#maybe even chews it up for you before pressing your mouth to his and feeding you that way :/ you’ll eat what he gives you one way or another

[saintshigaraki]

sukuna forcing you to partake in cannibalism with him :/

[alexiroflife]

toji likes to eat…

🥢🥢🥢🥢

and i mean he likes to eat a lot. though he blows a lot of his funds regularly on races and unnecessary bids, toji will always find the means to spare some change for a meal. ALWAYS.

he’s a big guy with a big stomach. all that killing he does on the job, all the energy he exerts whipping his body around at an inhuman speed, works up an insanely inhuman appetite

before he’s heading home to you, he’s grabbing the two of you ramen, onigiri, sandwiches, yakitori, anything he can get his hands on and loads of it. he walks into the house with enough carry out to could feed a whole village

as much as toji enjoys eating, however, he’s somehow found that he likes to watch you eat even more

it sounds weird when he thinks about it or says anything about it out loud, but bringing you food has come to be one of his love languages

you have long days at work when toji is out on jobs, working tirelessly to provide for the both of you and to help with the kids as much as toji does the same. you’re always completely spent by the time he gets home, and just as hungry

the first time toji realizes he loves when you eat is when the two of you are sitting at the dining table, the kids over at satoru’s, and your shoving your face into the takeout he just brought back. he pauses his own eating for once, something he has never done, and watches you, amused

he’s not sure what’s so particularly special about the way you eat. maybe it’s the way you’re always so appreciative, thanking toji for bringing the two of you dinner when either of you are too tired to cook, big eyes eying the bags in his hand as though you’re going to tackle yourself into it. when you open the containers of food, steam rising into the air and the delicious scent filling your nose and grumbling your stomach, you look so excited

“looks so good, Toji!” you would say, smiling widely as though he’d brought you the moon in his palm. you never take your meals for granted, especially not the ones that toji buys for you, and it’s so cute. so endearing

toji can feel himself smiling when he studies your happy face, honored that he’s the person to bring that smile to you even if you’re just happy about a damn meal. to see you so thrilled over something so simple that he could do for the both of you has his heart squeezing

and then when you eat, when you eat something good, your eyes light up and your releasing little hums of satisfaction as you shove food into your mouth. you do a little dance too, swaying side to side and nodding to yourself. it’s fucking precious

he likes that you don’t care how you eat in front of him, or in front of anyone for that matter. he likes how you indulge yourself, taking advantage of the things that satisfy you without worrying about what people may think, what he may think. it only lets him know that you’re comfortable enough to be yourself around him

he likes that you nourish yourself well, if that makes any sense. he likes the idea that when you eat, you eat for your health and your pleasure. he likes the way you savor every bite and chew slowly, pretty lips puckered and your cheeks full. he can’t put a finger on it, but watching you eat, especially the food he brings you, is like being rewarded with your satisfaction

it makes his stomach feel warm, his sage eyes studying you carefully as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. he grins, having momentarily forgotten about his own meal, and you look at him confused

“what? something on my face?”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “not at all,” he tells you, lifting his chopsticks back up. “finish your food, doll”

and you do, of course. you finish it every time, whether you keep some as leftovers or eat it all in one sitting

and you always end a meal by leaning back with a smile, commending the food choice before hopping up to press a kiss to his cheek, thanking him

he may be a creep to be obsessed with such a mundane thing you do, but toji doesn’t care. watching you eat is watching you be taken care of, watching you be content, and it makes his heart full

just a thought ;)

[fawnnpaws]

art and patrick taking you to your first rave, handing u a little bright pink pill that you take unquestionably because you trust them blindly. getting lost in the music with them and suddenly their hands are on you, all over while you’re feeling euphoric omgggg i need to stop

no no no keep going 🗣️🗣️🗣️

you don’t question the pill even though you know you probably should, but art and patrick wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. they just want you to have a good time! and ooohhh the body high you start to get is definitely making that happen. it feels like all of your senses are dialed up to 11, the music is rushing through you in a way that makes you feel like you can see the sound waves. the colors of the festival are brighter, so vibrant you can almost taste them. and art and patrick are the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. they’re smiling at you, like they know a secret you don’t, but you don’t even feel the need to ask. your pupils are blown out wide as you look up at the two of them, haloed by the lights around the festival like two angels. then their hands are on you and it’s like your body physically melts into the touch.

