside Minji again.

“You came first before Mommy? Bad boy.” Minji pulls her hand away from your mouth, and you’re almost forlorn that you can breathe instead of asphyxiating for her. Fortune has it that her hand is idle, not that you ever doubted. A strike to your left cheek opens your half-lidded eyes.

"Mommy, sorry. Sorry, Mommy."

“See? You’re the one who should be the silly whore here. Dumb slut. It fits you so well, baby boy. Just like how my pussy fits your cock so well.” She’s still thinking about one little trip?

“I, ah, I-I never called you that and I was just making sure you were okay, Mommy, and you’re not, you’re not, you’re—”

No slaps, no scratching, no choking. She growls, and you’re silenced. More than silenced. You’re in a state of limbo, a low ambient high brought about by Minji’s thick thighs squeezing your helpless dick inside her warm folds, by her ass bouncing down into your waist which coaxes virtually empty grunts, all while you feel sore from your orgasm just moments ago. Sometimes, her ride on your cock isn’t so reckless, though that’s only because she’s dragging her pussy against your upraised thigh.

“Or maybe you are gonna fuck Mommy brainless, aren’t you? This cock is gonna turn Mommy into a bumbling slut like you.” She giggles.

You’re never sure how to fathom Minji’s bedroom personality. But you’ve learned by now that the uncertainty was principal to your steadfast love of the woman in all aspects. One moment, you’d be thrown around with a definite momentum as if you didn’t tower over her in stature; the next, you’d pin her down in some compromising fixed position while she begs for your cock to go deeper. The more energy that Minji would exhaust, the closer the session would tend toward the latter. But right now, you’re both flagging. You want to respond to her, anything other than the pathetic whimpers, to ask her for a moment of respite.

When you don’t know what to say… “I love you, Mommy.”

After Minji shudders, her grin grows. Her smile that turns her eyes to precious crescents is jarring, admittedly even crazy considering she's being drilled by dick, but the ecstasy must be getting straight to her brain. Still, you can't get used to the unusual juxtaposition of wholesome felicity painted on her face against her ass rippling, her tits bouncing, her pussy leaking thoroughly around your cock. 

Minji turns around into cowgirl, the twisting sensation impossibly pleasurable for your shaft, wet and soft insides shrouding you with perfection. She leans down to suck at your neck, and your head whips back into the mattress. With a touch of pressure from her teeth, she leaves sharper marks in addition to the bruises on your sensitive skin.

Despite all the times you've fucked Minji, you've learned there's no such thing as the right rhythm. Not that she’s altogether arrhythmic, but she'll ride faster than her heart can beat for a minute, then slowly shake her hips and snuggle your cock the next minute. Even on a good day, she can be fickle with the amount of force, the speed, or the exact position of her limbs. Her complete control of riding you cowgirl becomes a fifty-fifty split: half the time, Minji is doing her usual unbridled jackhammering down into your cock, though the other half of the time when she needs some air, you gain some upward momentum. As it turns out, this is one of those days where the only material priority for Minji is getting dicked so hard that her own name is a distant memory.

Your memory is fading too. All but Mommy in your mind is masked.

“Sss, so gh—ahh, good.” You can barely breathe the words out, even if she isn’t blocking your mouth anymore. “F-fffuuck. Good, good, so, god, damn, good.”

Every word of praise makes Mommy—Minji—clamp around your cock harder. Her mouth lets go of your neck, and she looks up at you with beady eyes while her ass slams down into your crotch. "Is Mommy good enough to breed?"

"Yes. Mommy, you're perfect, every part of you. The way you fuck me and use me like I’m your toy, I want to fill your womb so badly.”

“Every part of me?”

“Of course, Mommy.” You’re resolute. Easy. It’s just pure honesty.

“Tell me, baby boy, tell me exactly what you mean.” One hand grabs your neck like fragile porcelain, as if Minji doesn’t hold fast, you’ll shatter. The other is handy at your red cheek, already marked by her many slaps.

You don’t need the threat of the slap to continue; no, quite the opposite, your words are animated by her fingers tightening around your throat.

“Your body's so perfect. I could drool over you, worship your tits, your ass, your waist, your muscles, your abs. Your pussy especially is the tightest, wettest, prettiest thing. I love you so much Mommy. Treat me like your fuck doll, like your dildo, I don’t care. I don’t need anything else. I don’t need my hands, I don’t need porn. And above all that, you’re the sweetest—” 

Another strike.

“Ow! Fwgh, mmm, M-Mommy, please… you're too rough, hhngh. More."

Minji keeps slapping you, her nails dragging along your face. Each slap is accompanied by a couple downwards thrusts of her butt, enveloping your cock in slickness as she rides you. "Tell me I’m good! That I’m the best Mommy!"

"You are… you're the best Mommy… the best, please."

"Mhmm, that's my good boy. I love you so much."

More scratches on your body as Minji’s fingers lower to your chest. You could watch the action of her hands all day or even masturbate just to the sight of her hands, remembering every passionate (and impassioned) handjob she’s given you. Sometimes, you wish she’d just get this over with, your cock tender in its replete stiffness, and you wouldn’t mind if Minji would just give you that perfect stimulation with her hands—maybe you would blast all over her face. (She’d love that; she'd love to just walk outside proudly with her badge of honor for all to see.) Your muscles are fatigued too. You’re more limp body than man. 

Minji is fucking you so hard that you’re being shoved around the mattress. You could easily free yourself—the knot binding your wrists isn’t that tight—but then you’d be missing the point. True freedom is the absolute lack of control afforded by Minji’s severity. She’s not just grinding against your crotch anymore; she’s pushing you around, shoving sheets and pillows to the floor. You note one particularly stained pillow falling; your cock is coated the same way.

Precariously near the edge of the bed, your head follows. 

She removes your restraint, and you want to grab her waist, hold her hands, feel her tits—anything to touch your woman again—but Minji swats your hand away while nudging forward and forward with each thrust into your cock.

Your head dangles off the bed, and again, you bring your hands to hold onto her hips, onto her ass, even onto the sheets—Minji swats them away again. 

So this is by design.

With another push, you half fall off, your back bending against the edge of the mattress. You realize why you need your hands now: to stop your head from hitting the floor. You feel silly, emasculated, with your legs flat on the bed, your ass on the edge, while you’re holding yourself up trying to look at Minji. 

“Wh-what?” Though you have some vague idea of what's happening, you can't stop your flabbergastation.

“See, look! This is actually another position I saw! Seriously.” Upon a more serious inspection of your compromising position, Minji giggles.

Her feet are at her sides while her arms are behind her, pushing her breasts out. Her crotch is held just so your tip is kissed by her labia. It's almost her usual cowgirl ride if you weren't struggling with your head and shoulders floor-bound.

“Doesn’t this feel good?" Minji asks. "All the blood rushing to your head?”

The strain on your neck and your back is nothing compared to the spinning heights of pleasure, but you don't answer her, catching a breath.

“Please tell me you’re okay.” Minji sounds worried for a second. 

“I am. I’m more than okay, Mommy. This feels really good.”

“Really?”

“Mmm, mhm.” Admittedly, you sound as okay as you feel. Whatever. Flip it 180 degrees and you're looking at an average day of gaming anyway.

"Okay." Minji nods, directed more to herself in reassurance than to you. "Okay. Okay, okay, ohh, kay, ohh, kht, ohh, fuck."

And she's back to her bouncing, whatever irreverent rhythm that may hold.

You're looking at the ceiling, dark and bright or the lights are funny or the two lights-receivers in your head are funnier, and even funnier still is that you've been fucking Minji since the sundown or maybe the sun's coming up or that's the comedy playing with you again but in any of those cases the creamy and velvety sensations of her folds clinging on your cock are magnified tenfold to fold you into folding.

You're not okay, or at least at one hundred percent, and that's the best part.

"Are you gonna be a good boy and give me your thick load? Yeah? Are you gonna make a mess inside Mommy's pussy?" Minji’s voice is a soft rasp through the heavy moans.

Somehow, despite the lightheadedness, a flash of inspiration hits you. “Of course, I would never waste my cum on anything except for Mommy. I'm all yours because you're so gorgeous and sweet and wild and adorable. You deserve the stars, this world and the world's over. I love you, Mommy. Use me.”

At your genuine tone, she clenches harder—too easy. “Mmm fuck, good boy. H-how are you so good too? I'm gonna have to fuck the goodness out of you!”

Minji's eyes roll back; she doesn't even know what she's saying, but she's saying it with such cute, gleeful confidence. 

You guess that being dicked down (up?) silly will do that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck everything out of me, Mommy.” To ram your dick up into Minji, you have to lock your waist, getting no actual leverage from the floor. Therefore, your request is more of an inevitability. Everything will be fucked out of you. Every drop of semen from your balls—that much is obvious—but so too does your mind fly away on command.

“Everything. Everything. Ggh, god, yes. You, you know, that cum would spray my whole body if it weren’t inside me. It’d make Mommy all sticky and messy. Not this time. All the way down your cock, all, all the way until all your seed’s drained. Nowhere, ffh, there’s nowhere for your cum to go but my womb.”

The motion of Minji’s waist is a dance you can’t keep up with, and the position makes your muscles burn, nearly cramp. Her bouncing is getting shallower yet deeper simultaneously: her pussy lips refuse to lift further than an inch off the root of your length, giving you fast yet steadfast grinding.

“You’re so deep in me,” Minji says, the pained expression on her face concerning you—but there’s nothing you can do to stop her, “fucking hitting me because your cock is so perfect for Mommy’s hole, fuck, fuck. Your tip’s kissing my cervix, fh, ahh, ow. That’s where it belongs though. Snug against me, getting your good boy cum all for me, all for me, it’s all mine, all mine.”

Hot, wet, soft, all-engulfing, ever-milking. With all those pleasurable sensations, you realize the blindfold and restraints were optional, more for Minji’s enjoyment than yours, because you’re trapped in her cunt regardless of the makeshift implements. Like the sparks in a dark and massive cloud ready to jump out, you feel a deep tingle in your balls.

“Drain your cum into Mommy’s ovaries, plant your seed, flood me until I’m fucking coated. Don’t, kh, hold, kh, back.”

Given her appetite—see her eyes, never losing their singular focus on you—you’re not surprised that she can maintain her lewd language for this long. Meanwhile, you can only grunt out primal noises, though they sound weakened, more akin to near-defeated prey.

“Cum for Mommy, cum hard for Mommy, give me everything. I love you so much.”

