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naussensei · 3 days

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Satosugu's First Mission

“Not gonna lie, this is a little depressing.” Said Suguru, kneeling to inspect the lower Ferris wheel carts. “Why did our first mission together have to be in a grim place like this?

“Easy.” Said Satoru, he was doing the same thing on the other side of the ride. “Places like this hold large amounts of cursed energy. All the emotions from the people who came here. It lingers.”

“I would’ve thought this was a place for happy memories only.” Suguru said, trying to pry open a rusty door handle. He grimaced as it fell off, and he wiped the rust off his hand with a look of disgust. “Isn’t this where kids come for birthdays or something?”

“And where couples come for dates and stuff. Exactly.” Satoru agreed as he stood up. “But anywhere people gather can turn into a curse hotspot. Subway stations, shopping centers, amusement parks. Just imagine – the kids scared of heights, couples breaking up, parents arguing… the list goes on.”

It was no surprise to Suguru now that Satoru could be quite knowledgeable sometimes. Not that he would ever tell him that to feed his ego, but he could still acknowledge it in his mind.

They continued to inspect the ride together, Satoru in the front, climbing up the next cart, pulling Suguru up. He was just about to keep climbing when something occurred to him.

“So, couples, huh?” He said in the most nonchalant way he could manage, to hide his discomfort with the subject. He didn’t know a single thing about dates, or amusement parks for that matter, he had never been to either of them, and the thought of Satoru having more experience than him was almost humiliating. “Is that like, a thing? People go to theme parks for dates?”

“Duh, obviously.” Satoru said with a confident grin, then paused for a moment. “I mean… I guess. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Suguru’s curiosity was piqued. “Have you ever been on a date?” he asked.

Satoru scoffed, inspecting the inside of the cart. “Do you think the strongest sorcerer has time for dating?”

Suguru couldn’t help but grin. “So you haven’t.”

“Have you ?” Satoru countered.

“Me?” Suguru said, smiling with resignation. “Do you think the biggest weirdo in the normie world has time for dating?”

Satoru turned to him then, and Suguru was taken aback for a moment. The moonlight poured through the shattered window, casting a faint glow on Satoru’s face. Suguru couldn’t see his eyes behind the shades, which made him feel a bit uneasy, but by Satoru’s expression he seemed to be assessing something carefully, something that Suguru could not quite figure out.

“Fair,” Satoru finally said, and the moment he turned away again, Suguru caught a glimpse of a faint smile. The slightest feeling of satisfaction warmed Suguru’s chest when he did, because for once, he’d made Satoru laugh more than once in a night. Suguru’s own smile grew then, too, because he knew the meaning of that subtle smile. It was the perpetuation of a silent ‘were not that different after all’ that Satoru would never voice, but he didn’t have to.

“By the way… Shoko has never been on a date either.” Satoru said with putty lips, as if that made the situation more acceptable for them. “Not that I know, anyway. I never see her talk to any guys, other than Kusakabe.”

“Uh, right…” Suguru uttered. He had a good idea as to why he hadn’t seen her talking to guys, but he would not be the one to tell him that. For all he knew, Satoru could be interested in her. He’d rather redirect the subject to them again.

“16 and not a single date.” Suguru said, taking a seat on the worn bench to look out the window. “What a bunch of losers.”

“I’m still 15 for your information.”

“Yeah?” Suguru’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “When’s your birthday?”

“Why?” Satoru’s eyebrows rose even higher than his as he grinned. He bent down to Suguru’s eye level. “Are you gonna buy me a present? Otherwise I won’t tell you.”

Suguru sank back into his seat a little, yet held his grin. “Sure. I may, actually. That’s… if we don’t die tonight.”

“Dumbass.” Satoru scoffed, rising to kick Suguru softly on the shin. “Nobody is dying tonight.”

He collapsed on the seat in front of him, hands still in his pockets, the weak cart wobbling a little as he did. Then he looked outside the broken window. Suguru did so as well.

The night was still as ever, a cool breeze seeped through the hole in the window. It was dark and cold, but somehow, it was not unpleasant at all. Suddenly, Suguru did not feel like moving anywhere.

“December 7th,” said Satoru all of a sudden.

It took a moment for Suguru to realize he was talking about his birthday. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a smile.

Satoru cocked his head at him. “Yours?”

“February 3rd.” Suguru shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile. “Turned 15 this year.”

“Ah, that’s not fair.”

“You kinda already gave me a birthday present.” Said Suguru, taking out his new phone from his pocket.

“Oh, that’s right!” Satoru said excitedly, moved to sit beside him and take the phone from him, no permission asked whatsoever. His face glowing with an excitement that Suguru could not relate to, but enjoyed watching in Satoru either way. “Did you change your wallpaper already? What tune did you customize it with?”

“I haven’t.” Admitted Suguru, slowly taking his phone back and moving closer to the window to make some space between them, and felt that if he moved any further he would fall out the cart. “We’re on a mission, Satoru. Now it’s not the–”

“Oh, give me that. It takes five seconds. I’ll send you one from my phone.” Said Satoru, his fingers already working on it before Suguru could even decline.

Suguru watched him do so in silence. It was a good thing at least one of them seemed to be entertained.

“Here you go, loser.” Satoru said as he threw his phone back to Suguru with a playful smile.

“Thanks.” Suguru chuckled. “So, how does it feel to know you're just as much of a loser as I am when it comes to dating?”

Satoru rested his hands behind his head and sighed. “Feels pretty fucking terrible, not gonna lie.”

“Hmm,” Suguru brought a hand to his chin and looked up, thoughtfully. “Well, we can count this as a date. Kinda feels like it, doesn’t it?“

“Uh, no… pretty sure it doesn’t.”

“How would you know if you've never been on a date?”

“Right,” Satoru scoffed, “because chasing cursed objects in a shitty place like this sounds very romantic.”

Suguru’s smile was smug. “Didn't take you as a romantic.”

“I’m not.” Satoru elbowed him softly. “Now stop talking and focus on the mission. ”

“Why?” Suguru’s grin grew wider. “Are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not.” Satoru said, averting his gaze, hand still behind his head. “I just wanna get this over with quickly. I don’t want Yaga or Yamato to yell at us for taking so long.”

Suguru leaned forward, seeking Satoru’s avoidant gaze. “We can still count it as a date and feel a little better about ourselves.” He said with a comforting smile, but Satoru had just stood to move out of the cart and begin their descent. Suguru followed closely behind.

“We’ll just omit the part about it being with a friend.” He insisted as they landed on the ground. Seeing that Satoru would not react, he added with a playful wink. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

“Ugh,” Satoru hung his head forward. “Why are you talking so much today? You never talk. I liked you better when you were quiet.”

“Oh?” Suguru speeded up the pace to walk by his side. “Are you saying you did like me before?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Satoru whined as he dragged his feet to continue their way to the next ride.

Suguru circled closely around him to walk on his other side. “But you’re always complaining that I’m too quiet and boring, and that I try to be ‘mysterious’ and don't share enough about myself, and now suddenly you don't want me to talk?”

Satoru rolled his eyes and made a disgusted face. “And you couldn’t have picked a better time than in the middle of a fucking–”

Suguru could not hear the end of Satoru’s sentence. His voice was swallowed by the deafening roar that came from under their feet, the same kind they had heard back in the shopping mall earlier, but several times louder and more unsettling. They looked at the ground, exchanged a glance, and looked down again. The earth rumbled under their feet briefly, until it went quiet again.

“What was that?” Suguru said, catching his breath, his heart still jumping in his throat.

“A curse, evidently.” Even Satoru seemed a little startled. Though he quickly composed himself, and was now gazing up at the buildings, eyes moving rapidly, as though machinating a plan.

“Curse?” Suguru chuckled ironically . “More like a giant animal. I thought we were after a cursed object, not freaking Godzilla.”

“It definitely seems like a big one.” Satoru agreed, gaze still upwards as he began to look for a way up. “We should climb higher, to get a better visual. It may not be the only one around.”

“Wait,” Suguru stopped in his tracks, holding Satoru by an arm. “I have an idea.”

From: Our Last Summer in Ao3

#satosugu #satosugu fic #satoru x suguru #geto gojo #gego #goge

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rosinkreutz · 17 hours

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How do you think Asuka's and Aria's friendship was like when she was alive?