patrick is behind you, his chest pressed against your back, and his hands are roaming everywhere. it’s like he has a million of them. you feel him all over somehow, especially when he starts to grind his hips slowly against yours. art is in front of you, facing you, with your hips practically pressed together. his hands roam just like patrick’s. maybe that’s why it feels like there are so many hands on you. you’re not sure where his hands are compared to patrick’s, all you know is that they feel so good. you’re dancing between the two of them, swaying and rolling your hips to the rhythm of the music surrounding you. every touch from the two of them sends shock waves through your body, little parks that feed into the ache you’re starting to feel between your legs. your head falls back on patrick’s shoulder and it’s like they can sense what you’re feeling without you saying anything. maybe you did say something - you’re honestly not sure what your mouth is doing, but it feels like you need to chew on something.

they take you back to your tent - adorably decorated by you earlier in the day because you insisted on making sure it looked nice. you go easily as they lay you down on the plush blankets laid over the air mattress art had the foresight to bring… almost like they’d planned this, what a coincidence. you’re starting to peak now, your body floating in space and so so sensitive. your mouth feels weird and you tell them so. art mentions casually that that’s normal, you just need to suck on something. it’s not entirely his fault that he’s standing right above you when he says it and it’s definitely not his fault that your first reaction is to flick your eyes down to the noticeable bulge in his pants before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes. what was he supposed to do?

as it turns out, art was right. sucking on something does help. the weight of his dick in your mouth, the salty taste of his skin, the delicious smell of him - they all make your head fuzzy and soft. you’re on your tummy between art’s legs and the ache between your own legs is still there, but again, it’s like they know what you need before you even ask. patrick slides up behind you and gently pulls your tiny little rave shorts down, delighted to find nothing under them. “she’s such a cute little slut,” he mutters softly to art.

it’s not long before patrick is sliding his dick inside you. you’re dripping around him and drooling around art, so leaky and wet for your two boys. never in your life did you think two people could make you feel this good, but it’s bliss. your bodies move and melt together, they anticipate your every need. the only thoughts occupying your mind are art, patrick, art, patrick, art, patrick. they adore you like this, so pliant and responsive. it takes every ounce of their willpower not to completely demolish you like they want to - a thought for next time, because the second they saw that dazed, doe-eyed look in you they decided there would be a next time. especially when they realize how easy it is to make you cum like this, how they barely have to move before you’re spasming and tightening your perfect little holes around them. they push and pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, only stopping when they can’t take it anymore and have to cum inside your thrumming body. even then, just the feeling of being filled with their hot sticky cum sends you over the edge one more time.

they hold you after, cooing at you and telling you how well you did for your first time. “our good girl, so fuckin proud of you. took it like a champ. so so good for us.” everything fades into white noise as you nuzzle between the two of them, getting as close as possible. you’re just barely starting to come down. they know you’ll be achy and sore tomorrow, but that won’t stop them from slipping you another pink little pill the next night.

[astraysimp]

Hi besties! I’m back with more dad!skz Hannie edition! I hope y’all are ready, because Han and his twins are a handful and a half! I’ve really been enjoying writing dad!skz, maybe I’m having slight baby fever idk 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Summary: Yours and Han’s twins ( fraternal boy and girl) are a handful…..yet somehow Han may be the most to deal with. 

⌦ .｡.:*♡ Warnings: Dad!Han, your twins are 1 year old, both twins have Han’s cheekies and boba eyes( it would be a crime if they didn’t), super fluffy, pouty Hannie, pet names, boy boy is a mumma’s boy and baby girl is a daddy’s girl, fem!reader

⌦ .｡.:*♡ Ji-Yeong is your energetic daddy’s girl, who is TOTALLY wrapped around her little finger 

⌦ .｡.:*♡Ji-Seok is your more calm baby. He is definitely a mommy’s boy but does get in trouble with his sister. The older twin–even if it’s only by 2 minutes 

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

You had just gotten home from work, feeling tired and ready to settle down for the night with your babies and husband, Jisung. Parking your car in the driveway and locking the doors, you toed your shoes off, letting out a sigh. Expecting to hear laughing and giggles, you were met with silence. Confused, you made your way into the kitchen, seeing your husband asleep on the couch, two sleeping babies next to him. 