And thus, defeat. You’ve never been dizzier. Your whole body is throbbing and your head is throbbing and your head is throbbing too, and that throbbing becomes a full-bodied high in which your blood doesn’t know where to go, but your cum only has one place to be and it needs to get there fast because your balls are too full. The eruption is geologic, incomparable even though you have countless other Minji-induced—Minji-impelled—orgasms to compare.

Since she’s milking➠

every⥬

drop⹃

out┈

till it⤐

shuts╍

lights⤎

It’s supposed to be this one— 

You’re coming back.

You’re back.

Almost.

She’s still going—still—

Not still. Not still. Not—Up, down.

Ah. There it is.

What happened?

Your mind is catching up with the present where you understand more and more that the abrupt severance of your thoughts is caused by Minji slamming into your spent cock somehow still erect, still spurting into her womb. That must surely ache for her as it does for you if her claims about her physiology are anything to be—ah, who the fuck cares; her pussy is home for your pulsating shaft no matter how she moves it.

You’re left as a slumped husk of a man, feebly moaning. Your jelly legs sag to join what remains of you on the floor, and your breathing is fitful.

“Nhh, baaaby.” Minji plays with her clit in paradise while the other hand rubs her sweaty tummy in adoration of the load. Her labia is all creamy, but she does not let an ounce escape her. “Thick and warm and sloshing in my womb.”

After Minji deems herself satisfied, she crawls down next to you on the floor and cuddles. 

“Uh. Noona.”

Her head fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, her lips greedy for touch. “Hm?”

“So. Uh. The bed? Instead?” Each breath of yours is a labored ordeal. Lights flicker.

“Oh.”

Whether or not you got to the bed without passing out remains a question unanswered.

Then again, a pillow, no matter its specialness, isn’t exactly a breathing thing.

You’re more…

So indeed, the lights go out.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

No, it’s not directly related to The Curse of the Spider. I just wanted to write for Minji in the same vein (but not fucked up), especially with that Something performance. And look how timely this is! Right in time for her birthday.

[brother-genitivi]

The Bad Batch + Sleeping

headcanons under the cut because this got long

warnings: mention of nightmares, anxiety stuff etc

Tech:

-I just know this man runs on like 3 hours of sleep daily, 5 if he's lucky, and that's not even including nap time during the day, but I also know he's not stupid enough to fly the Marauder whilst tired

-sleeps on his right side with a pillow designed specifically for neck support

-sometimes Tech falls asleep without taking his goggles off, leaving circular imprints on his face

-has a heated blanket for cold nights

-sleeps with socks on

-constantly tossing and turning, Tech gets restless when he's not doing something with his hands

-his brain runs at a hundred miles an hour so he finds it hard to actually get to asleep

-Tech gets nightmares often, wakes himself with his own heavy breathing but finds it easy to fall back asleep after calming himself with relaxation techniques

-usually awake before everyone else

-not a fan of cuddles, but when Omega can't sleep he lists as many random facts as he can or tells her stories about the batch before she joined them, stroking her curls until she gets drowsy and eventually falling asleep himself in a chair by her bed

Hunter:

-probably the one with the most normal sleeping pattern, getting a good 7-9 hours

-sleeps on his sides and back on two pillows fitted with silk cases to protect his curls

-Hunter has a weighted blanket to help with sensory overload, and a sheet that doesn't make his skin crawl

-enjoys sleeping the most in space, finding comfort in the silence outside

-on particularly bad nights, he wears sound blockers to drown out background noise

-a light sleeper, wakes up not too long after Tech

-bed. hair.

-lucky in that he rarely gets nightmares, but the ones he do get leave him anxious and stiff as a board

-snuggles with Omega practically every night unless she's with one of her brothers, using his arm or shoulder as a headrest. gives her a goodnight kiss on the forehead every single night.

Echo:

-probably gets about 4-10 hours a day, his sleep is wildly inconsistent and dependent on whether he has a nightmare or not

-Echo sleeps on his front with his cybernetic arm resting under his pillow

-very occasionally snores but vehemently denies it

-has two comfort pillows, one resting between his knees, the other hugged to his chest

-always sleeps with some kind of light on as the dark makes Echo feel uneasy

-absolutely abhors the cold after his time in a stasis chamber so his bed is full of blankets

-also sleeps with socks on

-a heavy sleeper, which makes it harder for him to wake from frequent nightmares

-Echo mumbles in his sleep and tenses, clutching onto the pillow pressed to his chest and relaxing as it finally passes

-he can always tell when Omega is up, like a brotherly sixth sense. he tucks her back into bed and sings quietly to her until she falls asleep.

Wrecker:

-gets about 10-12 hours, maybe even too much sleep?

-sleeps on his back and SNORES, will have pillows thrown at him by Crosshair when he’s had enough

-Wrecker sleeps surrounded by large plush toys and pillows of different sizes

-doesn’t have too many blankets as he gets hot easily, but his favourite one is pink with a bunny hand stitched into the corner

-has a small pouch of dried flowers under his main pillow as he finds the scent comforting

-a very heavy sleeper; an earthquake could happen and Wrecker would sleep through it

-has nightmares, but tends to forget them as soon as he wakes up

-he still can’t shake the sense of dread until he gets food into his system

-always down for Omega cuddles, he worries about squishing her so she lies on top of him with Lula clutched to her chest, usually wakes up with her snuggled under his chin

Crosshair:

-gets a consistent amount, 8 hours daily but boy does he feel it when the pattern is broken

-usually sleeps on his side curled into a fetal position, lucky enough not to get limb aches the next morning

-has a memory foam pillow, silk pillowcase (I know that man cares for his curls), large blanket and fairy lights hung up by Omega

-absolutely REFUSES to sleep with socks on, will call Tech and Echo defective for wanting to sleep like that

-hated the fairy lights at first, (”They’re too flashy.”) but can’t sleep without them on anymore

-gets nightmares often. the really bad ones have him waking with tears in his eyes. he rubs them away angrily before starting the day as if nothing happened.

-no, absolutely not, he will not cuddle- and before he knows it, Omega’s asleep on his shoulder and he’s got a blanket wrapped around her, a protective hand cradling her head

Omega:

-sleeps kind of inconsistently. Hunter wants to let her lie in because sleep is important, Echo argues that too much could be detrimental. Tech explains the intricacies of sleep patterns and the sleep-wake cycle. Wrecker sides with Hunter and Crosshair sides with Echo. their arguing wakes her up

-Omega sleeps on her sides with Lula cradled under her arm

-she absolutely put glow in the dark stars and planets on her wall

-also has a silk pillowcase (courtesy of Hunter)

-most of the blankets Echo steals borrows belonged to her, but she doesn't mind. he needs them more

-will not sleep with socks on. Crosshair's influence, most likely

-wakes up crying from nightmares. tries to stifle her sobs, and clings onto the nearest brother that comes to comfort her.

-Tech makes her feel happiest after a nightmare. Omega loves hearing his stories about the batch, and she remembers every single fact he tells her

-Hunter makes her feel loved. there's something so simple about a goodnight kiss and a fatherly cuddle that wards the nightmares away

-Echo makes her feel content. Omega is happy to lie there and listen to him sing, knowing she is an endeared sister

-Wrecker makes her feel safe. she knows that no harm will ever come to her when she's with him. he's Omega's loyal protector, and a very good pillow

-Crosshair makes her feel complete. he's the final jigsaw to an unfinished puzzle. now he's back, and the pieces fit together as they always should have

[shoutogepi]

A Million Times Over, part 2

┌────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Todoroki Shouto x American!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 6.4k 

[ ☀︎, ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] (series warnings)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : NSFW references (no explicit smut this chapter)

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : You lose all memories from the past five years of your life due to an accident-induced coma, including any recollection of your beloved boyfriend and fellow pro-hero, Shouto. He’s devastated that you don’t remember him, but the both of you are determined to get your memories back, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, you attempt to rebuild your relationship with him… while also nurturing the spark that’s still very much lit between you two.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Yaaaaaa babie so part 2 is finally finished! I’m wicked excited to finish the series next chapter and ughhh the smut is gonna be so good omg. Just wait. 

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : shout out to @shotoh for beta-reading this for me, what a saint <3 

└────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┘

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄸t was warm.

There was something heavy on your middle, but it didn’t feel like a nuisance— it was a welcome weight, one that somehow made comfort seep from your chest and fill the rest of your body with a quiet sense of peace. You hummed as sleep’s grasp on you lightened, the cogs in your mind beginning to turn. The hospital bed had never been this comfortable before, and the acrid smell of antiseptic and bustle of the doctors outside your door was peculiarly absent. Instead, a pleasant scent of laundry and cologne lingered on your pillowcase, making the corners of your mouth pull up in a droopy smile.

Your eyes opened as you recalled where you were, and whose arms you were lying in— whose gentle breaths blew at your hair and tickled the shell of your ear. Letting out a slow exhale, you blinked the sleep from your eyes, legs attempting to move, only to find them tangled with the muscled calves of your bedmate who, you prayed to whatever divine presence that was out there, was still asleep.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

However, when you tried to move away, a low groan sounded in your ear, scattering the stray hairs that laid out of place there. Like a sleeping bear, the arm around your waist curled around you tighter, pressing your entire body directly against the hard contour of his. You swallowed, blinking owlishly as you tried not to think about the sizeable semi-hardness poking into your backside, nor the rough fingertips that splayed out on the smooth expanse of your stomach at the bottom of your shirt, the very pinky dipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties, palm warming your skin just enough to make your heart awaken for the day.

Your breath was caught in your throat, and you didn’t dare move another inch. Even if you didn’t have your memories of the man you shared your life with for the past few years, the moments the two of you had shared throughout the past week were enough to have butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach. The feeling of simply being in his arms, tucked under the sheets and cocooned in his warmth and his scent, it all had your body feeling like it was at peace.

At home.

Shouto’s hand was lying open beside your face, his arm tucked underneath your neck as he must’ve fallen asleep spooning you, and not since shifted away throughout the night. His fingers twitched in his sleep just slightly, and you took the moment to admire the long, slender digits. For a man of his size and stature, they were surprisingly thin, almost as if in another life he could have tickled piano keys for a living. But they were also marred with scars and calluses from his herowork— none open nor recent, seeing as he had taken the last month off to watch over you. Reaching for his hand, you traced the lines on his palm, trailing your fingertips over his skin and finding yourself lost in thought. You wondered if this was how you usually slept, if this was what you woke up to every day…

If that was your reality, you would happily accept it.