This is a really hard question. I keep sitting down to write this and deleting everything because I'm not satisfied with the answer I can provide. The problem is me because I've realized I'm not sure how to describe any friendship, let alone one so vaguely developed in the source material... However. I will try. This is all kind of speculation based on what I've interpreted from the characters. - First, I think when you analyze Asuka's actions it seems that he feels a certain sense of ownership toward the world. Not in an entitled sense, but moreso a guardian. Which makes sense, really, as a disciple of the Original, savior of humanity. Especially considering the other disciples were explicitly uninterested in humanity's advancement, so he's the only one interesting in following in their teacher's footsteps. The problem is that he completely defines himself by it (which is kinda why I think Asuka was very young when he was taken in to be a disciple, because it's like it's all he knows). - So with that in mind, and knowing that before Aria met the other two, she was extremely isolated from her family and other people in general, I think the power dynamic in the relationship would end up being rather skewed. Literally, yes, since he's a sorcerer, but also psychologically. Aria's someone whose not used to having any support, and that's all Asuka wants to do. He never thinks of himself first, and the only sense of self he has is this self-appointed guardian role. He would go so far out of the way to make her happy, because he loves her very much. But he also thinks that he knows what's right for her and may have been controlling at times- which I think is why Frederick works so well in this dynamic because he's so anti-authority and free-thinking. His influence and just overall presence would keep the two of them from being too overly dependent on each other. After all, they love him as much as they love each other, as best friend, boyfriend, whatever. Obviously there's more to him in the dynamic but this is about the other two. - (As kind of a side-note, keeping Aria happy is one of the few ways he himself can feel fulfilled in his role as a guardian. The Original kind of had it easy, as world-saving goes, because he knew exactly what was going to burst (black tech) and had the exact solution to the problem (magic). The world Asuka's "inherited" has a million different facets and problems all piled together in one big powderkeg with an invisible fuse. He really can't just go out and fix everything alone as a socially inept 20-something, good at magic as he is. Which he understands, as an objective thinker, but given that guardianship is the only thing he defines himself with as a person, he's inevitably going to feel worthless and hate himself for not being able to do anything. Hence, why when the Gear Project gets picked up by the military, he goes crazy trying to fix it because just imagine what it would feel like that the whole world could be destroyed by something you made while trying to fix it.... But... If he could get what people need for advancement (gear cells) safe and unweaponized and if he could have someone else powerful to help and support him (Justice, maybe Sol?), he could use that to REALLY save the world AND Aria in the process. Win-win, right?)

#sorrrrryyy wall of text.... i hate posting my interpretations because im like “what if im doing that 'he would not say that' thing” and as #a lover of textual evidence and facts that would be a nightmare. but asuka's lived in my head for so long what if #im skewing something without even realizing. HELP?#guilty gear #rosinkreutz #asuka r kreutz

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minecraftbookshelf · 7 months

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In the Age of Icons: Mistakes Are Made

Chapter One: The Day Of

A Marriage of State AU Fic

[AU Masterpost (includes the AO3 link)]

Characters: Jimmy Solidarity, Xornoth, Katherine Elizabeth, Mythical J Sausage

Relationships (for the AU as a whole): Eventual (very slow burn) Flower Husbands, (established) Shadowbeans/Jizzie, (obnoxiously new) Jornoth, Eventual (very far future) Nature Wives

Wordcount: 4214

Rating On AO3: This particular fic is rated T, future installments in the AU may go all the way up to E for graphic violence but most will be between T & M

Chapter POV: Jimmy Solidarity & Xornoth

Summary:

The Codfather weaves his fingertips together so that the slight webbing between his fingers touches. It's the first time in a while he's had both hands away from his shoulder, where at least one has been hovering near his sword hilt almost the entire time, despite Katherine's glares. "It's a marriage treaty, between the royalty of the oppositions, bound in blood and salt, for peace and mutual gain." His voice has gained a slight sing-song cadence to it, even through what is clearly a slightly stumbling translation, that Xornoth recognizes from their own anytime they are reciting something from their childhood lessons, even to this day.

Warnings: A sort of general reminder of the narrative tool "Unreliable Narrators"

This AU features multiple arranged marriages across the spectrum of platonic-romantic and the complicated nuances of chosen and arranged.

Any section from Xornoth's POV does have parts that read like very violent and occasionally graphic intrusive thoughts due to the whole "there is a demon living in their head" thing. If that's something you think you might have issues with, please proceed with caution if you choose to proceed at all.

Jimmy spends the majority of his flight to the Overgrown fuming and imagining the many different ways he could kill Sausage. It's cathartic indulgence and if he's busy imagining swarms of axolotls and pufferfish descend on the Mythlandic king in his minds' eye than he isn't worrying about the actual situation and what it could potentially mean for him and the Swamp.

Much. He isn't worrying about it much.

The fact that Sausage had made it past the Swamp border and all the way to Jimmy's house without being seen or stopped is...fine. It's fine.

The wind catches Jimmy's elytra at an odd angle and he dips alarmingly low for a heart-jolting moment; his tail flailing out on instinct in an attempt to steady him in a non-existent current. He catches himself before he actually crashes into the treetops, though he does have to bank hard to the left in a way that pulls the harness sharp against his shoulder. The joint twinges at the strain and he grimaces. He'll probably feel that tomorrow. He's been skipping out on his stretches, in all the chaos of the escalating tensions, and his bad side has been worse than usual. He can feel the tension of the old scar tissue at his elbow and the tightness of the muscle down his neck and shoulder.

Joel will yell at him for that.

On the bright side, maybe he'll go to war with the Mythlands and then he'll be too busy to get yelled at. He thinks Pix would call that 'silver linings.'

The trees thin out and give way to green grass fields dotted with sheep and flowers and Jimmy angles his trajectory downwards. The magic saturating the Border of the Overgrown brushes his scales as he enters and he shudders. It doesn't matter how many times he comes to visit Katherine, every time is just as unsettling. It feels like the time he bit an electric eel as a fry. A tingle and a buzzing that leaves the webbing between his fingers numb and his teeth hurting.

Katherine's house materializes on the horizon, the layers of glamour falling away and Jimmy banks into a spiral to land. He's been airborne for so long that he's barely even damp and, last minute, he decides to land in the water feature instead of on the grass surrounding it. He lands in the fountain with a splash and a sigh, the water closing over his head and offering blessed relief. His gills flare, water flowing freely through his right side and even managing a pass on his left. He allows himself a moment to settle beneath the surface and let the itchy dry feeling of his scales fade, away from the biting cold and thin air of the skyways.

He rolls over and stares at the sky, taking a minute to just exist. It's uncomfortable; his elytra, his trident, and his sword all pressing into his spine, but at least it is calm and quiet.

His view is almost immediately obstructed by a far, far too familiar silhouette tinted red and gold.

Jimmy bolts upright and almost slams his forehead into Sausage's.

He scrambles back and to his feet where he stands, dripping, in the fountain to the backdrop of the displeased gazes of Katherine's door guards and the giggles of the King of Mythland.

How did this go so wrong so fast?

"Hello, Jimmy!"

He manages to clamber out of the fountain without tripping and falling flat on his face at least. He splashes Katherine in the process, where she is hovering off to the side but he can't really be bothered to worry about that. All he can manage to do is stare at Sausage's smirking face.

"Hello, Jimmy!"

Katherine's greeting is much less mocking and Jimmy looks back down to acknowledge it. Way down. Katherine is the shortest emperor and the white tips of her ears barely clear his elbow. She is smiling up at him as if she hasn't invited him to her house only to ambush him with one of his greatest enemies. As if he hadn't trusted that her home was safe. As if he hadn't trusted that she would stand with him.

"What is he doing here?" He jerks his chin at Sausage, who is still giggling like a child. He sees Jimmy looking and grins at him, all teeth.

Behind the mask, Jimmy bares his own teeth and takes some comfort in the knowledge that he has more of them; and they are sharper. He straightens his spine and does his best to stand at his full height instead of curling slightly to the left. His sword and trident clank softly together over his shoulder.

Katherine looks briefly unsure before she sets her expression and gestures at her door. "We should all go inside and talk there. I would like to help negotiate peace between The Swamp and Mythland."

She's using her official voice. Sausage keeps giggling and Jimmy can barely hear it beneath the roar in his ears. He leans down to try and whisper into the faerie queen's ear.

"I really need your alliance right now, Katherine." He hopes his desperation doesn't show in his voice.

She gives him a reproving look that throws him right back to his brief time spent in a classroom. "I'm allied with everyone, Jimmy. You know that."

"He invaded the Swamp," Jimmy hisses, his ear-fins flaring, ignoring the shudder down his spine from her use of his Name, even in part. "He crossed our borders. Again. He's threatened war." He's no longer whispering by the end, standing to his full height, shoulders back, sword hand by his shoulder.

"And according to him, you've threatened it right back!"

It's almost a physical blow, the way the betrayal hits him. He manages to keep from physically staggering back only because Sausage appears beside him and throws an arm over his shoulder. Something the Mythlandic king has to stand on tiptoe to accomplish. It yanks Jimmy uncomfortably sideways and down and his trident almost slips from his back.

"Come on, Jimmy! Let's talk!" Sausage smiles, all teeth like an alligator, lurking on the surface of the water. "We can make peace!"

Jimmy knocks his arm away and straightens, doing his best to loom over the other ruler. His extra foot of height should be more of an advantage than if feels like. He grabs for the hilt of his sword and is only stopped by Katherine, who flies right up into his face to frown at him.

"No weapons!" She shakes her finger right in front of his mask and Jimmy clamps down on the instinctive urge to yank up the Codfather head and bite it. That would be no help to anyone, especially himself. No one takes him seriously as it is. Except maybe Pix. Maybe.

Instead he focuses on glaring at Sausage over Katherine's shoulder. The king of Mythland beams back at him, hands clasped innocently in front of himself (well away from the hilt of his own greatsword), head cocked to the side. The picture of harmless amiability were it not for the malicious sparkle in his eyes. Ohhhhhh how Jimmy would love to feed his organs to Lizzie's axolotls. He flexes his claws before Katherine grabs his arm and tugs him towards her front door, six tiny fingertips digging into his scales above his vambraces. (The embossed leather the only armor he'd worn, he hadn't realized he'd wish for more.)