But…..it  was dinner time. Smiling to yourself, you leaned down placing kisses on their heads. “Sungie? Honey? Wake up, my love. It’s dinner time, we got two hungry babies to feed.” You whispered, seeing him shuffle, as your baby boy started waking up. Jisung, then, opened his eyes, looked around, still groggy. “Huh? What? Oh, hi my love. You’re home.” He sleepily smiled, pecking your lips. You smiled and carefully took Ji-Seok into your arms, feeling him nuzzle into your hold. “Hi my baby boy, did you miss mommy, hm?” You smiled, as he put his chubby hands on your cheeks, smushing his lips to yours. “Mommy gets a kiss,too? Waaaahh, my baby is too sweet.” You smiled, seeing Jisung get up, with Ji-Yeong in his arms. Turning to them, you smiled, kissing Ji-Yeong on her cheeks. “Oh my goodness! Is that my precious flower?!” You smiled, pressing more kisses to her and her brother’s faces as they giggled. Pouting, Jisung looked at you, his lower lip jetted out. “W-what about me? I was your baby first. Where’s dada’s kiss?” He whined, cheeks puffing up just like the twins’. Laughing, you kissed  him all over his face, pressing multiple kisses to his lips. “Is that better,hm? My big baby.” You giggled, pinching his cheek, as he nodded.”Okay okay, I have three hungry babies to feed,” You smiled.

Once you and Jisung made it to the kitchen, you each sat the twins in their high chairs and fastened bibs around their necks. “Hmmm, are my babies hungry? Do my babies want to eat?” You smiled, as the twins smacked their hands against the trays of their highchairs and Jisung nodded. So, you grabbed each of their bottles, food and spoons, before sitting in front of them. Taking a spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes, you hold it out to Ji-Yeong, then repeating the same to Ji-Seok. “Aaahhhh, say ahhh. Mmmmm yummy.” You smiled, as they ate, their cheeks puffing up just like Jisung’s did. But, then you turned your head , where Jisung sat pouting. “Yah, Yeobo-ah. What’s wrong?why are you pouting and sulking and not helping me feed them?” He whined, crossing his arms, “I want to be fed too!” Jisung whined and your jaw dropped. “Yah! Aigoo! Sungie, they’re babies , you’re an adult. Why do I need to feed you too?” You groaned, resuming feeding the twins. “Because I was your baby first, yeobo! What about me?!” Rolling your eyes, you flicked his forehead, and grabbed his chopsticks. “Say ahhhh, my babies,” You smiled, feeding them sweet potatoes, before turning to feed Jisung a bite of his Japchae. Watching his cheeks puff up, you smiled as he chewed his food. “Mmm, thank you, darling.” he muttered, through a mouthful of food. You just rolled your eyes.

45 minutes of feeding three babies–yeah Jisung that includes you– you put the empty dishes in the dishwasher and picked up Ji-Seok. “Aigooo, my precious prince is getting so big. But, now it’s bath time, so you get all clean for bedtime.” You smiled, tickling his tummy. Jisung had Ji-Yeong in his arms, bouncing her as he kissed her cheeks. “Bath time for my babies. Sungie, that doesn’t include you.” You pointed at him, before kissing Ji-Yeong’s nose. “Wah! Why not?!” “Yah, what do you mean why not?! You’re an adult. I’m not bathing you!” You three back, walking to your upstairs bathroom. Following you up, Jisung  whined,”But wwwwhhhyyyyyy? I want you to bathe meeeee,” He pouted. You sighed, running a bath for the babies, you undressed Ji-Seok and set him in as Jisung did the same with JI-Yeon. Bath time went as smoothly as it could with twins and a whiny Jisung. “Baby, I will do your skincare routine for you, that’s it. No bath, take it or leave it.” Yo untold him, as you washed the baby shampoo out of Ji-Seok’s hair. Nodding his head, Jisung smiled and giggled to the twins. “Wahhh, isn’t mommy so nice babies? Should we give her kissies?” He smiled, carefully picking both babies up (with a small groan) before they all pressed their lips on your face. Laughing, you returned their kisses, as you took Ji-Seok into your arms, drying with a towel and dressing him into pajamas.”Ooooh, thank you so much my babies. My sweet babies.” 