Being in Shouto’s arms made you feel safe, protected from the troubles of life. You already harbored silly feelings for him before you had even met him, and now that you had, those feelings had only been amplified, each day spent with him a catalyst to the reaction he triggered in your heart.

You bit your lip, twisting your spine so you could look at him. Holding your breath as you finally laid eyes on him, you took your time to admire him in all his slumbered glory. Your eyes loitered on his high cheekbones, the sharp angle of his jawline, and then the placid expression he donned while he slept, not plagued with the usual lacing of concern that he wore throughout the day. He was so… handsome. In all his hardened, heroic glory, he still managed to look like a prince straight out of every little girl’s storybook. And he certainly had the body to go with it as well— the fruits of his training on full display for you as you marveled at his naked chest.

Your heart leapt into your throat when he stirred, his arm around your waist coming to rub at his tired eyes. Watching his grey eye open slightly, your breath caught at the crooked grin that blossomed on his lips when he locked eyes with you.

“Mmm morning princess,” he rumbled, hand landing on your stomach to push your body backwards into his. He didn’t mind the little squeak of surprise you let out, nuzzling his face into your neck and slinging his leg across your hips once he flattened them onto the mattress. Your face felt like it was on fire, his morning… problem pressed firmly against your back now as he moaned in content, scattering lazy kisses across your throat.

You gasped when his hand on your stomach suddenly jumped up to grope your breast over your shirt, his fingers kneading tenderly as tingles fired across your nerves. It felt good to be receiving his unbridled affection— too good, really, as he started to suck at your neck. Your body cried out for his touch but you had barely even kissed last night— this was too much, too fast.

“Sh-Shouto!”

He paused, head rearing back as he detected the urgency in your voice, sleepy eyes locking with yours with his brows furrowed underneath his frazzled bed-head. It took him a moment before his eyes widened and horror replaced the slumber that had impeded his judgement before, his body jumping to the other side of the bed instantly as his cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I— I’m so sorry, Y/n, fuck— I didn’t…” he stammered, embarrassment evident as the pink turned to red, little flames sprouting on the left side of his head while his eyes flew about, unable to meet your gaze.

You instantly felt guilty, his demeanor apologetic. It was clear that he was frustrated with himself. “It’s okay, I’m not mad, I was just… it was just, um, unexpected?” you tried to laugh but it came out sounding more like a choke.

“Damn it…” Shouto mumbled, his hands coming to drag across his face morosely. The flames that licked at his side sizzled out, indicating that he was no longer so much shocked as he was contrite. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, muffled by his hands that still occupied his face. “It was just… I forgot for a second and... I didn’t mean to— to, well, come onto you. God, I’m sorry.”

You watched him for a second, your heart suddenly heavy with the sadness that leaked from his choice of words. For the first time in a long time, he had woken up with you in his arms, and he had forgotten about the absolute shitstorm of the month he’d had. That was probably how he acted when he woke up normally, as your sweet and loving boyfriend— showering you in affection was his first instinct of the day, and there was nothing wrong with that.

“It’s really okay, Sho. I was just surprised,” you peeped, trying to relieve him of some of the stress that he was so apparently harboring. “It’s not like I hated it…”

Shouto processed your words for a moment before one hand rose from his face, his brow contorted into a mix between accusatory and suggestive. There was a hint of a smile threatening to bloom on his lips, but he remained silent as he stared at you.

“I just meant that— well… we could lay here for a bit before we get up for the day. If… If that’s our usual routine or, if you would be interested in that!” You could feel your face getting hot now, the embarrassment transferring from him to you.

But Shouto chose not to tease you, instead scooting back over to you in the middle of the bed. “You always did like your morning cuddles,” he said, mouth turning at the corners into a smirk.

“Whatever, just— just keep your third leg to yourself, okay? Arms only!” You shared a quick look with him, the both of you shocked that you had really just said that.

But Shouto followed your request, flipping so he laid on his belly before his arm hooked out to bring you into his side, nose pressing up against your ear as you were on your back. The butterflies were back and busy again in your stomach— his touch just did something to you, it was both exhilarating and infuriating when he had hardly done anything. 

“Never heard that one before,” he murmured lowly, snark lurking in his voice. “You’re usually quite fond of my third leg, dear.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

The rest of the morning went more according to plan. After a considerable amount of time lying in the sheets with Shouto cuddling into your side, you finally parted ways and went about getting ready for the day. There was a sense of giddiness pumping through your veins as your boyfriend left you stationed in front of your closet, mumbling something about preparation before you headed out.

Mostly, you were looking forward to going on your date. But then, there was also the surprised excitement that came from the sight of your walk-in closet, complete with rows of neatly organized clothes and a built-in wall with shelves and drawers, even a glass display case full of glittering jewels and gems in designs all tailored to your taste. You took a moment to pat yourself on the back. Not only did you seem to have the man of your dreams, but you had also attained your dream closet? If this was truly a dream, you most definitely did not want to wake up.

It took you an absurdly long amount of time to piece together your outfit. It was partially because you stopped to ogle at pretty much every hanger you rifled through, and partially because you were completely unsure of what clothes Shouto particularly enjoyed seeing you in. There was a sneaking suspicion that his preference was for you to not be clothed at all… but it wasn’t like you could go out on your date in your birthday suit. And, that would mean exposing your bare body to him, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that just yet.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t insanely attracted to him— because you definitely were. Just, the situation you were in was a delicate one, and when you did decide to indulge in the physicalities of your relationship, it would be after you had no more questions to ask him. You just weren’t quite there yet.

So, you decided on a pair of dark jeans and a flowy blouse that showcased your shoulders, matching the color of your shoes, belt, and purse. After a quick makeup routine, you chose to spruce up the outfit with a little jewelry, seeing as you had quite an ample selection to choose from. A shiny pair of hoops for your ears came easily enough, but you struggled to find a necklace which would pull everything together. Your eyes wandered over the chains of gold and silver, some shining with bright gems and some intricate enough with just the curve of the metal. It was then that you noticed a simple but very elegant necklace, its blue-topaz pendant catching your gaze. As you inspected the glittering stone, a warm feeling pooled in your chest, and you found your fingers reaching for the jewelry without thought. There was something special about this necklace, but what, exactly, you couldn’t identify.

It was incredibly frustrating. This was the closest you had come to remembering anything since you had woken up a week ago… and while it was certainly progress, it was infuriating to have the recollection dangling just barely out of your reach. You stared at the brilliant cyan gem for another moment before deciding that you weren’t going to remember based on willpower alone, securing the clasp around your neck. If that were the case, then you would have your memory back already, you were sure. You left the room with your shoes in hand, sock-clad feet padding quietly against the shiny hardwood floors while a sour taste dwelled on the back of your tongue.

Yet somehow, the second your eyes met Shouto’s, the feeling of self-loathing was instantly quelled, replaced with a pleasant wave of some feeling you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes had locked onto the stone around your neck right as you walked into the kitchen, and immediately a smile graced his lips as he found your gaze.

You couldn’t help but return one, your eyes flickering to the floor before returning to him, overwhelmed with the tingles that zipped through you. He hadn’t really given you the chance to take in the outfit he had chosen before he left you to dress, and you found yourself appreciating the soft, cream sweater that fell just over his denim-clad hips.

“Wow, you look…” his eyes trailed down your form and then back up, his smile just as full. He let out a soft laugh, head tilting back before his attention returned to you, as if he didn’t quite believe the sight in front of him. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You already knew you looked good, but still, hearing the compliment roll off his tongue made your stomach leap up beside your heart. “Thank you, Sho. You look beautiful, too,” you teased, trying to downplay the effect his words had on you.

Even though his cheeks dusted with a light pink, his expression remained unchanged, gaze dropping to the pendant resting in the middle of your chest again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue.

Just as you were about to tell him about the feeling you’d gotten earlier, he turned and grabbed some things from the counter behind him, whisking them into his arms. There was a curious look you shot him as you examined the numerous hats he offered to you, one of your brows rising at the variety.

Shouto didn’t give you the chance to ask, launching into explanation without your prompt. “You and I are technically celebrities. So it’s best if we conceal our faces while we’re out in public.” His gaze dropped to the brim of the gray suede boater in his hand, his thumb trailing across the soft material. “I don’t want you ambushed today. The public has missed you while you’ve been out of commission, so if we’re spotted, I’ll have to share you… and I don’t think either of us is ready for that quite yet.”

You nodded, ignoring the giddiness that bloomed in the depths of your stomach at his choice of words. Reaching for a floppy hat, your fingers brushed over his sweater as you grabbed your choice of camouflage. The fit was snug around your head, the silky ribbon tied around the crown the perfect match to your shoes. Shouto put on his hat as well, making sure to tuck the white half of his hair up and out of sight, giving him a faux monochromatic appearance. He wordlessly handed you a pair of large sunglasses, which you slid onto your face without protest. He mirrored your action, choosing a dark pair of aviators that helped disguise his famous scar.

“How do I look?” You asked, doing a little spin for full emphasis. The movement put a little smile on Shouto’s face, his eyes roaming your figure leisurely before he offered a thumbs up.

“Enchanting as always, love,” he replied stoically, the suavity and candor of his response aiding to the warm, swirling feeling in your stomach. But his expression morphed into a playful smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What about me?”

A laugh trickled out of you as he copied your twirl, his execution somehow more graceful than yours. His pink lips curled into a genuine smile at your giggle, ending his mock demonstration in a curtsey. This only caused you to swat at him in exaggeration, taking the first steps towards the door.

“Equally enchanting,” you replied, not a hint of a lie in your voice. Your conviction made Shouto stutter, his grin melting to a flustered purse of the lip. It was then that you took his hand decisively, chuckling as you placed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Ready to go.”

It took him a moment to buffer, but he quickly recovered, a warm flush coloring his cheeks as his fingers squeezed yours. The digits of his other hand curled around the small of your waist, guiding you through the door.

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Your eyes widened as Shouto pulled the sleek car into the parking space, your surroundings somewhat familiar. When you had asked where he was taking you, he hadn’t revealed any clues, preferring to give a vague “someplace you’ll enjoy” before effectively killing the conversation. You probably should’ve expected it, but surprise overtook you as you turned the sidewalk corner and there stood the cat cafe the pair of you had passed on your way back from the hospital just yesterday.