Sausage trails behind them and as much as Jimmy reminds himself that not even Sausage would have the audacity to attack him in Katherine's house (probably) he can't quite shake the prickling tension from having an enemy at his back. It feels like the first time Lizzie and Joel took him to clear an ancient monument and he'd stalked through the twisty corridors and boxy rooms with the creeping feeling of being stalked in turn.

Sausage slips and almost falls on some of the tacky slime he'd accidentally tracked in and that does help. Even if he does feel bad for messing up Katherine's floor. He can feel the impassively judgmental stare from Katherine's guards, who's features do not change but still somehow radiate disapproval. He knows he probably shouldn't take it personally, most fae don't think highly of outsiders but it still feels personal.

Sausage recovers quickly and shakes out the fur lining of his coat. "Is it just me or does it smell fishy in here, now?"

"Sausage," Katherine looks disapprovingly back over her shoulder. "That's rude."

"Oh," Sausage blinks at them both, "I'm sorry, Jimmy, I didn't realize."

Jimmy wants to stab him so badly, he sets his shoulders and refrains. He can do this. He's technically trained for this, even if the skills are rusty, fallen aside before the more hands on duties that rebuilding the Swamp has required.

"Oh, this one is new!" Sausage immediately changes the subject, pointing at one of the skulls hanging on the wall of the hall. It's some kind of middling-sized land animal...a sheep maybe? with poppies filling the eye sockets and woven in a crown, there are delicate lines of gold painted across the surface of the bleached bone.

Katherine beams, her irritation at the rudeness forgotten (or at least set aside, fae never truly forget breaches of etiquette) "It is! It's a gift from a childhood friend," she looks fondly upon the skull for a moment. "We've been reconnecting lately."

Sausage nods sagely, "It is always good to spend time with your friends."

"It is," Katherine's ears twitch and her wings flutter briefly before she resumes walking. "Which is why we are going to fix this."

She leads them down the hall towards her library, a room so thoroughly warded that Jimmy can feel the magic against his scales when he passes through the door in an echo of the fae-realm boundaries.

It is a cozy room, despite the elegance and delicacy. It makes Jimmy feel out of place and reminds him a little bit of Lizzie's war room, if a better lit and less damp version. Every corner is full of plants and flowers and books and crystals, and blessedly free of guards and staff and other judging eyes. It's just Jimmy and Katherine and Sausage and the Elvenking sitting in the corner.

Jimmy may or may not do a full and proper double take.

Huge white and black wings, glittering obsidian antlers, an incongruous cup of tea on the side table. Apparently this meeting has interrupted the...reading time? of the King of Rivendell. Jimmy grits his teeth at the presence of one more ally for Sausage and turns his attention to the other two rulers instead. He'll worry about the Elvenking if they decide to become a problem.

In retrospect, Xornoth probably should have left as soon as Katherine escorted Sausage and The Codfather into her library, her expression tense and serious despite the cheerful tone to her chatter but in all honesty they were so startled at first that they froze. Now its been just long enough it would be too awkward to get up and leave. And the others are in-between them and the door, which just makes it worse. So they sit in the corner, tome in hand, trying their hardest to pretend they aren't getting a front row seat to the latest incarnation of the Mythland-Swamp dispute, featuring The Codfather's tangible rage and frustration over Katherine's stubborn neutrality.

(Which is understandable, but arguing a fae over their nature is a futile task and The Codfather seems too much a fool to realize it.)

The palpable hostility in the room has Xornoth's feathers fluffing against their will. Katherine is doing her best to mediate but she might as well try to climb a cliff-face in a blizzard. Sausage seems more interested in taunting The Codfather than coming to any kind of agreement and The Codfather himself stubbornly refuses to even consider any kind of negotiations until...a disc is returned?

Meaningless frivolity.

Xornoth isn't quite sure of the intricacies of the Mythland-Swamp conflict, since most of it happened during Rivendell's seclusion and so they don't even have any accounts of it other than what has been acquired in the past few decades. Accounts that are, somewhat understandably, for the most part slanted towards the Mythlandic perspective. (It is Mythland that Xornoth is allied with and it is Mythland that writes things down while The Swamp seems to lean heavily towards oral histories.) They don't think they've heard anything about a disc before, that might be new.

Both Sausage and The Codfather are known for their chaotic natures. If this does escalate to war (as both have threatened multiple times in the past hour) they will both involve their allies. As much fun as it would be to go toe-to-toe with the King of Mezalea in the arena, if Xornoth has to deal with wartime logistics because of these two acting like elflings not yet out of the home, they will just walk off into the mountains and wait for the winter to take them.

Do not pretend such reluctance. I see the truth.

Xornoth turns a page.

"At this point," The Codfather snarls, leaning on the back of the sofa he is standing by, looking inches away from leaping across the library to strangle Sausage (or try to at least) regardless of Katherine's policy on unapproved violence, his speech has been steadily growing more formal as the debate raged on, but also with a lot more insults in a multitude of languages. (Which Sausage had been more than happy to return.) "I don't think I'd trust even a-" he makes a series of humming, clicking syllables that Xornoth recognizes as Oceanic, but does not understand "-from you lot!"

That, of all things, is what grinds the entire conversation to a halt. Even Sausage stops his mocking dance around the edge of the room to look at The Codfather in confusion. "A who now?"

Katherine is frowning in concentration, mouthing words to herself while she tries to translate. "An...in-law treaty?"

"You know," The Codfather waves a hand dismissively. "A Binding Agreement."

At least he's speaking Mythlandic again, a language Xornoth supposedly understands.

"No, we don't know," Katherine still looks confused by also speculative. "Please explain. What kind of binding exactly is this?"

His voice has gained a slight sing-song cadence to it, even through what is clearly a slightly stumbling translation, that Xornoth recognizes from their own anytime they are reciting something from their childhood lessons, even to this day. They've never been able to quite shake the "student voice."

You are still only a student. And you will be so long as you refuse to take what is rightfully ours.

"Oh!" Katherine's face lights up with recognition and she bounces on her toes, wings aflutter. "I read about that! It's an Oceanic thing!"

Oceanic, not Swamp. Interesting.

The Codfather tilts his head to the side, radiating bewilderment despite the mask completely obscuring his features. "Um...yeah? Wait, do land-folk not do those? At all?"

Both Sausage and Katherine shake their head and Katherine expands verbally, talking right over the Codfather's hushed 'oh.'

"Not between empires, not since the Worldspawn Treaty. It's not uncommon for different families within an empire to form alliance through marriage though."

Xornoth wisely stays silent, though they can't quite help but touch the enchanted jewel fastening their cape at the shoulder. Only Katherine notices, but she's the only one of present company who knows what it means anyway.

"Oh," The Codfather seems a bit taken aback. "I thought it was just that it hadn't happened recently, not that you didn't at all."

"No," Sausage looks intrigued. "We don't."

"We could though," Katherine says suddenly, looking ecstatic. "The treaty just rendered those kinds of alliances of limited use, it didn't forbid them. What about a marriage truce between The Wither Rose Alliance and The Swamp!"

All three of them stare at the faerie queen like she's crazy. (At least, Xornoth is assuming that's what The Codfather's emotions are.) Sausage's eyebrows alone are conveying enough skepticism for the whole room. The Codfather's tail swishes uneasily.

Like a fish on a hook.

Sausage latches onto the movement with a smirk. "Aw! Do you not want to marry me, Jimmy?"

"I would rather move to the desert," The Codfather says without hesitation. "Or the Nether."

"Maybe not the two of you," Katherine says, even her spiteful optimism clearly powerless against the reality of what the outcome of that would be. Wise of her. Xornoth doesn't trust them to not kill each other before they make it to the wedding night. If they even made it to the wedding itself. "We are trying to make peace, not break it irreparably. But the Wither Rose Alliance is the largest alliance. Surely something can be arranged. For a...Binding Agreement the two parties have to be of equal or near-equal standing, right?"

"Well yes, but-"

"So," she says triumphantly, cutting The Codfather off before he can even get started. "One of the other emperors?"

There is a moment of silence as they all contemplate, even Sausage looking more focused than usual.

They are going to hurt themselves, trying that hard to utilize what little intelligence they have.

"Fwhip?" Sausage eventually offers, somewhat unsure, but also clearly just trying for a reaction.

And he gets one; a loud, rattly, snarling hiss that, despite usually considering The Codfather's threat level somewhere between "negligible" and "non-existent", Xornoth find themself sitting up straighter and even has Sausage taking a step back, visibly startled. Deep in the corner of their mind that Xornoth does their best to ignore, a shudder of disquiet resonates for a moment before being cut off.

Katherine's eyes are wide and, seemingly without realizing it, she takes to the air slightly, hovering over the floor, set to evade any attacks. Xornoth realizes that their hand is on the hilt of their sword and slowly, so as not to draw attention, they withdraw it back to their book. Their wings stay mantled, primaries brushing against he walls of their alcove.

"Okay, not Fwhip," Katherine says hurriedly, slowly dropping back down to the floor and smoothing her skirt out in a nervous gesture she's had since she was small. Usually she does better at controlling herself. She'd had the unphased exterior trained into her well before Xornoth ever met her and, however amiable and relaxed she likes to appear, they know its always there beneath.