You and Jisung made your way into the twins’ nursery, both babies in pajamas and ready for bed. Smiling, you carefully laid Ji-Seok in his crib, a stuffed quokka next to him–we know you did that, Jisung. Kissing his forehead you smiled, walking over to where Jisung has laying an already asleep Ji-yeong in her crib. You and Jisung kissed her forehead.”Sweet dreams, my angels.” You smiled, holding Jisung’s hand, as you made your way back to the bathroom; after you shut the nursery light off and closed the door. “Time to get my third baby ready for bed too huh?” You smiled, gently pushing him to sit on the closed toilet seat. He smiled and nodded,sliding his hands around your waist. “Yes, please, baby.Thank you,” he smiled, pecking your lips. Kissing him back, you smiled and slid a hairband on him. “Wah, so cute. My precious Sungie.” You pinched his cheeks as he laughed, his heart shaped smile appearing. “Ssttoopppp. You’re making me blush.” He pouted, cheeks turning red as you giggled. Washing his face off with facewash, you wiped his face with a toner pad. “ Why should I stop? My hubby is so cute and he gave me the cutest little munchkins.” You smiled, squishing his cheeks. Pulling you against him, he whined, “Jagiyaaaaaa, stopppp. I’m all blushy.” He smiled and rested his chin on your stomach to look up at you. “But, you’re so cute. Sooooooo cute, those big eyes and that cute nose and puffy cheeks. Gaahhh I just want to bite those cheeks!” You giggled, kissing his nose and cheeks, multiple times. Pouting, he stood up and pulled you into his chest. “Let’s go to bed, can’t handle your cuteness, anymore.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. So, you finished your night routines and brushed your teeth, ready to cuddle in bed. 

Reaching your bedroom, Jisung flicked the lights on and made his way to his side of the bed. “Tuck me in, please?” He pouted at you, making grabby hands. Giggling, you nodded and walked over to his side, holding the blankets up.”Sure, jagi. Get in.” You smiled, as he climbed in and settled himself against the headboard. “Mmm, so warm. Thank you, darling. “ Nodding, you climbed into your  side of the bed and slid into his side. Suddenly feeling sentimental, Jisung placed a kiss to the top of your head and squeezed you tighter to his side. “Hey, honey love?” He asked, looking down at you. You looked ar him , and soothingly rubbed a hand against his chest. “Yes, my dear?” You softly smiled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Thank you.” He said, softly. “For what, Sungie?” You asked, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair before grabbing your hand and fiddling with your wedding ring. “Everything. For choosing me, loving me, saying yes to me, marrying me, giving me the twins. Just….thank you. I love you so much, and the twins. You three are my world, my everything.” He whispered, still messing with your ring. Smiling softly, you pulled him into a soft love filled kiss. “Oh Jisungie, my sweet hubby. I will always choose you, always have and always will. It’s always been you, for me. Thank you,too, for choosing  and loving me. And for showing me what love is, whether it’s the love you show me or the love you show our angels.” You smiled, eyes welling up with tears. He,too, teared up and pulled you in for a tight, warm cuddle. “Yeobo…….my little honey bear…..we were meant to be together in every life in every universe.” He whispered, wiping your tears. “You’re my Sungie. I love you,” you whispered in his chest,a day of taking care of your babies(including Jisung) catching up to you and fell asleep. He smiled and turned the lights off, patting your hair. “And you’re my ynnie, forever and always.” Those were the last words he whispered, falling asleep,himself.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀Please don’t steal,repost or plagiarize my works. ASraySimp 2023˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

Tags| @jinnie-ret @binsito @channiesbakery

[milliesfishes]

Hi! Have you ever written like a lazy morning off with Billy? And/or Billy taking care of you when you’re sick? (Or you taking care of Billy when he’s sick; either or!!)🥺👉🏻👈🏻

AHHHHHHHHHHH this is cute cute CUTE!

lazy morning with Billy:

lazy morning off with Billy would be sooo wonderful, like you'd wake up and be surprised that he was there because he's usually gone before you even stir. and when he wakes up and you ask about it, he goes "miss spendin' time with m' girl. they can handle bein' without me for a day."

and you're so happy you're going to get him to yourself for the whole day. sitting up, you say something about making something really good for breakfast and he pulls you back down. "can we have some cuddles first, baby? never get to hold ya like this while you're awake."

of course you oblige him and snuggle in bed for awhile longer with your head underneath his arm with it bent at the elbow so he can still hold you. when you finally get up he follows you into the kitchen and assists you with whatever you need to make breakfast and if it’s something like pancakes where you have to make them individually he insists on doing it himself and you let him and while he’s standing at the stove you put your arms around his waist and rest your head on his back.

“hi baby,” he chuckles, reaching one hand behind to pat your side.

“hi,” you say muffled into him. Billy doesn’t try to move you as he finishes what’s in front of him. you let go of him briefly to sit at the table with him and eat breakfast.

maybe you saved the best bite for last and just as you’re about to get it, Billy moves his fork to stab it, holding it up to your mouth. “open.” you do obediently and he puts it in your mouth, watching you happily chew. while it’s still in your mouth he pecks your lips, standing up and taking both your plates to the sink.

after that he suddenly scoops you up in his arms from where you’re sitting, kissing you once on the forehead. you giggle. “what’re you doing?”