When you turned to look at Shouto, his eyes were already inspecting your reaction, the excitement written obviously all over your face. He regarded you with a quiet, knowing smile as he opened the door for you, the bell tinkling overhead and the quiet mewls of kittens further inside distinctly ringing in your ears. Right as you stepped inside, a fluffy, smoosh-face cat curled around your ankles, brushing and sniffing at you in greeting. Shouto made a joke about the fluffy beast being the cutest host he’d ever seen, his smile only growing when you laughed in return.

Once you were seated, tucked in a comfy pair of chairs in the corner of the cafe, a waitress came over to take your orders. What took you by surprise was that Shouto ordered for you— the exact confection and drink you were eyeing when you peeked at the menu. He shot you a little smirk at the cuteness of your impressed expression, asking if you’d like to add anything and turning the staff person's attention to you. At your denial, they excused themself, leaving you alone with Shouto once more.

There was a palpable tension in the air between the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, the other cafe goers could practically see the sparks flying between you.

“So… do we come here a lot?” you inquired, taking a tentative sip of your ice water and training your eyes on the top button of his shirt. It was just too intense to stare him straight in the eye sometimes…

Shouto took a moment to reply, looking through his red and white bangs at you fondly, leaning back in his chair before shaking his head. “Truthfully, we’ve never been here before.” He gauged the surprise in your eyes, a little knowing smile resting on his plump lip before he continued. “You always wanted to try this place but we hadn’t gotten around to it… you even picked out the food you wanted in case we came. I hope your tastes remain unchanged? If I ordered something you don’t want, I’ll call the waiter over.”

It was then your turn to shake your head, a quick and decisive answer. “No, you got it right,” you reassured, hands wringing slowly underneath the table in your lap. “The only other thing I wanted to try was the drink you ordered, so it’s fine!”

“Have as much as you like,” he suavely suggested, his tone sounding more like a demand than an offer. Just as he focused his eyes on yours, he was interrupted by a fuzzy orange kitten jumping into his lap, settling into a tiny loaf across his thighs and staring up at him expectantly.

You and Shouto both buffered for a moment before you let out a laugh at the sight of such a tiny creature in your broad boyfriend’s embrace. Shouto began to chuckle too, giving the creature a little scratch under the chin. The kitten meowed happily in agreement, placing its head onto its paws and settling in for a nap. You let the comfortable silence last for a minute before you meandered back into conversation.

“So um, earlier, when we were getting ready to go out…,” your fingers absentmindedly wandered to the pendant resting in the middle of your collar bones. “I saw this necklace in my closet and I felt like it was… important? And then I thought I caught you looking at it earlier too maybe? Do you know if it has any significant meaning or anything?”

Shouto’s gaze remained on the cat in his lap for another moment before it flicked over to you, and once again, you were stunned by the amount of emotion in his mismatched eyes. “I gave it to you,” he answered, his free hand fiddling with the sunglasses that now hung in the middle of his shirt collar. “It was for our first anniversary.”

You didn't really know what to make of that, the newfound knowledge resonating through you as you tried to remember anything about that day at all.

“I chose that color because you said you loved it… the color of my eyes. Or— eye— I suppose,” he gestured to the piercing cerulean orb that rested on his hot side, standing out even more against the muddled skin of his scar.

Your head nodded as you processed his answer, your finger nudging at the handle of your cutlery absentmindedly. “You do have nice eyes,” you mumbled, your veins pumping with a warmth you'd come to recognize as his natural effect on you.

Shouto smiled at that, his gaze focused on the pendant gleaming in the sun’s gentle caress. You could feel the intensity of his eyes there in the center of your chest, the modest amount of exposed cleavage feeling hot under his inspection.

At his silence, you continued on, your flusteredness forcing your mouth to move without much reason. “And— you have great taste in jewelry too, I mean, this is really beautiful.”

“It suits you,” he replied instantly, as if such words required no thought whatsoever.

That just made your cheeks feel even hotter, and a surprised chuckle sounded past your lips, his compliment egging on the butterfly swarm in your belly. “Thank you… I’m glad you have enough rationale to avoid a cheesy heart with your name on it or something.”

Shouto’s eyes fleed yours at that, taking a tentative sip of his water. You watched his pink lips curl into a subtle, knowing smirk. He yelped when you kicked his ankle underneath the table, gaze returning to you. He regarded your inquisitorial expression for a moment before he shrugged, his cheeks tinged with the lightest of pinks. “I have actually given you something like that before…”

You bit your lip, now wanting to kick yourself for making fun of the sweet yet idiotic, classic boyfriend gift. Heart jewelry, of course…

“And you really liked it… maybe almost as much as me,” he finished, and you watched as his blush deepened a few shades.

The waiter chose that moment to deliver your drinks, the conversation halting awkwardly before they took their leave once again.

“I really liked it?” You parroted, perplexed. There was no way you would find such a cheesy gift endearing enough to actually enjoy it.

Shouto adjusted himself in his chair, clearing his throat awkwardly. His eyes once again couldn’t meet yours, his fingertips tapping on the edge of the table. “Yeah it— it’s an anklet… it um, has my initials on the charm…” he mumbled, suddenly shy. “You seem to enjoy wearing it when we… when I— when I take you.”

“Oh.”

Your face felt on fire, neither of you brave enough to look each other in the eye following his confession. There wasn’t much you knew about your sex life with Shouto— though you assumed it to be very much alive, and healthily so— but just by the way he phrased that, your thighs were clenching together at the image your brain so kindly painted you.

Shouto was a big, strong man… one who was very proportional, as you recalled from the incident that occurred this morning. The thought of him taking you made your insides squirm with interest, fluttering at the premise of being stretched around him. You took another sip of your drink before the food thankfully arrived, allowing the pair of you to drop the conversation.

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

After you finished eating, Shouto took you to the trader’s market around the corner. There were people crowding the streets and trickling through the crosswalks, even though it was a late morning on a Friday and most of the population should’ve been busying away at their jobs. The bustle of the city should’ve been overwhelming for you— Shouto kept you close to his side at all times, his gaze scrutinizing any looks that lasted too long toward your direction.  And yet, you were having a blast, flittering about and exploring the vendors’ stands and the numerous trinket stalls that lined the busy square. His hand was always holding yours. Even when you got more invested in the items on display before you, his fingers would linger at your waist, making his relationship to you apparent to any bystanders.

Sunlight streamed down in between the tall buildings surrounding you, reflecting off the windows like mirrors and making you grateful for the shade of your hat. That made you extra thankful for the ghost of Shouto’s hand across your skin, welcoming the coolness exuding off of his right side. There was a light-hearted conversation between the pair of you, and many grannies waved you over to inspect their merchandise by calling out to the pair of lovebirds. The repeated label made Shouto puff up in pride, aiding him to stand tall and retain the advantage he had on you in terms of height.

Whenever your gaze lingered on something for a second too long, Shouto was instantly handing bills over to the merchants, insisting they take the change or at least tipping them appreciatively. By the time the two of you had visited every stall, numerous bags hung from his left arm, all precariously stacked so the fingers on his other hand could remain laced with yours.

He noticed your wary gaze on the bags, your expression giving your thoughts away immediately. “Don’t worry love,” he reassured, squeezing your fingers in his, “they’re no trouble at all.” At your attempt to grab a few and lessen the load, he pivoted and held them above your head. He frowned, keeping them out of reach as you continued your attempt, swatting at him gently.

“Just let me have one at least,” you pouted, your voice morphing into a little whine. That got him to grin, conceding and handing you the smallest, lightest bag of the bunch. He feigned ignorance when you shot him a playful glare in response, choosing now to steer you toward another topic instead.

“Would it ruin the date if we stopped by my office? I just need to drop off the folders I finished up last night, and the building is just a block over. It should only take a minute.”

You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders. “Sure,” you agreed, allowing his fingers to slip back into yours. Having your hand in his felt natural to you, the warmth of his skin welcomed. “I want to see your agency, anyway!”

It was a short walk to his workplace, as promised. The building was one of the tallest in the surrounding area, with sleek windows paneling all sides and reflecting the orange light of the barely-setting sun. The security guards didn’t bother the pair of you, Shouto acknowledging them with a nod as he slipped off his disguise. The elevator opened and Shouto flashed his badge at the sensor, then pushed the button for one of the floors higher up in the building.

In no time at all, the doors opened again and he led you past the couple secretaries that were perched behind their desks. You could feel their eyes glued to your back, and you were sure that the second you were safely located behind the glass doors to the hallway, they’d launch into discussion. The thought slipped your mind as you came round the corner, Shouto guiding you through the nearest door and ushering you into a large sitting room. Two doors were situated on either side of the room, long glass walls dividing the quarters. One door led to Shouto’s office, as designated by the nearby nameplate. The other you were about to read just as it opened, and a familiar, sharp-toothed redhead bounded toward the pair of you.

Immediately you grinned, ripping your hand from Shouto’s as you launched yourself at the famed Red Riot, one of Japan’s finest heroes lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace. Your laughs echoed around the room, Kirishima’s chuckles following as he spun you around. Shouto watched silently, a small frown adorning his lip while your gleeful laughs met his ears. He hadn’t heard such a sound in what seemed like forever, and even though he was not the cause of it, he couldn’t help but relish in it.

After a moment, Kirishima put you down and pulled Shouto in for a quick half-hug, patting him on the shoulder as his eyes then returned to you. “Well look who it is,” he grinned, his pointy teeth on display, hands landing on his narrow hips. “It’s so good to see you up and about, Y/n.”

“It’s good to see you too, Kiri,” you mirrored his expression, taking in his appearance.

Shouto watched your eyes rove over him, a sour taste developing at the back of his tongue. You had recognized Kirishima immediately— fondly, even— when it had taken hard work and ample time for you to warm up to him. It had taken a week for you to call him by his usual nickname, and yet, you called Kirishima by his own instantly. He could feel himself turning green at the realization, his frown remaining as his eyes sharpened in scrutiny.

“Wow,” you exclaimed after you had fully appraised the hero, even taking in the scarlet costume that had been updated since the last time you’d seen him. “You look great! Five years has really done you well, hmm? You’re totally ripped. Last time I saw you I swear you were shorter!”

Kirishima laughed and toed at the ground bashfully— never one to handle compliments very well. “Ah, thanks Y/n… gotta stay in shape when your costume has you shirtless all day, right?”

Shouto couldn’t help the envy that rose up inside of him as he watched you chatter eagerly with his coworker… even though he knew you had no control of what memories you lost, it still stung to watch you engage with and compliment another man. Especially when he hadn’t received such easy affection from you in much too long.