If we pinned her wings to the wall like a butterfly and made her watch, that would phase her.

Xornoth contemplates smashing the side of their head into the wall. Unconsciousness has about a 50/50 chance of bringing peace and quiet with it. Unfortunately, the hangings in this library nook are imported from Rivendell, several layers of thick woolen brocade. It probably wouldn't be a very effective attempt. And would have them looking crazy in front of two allies and a...not quite enemy. (Though if they don't sort this out that will probably be changing very soon.)

Let there be war, one step closer to our full power.

Katherine has moved on. "What about Gem?"

Sausage snorts a laugh but also looks a little terrified at the idea of even suggesting such a thing. Perhaps the wisest he's been all day, based off what Xornoth has gathered about what seems to amount to a neighbors' spat between him and The Codfather. (Albeit a neighbors spat with centuries of animosity behind it and that is now threatening war.)

The Codfather shakes his head a little frantically, the copper-beaded tassels on the side of the mask clinking against the trident slung across his back. "She's scary."

He seems to realize that he said that out loud and quickly scrambles like a fish suffocating on a rock to cover for it. "And, uh, Great Wizard isn't a title with a lot of..." He flounders a bit. "There could be a new Great Wizard tomorrow, if someone beat her. It has to be a more permanent title."

Personally, Xornoth finds the likelihood of anyone replacing Gemini Tay at any point during a mortal lifetime (and possibly longer) very, very unlikely. It takes a lot to outshine bringing the dragons back. But The Codfather is right. And not only is Gem scary, she's also mean. Which most people don't realize because she spends so much time keeping Fwhip and Sausage from getting themselves killed. Xornoth has been to enough Wither Rose meetings to fear her though. She would eat The Codfather alive.

They do also find themself a little bit impressed, they hadn't thought he had that level of awareness of the internal workings o the other kingdoms.

If we gutted him like a fish he'd squeal so nicely.

It's been a while since Xornoth turned a page. They turn a page.

"Pearl can't be that closely tied to any other ruler," Katherine keeps going. "Too many people across the Empires rely on their trade with her and it isn't fair to your people to risk their well-being that way."

Honestly, if it came to war, Xornoth is fairly certain that Pearl would fight to remain neutral. It would destroy her, being unable to help her friends. Rip that golden heart of hers right out of her chest and shred it in the dust, but so many people from all the lands depend on Helianthia's crops and herds to remain fed. And her sense of duty, to her own people and all the others would take precedence over her loyalty to her friends, and that would kill her swifter than any blade.

If the war did not destroy her lands, and her with them, first.

The page in their white-knuckled grip begins to tear on the edge.

Rip them all to pieces, give the farmer the fight she wants.

Rivendell would follow Helianthia, Xornoth acknowledges. They are not as selfless as Pearl. And even if they were, they could not condemn Rivendell to another harsh winter of starvation and death. They would stand to defend her against all comers (and there would be many who came, lured by the resources she guarded) both as a friend and as a political alliance. Rivendell is not back to the point of being able to sustain themselves, not if the winters continue to worsen the way they have been. Loathe as they are to admit it, even inside their own head where no one can hear.

Well, no one but-

Wheat fields burn so easily, all it would take is a single spark in the right place and all of Mythland would be in flames.

Carefully, carefully, Xornoth sets their book down on the table beside them and places their hands in their lap. Katherine will stop allowing them to borrow her books if they start spontaneously combusting them. Hopefully she doesn't notice the slightly singed cover.

"Joey?" Now it is Katherine who's skepticism is betrayed in her voice and Sausage actually snorts a laugh. All three of them look over at Xornoth, though The Codfather quickly looks away again.

Free us of the silly bird.

"Good luck with that," Sausage says, giggling, and waggles his eyebrows at Xornoth. They pretend to not see, giving their full attention to the tapestry on the wall beside them in a vain attempt at pretending that their painfully un-subtle affair is not the most gossiped about topic among the emperors at present.

This is an old one, probably gifted by their grandparents to the House Blossom Lady of the time. The knot-work symbol in the corner is one they are unfamiliar with, not the signature of any artisan from their lifetime.

"And Xornoth is already married," Katherine doesn't acknowledge Sausage's behavior, beyond an annoyed look, which is probably for the best.

The Codfather jerks his head sharply to the side, "and that's all the royals in your alliance." He sounds almost smug. "None of them work."

And that is when Xornoth makes what they will refer to for centuries to come as "The Mistake." They pick their book back up and affect disinterest as they impulsively decide to wipe the smug grin they are imagining off The Codfather's face. "There is my brother."

There is a long moment of silence. Xornoth eventually looks up and gets their first inkling of how badly they might have just messed up when they see the astonished expression on Sausage's face, and the slowly dawning delight on Katherine's. They stubbornly ignore the blank cod-face staring directly at them.

Why do you consistently choose to prove your incompetence.

"Your brother is alive?" Sausage says but is cut off by Katherine.

"Oh!" she says, bouncing on her toes, hands clasped under her chin. "That's perfect!"

Chapter Two [TBA]

Chapter Three [TBA]

#marriage of state au #solidaritygaming #xornoth #empires smp #flower husbands #empires s1 #katherineelizabeth #mythicalsausage #MoS Icons Arc #marriage of state fanfic #rain rambles #i am so excited to finally start posting this au #literally shaking #aroace author writes massive fallen fantasy au featuring marriages of convenience and politics #it goes exactly the way you would imagine #happy valentines day nerds #mos: fic

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bonefall · 1 year

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mistystar n who

I think fratboy Podlight who sends his powerful grandmother stupid texts is a VERY funny concept.

"My dad didn't love me because he could never move on from the lover he had in his 20s. My sister is up to no good. I party hard at Aftergatherings about it, are you rockin' with me?"

He is 38 cat-years-old.

#BB!Podlight #Aftergatherings #Better bones au #Fennelposting #There's a secret AU of the AU where everything is exactly the same but the cats have the ability to text tbh #I do occasionally just for fun imagine what their phones would be like for no particular reason #Misty is the sort of old person you think you'll have to teach how to use an app #But the moment never comes and you find out she actually has a whole ass burner phone and even refuses to upgrade to--#--a more modern model because she doesn't trust a device she can't take the battery out of #And your blood goes cold for a moment because like... Gamgam?? Silly funny gamgam with the long speeches at gatherings???#When pressed she's just like ''once you give a secret to the world you can never take it back. Knowledge is power and power is a weapon.''#It's fun. I wish I had a way to translate half of these fun phone thought experiments into canon compliance lmao #Btw just as an aside. If this ever DID become an original project it would probably take some inspiration from like...#I really love the new Zelda games' magitech take on an apocalypse. VERY cool idea.#Months ago I had a passing thought of Fallen causing such an apocalypse and entertained it for fun for a while.#Put it down ofc because I like the project in its current form #But it was a fun thought.

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true-blue-sonic · 8 months

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Just had the thought of Silver becoming a history teacher in the past as he grows older. Not because he needs the job to make money, but because he loves spending time with the children and finds it great fun on top.

But his lessons have a twist: if the children have been really, really well-behaved, he'll tell them a story. A story about what is going to happen, something that is yet to occur: a fight with Eggman and how Sonic comes to the rescue, maybe, or a crisis and how everyone in the world will unite to resolve it, or what an ordinary day a few centuries ahead might look like. He paints the scene to life with his words, the children hanging onto everything that comes past his lips. Some of the older students are a bit doubtful about it all - after all, how can their teacher know what is going to happen with so much detail? - but Silver always ends the class with a wink and the statement that history is fickle but filled with beauty before ushering them out.

He also sometimes substitutes as PE teacher in case the actual one is ill. Parents have yet to figure out how and why entire classes at once have suddenly become so vicious in dodgeball.

#silver the hedgehog #imagine being a child in that class and then like THIRTY years later an old and decrepit Eggman well in his 80s launches an attack #and it goes EXACTLY like your history teacher in fourth grade told you it would‚ down to the second #how do you recover from that? you cannot. no way that doesn't leave you utterly slack-jawed #your history teacher clearly was some kind of benign supernatural creature and you didn't even see it at 9 years old #sonic the hedgehog #sth

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moonmoonthecrabking · 1 year

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i want to write many things. many many things. in all of them, i would like a minimum of two bi characters, and in one of them i want all characters to be bi.

neither is common in media, so i guess it means i have to make it myself, even if it's just for me.