“we’re gonna back to bed ‘n get under the blankets and snuggle for a whole lot longer,” he declares, reaching the bedroom and laying you down gently. “‘s been too long since it’s been just you ‘n me with nothin’ to get done.”

burying yourself in Billy’s arms, you sigh contently and shelter yourself there for as long as you can.

you taking care of Billy when he’s sick:

as a rule, Billy probably doesn’t really concern himself with his own health, mostly focusing on you. so when he gets sick, wakes up sniffling, you’re immediately concerned. he insists he’s fine, but you can hear how rough his voice is and when you touch his forehead it’s hot and clammy.

you practically force him not to go to work that day, nursing and babying him the best you can. he tries to fight it a little but eventually gives in because it feels so good to be taken care of and because he loves you and he can’t deny you anything.

you spoon feed him medicine and soup and lay down and cuddle with him so he has something to hold. Billy would sleepily whisper, “I’ll take care ‘o you when you catch whatever I got.”

and you would just smile and kiss his forehead, smoothing your hand through his curls, asking if he wanted a bath.

when you drew that bath, it was cozy, sitting between his legs. you had only gotten in at his insistence, because he’d said he wanted to hold you. sitting there in the water, he started to press little kisses to the back of your neck, pulling your hair over your shoulder and nudging his nose against you.

“Billy,” you’d smile, covering one of his hans on your waist. “you’re sick.”

“machinery’s still workin’ juust fine,” Billy mumbled against your skin.

you giggled in disbelief and repeated, “you’re sick.”

“yeah I’m sick ‘n this’ll help me feel better.” when you looked back around at him he stuck out his bottom lip, pouting.

you laughed at his expression. “alright.”

once you were out of the tub and he was sleepy from your activities he snuggled his head up on your chest and mumbled, “love you baby. take such good care o’ me.”

when you woke up the next morning with a sore throat, he’d give you a knowing look and get up to get the medicine, ready to take just as good care of you as you did him.

[atwingeofcringe]

Sweet

A/N: Here's part 2! Can be read as a standalone! Summary: You play little trick in Michael and it leads to him having a realization. Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 1, 241

🔪

You yawned as you noticed how dark your house had gotten dark and glanced out the window from where lay on the couch. The sun was still peeking out above the roof of the house across from yours but that would change in about 30 minutes. Soon, the only light source in your living room would be your tv as you watch random shows.

It was nothing that interesting in your opinion, and you would have changed the channel had it not been for the fact that the remote was at the other end of the couch and that Michael has draped himself over you, his full weight holding you down with his head on your chest and arms wrapped around you. Any time you tried to move he huffed in protest. Eventually you gave up and just let him have his way. He’s been like this for a few hours now and he didn’t seem like he was going to be moving any time soon. In fact, he seemed to be totally sucked into whatever was playing on the TV. He didn’t watch TV much but when he did he always seemed very invested and hardly looked away.

Your ran your fingers through his hair, earning you a contented sigh. One of his favorite things is when you play with his hair, it relaxes him. You did this for a few minutes before breaking away from the TV, not being able to get interested in what was happening, and just absentmindedly glanced around the living room. Your eyes landed on a pack of M&Ms on the coffee table you had thrown there a few days earlier. You bought them at a time when you were craving something sweet but quickly got distracted by Michael coming back home and fussing how he was about to get blood on your carpet. Now that you had remembered them your small craving was coming back. With a bit of protest from the man laying on your chest, you were able to lean over enough to grab the candy and rip it open.

The first one you chewed up immediately. The second one you chose to suck on until it eventually melted. You popped a couple more into your mouth before deciding to offer some to Michael. He has a bit of a sweet tooth too but not as much as you. He’ll usually eat candy if you offer it to him but he never seeks it out.

“Want some chocolate, Michael?” You asked, holding the M&M in front of his mouth. Of course, he didn’t answer and he didn’t move either, only stared at the television. “Hm?” You hummed curiously and gently pressed the candy to his lips. His gaze didn’t break away from the TV as he opened his mouth wide enough for the M&M to fall in. You quietly laughed to yourself as ate it and you popped another one on your mouth as well.

“You want another?” again, no answer or movement so you pressed the candy against his lips and he opened his mouth, letting it fall in. You did this a few more times, alternating between eating one yourself and feeding him one.