“You look much better, too,” Kirishima continued, glancing at Shouto as he picked up on the temperature drop in the room. Somehow you didn’t seem to notice the frost gathering on Shouto’s wrist as a result of his displeasure.  “Erm— last time I saw you was in the hospital when you were still in your coma. I was so relieved to hear you woke up! Then I figured it would be easier for you if you didn’t have any visitors, though… that’s what your f— um, Shouto said would be best, anyway.”  

At the mention of his name, you glanced at the half-and-half man beside you, shooting him a thankful smile that had his heart fluttering and his jealousy waning. He cleared his throat and nodded, casting a forced smile at the other hero. “Yes, well… I have to step into my office quickly, would you entertain her for a moment?”

Kirishima opened his mouth to reply, but Shouto was already halfway through the door, leaving the pair of you slightly stunned. You could see him through the glass wall, eyes following him and wondering why his curt attitude left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“So um…” The redhead turned to look at you, prompting you to do the same. “You really lost all your memories of him?”

The question hit you like he had dunked you in ice cold water, and you stiffened up immediately. Kirishima panicked then, eyes growing wide and covering his mouth.

“I can’t believe I just blurted that out— I just… You guys are so in love, I can’t imagine you two not together,” he explained earnestly, his brow furrowed. His honesty made your stomach burst with butterflies, the premise of being loved by Shouto and being able to love him made you feel flustered as hell.

“We are together,” you clarified, and Kirishima nodded. “Just not as together as before, I guess? It’s just… he makes me feel so many things and I barely know him. But he knows me? Like, intimately. It feels like he knows me more than I know myself sometimes. I dunno, it’s just… complicated, Kiri.”

He smiled in understanding, eyes sympathetic as you spilled your troubles to him. It was nice talking to someone who wasn’t Shouto— as much as you liked him, talking to him was difficult because he made you fumble with your words. You said things you didn’t mean to say when you were with him. Kirishima continued, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you guys are crazy in love. Like, you’re the couple I aspire to be in some day.”

You grabbed his hand and grinned at that, his sincerity making your heart melt. “Awe, Kiri… It’s good to see you haven’t changed from how I remember you. You’re still the sweetest.”

Kirishima laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just be yourself with him… I think it’ll put you both at ease. You’re really good for each other— he was devastated the whole time you were asleep.”

The admission made a lump appear in your throat, your eyes feeling glassy all the sudden.

“He hasn’t acted this frigid since his high school days… Long before he met you. I think you make him feel relaxed. I mean, that’s how he always looks when he’s with you, or thinking about you. I can tell when we’re on patrol and he’s daydreaming about you, ‘cus he’ll just walk right into a lamp pole.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image, cursing the timing when the door opened and Shouto stepped out, his eyes landing on you and then hardening as they moved to Kirishima. He stepped toward him, but you intercepted him and laced your arms around his middle instead, stopping him with your embrace.

Shouto faltered at the sudden display of affection, his cheeks growing hot as he locked gazes with Kirishima, his eyes then dropping to the top of your head as you hid your face in his chest. He was frozen mid-breath, completely still as you held him. His cool, clean scent swallowed you as you kept your head nuzzled into his front, his fingers limp as your hand found his.

With a small step back, you ceased your embrace, your fingers squeezing his tightly as your eyes captured his and you gave him a shy smile. His cheeks only darkened, the grimace that had occupied his face long gone and instead replaced with an awed blankness. His lips parted and moved pointlessly, as if he wanted to say something but no sound escaped him.

“It was nice catching up Kiri,” you said, eyes still locked with Shouto’s heterochromatic ones before you turned to the red hero, who was awkwardly looking to the side as he shuffled his weight between his feet.

Kirishima looked at you and laughed awkwardly once again. You began to exit with Shouto in tow behind you, the hero’s crimson gaze following the pair of you. “Ah, yeah, you too! Let’s meet up soon!”

Then the glass door closed, and you were once again in the vicinity of the secretaries' blatant gawking. You pointedly ignored them as you strode toward the elevator, with their soundlessly boss still trailing behind you. As you waited for the elevator to ascend to your floor, you caught Shouto looking at you funny in your peripheral vision. Yet when you turned to look at him, he only reached out and pulled you into his chest.

Caught by surprise, a meek noise slipped out of you before you collided with his pecs once again, his arms wrapping around you to secure you in place. He nuzzled into your hair and inhaled deeply, uncaring of the secretaries' stares.

Only when the elevator arrived did he pull away, to guide you inside and away from the prying eyes. When the doors were closed, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the crest of your cheek, a wisp of his peppermint-laced breath cooling your skin just as heat rushed there from his lips.

“Let’s go home, love,” Shouto murmured against your skin, knuckles nudging yours before your fingers curled around his. You nodded, holding his arm with your free hand and coming to stand by his side as the elevator rushed toward the ground. A peaceful moment of silence fell upon you and Shouto, giving you time for contemplation.

Any sane woman would've taken one look at Kirishima and felt at least a pinch of interest twirl inside her stomach. He was caring and handsome as they come, and yet he did absolutely nothing for you. Somehow when you were confronted with his chiseled abs and warm gaze, you felt less than when Shouto even glanced at you. You concluded that your body was definitely in love with him… and your heart longed to be the same. But part of you still had questions that needed to be resolved before you could really give yourself to him… and little did he know, you would find the answers to said questions so soon.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

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ahh i love this sho so much, he’s trying so hard... poor babie 🥺 next part i will be much kinder to him <3 if you enjoyed please be sure to reblog and or leave me a comment •ᴥ• 

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[silversatoru]

Hello! I saw that you’re taking requests. I hope this is the right place to request, I’m new to tumblr haha.

Could I request, Megumi x F!reader, heavy angst breakup sex? The rest of the details are completely up to you if that’s okay!

I loved the gojo one btw!

yes yes here u go!! i hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for!

burdens

fushuguro megumi x nonsorcerer f!reader

synopsis: you and megumi have been dating for a few months now, and he decides it’s time to call it quits. he’d rather break your heart than have to watch you die, but not before he gets to feel you one last time

tags/warnings: smut, angst, break-up sex, nsfw (18+), takes place in the jjk universe but reader is not a sorcerer

word count: 2484

a/n: writing angsty megumi breaks my heart every single time. i jus want to give him a hug

Megumi watched anxiously across the room as a couple nurses finished applying bandages to your arm, your eyebrows knitted together in pain as they brushed over the large gashes. He noticed the small twitches in your other hand —probably caused by a mixture of pain and anxiety. You were stupidly strong, probably one of the tenacious people he’d ever met, but he could tell that this was getting to you. All of the curses you couldn’t see, the jujutsu techniques that you didn’t understand, it was all becoming overwhelming — dangerous even.

The two of you had been on a date a few hours ago, a sushi dinner and then a walk in the park — something simple — because even the simplest things felt wonderful when he was with you. And that’s exactly how things felt today, wonderful, or at least they did before the two of you ran into a hideous curse. 

He should have noticed it, picked up on it’s cursed energy, anything — but he was so terribly distracted when he was around you. So when it caught both of you off guard and wrapped it’s grotesque fingers around your fragile body, he felt nothing but guilt. Nothing but shame and disappointment in himself that he had failed to protect you yet again. Exorcising it was easy of course, but the damage had already been done — your beautiful arm had been torn to shreds by the monster. Now the two of you were sitting in a pale, white hospital room telling lies about how you were attacked by a stray dog. 

Thankfully, other than the lacerations down your arm you were okay, your blood loss wasn’t too severe and the two of you had gotten here before any kind of infection could crawl it’s way into your skin. 

The car ride back to your small Tokyo apartment was dreadfully quiet. You’d made several attempts at conversation but Megumi continued to shut them down, a dark shadow of expressions cast over his face. You told him several times that this wasn’t his fault, that you understood the risks of dating him, but he just kept brushing you off. He’d told you several times to “shut up” or “be quiet”, and your heart ached at his bitter words — he’d never talked to you that way before tonight. 

When the two of you walked into your apartment, he was quick to slam the door shut and wrap a firm arm around your waist. He moved with a sense of urgency, forcing you back against the wall and letting hot, heavy breaths fall against your neck.

“Megumi-,” You pressed a hand to his chest, attempting to put some distance between the two of you but failing miserably — he was much too strong. 

You wished you could take a peek into his head, unravel his thoughts and figure out what the hell he was thinking. He was acting incredibly out of character since the two of you had left the hospital, and your chest was starting to throb with anxiety. 

He pressed a wet, messy kiss to your lips, making your heart leap into your throat and your stomach churn. You graciously accepted the kiss, of course, his lips against yours was the most blissful feeling in the world. However, as his tongue moved roughly around your mouth and his teeth bit down fiercely on your bottom lip, uncertainty crawled up your skin. Megumi was always so gentle with you, only ever touching you in the most gingerly ways, treating your body like a piece of the most priceless glass. So, why now was he gripping your skin so tightly you thought it might bruise? Why were his kisses sure to leave your lips swollen and sore? 

“Please, honey, let me have you,” He suddenly spoke, stirring you out of your thoughts. 

Honey, it was his favorite name for you, in fact he rarely called you by your actual name. Normally, that name sent butterflies swirling through your stomach, but this time was different. He said the word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth, as if he regretted having to call you that. 

“W-what?” You looked up at him with big eyes, big eyes that he refused to look into.

“Give me permission to touch you, please,” His voice was filled with so many emotions all at once — anger, despair, regret, need, hunger — there was probably more but he was impossibly hard to read right now. 

“Why are you acting like this?” You tried to plead with him, reaching up and cupping a hand around his soft cheek. 

“God, just say yes. Please just say yes and then stop talking,” His voice was almost a growl as this point, so uncharacteristically resentful. 

“I mean- yes? Of course? You’re always allowed to touch me. But why-” You spoke in confused, frantic breaths. 

“Thank you,” He immediately cut you off after gaining consent, wrapping a stiff hand around your wrist and practically dragging you back to your bedroom. 

He pushed you towards your large, queen-sized bed and then slipped his hands underneath his shirt and yanked it over his head in one long, swift motion. 

“Take your clothes off,” He demanded, undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants and letting them fall into a heap at his ankles. 

You wordlessly obliged, attempting to convince yourself that he needed this. He needed this and after you gave it to him, things would go back to normal — he’d just had a rough day, that’s all. 