#also bc i want original media blah blah blah #and by 'bi' i mean 'bisexuality/biromanticism in its many forms incl. ace/aro bi folks and split attraction bi folks'#bi #bisexual #i want content thank you #i think the first bi character i saw was rosa diaz in brooklyn 99 when i was 14. i first thought 'oh i might be a little bi' when i was 15.#i also saw brittany on glee. again when i was 14. and crazy ex-girlfriend i think i was 15.#and those are really the three main shows that actually said 'bisexual' or 'bi'.#if i had these more frequently or from an earlier age i might have Figured Some Things Out earlier #(also i didn't watch lok so that's why i'm not mentioning it)#and then toh and hsmtmts and heartstopper have existed as more recent properties #and clearly i haven't been including books eg. well. heartstopper. and an absolutely remarkable thing by hank green.#but still. the fact is that there is not a lot of bisexuality in mainstream media. (it's especially lacking for bi folks who aren't women)#i'm really grateful that rosa was the first bi character i saw #bc they explained 'she goes both ways. this isn't a phase or point of confusion for her.'#and the way her parents reacted is exactly how i imagine mine would #i got sidetracked #and even still. only one of those shows has multiple canonically bi characters.#and maybe if i had these from a younger age or more frequently i would've been able to notice 'that's not platonic/a rolemodel'#i'm really grateful that we have shows with younger target audiences showing bi characters but that said it's so few #and i'm still really thankful that hsmtmts depicts a girl who's multisexual who has a boyfriend but figures out 'oh this is attraction.#to a girl.'#and she processes that. and while it's not perfect (i made a post on it mid-september' gosh i felt seen.#also also while i'm here i don't want to write exclusively secular queer characters. i mean 1. that's not an experience i've lived #but 2. even if it were. apparently a lot of queer adults in the us identify as religious.#and it's selfish but. if i had a queer christian character that would've helped me a lot. like there are queer ways of approaching faith.#how does a christian character approach the realisation that they aren't straight?#it's a journey #and it would've helped me understand. before i knew anything about myself. that it was okay.#that sometimes the nuance is most clearly seen when you exist in it. when you are the grey area.

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js337 · 4 months

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yeah ok my fave's dead but we got confirmation that he brutally killed some shitty people beforehand and i think that's very sexy of him

#did he rly want to? no but i'm coping and therefore choosing to ignore that #hey animators when you get there in ten years could you extend the scene a little #that guy's brains are open and on the floor and i would like to see /exactly/ how that happened thank you #number of faves who have brutally bashed someone's head in potentially rising to two! exciting times #personal.#jen goes through the stages of grief in the weirdest way imaginable

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bandgie · 3 months

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Just Once - Say Yes

werewolf!Chan x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI 18+, biting, very slight blood mentions, PIV, no protection, rut, knotting, fingering, nipple play, reader says it hurts once, breeding mentions, monsterfucking? (I could have done more)

notes! you know im down bad when I get wet from just seeing images of chan like what the fuck?

2.5k words

Chan knows he’s not supposed to be here, yet, that’s exactly where he is. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of his body and in a way he’s not. Your scent fills his nose even through the shut door of your bedroom. You’re sleeping, he figures. He can hear your steady, slow breaths and the gentle snores.

His feet are planted, head resting on the wooden door as he groans. Chan wants so desperately to wake you up. To softly knock on your door until you answer in the dead of the night. Maybe seeing you will satiate his thirst. Just a glance at your figure can help him - it will be enough, but he’s not thinking rationally right now. He can’t. Not when his rut is at an all-time high. Chan is on top of his suppressors, but his breeding period and the full moon makes for an unbearable combo.

He knows you will answer no matter how late it is. Chan can easily imagine you opening the door, dazed and confused. He would tell you he’s having a hard time by himself, tell you that he desperately needs your help.

Or maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all. He could just grab your plush hips and pull you into a kiss. Maybe you’d mumble sleepy questions, squeak when his hands find the fat of your ass, but you’d let him. He knows you would.

That’s why he has to leave. Now. His cock throbs just thinking about how pliant you are for him. He tells himself that he’ll be satisfied with his hand or his fleshight which makes a shitty substitute. Chan knows breeding a human during such an intense time would be too much, too rough for them. As much as his body and wolf beg for you, that sliver of humanity is intact.

So he whines, quiet and high. Chan wills his legs to move, stepping back until he’s no longer pressed against your door. The floorboards creak under his feet with every step. He swears they’re telling him to go back, to bang on your door and pump you until he’s sure you’re knocked up. He really has lost it, convinced that the wood beneath is telling him to screw you.

Unbelievable.

He’s too busy laughing and fighting with himself to hear you slip out of bed. Chan misses your quiet feet treading to your bedroom door, slowly opening it as you adjust your eyes in the dark.

“Channie?”

The floorboards must be cursed to sound like you or maybe his rut is just that bad. He tried to brush off your call as him going insane, but the hair on his neck stands and the smell of you is so much stronger. Chan doesn’t want to turn around for your sake. His composure will break and he doesn’t want to imagine what you look like right now.

“What are you doing out here?” You sound so tired barely coming out of your slumber. Chan doesn’t sense any fear from you, not even worry. You’re far too sleepy to feel anything beyond confusion. The trust you have for your lover, even if he is half beast, is endearing. It makes his heart swell and his stomach turn. He can’t tell if your love for him is naive or pure. Perhaps both.

He’s going to tell you that he’s okay. He just had a bad dream and needed to walk around the house for a bit. It’s not uncommon to see your boyfriend wandering the house late at night; you know how difficult it is for him to sleep. Chan was going to tell you, but he felt your hand wrap around his bicep. You gently tug him until he faces you and what a mistake that is. You’re dressed in a shirt much too big for you, his shirt. It barely goes past your ass and your pebbled nipples poke through the fabric. Your eyes are squinted, lips swollen from sleep. Chan’s eyes are captivated by your human beauty when you say, “Channie, is everything okay?”

No, everything is not okay. Chan’s been fucking into his hand for hours pretending it’s you - he’s knotted into his toy countless times. When he did get the stupid courage to go to your door, he backed away. It’s even worse now his cock is leaking being so close to you.

You should have stayed sleeping.

His strong arms wrap around your torso, pulling you in. There’s no time to question him when Chan presses his lips against yours. Your lover is usually gentle during kisses. He takes time to cup your cheek, to tilt his head so your mouths can better align. If he was really into it, he would suck on your bottom lip only to bite it until you gasped.

He doesn’t kiss you like that now, not even in the slightest. His hands cup your ass just as he imagined. They knead and dig into your flesh, pressing you flush against his crotch. His lips are rough and messy. Your teeth clash almost animalistically and he hears you whine into the kiss. Chan can’t tell if you're whining due to the neediness from his mouth or cock. He knows you can feel his stiffness against your leg.

Your dainty hands find his chest to gently push at it. Chan’s usually good at reading the room, knowing what to do and when to do it. But this isn’t your Channie. He can’t even feel your fists when he keeps shoving his tongue down your throat. The taste of you is addicting. All he wants to do is feel you from the inside out. To have every part of him connected with you in the most primal way.

It’s not until you whimper again that he notices. Chan sucks harshly on your tongue before he pulls away with a string of saliva connecting your mouths. His eyes are dazed when he looks at your features. Your face is flushed and your eyes are wide. If you were still asleep before, you’re wide awake now. Chan can tell you’re trying to come up with what to say, but you already know. You can feel his boner on your thigh, you can see the glow in his eyes, and the fact that his body seems thicker, denser. Chan has only let you see him during the end of his rut. He’ll lock himself in his room for days until he’s ready to socialize. You could always hear him on the other side though. How the slick sounds of whatever he’s using are surely filled with cum. If you pressed your ear against the frame, you could hear him softly calling out your name. You wanted to see him so bad. No matter how many times you asked, Chan would turn you down. It’s too dangerous, he’d said. I don't want to hurt you.

But that Chan is nowhere to be found. Instead, you’re faced with the very wolf he’s tried so desperately to keep you from.

“Sorry,” he already knows what trouble you’ll be in tonight. “Hurts so bad. I can’t take it.” Chan grinds his cock to show you. “Just one knot. Just one I promise.” Ah, a promise. You both know how much Chan loves keeping his promises, but this is one he doesn’t know you’re hoping he’ll break.

He doesn’t even know why he’s asking. He doesn’t think stopping is possible at this point, but he’d try. Chan is already trying to ignore how his lips ache for yours and stop thinking about how perfectly your body molds into his, but you hold on to him tighter.

Chan doesn’t hear you say yes with how loud his blood drums in his ears, but he does see you nod. The sultry look in your eyes will do you more harm than good. He doesn't ask twice, doesn’t think twice. He smashes his lips against yours again, walking you back to your room without caring how you trip over your own feet.

You feel the bed on the back of your knees and Chan rips himself from the kiss. He pushes you on the mattress, quickly crawling over you as one of his hands lifts the shirt to your shoulder. You gasp at how quickly he’s moving. His hot mouth is already latched onto your nipple while his hand dips past your underwear.

By some magic, you’re already wet. Chan only plays with your clit for seconds before dripping his thick fingers into your heat. Squeals and wet pumps fill the room. Your back arches when he bites on your nipple, tugging the bud and letting go before doing it all over again. Bruises are already forming on your breast and Chan is eager to make your other match. His slick fingers pull from your pussy to tug your underwear down instead.

Your panties hang from one ankle, legs wide as Chan settles between them. The entrance of your cunt slightly gapes from his fingers. No time is wasted as he shrugs his boxers off, eyes never leaving your core. You almost want to close your legs from his staring, but you would miss the view of his cock springing free.

“Oh shit,” you gawk at his size. Chan’s always been thick, a fat head that always stretches you out just right. But this - this is massive. His rut must make everything bigger. Even the knot that sits at the base of his cock seems triple in size. “Channie, I don’t think- there’s no way in hell you can fit.”

But he’s already stroking himself. Your worries fall on deaf ears when his fat tip touches your clit. He moans at the feeling of your lips around him. He presses his cock so that it grinds against your flesh hard. Your mouth falls open, gaze dropping so you can see him rock against your pussy.