The pack was nearly empty, maybe 4 left, when you got an idea and giggled to yourself. Michael had been so distracted by the TV and got used to you popping candy into his mouth that when he felt something press against his lips again he willingly opened his mouth and bit down. There was no crunch nor taste for that matter. He was even more confused when you erupted into a fit of laughter and sat up so he was hovering over you. Stared at you as your laughing became more hysteric and reached up to take the object from his mouth. He was too invested with what was happening on the TV that he hadn’t noticed you gave him a piece of the wrapper instead of the yummy chocolate.

“I’m sorry!” You said between laughs. “I couldn’t help myself!”

Of course, Michael didn’t laugh or even crack a small smile. You weren’t expecting him to. Something did come over him though. It was a feeling so strong he doesn’t know if he’d be able to hold back. Just seeing you under him laughing at him made his stomach feel like it was swirling. But not in a way that made him feel sick, it was in a way he liked. The sound of your laughter and sight of your smile was enough to make his brain feel fuzzy.

“Here,” you said after your laughter subsided some. “You can have the last ones.” You reached into the pack, took out an M&M and held it up to his mouth. He ate it right from your fingers and you smiled up at him.

While you fished out another one you didn’t noticed how he was slowly leaning closer. Another M&M was held up for him and he ate it as he hovered closer. Another M&M, a little bit closer. The last M&M was now chewed and gone and you crumpled the wrapper in your hand.

“Sorry, big guy, they’re all-“

It took you a good few seconds to realize Michael’s lips were on yours. The kiss was so soft and it was far from the assumptions you had before when you thought about how it feel to kiss him. Of course you kissed back as soon as you realized what was happening but sadly it ended too soon. Michael didn’t pull away far, he was still very close. So close you could still feel his breath as his lips were slightly parted as he stared at you.

To be honest, you’ve both been together for a while now but neither of you made a move to kiss the other first. Being able to even hug Michael and get to where you are now was a slow process as well. You didn’t mind, though. You’d wait as long as you had to as long as you were in his life.

Michael’s eyes flicked between yours quickly as if he was searching for something. His breathing had picked up slightly and, for once, you almost felt like you could identify the emotions he was feeling. Confusion? Uncertainty? Confliction? Maybe all three? Whatever he was thinking seemed to disappear when he heard you mutter his name curiously.

“Michael?” You looked worried.

His eyes landed on your lips for a split second before leaning down in another, more confident kiss. Your arms seemed to move by themselves as you dropped the candy wrapper and they wrapped around his neck and your hands buried themselves in his hair. He sighed, loving the feeling of how his mouth against yours, your arms around him, the taste of the chocolate that still lingered a little. It was perfect to him, you are perfect to him. He’d stay like this forever if he could but you had pulled away slightly as you were in need of air. As you were catching your breath he kissed down your face, then across your jaw, then finally down your neck and to your collar bone. He relaxed his body against yours and nuzzled his face back into your neck where a placed a few more soft kisses, then wrapped his arms around you.

He loves you, he now knows. He just needs to work on telling you.

[slash-me-please]

HIHI it’s me (again😋) I was wondering if we could get a part 2 on pennywise x entity reader But she’s very sassy and they both go hunt together? (If you don’t feel like it that’s complete fine And I hope you have an AMAZING DAY/NIGHT/AFTERNOON)

Yess you can miss ma'am

Drought

(Famine's P2)

(Pretending Penny isn't canonically insecure) Warnings: No smut-just heat, talk of sexual themes, "Cannibalism", More feederism? (Is that what its called?), this is so short im so sorry you waited so long, finger sucking.

-

Fear

Where was that smell coming from?

Gods it smelt good.

You pressed your face against the metal grate outside of Penny's territory. He loved to tease you, ripping into someones flesh with his many teeth. You always teased him for having a bad case of shark mouth but now all you could think about was the sharp point that punctured your neck that fine day. It was a shame circumstances hadn't worked out back them.

(You wrapped your hands around his fingers, beginning to eat out of his hand- paying no attention when he dropped the body and used his other hand to grip onto your jaw and push his swollen lips against yours. As you began to kiss him back, he reached around your ass and lifted you up against him.

You felt him begin his walk further into his territory and you briefly wondered if he had more food in his den that he could feed you. )

The only thing that lead to was the two of you grinding on each other, dripping in blood. And while that was hot- he hadn't let up on the hogging. You squeezed the bars of the metal grate, the metal giving under your claws.