It took him mere moments to aggressively pin you underneath him, though he was tediously avoiding your injured arm. He pressed a series of sloppy, wet kisses to your collarbone, slowly moving up to your neck and leaving painful imperfections all over your skin. You winced as he began to suck on a particularly sensitive spot, nibbling hard enough to make your skin sting and burn under his tongue. He continued to trail hungry, relentless kisses down the entirety of your body, covering every inch of your skin in aching love marks. You felt like you were on fire, the subtle pain and immense pleasure beginning to cloud your head — you were even starting to forget how tense things had been between the two of you just moments ago. 

Megumi sat up and stared down at you as he fumbled with his boxers, sliding them off and throwing them to the floor. He needed this more than he’d ever needed anything in his entire life — he needed to feel you one last time and then he needed to break your heart. 

He reached down and ran a single, slender finger along the folds of your entrance, a fire igniting in his eyes when he felt how slick you already were. 

“God, you’re too perfect,” He murmured, giving a harsh squeeze to the skin around either side of your hips, “Get on your hands and knees”.

His praise sent goosebumps up your arms and light blush across your cheeks, making things feel almost-normal. You flipped yourself over onto your knees, stretching your arms out against the bed and arching your back as hard as you could. 

With absolutely no warning, he thrusted forward with incredible force, sheathing himself deep inside you and causing a strangled scream to lurch from your lungs. His head dipped low as he let out a throaty groan, his long black hair hanging lazily over his face. Sharp breaths and pained whimpers rolled from your lips, your knuckles turning white from squeezing the bed sheets so hard. 

Megumi always started slow, he always whispered sweet praises into your ears, always asked if you felt okay — nothing between the two of you had ever been this rough and unforgiving. This time he set a steady pace right from the start, his hips rolling ruthlessly as he slammed himself into you. Your breaths were terribly uneven and completely muffled by the pillow your face was forced into. You gasped for air as he stroked with unbelievable force, catching the pillowcase in your teeth and biting down hard on the fabric. 

His pace slowed for a mere second, and you felt his fingers intertwine themselves in your soft locks of hair. You sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening into a fist and yanking your head backwards. Once his hand was secured around the roots of your hair, his strokes intensified again. 

The initial pain of taking his forceful cock had subsided and replaced itself with immense pleasure, but your scalp was ablaze with a horrible, piercing pain as he tugged at your hair. The overwhelming combination of complete agony and intoxicating bliss caused a few tears to form at the edges of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Your hips and ass began to ache, and you knew you’d be terribly sore tomorrow morning. The pain was starting to become more prominent and it was getting increasingly difficult to hold your back at such an uncomfortable arch. 

Megumi lifted his spare hand to his forehead, swiftly wiping the small beads of sweat that were forming above his eyebrows. He panted hard, moans and strings of curse words leaving his throat as he continued to rail you into oblivion. His throbbing member was starting to go numb from the devastating amount of stimulation, and he knew he’d need to finish soon. 

“Squeeze your legs,” His words were less of an instruction and more of a demand. 

You quickly complied, squeezing your legs closer together and feeling your walls constrict around his full length. The euphoric sensation was enough to send Megumi falling over the edge, his head flying backwards as he ripped his member free of your warm grasp. He wrapped his long fingers firmly around himself, jerking hard as he sprayed his emanation all over your beautifully arched back. Choked moans and aggressive cuss-words flew from his gritted teeth as his climax coursed through his body in waves. 

As the wonderful feelings finally started to wash away, he stared down at you with a horrible emptiness in his eyes — now came the hard part. 

He stood up and wordlessly walked into your bathroom, retrieving a towel to clean you up with. He wiped it lazily over your back and then tossed it into your hamper before beginning to collect his clothes that were strewn across the bedroom floor. 

“What about me?” You were sitting up now, your favorite blanket pulled up to your chin and clinging to your last shreds of hope.

You felt the need to hide your exposed body now that the two of your were done, his coldness heightening every insecurity you had.

“I have to go. Do it yourself,” He shot you a sideways glance, pulling his loose sweats around his waist. 

“What? Why do I feel like you’re not going to come back?” You could no longer fight the tears that had been lingering in your eyes for hours now. 

Everything was starting to make sense — you were slowly piecing everything together. His silence at the hospital, his refusal to speak to you in the car, his sudden hunger towards you, and now his unusual coldness as he practically told you to go fuck yourself. He was going to break up with you, wasn’t he? But why?

“Because I’m not. I think we should end things here”.

“So, that’s it? You just wanted to use me like a fuck-toy one last time, is that what this was?” You tried hard to keep your voice steady, but a few cracks forced their way out. 

“That’s really all you were good for anyway,” His words were like a knife to the heart, “You’re nothing but a burden outside of that”. 

A burden? That’s all you ever were to him? You refused to believe that, but his words were doing an excellent job at convincing you. After all, he was constantly protecting you from those terrifying monsters he called curses ��� maybe that really was a burden on him. You didn’t have any kind of other-worldly powers like Megumi did, so you truly were helpless whenever one of those things was around. Hell, until they were literally threatening your life, you couldn’t even see them. 

“You’re springing this on me out of nowhere, Megumi. You were completely normal just a few hours ago when we were eating at that sushi place! Is this because of that curse and my arm? Because if it is I’ll just work harder! You can teach me to use those cursed tools you told me about!” Tears were streaming down your face as you screamed helplessly at him.

“You’d still be too weak even if I did teach you to use a weapon or two. Things between us just aren’t going to work, okay? Don’t make me keep saying it,” He shook his head, slipping on his shoes and walking towards the bedroom door.

“I hate you, Fushiguro Megumi,” You spat out his full name, “You could at least be honest with me. You could tell me you’re afraid of losing me, that you don’t want me to get hurt — but this ‘you’re nothing but a burden’ garbage that you’re spewing is bullshit and you know it”. 

“Maybe. But if I told you those other things instead, you wouldn’t listen, would you? You’d just keep telling me that the risk of being with me is worth it,” He turned around and looked at you with heavy, pained eyes.

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”. 

He left after that, slamming the door behind him before you even had a chance to say anything. He couldn’t bear the idea of seeing you die — seeing a curse pop your head off or strangle your body into horrifying shapes. No matter how broken his heart felt leaving you behind, it was still better than being the reason you suffered a young, unfair death. 

It turned out that you were never the burden — the real burden was being born into the cursed life of a jujutsu sorcerer. A life of risk and regret, pain and suffering, watching people die young and in the most grotesque ways. Somewhere, in another universe, Megumi liked to think that he was born into a normal, mundane life where he was able to love you endlessly and give you everything you ever deserved. And god — in his eyes you deserved the entire fucking world. 

[jenn-i-guess]

Pictured Confessions//Kiribaku

Imagine Class 1-A bringing in old childhood photo albums and middle school yearbooks, all except for Kiri who was too embarrassed to bring anything like that.

That doesn’t stop Mina from bringing her own middle school yearbook, and guess what?

Besides finding a-kind of the same looking-picture of younger Mina, they find an INTERESTING picture of middle school Kirishima...

Black straightened hair, dark grey eyeshadow, and tons of (seemingly fake) piercings, jutting out of his lip and nose, even one on his eyebrow, with one shaved line at the crease.

But the cherry on top was the very obvious Hot Topic shirt with what seemed to be a cover of some heavy metal band.

Silence fills the room, heat radiating off of the very embarrassed Kirishima, pressing his face into his palms.

If he was a cartoon, steam would definitely be shooting from his ears.

“Dude...” Sero began.

“You were such an emo!” Kaminari finished with a snort, eyes watering.

Groaning into his hands once more, he began to wonder how he could possibly die at this moment.

Maybe if the floor could just swallow him whole, it would be doing him a big favor right about now.

“W-Well!” He started, reaching out and grabbing Mina’s yearbook.

“Two can play at that game! Did you know-“ Kiri paused, for dramatic affect, flipping many of the laminated pages before he found what he was looking for, “That Mina used to be in the drama club?!”

Mina shrieked as their friends began crowding around the book again, looking at a very embarrassing picture.

Hopefully much more embarrassing than his that it would be long forgotten.

It was a large picture, in which Mina was wearing a huge white wig and a judge’s dress while holding her arms up in the air.

The picture captured her face when she was pursing her lips, her eyes widening comically.

“No! Don’t look!” Mina screamed, jutting her arms out before grabbing the book, slamming it shut and holding it against her chest, a wild look on her face.

“Nice wig, Mina.” Kaminari wheezed, his face scrunching up like he just tasted a lemon, trying to hold back more laughter.

“Oh you’re one to talk. Where’s your yearbook?” She smirked, pleased with herself when Kaminari blanched and shut up quite completely.

Everyone began to gather around Kaminari, poking him to show his memorabilia.

Kirishima sighed, choosing this moment to step out.

Looking around the room, he noticed there was one less person than before.

A certain blonde, whom he had really hoped had not seen the embarrassing photo of him but it would’ve been hard not to, what with Mina holding it up for all the class to see.

He scanned the room and saw Bakugou walking back towards the elevator, jamming his finger on the button with so much more anger than necessary.

Curious, Kirishima walked fast over to him, ignoring the quick chattering of his friends.

Just as the elevator was about to close, Kirishima jutted his foot between the two sliding doors, stopping them momentarily.

“Hey! Wait up Bakubro!” He slid in, feeling the blonde’s crimson eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

“The hell are you doing, shitty-hair?” Bakugou sneered, watching as the redhead pressed the button to their floor, smiling when it made a soft chiming noise.

“Eh, I’m bored. I’m just gonna work out in my room and then probably hit the hay.” Kirishima shrugged.

Bakugou nodded, shoving his fists into his grey sweatpants pockets, leaning against the elevator wall.

The redhead stared a little more at his friend, lingering on his face.

He had never seen the blonde so...emotionless.

His pale face smooth and relaxed, no wrinkles or furrowed eyebrows from his usual spouts of anger.

In fact he looked...pretty. Not just his face, but the light blonde tufts of hair styled in spikes surrounding it.

Well...Kiri also thought he looked hot as well.

What?! You can’t really blame him!

Not when Bakugou wore those black tank tops, showing off hints of his pectorals, doing nothing to stop him from looking at the muscles bulging on his arms.

It was especially excruciatingly painful to watch whenever they trained together.

Watching beads of sweat fall down beyond the collar of his top, making Kirishima wonder what was beyond that line of clothing.

Wondering how it would feel if he touched that expanse of skin.

A loud chime spooked him out of his very homoerotic thoughts, a faint dust of red filling the apples of his cheeks as he realized he had still been staring at Bakugou’s meaty biceps.