You think you could cum just like this. His engorged cock provides the perfect veins and ridges for stimulation. Still, your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. It makes you think about what it would feel like to have his raw cock in you. Chan can tell you’re ready for it when you start grinding back, tilting your hips so his tip catches your entrance.

It’s going to fit - he’ll make sure. Even if you cry and beg for him to slow down, he knows your body will break for him.

And it does just that with the first intrusion. The swell of his cock easily slides into you with a few inches following before he meets the inevitable resistance of your tight cunt. You whine, hands finding purchase on the pillow beneath you. It doesn't hurt, not in the slightest, but you can feel the pressure. Your walls clench and squeeze his girth until he forces himself to pull an inch out.

“Baby, shit,” he breathes. Chan attempts to gain composure through controlled inhales and exhales. “Why are you always so tight?”

Before you can even think about answering his rhetorical question, he thrusts himself deeper. Chan follows his breath, using his airflow as a metronome. In, out, in, out. Deeper, inch by inch, before he sees his knot come to contact with your cunt.

He’s trying, really trying not to just pin your hands down by your sides and fuck his hips into you. Instead, he keeps his hands at your thighs, but he’s not sure if that’s any better. Chan’s claws dig into your tender flesh leaving marks that nearly split your skin. It must hurt with how hard he’s gripping you but your eyes roll to the back of your head with every thrust.

Just like he thought, you’re so good to him. Even with your pretty whines and whimpers, you’re still such a good girl for your Channie.

Such a good girl.

It gets to him: your flushed cheeks, your bouncing tits, the moans that tumble from your swollen lips, and how your hands have moved from the pillow to try and grasp onto him instead. You must want more, he reasons. You must with the cream he sees coating his length every time he pulls out. You must with how you’re chanting his name, nearly sobbing it.

You must with how you make his knot ache, begging to already shove its way inside you and spill.

Chan can imagine it, he can taste it. It’s such a strong need that he growls, his sharp canines showing from his lips pulled back into an animalistic snarl. Saliva drips down his teeth when he thinks about biting you. Leaving marks on your neck that will only help hold you down while his knot finds its place in your womb. You hardly notice the droll seeping your tummy, too caught up with how harshly Chan is fucking into you.

You do, however, feel how his hips change pace. They get harder, sloppier as if he’s trying to shove that god-forsaken knot into you.

“Channie!” It’s half-panicked and half-breathless. “Wait! That’s not - hng! I can’t-”

“You can,” he snarls. “And I will.”

Now you can see his teeth that clamp down so hard that his drool is tinted with pink. This is the first time you’ve seen him for what he truly is - a beast. A monster in its purest form with eyes that seem to glow, pitch-black nails that will surely leave marks for weeks, and canines you know can shred you in a second.

Even with all of that, you know that this man - this wolf - is Channie. Your Channie.

So you don’t whine against him anymore. You don’t try to escape him when he lays his head in between your shoulder and neck to sink his teeth into. You embrace the bite, fully expecting unbearable pain, but instead, it’s blinded by the stretch of his knot in you.

Pleasure and pain intertwine, unable to separate from each other when Chan completely surrounds you. But your body reacts before your brain can. You let out a yelp and scratch your dull nails down his sculpted back. Chan moans into your neck at the feeling, shoving his hips impossibly deeper just to feel you do it again.

“Sh-shit! Channie! Hurts…” but he doesn’t see your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his seed pumping into you.

Chan doesn’t reply, can’t reply with how he’s pulled his teeth from you and begun licking your wounds. But he knows. His balls tense and release with every spurt of cum he gives you and you whimper with every pump.

He’ll apologize in the morning; pamper you and make sure that you’re well rested. He’ll make sure to take care of you real good, especially with the chance of you giving him pups.

Fuck. He can’t think like that. His cock jumps at the thought and he swears his knot swells all over again. Chan inhales your human scent, reminding him that you’re his priority no matter how much his rut makes him needy to breed. But even in his frenzy state, he doesn’t dare to tell you knotting can last up to 30 minutes.

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz bangchan #skz bang chan #christopher bang #bangchan fic #chris skz #bangchan smut #bang chan smut #bangchan #bangchan fanfic #skz chris #skz chris smut

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misaamoure · 18 days

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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭:

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭!!

⋅ ˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬:

“You must be out of your damn mind if you think that’s gonna fit in me.”

Sylus looked almost offended as you pointed down at his obnoxiously large appendage.

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you liked big dicks?”

You and Sylus had finally gotten in the mood to go all the way… until he pulled his pants and boxers down.

The pure shock on your face was an ego booster for him.

Then he developed his own look of pure shock upon you proclaiming that the sex was off.

And upon asking why, your reasoning was, “it won’t fit. Are you stupid?”

Which he immediately responded with, “I’ll make it fit, sweetie. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

This only serves to piss you off more.

However… you couldn’t deny the fact that you were extremely curious.

How would it feel? How deep would it go? Could you actually take it?

All this pondering led to you begrudgingly taking him up on his offer.

“Sylus, please, enough! Just fuck me… already…!”

It felt like he had been eating you out for hours.

Sucking on your clit, sticking his tongue into you, and occasionally slipping a finger in.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?” He fixed his sanguine gaze right onto your beautiful face.

You nodded vigorously.

“Alright,” He gave your clit on more kiss before sitting up, palming himself a bit for some kind of relief. “Can you turn over for me, kitten?”

Doing exactly as he asked, you didn’t miss a beat. You were more than eager for it at this point.

You felt Sylus’s warm, hard, heavy body embrace yours, as you two were in the prone bone position.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay, Y/N?” You felt him kiss your shoulder tenderly.

“Yes sir.”

“You promise?”

Oh here he goes. You could sense Sylus’s bullshit from a mile away.

“Yes I promise.”

“You sure?”

“Get the fuck on with it already!”

“I’m gonna count down from three.” You felt him run his tip up and down, paying extra attention to your sensitive clit.

“Nnngh… whatever!” He chuckled at your increasing frustration. You were just so cute like this.

“One…”

You felt Sylus thrust his entire cock in at once, making you gasp as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Sylus what the fuck?!” You looked back at him over your shoulder in disbelief.

“It’s better like this, trust me.”

If you were in a state to argue with him, you would. But right now in this moment, you were in no state to tell him off.

You felt so fucking full. It felt like he was in your guts. Big. So big.

And oddly enough… you loved it.

It felt so warm and intimate. Made you wonder what a creampie could be like.

The sensation of Sylus beginning to move inside of you knocked you out of your thoughts.

He was going so incredibly slow… you could feel every single inch, vein, and curve as he slowly pulled half of himself out and thrusted all of it back in.

“Oh my god, it’s so good,” You said breathlessly, barely able to register the feeling of anything but being stuffed to the brim. “It’s so good… what do I do?”

You heard Sylus groan deeply before a dark chuckle escaped his throat.

“Sit back and enjoy, kitten. That’s all you need to do.”

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞:

“No Zayne, it’s not gonna fit, I’m serious!”

“We haven’t even tried yet, Y/N. Relax, please.”

While Zayne’s calm demeanor was often grounding, right now you found it nothing short of annoying.

Your little heart was about to beat right out of your chest… you were sure he could practically hear your heartbeats right now. No stethoscope needed!

It was your first time together… neither of you two had seen each other naked before.

So imagine your surprise when Zayne casually pulls his boxers down to reveal the absolute weapon in his pants.

It wasn’t just big length wise… it was thick. Very thick.

And so so pretty. His dick was so incredibly pretty.

A gorgeous pink tip that faded in color towards the base. Like it was made just for you.

You always caught glimpses of his bulge through his slacks, but you didn’t expect it to be so… huge?

A jaw dropping reveal.

Knowing you like the back of his hand, Zayne obviously felt your concerned gaze on him.

And he promised to get you ready for him properly.

Fingering you for a good hour… making you cum multiple times and stretching you out like the good man he was.

“Do you think you’re ready now?” He was between your legs in missionary, staring down at you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You sighed.

“I’ll go slow, I promise.” Zayne kissed you lovingly on the cheek.

You nodded, skin brushing against his as he pulled away.

Gasping as you felt his tip rub up and down your folds, you felt him experimentally push into you to see how much force it would take to enter you.

“Zayne…”

“I know. I’ve got you.”

His soothing words did nothing but assure you. Zayne had every bit of your trust, and he had earned it all.

He entered you slowly, using exact force to get just the tip in.

The sensation of that alone made you toss and turn.

He kept pulling out, and pushing in… and pulling out and pushing in… each time inching a bit more of his cock inside you.

“So big… Zayne it’s so big…” You whined out, eyes shut as you weakly pressed as his pelvis with your palm.

“If you’re saying it’s big when I’ve just managed to fit half of my cock inside you,” Zayne struggled to muffle his own sounds between words. “You’re in for a much harder time than you think.”

He continued his method from before… slowly inching more and more of his cock in a he fucked in and out of you slowly.

The pain was undeniable. But something else was also undeniable.

You felt so incredibly full inside. It felt amazing. The fullness mixed with the invigorating friction of each thrust was intensifying by the minute.

“So good… I think… it’s so good… more please…!”

Zayne chuckled at your admission.

“How about this?” Zayne leaned forward to lean on his forearms above you, grinding his thick cock into you with each stroke. “Does that feel good?”