"What are you up to, Sunshine?" He giggled, walking up to the grate, blood dripping from his many canines. "You're still a fucking thief." You spat, ripping your hands off the metal and crossing them over your chest. "They're mine! Poor poor Y/N, can't find any food." You huffed in annoyance, lips twitching angrily. "Penny, I'm hungry, its been weeks and I'm only getting by from the occasional grandma." You complained.

"Maybe you're just bad at it. Penny can teach you, if you say please." Your stomach rumbled in defeat, lips pressing in a thin line. You waited a moment and Pennywise started to sway and imitate the sound of a clock as you waited. "Sure, teach me how." You replied sarcastically. Your hands crossed against your chest and you huffed, but then he turned on his heel and headed the other way. "Please?" You muttered, face heating.

His face twisted into an unnerving smile, before walking forward and ripping the metal bars from between the two of you with little frustration.

-

You ended up in a small field, Penny knew you didn't eat children- so he took you to a nearby park. There were quite a few kids around, but he ignored them and spotted a figure a little across the way. She was isolated and looked like she was going a jog a little took close to Penny for comfort. His hands tensed and he released a little giggle. "Watch Pennywise, Sunshine." You scoffed, eyes trained on his movements anyways.

As she got closer, he watched closely, and soon her foot made contact with the pavement outside the entrance. That was when he struck, right hand grabbing onto her ankle and the left thrusting forwards against the other side. Her ankle split in two, and she fell forwards with a yell. He didn't give her much time to get away, yanking the girl into the small exit.

She flailed against him but couldn't do much as he didn't even seem to be paying attention to her. Pennywise's eyes were locked on yours, and they stayed that way when his gloved hand wrapped itself into her hair and yanked her head backwards- effectively baring her throat to her captor. His mouth pushed back along the red, painted tears on his eyes, and she screeched a deathly screech. Still his eyes watched yours as he took a bite out of her throat. Immediately the woman went still in his grip.

Your throat burned as he watched you, chewing up the bloody remains of a stranger. He didn't bother to clean himself of the blood on his mouth, and your eyes dilated at the sight. "Come, Sunshine." You nodded, stepping forwards and gasping when with his free hand he dipped two fingers into the ripped column of her throat and collected the pooled blood. He brought the same fingers up and pressed them against your closed lips. You didn't need any further instructions- mouth popping open and taking the digits into your throat. You sucked him clean, moaning happily.

"Eat, Sunshine. Pennywise will help you hunt again after." He commands, and you fall to your knees, devouring the woman with a haste. Penny watched with a certain danger in his eyes as you ate her with a passion- eyes closed and moaning. And when he could sense your slowing, he brought his hand to your throat and choked you. Your movements stopped with a halt, eyes returning to his. "What do you say?" He growled, hand squeezing threateningly. "Thank you," And he's satiated, releasing you and watching as you go back to your feeding.

[idyllcy]

vanilla soft serve

Word count: 14.7k

Warnings: smut

Summary: you smile foolishly, the smile of a loser in love

Nagito Komaeda doesn't like himself.

He feels he's established it a lot with his class already. There was little to question when the island only had 16 students and two of them were already dead. Though, he supposes that it isn't that much. He wonders who's going to feed him. He scared Mahiru out, after all. Maybe Mahiru would die from the second motive! That would surely bring his class hope, would it not? He shifts uncomfortably on the wood, trying to get on his back. How pathetic of him.

Little light spills through the room. He had forgotten to ask Mahiru to turn the lights on before she left. He gives up halfway, staring up at the ceiling instead. Would you visit him? His precious little lover? Maybe you would. Who knows. You seemed pretty fine when he had gone insane during the first trial. Maybe you'd leave him for another ultimate. Maybe Hajime? Who knows. Trash like him doesn't deserve to hang on to you anyways. You're such a symbol of hope, yet you were dirtying yourself with him.

The door to the room opens, and the light turns on. He hears you cough twice.

"Did you come to visit trash like me?"

You ignore his words.

Ah. You're mad.

Komaeda holds his breath as you step in front of him, staring down at him. You crouch to his level, buttering the toast, crossing your legs, holding the bread to his lips.

"Angel, are you ma-"

You shove the food in his mouth, forcing him to chew. You stare blankly at him as he does, and he swallows. You press the cup of water to his lips, being kind enough to give him a straw. Komaeda drinks without speaking, understanding that you wanted some sort of quiet. He finishes the rest of the food with your help, staring at you blankly once the tray is finished.