He grimaced, hoping Bakugou didn’t see him staring, but he didn’t get a chance to, as Bakugou was already walking out of the elevator.

Kirishima inhaled deeply, shaking his head as he followed Bakugou to their neighboring dorms.

The blonde stopped in front of his door, turning to stare at Kirishima.

The redhead gulped, nervously watching as Bakugou looked him up and down, seeming like he was expecting Kiri to say something.

“Well, goodnight Bakugou!” He smiled at him, going to open his door when suddenly a much lighter hand slammed it shut once more.

“Hold on.” Bakugou demanded, his gruff voice bouncing against the empty hallway.

Kirishima paused, his lips shut tight as he waited for Bakugou to say more.

“Um...yes?” He smiled meekly, his lips not exactly curving upwards.

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows, his cheeks flushing red as he stammered, “Y-You! You still need help with tutoring tonight, right?!” He yelled out the last bit.

Ah! Tonight is Friday! Their tutoring night!

With all of the excitement of yearbooks and family pictures he must’ve forgotten completely!

Ugh, so unmanly to keep Bakugou waiting, to make him ask like this.

“Oh! Yes yes, right! Of course, my bad Bakugou.” Kiri nodded his head, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, beginning to turn red with embarrassment.

Bakugou relaxed his shoulders, the smallest of grins beginning to show on his face.

“Whatever, ‘s not like I expected you to remember anything with that pea-sized brain of yours.” He mocked, turning around to open his door.

“Hey! My brain is normal sized, just like yours!” Kirishima retaliated, stomping after Bakugou.

The door clicked shut behind them, entrapping Kirishima inside of the cool shadowy room that was Bakugou’s.

Besides being cooler temperature wise, the room was also very...boring.

It surprised him every time Kirishima walked into Bakugou’s room, just the overall average ness.

Bland grey walls with nothing decorating them, not even so much as a poster of his favorite hero.

And to go along with the insane asylum decor, black bedsheets and a white pillowcase, neatly put together as if he never touched the bed at all.

Kirishima smiled to himself, feeling comfortable in the others room, a sense of familiarity.

The blonde groaned before flipping down on his bed, back-first.

“So, what is it that you need help with?” He spoke, his usually rough voice toning down a bit.

Kiri started to speak, but paused as he took a breath.

Actually, he didn’t really have anything to work on.

Final exams were over, there were no surprise tests sprung out by Aizawa.

Truly, there was no reason he should even be in this room at all.

So why did he want to stay?

Stuttering out his last breath, he crouched onto the floor, shuffling into a criss-crossed position.

“Well, actually-“ He chuckled nervously, watching as Bakugou leaned upwards, resting on his elbows while staring at him incredulously.

“Ha, I guess I don’t really have anything to do. I don’t really need to study for anything.”

“So then, why’d you come in here?” Bakugou grunted, sitting up all the way and leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Honestly?” Kiri shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m so exhausted from today. Just having to deal with everyone yelling and having to show people photos, especially mine!” He groaned.

But some part of him did wonder if Bakugou knew what he was talking about.

But oh bOy was he not at all prepared for the answer to that question!

“Oh, you mean that hot picture of you?”

Kirishima wheezed, his lungs squeezing together as all the air escaped his body.

He coughed-super attractively-while trying to think of anything to say.

It didn’t help that Bakugou just kept staring at him, his eyebrows raised and a subtle smirk keeping his lips quirked up.

“Ahem, what?” Kiri’s heart hammered against his chest, his fingers feeling oddly clammy clasped together.

“I said-“ Bakugou shuffled himself onto the floor, leaning closer into Kirishima’s space.

So close that Kiri could smell the spicy scent of the blonde’s body wash, almost intoxicating to him.

“I thought that picture of you was hot.” He rumbled, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards in such a way that Kiri could actually feel his heart stopping and starting at the same time.

“Ah, um cool.” He sputtered before his brain caught up to his idiotic mouth.

Cool?!

Kill him. Right here right now. He is a waste of a human body.

But a light airy sound broke him out of his embarrassing trance, a laugh.

Bakugou was chuckling at him. And in a really cute way!

Kirishima could rarely ever get Bakugou to laugh, most of the time he was the one being laughed at.

Just like now but...it was different. The way he was laughing, the smile stretching his lips.

There were indents marking at the corner of his eyes as he laughed, small divots of skin.

“Dumbass.” Bakugou chortled, biting his lips to reel in another fit of laughter.

Oh. Wow.

Kiri was definetly sure he was blushing now, half of it being because of embarrassment but the other half...

Adoration.

Damn, Eijirou was really swimming in the deep end wasn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up! You can’t just-just say something like that and expect a good answer out of me!” Kirishima whined, balling up his hands in frustrations.

“What is your answer?” Bakugou asked, nonchalantly.

Kiri paused once more, “My what?”

“You said,” Bakugou smirked, “That I cant expect a good answer. How about just a regular one?”

“A...regular one?”

Oh boy. Was this really happening? Oh god oh fuck-

Bakugou hummed, his face going slack as he waited for an answer.

“Well, I guess it’s okay that you found me hot, then.”

But the real question still lingered on his lips, like a bad aftertaste.

“And it’s fine if you...don’t find me attractive now.” He murmured the last part, a part of him hoping Bakugou didn’t catch what he said.

Kiri glanced back up when he heard a harsh scoff come from Bakugou’s mouth.

“Tch, never said that.” He muttered, his face growing steadily pink.

“You-“

Kiri blanked.

His outer body seemed to get clammy and sweaty but his insides, it felt as if he was being burned.

His heart hammered painfully, and he found it even harder to breathe.

“What...Bakugou what do you mean by that?” Kirishima asked, his voice quivering on the last word, staring straight at Bakugou’s crimson eyes.

The blonde shifted, growing more embarrassed by the second. He wiped his calloused hands against his mouth and bit his lip.

“Bakugou-“

Kirishima reached out and grabbed Bakugou’s hand, feeling the sweat mixing in with his own.

He wanted to feel it.

If this moment really was happening he wanted to feel how it felt.

Eijirou swallowed down his building saliva, using his thumb to rub gentle circles onto the blonde’s soft skin.

“I-I like you too. If this means what I think it means, I like you too.” He couldn’t help but let the nervous smile contort his lips, the tips of his sharp teeth sticking out, like white gleams in the darkness of Bakugou’s room.

The blonde’s head snapped back to stare at Kirishima, his eyes widening in what seemed to be disbelief, then softening.

Bakugou snorted, twisting his hand away, almost causing Kirishima’s heart to break into pieces.

That is until those lovely hands came up to rest lightly on his face, palms squishing his cheeks lightly.

And god the sudden warmness of those palms made his heart stutter.

And it gave him a thrill as well.

Knowing that in a matter of seconds these hands could explode and destroy everything that they touched.

Yet, they touched him so softly, his thumbs barely grazing any skin.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I do this.” Bakugou breathed out, his face inching closer and closer, his breath mingling with Kirishima’s.

Getting ever so close until eventually...

Kirishima closed his eyes in bliss, his own soft lips sliding against Bakugou’s rougher chapped ones.

He sighed through his nose, his own hands coming up to rest on Bakugou’s shoulders.

Wow, it felt so nice.

So right.

Like this was exactly the place his lips belonged.

Right on top of Bakugou’s.

He gasped for air as the blonde’s tongue warily poked between his lips, sliding in when Kirishima allowed.

“Woah okay!” Kirishima pulled away, chuckling as his face burned with excitement.

Bakugou smirked, poking his tongue out to swipe across his bottom lip. “Too much?” He teased.

Kirishima groaned loudly, falling on top of Bakugou’s knees to hide his enflamed face.

“Dude, you suck so much right now.” His voice was muffled against the blonde’s knees.

“Mm, too bad. You’re gonna have to live with it.”

Bakugou’s voice rumbled, the vibrations tickling Kiri’s cheeks.

Kirishima jolted up, a large toothy smile on his face.

“You mean...is this you trying to ask me out?” Kirishima whispered, leaning closer his cheeks starting to hurt from how wide his smile was.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, holding his hands up.

Kirishima yelled as Bakugou used one of his fingers to flick him painfully at the tip of his nose.

“Ow!” He looked to the blonde for answers, rubbing his abused nose.

“The fuck do you mean? Was me kissing you not enough dipshit?!” Bakugou sneered, his furrowed eyebrows making him look like a grumpy cat.

Kirishima chuckled, smiling as he leaned forward.

“No no, it was.” He used his hand to squish Bakugou’s cheeks together, placing a gentle kiss on his puckered lips.

Bakugou relaxed, humming against his lips. “Good.” He murmured.

“Good.” Kirishima leaned back, his eyes widening when he saw the smile on Bakugou’s face.

A smile, though not large, but wide enough to show his gleaming teeth.

He leaned in again to see if that smile tasted just as good as it looked.

It did.

[princesskittycatofmeowland]

Teen Wolf Rewrite

CHAPTER ONE: WOLF MOON (Part 1)

Stiles x Reader Liz Bloom (eventually)

Word Count: 2789

Posted on: 12/10/21

Warnings: Swearing, Dead Bodies

Tomorrow was the first day of sophomore year. To say I was excited was an understatement. I've watched enough teen drama comedy movies with my friends, Scott and Stiles, to know that high school was where the real fun started. Boys, Parties, Sex. Last year I was kind of a loner with my only friends being the two aformentioned boys, and as much as I hate to say it, it was not by choice. I wanted to get to know other people but I suppose my odd goth and neon colors sense of style didn't really open me to that much candidates in the friendship department.

I had just boxed the last of my goth stuff(i.e bedsheets, pillowcases, clothes, decorations, posters, dolls) with the plan to donate them all to charity. I'm not sure how much they'd appreciate it but surely someone would, right?

My room was now, for a lack of a better word, plain. But it was progress nonetheless. I didn't know what prompted my sudden and abrupt change in my sense of style and identity. It was like one day, my room, my clothes, my makeup, just didn't feel like me. Something in me changed somehow and everything I owned just felt like it was suffocating me.

I stood up to look at myself in my full length mirror, inside my walk in closet. I was in my pajamas; a flannel pants and a Stanford shirt that belonged to my mom. That's where I plan to go for college. But I didn't check to see if I looked beautiful, which I do of course, or if my body is what society would consider to be up their standards. I suppose it is, but even if it wasn't I would still love myself the same, as everyone should with their bodies. But as I said, my vanity was not my reason.