“Yessss… yeah! Feels so good… Zayne!” You’re pretty sure you were babbling like an idiot, but you just couldn’t help it.

Dipping down, he caught your lips with his for a deep kiss.

Pulling away, his eyes bore deep into yours. So deep that you could see yourself reflected in them.

“Do you want me to go faster now?”

“Yes… please… Zayne…!”

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months

Note

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed. Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@sammysinger04 @jackrabbitem @statixx-x @xxkay15xx @lxblm

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @certainlygay

@hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair @suhmie @kidd3ath

@lovely-ateez @thewulf @coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @beebeechaos

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rhosgobelbun · 3 months

Text

steve's been knocking on doors trying to find eddie. he would be annoyed that all he's found are couples and groups in states of undress but this is some random house party, so it's what steve expects.

plus he's too relieved that he hasn't walked in on eddie being a part of any of it.

steve knows it's gross to feel this way. he trusts eddie 100%. it's not right to let past relationship problems cloud his judgement when it comes to what he has with eddie - who hasn't given him any reason to doubt.

but eddie is so new. been together for only 2 months now new.

and tommy was so old. childhood friend/fucked up situationship for 10 long years old. just ended for good a year and a half ago old.

so even though he knows, hopes, prays, that it's ridiculous to compare the two together, steve still checks the bathroom and makes sure the man on his knees in front of some blonde cheerleader isn't his boyfriend.

and then promptly ducks down to avoid a brush the blonde cheerleader throws at him.

'sorry!' steve apologizes. he hurries to slam the door closed and makes his way to the very last room at the end of the hallway.

maybe he left? eddie didn't want to serve here anyway, rich druggie clientele be damned. so even though they came together, maybe eddie had an emergency and-

steve cuts that thought off because well. he found eddie.

'baby!!' his boyfriend exclaims, alone, sitting on the floor in the middle of some random strangers room with a jar of peanut butter. he's got a spoon full of it half way up to his mouth and his eyes are red.

at least 4 brownies deep red.

the wave of relief he feels is actually pretty concerning, but steve will think about that some other time since he's too busy trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the long haird idiot looks.

'eddie, what are you doing?'

eddie looks guilty and for a split second steve thinks maybe he did walk in on eddie with someone else. (maybe he's waiting on them? maybe they already left?)

then eddie holds up the jar of peanut butter and says in the saddest voice, 'i needed it stevie, i don't remember how long it's been since i've had peanut butter. but i didn't think you'd find me! stay back! don't you come any closer!'

so this whole time while steve's been worried that eddie was off doing what tommy used to do to make him jealous, eddie just snuck off and hid away to eat peanut butter because steves' allergic.

starting to snicker, steve goes to sit across from him. 'i can be around it babe, im not gonna die.'

eddie rushes to close the jar, spoon shoved inside and all. he gives steve the stink eye. 'i know what peanut allergies can do to some people. i refuse to watch you blow up like a tomato.'

steve rolls his eyes and reaches out, acting like he's gonna touch the jar.

eddie yells. jumping to his feet, he scurries out of the closet like an over grown rat, 'steve harrington this is exactly why I was trying to eat this away from you!'

steves laughing now, giggling like a hyena. he can't believe he ever doubted this man.

later that night - after eddie has showered and brushed his teeth at least three times - when they're tucked away in eddies room under the covers, steve talks to him about his freak out. eddie apologizes for leaving him alone at a strangers party like that. he holds him close, gives steve a ton of kisses and promises to create a DND character that represents tommy.

'i'll turn him into a toad and kill him off in the most gruesome way imaginable. he'll be murdered to death, the kids will be traumatized. it'll be great. just you wait and see, my love.'

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #🐚#my stuff #idk how dnd works

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aphelionwrotes11 · 3 months

Text

MDNI 18+ (light dubcon) unedited

Part 3 : Trucker!simon

CW: smut, cunnilingus/fingering, fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort

1.6k words

Trucker!simon finally takes his bird home

It takes only a month before you’re quitting your job at the shitty truck stop and talking your landlord out of your lease. Simon does all of the heavy lifting when it comes to the moving. Attaches a trailer to the back of his semi cab and uses that to haul your belongings to his private home in the outskirts of the city.

He tells you this is his actual house, the one he’s taken you to before was just the rental he kept to stay in when he was in the city. Just more convenient, closer to the loading dock for the company he works for. It shocks you that he can afford to rent and own a property at the same time, and he does it just because it’s convenient.

It’s a real nice property, large and lush. The long gravel driveway is lined with pines and brush, at the end is a two story home with a large unfenced yard full of green grass and clover. You can’t help the way you gape at the house, So beautiful, and obviously paid for by the money he made in the military and his fat check from long rides in his truck.

He walks you around the entire property as soon as you get there, showing you around inside and out. The house is even more beautiful inside than out, with gorgeous stained glass windows, wooden beams, spiraling stairs, and a kitchen lined with green tile with flower accents. The decor itself is all rather plain, practically a blank canvas, but it just gives you more to work with. There’s a couch where there’s supposed to be one, a coffee table, plates and silverware for two, but not much else.

When you question him on why there’s practically no furniture at all, he just says he’s never needed much. You imagine so, just one man living in a big house. He doesn’t mention that he bought this property not too long after he saw you for the first time, known since the beginning he would have you one way or another.

“Ther’s space in th’back for a garden. Can put whatever ya want in it.” He tells you, and smiles as you grin excitedly, saying that’s great because you’ve always wanted to start up a garden. (He knows, came home and built up some plant beds and bought gardening supplies after you told him that on the first date.)

He spends the next few hours helping you unpack all of your things, which isn’t much. Didn’t exactly have a lot of space for anything other than necessities in your dingy apartment. He takes extra care placing your folded clothes into your shared dresser. Lining your panties beside his boxers. Chuckles as you wave him off, telling him you can do it yourself with a blush on your cheeks. Walks away with a pair of black lace panties tucked in his back pocket, he’s gonna put those in his truck for the next ride out.

The first few weeks are like a dream, the two of you spending nearly every moment together. You weren’t expecting it to feel this easy. You weren’t expecting yourself to wanna be around him so much. You used to call yourself an introvert, preferred your personal time and space over all else. But now you find yourself crawling across the couch to nestle yourself into his arms late at night, or opting to read your books on the bench in the garage as he works on his truck.

The first time he leaves for work isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, he was gone for only 14 hours. Left in the early morning when it was still dark and came home just in time for dinner.

The second time wasn’t so easy, his ride was a full 25 hours away, and you found yourself nervous the entire time he was gone. He told you before hand that he would occasionally have to go on overnight rides, sometimes he’d have to go on rides that would take a week. But he assured you that those were few and far between. Unfortunately he had told you that before holiday season.

And now, as the next week goes by and you find yourself only seeing your boyfriend a few hours a day, your irritation only grows with each passing 24 hours. When he comes back to his lovely bird being sharp and cold, he knows that something has gotta change.

“Whots th’matter, bird? Talk to me.” He says, a tinge of desperation in his voice, only to be met with your frown as you turned back to your book.

When he first picked up this job after retiring from the military, he didn’t mind the ever changing schedule or long rides. Figured it was for the best, something to keep him busy until he’s too old to work anymore. That was until he met you. Suddenly the long rides felt like eternity until he could return to that greasy truck stop to see you again.

And now that he has you all for himself, the long rides and changing hours make him dread waking up in the morning just to leave your beautiful sleeping form all alone. On the third day of your cold shoulder, the next time he goes into work he has a talk with his boss. He’s promised a strict schedule and reduced hours as soon as the holiday season is finished, with all of the other truckers already knee deep in work, it just wasn’t an option to implement his new schedule so soon.

He makes plans to use a couple weeks of his unused PTO by the next month so that he can make up for the lost time.

When he comes home after a particularly rough shift, his skin feels tight and muscles tense, all he can hope for is to pull you into his arms and nestle his face into your neck. But as it’s been for the past few days, you’re cold once he comes home. He can’t help the irritation that builds in his gut as you ignore him when he asks how your day was.

“Alright bird, that’s it.” He says, rising from his seat that the table and getting to you in record time.

You gasp as he lifts you up and lays you on the kitchen island. Ignores your protests as he lifts up your nightgown and pulls down your panties to reveal an already glistening pussy.

“Been so good for you bird, workin’ so hard, gettin’ that shit done just to come home to you all pissy..” he growls, letting out a low groan as he presses a thumb to your swollen clit.

“Whot you so mad at me for? Think you can’t talk to me?” He asks, pressing his index finger into your pussy as you squirm.

“Would rather you yell at me than this shit- fuck-“ he says lowly, bringing his nose down to your lips and sniffing..like a dog. Chuckles as you whine at him.

“Don’t worry birdie, I’ll make you feel better.”

With that, he starts thrusting his fingers into your throbbing cunt as he licks your clit with his thick tongue.

It’s not long before he’s thrusting into you at a godforsaken pace, the only sounds being your moans and mewls, his low groans, and the lewd sound of your wet pussy being finger fucked and sucked on by his drooling mouth.

“Love you bird, y’know I do-“ he mumbles into your pussy, pressing a kiss to your clit.

You feel that familiar coil of pleasure tighten in your core, your toes are curling, your nerves are hot. You choke out a warning, telling him you are so, so close. He doesn’t relent, just carries on.