I looked at my long brown hair dyed pink in the ends, my blue eyes, almost violet in some lights, staring back at me before it traveled to the rest of my body and noticed how my boobs had grown over the summer; even through my loose shirt, you could see. And how toned I actually was underneath my clothes, almost like I actually exercise, which I don't. I asked my dad about it, who's a doctor, if it was normal and he told me that I had always had a strong metabolism and it was indeed completely normal. I didn't believe him, of course. I didn't know why I didn't, but the thought flew out of my mind the second it landed.

I asked myself in the mirror.

"Who are you?" And almost like I manifested an answer, a sound behind me cut through the silence of my room. I walked out of my closet to figure out what it was, then there it was again.

Cluck

It was coming from my window. I opened it to find my two boys at the bottom of my window fighting over a rock to, I'm guessing, throw at my window for me to hear them.

"Stiles! What the hell are you doing? STOP!" Scott whisper-yelled to my buzz-cut friend.

"We've been here for over five minutes, Scott! She needs to hear us and neither of you answer your phones anymore, apparently" Stiles replied not so quietly as he fought Scott for the heavy rock, almost the size of a brick.

"She could already be asleep. You'll break her freaking window!"

"I won't. Look, ju-just give the rock, man. Trust me."

"NO!"

"It'll be fine. I swear."

"Stiles!"

By some miracle, Scott's hand slipped from the rock and Stiles held it over his head with both hands to celebrate before throwing it at my window. Just as he was about to, however, he saw me there and I waved my fingers for him in a mocking hello.

Spastic as ever, he tripped over his own two feet and fell on his ass, his rock landing, where else with his luck, but his crotch.

"Ohhh... Fucking Bitch" Both Scott and I couldn't contain our laughter and let it ring through the open night with little to no care on who could hear.

Scott placed his hands on a fetal Stiles and asked if he was okay through his laughter.

"What do you think, Bitch!" At that, Scott and I just laughed even more.

After a few minutes, we calmed down enough for me to ask what they were doing at my house in the middle of the night. At that Stiles stood at attention, rejuvenated, and his mourning for his fallen soldier, forgotten.

"Two joggers found a body dead in the woods—and here's the twist—they only found half!"

"Give me a second to change." I said immediately, closing my window and heading to my walk-in closet to change into a more appropriate attire for finding a half of a dead body in the woods.

I settled with black leggings and a fitting long-sleeved, navy blue, Raveclaw shirt. Over that I zipped up my black jean jacket and put on my running shoes, then grabbed my phone and keys before bolting out of the house, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

I walked out for the house and closed the door behind me. Both boys gave me questioning looks as to why I used the front door.

"My dad's on night shift this week." Finding that answer to be acceptable, we all walked to Stiles' crappy jeep that he loves because it belonged to his mom, got in and drove off. He went around the fountain, which was turned off tonight for some reason, and finally out of my huge front lawn and into the night filled with promise of mystery and adventure. If only we knew then what more the night had in store for us.

Sitting on the back, I leaned over the center console with hands on either side of their chairs as Stiles filled me in.

"So, hear this. Dispatch called and they're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department and even state police."

"Do they think it's murder?" I asked Stiles, leaning my head against Scott's seat as I looked at him in question.

"They don't know yet, but probably, right?" I mean, this girl didn't just trip, hit a rock, and spilt her body in two." At that I chuckled.

"So, it's a girl?"

"Yeah. Probably in her twenties, too."

"Hmm." With no more questions to ask I leaned back against the back seat and we all sat in silence the rest of the ride.

We arrived at Beacon Hills Preserve only ten minutes later, Stiles' headlights illuminating the sign.

As we're walking in the woods, already searching for the body, Scott took the time to ask.

"Are we seriously doing this?" I decided not to respond as I used the tiny flashlight in my Keychain to point towards the ground.

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town." Stiles stated, flashing his flashlight on the ground as well.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep for practice tomorrow." Scott told Stiles.

"Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort." I gave a light chuckle at that, too distracted to see the glare Scott shot me.

"No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line." Scott stated.

I kept walking until I realized they stopped. I looked back to see Stiles looking at Scott like he belonged in Eichen House.

"Hey, that's the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one." Stiles continued his search and I rolled my eyes at him, not that he could see.

"Don't listen to him Scott. You've been practicing all summer. You'll do amazing." I said to him and he smiled his charming boyish smile.

"Probably." I added. Scott's smile dropped and he gave me a look, then continued walking and walked passed me, myself now holding up the rear.

"I've never actually seen you practiced!" I called to him behind his back, huffed, and started walking myself.

"Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?" Scott asked Stiles.

"Huh! I didn't even think about that." Was Stiles' only reply.

"And, uh... what if whoever killed the body is still out here?" I stopped walking for a second as Scott's realization hit me.

"Also something I didn't think about." Stiles said. Now I was getting worried. I ran to them when I realized I'd fallen a little behind, most definetly not wanting to be alone.

They had already started climbing the hills when I caught up to them. "It's comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail" I said snarkily to Stiles as I climbed up the hill.

"I know." He called down to me and I rolled my eyes.

I caught up next to Scott and helped him climb and stand when he started wheezing for air, the both of us trying to keep up with Stiles' fast pace.

"Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?" Scott gasped. I leaned him against a tree and Scott pulled his inhaler out of his pocket.

"Stiles, get back here!" I whisper-yelled to my friend, but he just kept his pace. Not wanting to be left alone with a severe asthmatic to slow me down in case the killer shows up, especially one that likes to cut bodies into two, I pulled Scott's arm and urged him to walk with me to where Stiles was.

By the time we reached him, I was the one gasping for air from half carrying Scott as though I'm the asthmatic one of the group. I had my head down, hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath when suddenly both of them grabbed each of my arm and pulled me down. I was about to yell at them when both shushed me. Stiles pointed forward and there I saw people waving their flashlights around. The cops, no doubt, in search of the body.

Both Stiles and I turned off our flashlights as we all hid behind a fallen tree branch. Then suddenly, God-knows-why, Stiles bolted from our safe hiding place forcing us to follow the spazz.

"Wait!" Scott and I yelled. I didn't bother helping Scott this time, 'cause surely with the cops around he'd probably be safe, I thought. I did still check, however, if he still was following us and no lunatic was following him, and that he was okay, from time to time.

Being closer to Stiles, I whispered, "Stiles, we should slow down!" He pretended not to hear me.

"Wait up!" Scott yelled quietly and I looked behind me to see him taking a hit from his inhaler, myself growing increasingly worried for his health.

"Liz! Stiles! Lizzy!" Scott called to me that I finally decided to stop chasing Stiles and instead help Scott. Stiles noticed we weren't following him anymore and I was walking towards Scott who stopped running when I did.

Stiles ran back and grabbed my hand and was already walking back. "Guys, come on-BARK! Stiles and I jumped and fell to the ground as a dog started barking at us like crazy. Stiles hugged his arms around me from behind, like that would protect me, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless and I couldn't deny the fact that being in his arms made me feel safe.

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" The man shouted. I'm assumed he was a deputy but I couldn't really see much with the flashlight he had pointed at our faces.

"Hang on, hang on..." A voice said somewhere to my left. A voice I recognized. I turned my back to the flashlight and looked at Stiles who was looking at me with an expression that conveyed we were in deep trouble. I also realized I was on top of him and had my arms on either side of his waist and both his legs on either side of my body. He must've realized this the same time I did for when I looked at his face again, he looked back at me with his cheeks and neck blushing like crazy. We quickly scrambled to stand up and we both faced the voice walking towards us with the deputy's flashlight still pointed at our faces.

"These little delinquents belong to me." The voice said that belonged to none other than Noah Stilinski himself; Sherrif to the Beacon Hills Police Department and Stiles' dad. With the situation we were in now I'm not sure if that puts us in favor of luck or against it.

"Dad, how are you doing?" Stiles greeted his dad, obviously trying to play it cool and failing. Sheriff only looked at Stiles with his usual expression towards him that's a mixture of exasperation, frustration, and of course, exhaustion. This time, however, he pointed that expression to me as well, and it made me wonder how Stiles ever got used to this.

"So, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?" Sheriff asked Stiles.

He laughed a nevous laugh before answering, "No..." Sheriff gave him a look. "Not the boring ones." To that Sheriff just sighs and nods, accepting his answer as fact before looking around the woods.

"So, isn't there usually three of you? Where's your third musketeer?" Sheriff asked the both of us. Stiles and I looked at each other and decided between the two of us our best course of action: play dumb.

"Who, Scott?, Scott's home. He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for first day back at school tomorrow." Sheriff obviously didn't believe his son so I added.

"Scott said he's playing this year and he wants to make first line. We tried to convince him but he said needs to rest for practice tomorrow to make a good impression. Sheriff seemed to believe that already until Stiles opened his mouth once more.

"It's just us... In the woods... Alone...", I gave him a look that said 'Do you hear yourself?' He blushed furiously yet again and he gave me a look in turn that said, 'What was I supposed to say?'I wanted to say back,'not that!' with my face but before I could, Sheriff pointed his flashlight behind us and yelled,

"Scott, you out there? Scott?"

I wasn't sure where Scott was now that I think about it and a huge part of me wanted him to come out just so I know he's safe. When he didn't, Sheriff took that as Scott not being with us as truth and grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt and dragged him towards the entrance of the preserve where his car was.

"Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car... And then you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called "invasion of privacy."

I followed behind and I wanted to laugh because Stiles looked like a puppy that was being lifted by his mom by his neck like a doll and couldn't move his body, but I didn't want to get into any more trouble than I already was. As we walked back to his car, I silently hoped and prayed Sherrif wouldn't tell my dad about this.

My dad's pretty cool but him hearing that his teenage daughter was out in the middle of the woods, in the middle of a night, with a boy to look for the half of a dead body of a young woman with the potential killer still on the loose... Yeah, not good.

Sheriff gave Stiles his usual lecture whilst walking back towards his car, to which I tuned out as I thought about Scott. I took out my phone from my jacket pocket to message him.

Liz: Hey, Where r u? U alr8?

No response. I pulled my hair back as I looked around and grew worried for him even more.

Stiles drove me back to my house after he convinced me that Scott was fine and he could walk back home and the reason he wasn't answering his phone was because his phone probably died. The whole drive back I couldn't stop worrying about him. I asked how Stiles can be so calm when his asthmatic best friend could be lost in the middle of the woods and his only reply was,

"It's Beacon Hills, alright? Almost nothing ever happens in this town." Well, unfortunately for us, we were going to find out first hand how wrong that statement was. And soon.

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