The orgasm is blinding, your eyes rolling back into your head as you clamp your thighs around his head. He moans into your pussy as you cum, slurping up your juices and rubbing his nose against your clit.

Pushes you to the point of near overstimulation, stops once you start crying that it’s too much. When he pulls away, a string of his spit and your juices is connected to his mouth. His pupils are blown wide and he looks out of it. He’s panting, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he presses kisses into the tender skin.

He presses his cheek into your tummy and glances up at you, “feeling better?” He asks with a smirk.

After he’s finished with you (which is when the sun has long since set) and you are snuggled in his warm arms on your shared bed is when he tells you about his conversation with his boss.

“M’sorry. Been neglecting ya, haven’t I birdie? Won’t do it again.” He tells you. But you shush him with your own apologies, telling him you should’ve just talked to him, shouldn’t have ignored him and so on.

“Don’t ever feel ‘fraid of talkin’ to me, bird. I’ll always listen.” He says into your hair.

That night, after a long week of coldness and anger, the two of you lay sound asleep in each others warm embrace, totally peaceful.

Note: hey guys!!! Hope you enjoyed this one!! Had to add in a little bit of sweetness for you all 🩷🩷 as usual this one is unedited so please forgive any mistakes or lack of cohesiveness, I’m planning on coming back and editing a bunch of stuff eventually. But for now I’m just kinda throwing random things out for fun 😆 anyways, next thing I’ll be bringing out will most probably be stalker!simon, that or trucker!john price. Love you all, xoxo 😘

Simon Riley master list

#cod fanfic #cod smut #fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #trucker simon riley #simon ghost x reader #Simon ghost Riley smut #simon riley smut #fluff #smut

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misstycloud · 3 months

Text

[Yandere.Rich man x ballerina reader]

(I don’t actually know much about ballet so forgive me if things are incorrect!)

—————

Rich. Yandere who was pestered by his friend and his wife to join them at the opera house and enjoy a performance. The couple had asked him numerous times before but he’d always declined. He was a workaholic and didn’t have any other commitments, so there was no need to break his routine. Although he would never admit it to anyone- he barely does to himself- he often find himself imagining a different life; one where he had a wife to welcome him home every evening. Perhaps a few children too. There was no sound besides himself and the staff in his home, it would be so very nice to hear the noise of running feet and happy chatter echo through the empty halls.

Rich. Yandere who is lonely above all else. His family is dead and he has next to no friends- the only one he has is married and devote all his time to keep him company. He knows that he doesn’t have the best track-record of being the kindest person in the world, and he might not be the friendliest or the most out-going, still, doesn’t he deserve some love too?

Rich. Yandere who eventually give into his friends demand and goes with them to the opera. As they took their seats- the expensive and best ones, of course- his friends wife babble on about her favourite dancer. They were regulars there and had seen many performances. He simply sighed and leaned back into his seat, waiting for the show to begin. He could only hope that it’ll be somewhat enjoyable since he doesn’t like wasting his time.

Rich. Yandere who was prepared for it to be a dreadful 3 hours, rubbing his eyes and suffering from lack of blood-flow in his legs. Oh how wrong he was. Instantly his gaze zoomed into you as soon as you stepped forward from behind the curtain. You were so beautiful and you moved your body gracefully to the music. It was magical. While he knew close to nothing about ballet, he knew that the point of it were for the women to look like they’re floating, and it’s exactly what you were doing.

Rich. Yandere who is instantly enamoured with you. As someone who’s never felt love this was all a brand new experience for him. He asked his friend and his wife if they knew who you were, since they frequent the opera so much. And turns out the wife did know who you were; you were her favourite after all. Rich. Yandere was never close with her or particularly liked her even, but he had to give it to her: she has excellent taste in performers.

Rich. Yandere who starts looking up information regarding you. It’s be your name, age, background, family, where you went to school and where you live. Everything. He also begins donating a lot of money to the opera house. In a short amount of time he’s become their nr.1 funder. The managers and owners are ecstatic at the news! They ask why he’s so generous and he simply answers that he loves culture and thinks it’s important it doesn’t disappear. Then, they wonder if there is anything they can do for him return, to which he smiles in response.

“Well, I do suppose there is one dancer I would be delighted to meet in person.”

Rich. Yandere who you feel uncomfortable around. He is so strange. You were just a normal ballerina, a dancer, no better or worse than anyone before your time. That’s why you can’t fathom the interest this wealthy man has taken in you. You two came form completely different worlds! But what can you do when your bosses not-so-gently urge you to see this man alone? You dont have any other skills and can’t apply to another job if you get fired.

Rich. Yandere who is determined to make you fall for him the way he has fallen for you. He’ll take care of you, love you and protect you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. He will do anything for his love.

“Don’t be scared, just keep on dancing, my little dancer.”

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rinhaler · 10 months

Note

ok but like nanami or geto fucking us in a room and gojo just goes in without knocking and sees. and it’s all awkward and he leaves but then ends up going into another room to jerk off cause it was kinda hot…

i would like to maintain that i am not a getou fucker but i hope u enjoy this nonnie :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, vaginal sex.

words: .9k

“O-Oh, shit, Suguru… should we stop?” you pant, your boyfriend still smothering your neck in soft kisses. It’s an answer in itself, but he still feels compelled to breathe the words softly against your skin.

“No, sweetheart, he’ll be fine.” he coos, nibbling on your earlobe. Ultimately distracting you completely from the awkward encounter of being walked in on while you’re naked with Suguru’s cock balls deep in your cunt.

Satoru leans against the wall for a moment while your bare form runs rampant through his mind. The way your swollen, bitten lip fell from your teeth as you moaned while riding Suguru’s thick length.

The way skin slapping against skin filled the room as he relentlessly pounded into you. How sweaty you both appeared to be. You must have been at it for a while. And Satoru has never been so jealous.

He’d always had a thing for you, but kept it to himself out of respect for his best friend. But, fuck, that’s a hard thing to ignore. And now he’s dealing with another hard thing to ignore.

He shouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

But he finds himself instinctively walking to his own dorm room and leaning against the wall that he shares with Suguru. He can still hear you going at it. And his heart flutters.

You know how thin the walls are, and yet you’re making no effort to conceal your salacious little moans. You’re doing it for him, aren’t you? That’s what he thinks, anyway. That’s how he reasons it as he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it to the ground. His sweats come down just enough for him to grab his aching cock.

And the little hiss he emits is pornographic as he makes contact with himself. He’s so turned on, so sensitive it’s almost sore to touch himself. But he can’t help it. He needs this.

He runs his hand over his drooling cockhead and is even taken aback himself by what a mess you’ve made of him. Without even trying. His head falls back against the wall with a gentle thump as he closes his eyes and imagines he is the one fucking you right now. The way you’re trying to be quiet but failing completely as Suguru continues to fuck up into you and viciously pound against your g-spot without remorse.

It should be him.

He looks down at his cock. It’s red and throbbing with a burning desire to be stuffed inside of your precious little cunt.

“Hhng, ah! Suguru! Don’t, d-don’t stop baby.. haaah~!”

Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Even if his hand wasn’t already blurring as he fucks into his fist, he’d have to after that. You want him to hear, he was right. You want him to get off to the idea of you. Of fucking you. Of being a seedy little witness to your filthy show.

You act so innocent, but you aren’t. He should have known.

It’s always precious little things like you that are the most depraved.

He doesn’t want to stop touching himself. He wants to enjoy the feeling of pleasuring himself with you at the same time forever. But he can hear your hitching breaths. The way you’re struggling to keep up with Suguru and how he has to help you even more.

He doesn’t want to stop.

But he has to cum with you.

The way Suguru tries to silence himself as he shoots his load inside of you makes him smile. Like it’s some secret that you’re fucking. It’s well past that, now. Gojo had already borne witness to your natural instincts consuming you both.

He fists his cock faster. Harder. Suguru doesn’t stop fucking you, rubbing your clit with his thumb all the while. He can hear it in your shaky breaths. You're close. You’re so fucking close.

And you’ll cum together.

How romantic.

He doesn’t hold back his own moans as he hears you succumb to your building orgasm. It’s only right that you know what you’ve done to him, he thinks. And for a moment, it goes silent, when you realise what is happening in the room next door.

You’re covering your mouth, much to Suguru’s dismay. He yanks your hand away and interlocks his fingers with yours. Still fucking his softening cock into you relentlessly.

“Don’t be shy,” he smirks, “We wanna hear your pretty moans.”

And Satoru’s cock spurts glob after glob of white, shimmering cum onto his stomach as he moans boisterously for you. Suguru really is the best friend he could ask for. He could have so easily stopped fucking you and started a fight over the fact he’s masturbating over you.

He’s generous. Sharing you and your gorgeous moans with him. He didn’t have to, of course. But Suguru knows how lucky he is to have you. He feels sorry for every other man on earth since he knows no one else can have you.

“Fuuuuuuck me.” Satoru sighs as he finishes, jerking every last drop of cum he possibly can.

“You’re welcome, Satoru,” Suguru laughs, knocking his knuckle against the wall behind him. You collapse above his body, resting your head on his shoulder as you come down from your high. “Don’t make a habit of it, though.”

“A habit?” he laughs, knowing it’s far too late for that. “Next time, I want to watch.”

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