"I'm sorry." The word feels dry on his lips, and he keeps his head hung.

You stare at him for what seems like forever before you stand up with the tray. "I'll be back for lunch."

Komaeda watches the door to the room close, but the light remains.

How kind of you.

You come back during lunch as promised; this time, the atmosphere much gentler.

"Open up," You blow on the rice and meat, holding it to Komaeda's lips. He chews, sitting up this time, his stomach in less pain. He was bony all over, now that he thought about it. You stare at the way his skin sticks to his ribs, and you get another spoonful of rice.

The two of you sit there, Komaeda eating silently, and you lost in thought. You finish the bowl, no rice left behind, and you help the straw to Komaeda's lips. He finishes the juice and pauses.

"Do... you have the key?"

"Give it a moment." You wait for the body announcement to be made, and Komaeda watches as you have Monomi untie him. You follow behind him as he rushes to the bathroom first.

You're still not talking to him.

You wait outside the door as he finishes, and he takes your hand as you reach out to him. You step to the game, and you play. Komaeda instructs you from behind, and the two of you finish. You stare at the prize. Between the killing and executions, Komaeda wonders if you even like him all that much. You hand him the image, and you stare at him. Ah, you want him to talk.

"Well," Komaeda smiles. "I know who the killer is."

"I know you do." You stare at the picture in your hands.

Komaeda thinks you've been strange. Ever since meeting him in middle school, the only thing you had obsessed over was what year it was and what would happen. You had gone to the point of obsessing it to the point of madness, Komaeda thinks. The only thing you had ever talked about when you woke up on the island was who was going to reveal what and what was going to happen to who. You had accurately predicted the death of Twogami, revealing Teruteru as the killer, yet Komaeda had gone mad anyways. You had told him to stay sane during the trip. It wouldn't be the first time someone's been frustrated with him.

Komaeda feels something familiar for you.

You stare at the photo with such a strong sense of nostalgia that it seems hard to believe that it could be anything else. Nagito Komaeda knew something that you did as well. Maybe that was why you picked him. He had the fastest brain that even Hinata couldn't use. Maybe he was meant to be a pretty tool to display in your arsenal that you would never touch. You never let him touch you first, and you never let him do anything without consulting you first. It was as if you had to control what he did.

Yet, he doesn't find it in himself to question you.

He had spent a year in Hope's Peak with you. What did you mean he was eighteen? It was already messed up from the start to you, maybe. Komaeda had watched you panic and only calm down when the future seemed to play out how you predicted it would. You were terribly anxious, chewing on your lips and biting your nails. Komaeda wonders if you had just dated him in order to have a caretaker. Komaeda supposes he spoils you rotten. Well, nothing wrong with spoiling an ultimate.

"What's wrong?" He stares at you as you stare at the sun.

"I miss my home."

Right. There was that too. You had always mumbled quietly when you were fazed out, silently praying for something to kill you. Komaeda didn't understand why you wanted to die so desperately. You were an ultimate, and you had everything you had seemed to want, yet you always talked about home. You missed... your home. It was strange to think that the only constant in his life was desperate to leave him. Maybe he was just destined to be alone.

You had stuck next to him even as Hinata was passed out, and you had rocked on your feet anxiously as he had met the other students, memorizing voice lines and counting fingers. You seemed to hate when you were unfamiliar with things. Komaeda held a hand over yours when you ran out of fingers, helping you keep count of whatever it was you were counting. When you counted to sixteen, you had stopped. You had looked at Komaeda, lips pulled into a frown. "Complete."

Komaeda's handbook had struck a chord when you finished meeting everyone and told him it was complete. His memory of you wasn't like that the more he thinks about it. You had always tried staying positive in the past, even when you seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the street, head spinning. You didn't know what he was saying. You didn't understand him. You were just a foreigner lost in the streets of Tokyo, and Komaeda had been kind enough to take you in. There was nothing more to it, and there was nothing less.

It's strange to think that you were now fluent in Japanese after only a handful of lessons from Komaeda.

When Komaeda won the lottery into Hope's Peak, you had written a letter to the Steering Committee, claiming you were an isekai victim. Komaeda had vouched, and after some digging into records, yours didn't come up, leading to your admittance. He doesn't know what you had to do in order to join the school, but when you headed home quietly and slumped into the pillows, he knew better than to ask.

The ultimate unknown.

You hated the title, but you had accepted it. In exchange, you were to reveal nothing to the class and stay silent at all times. Komaeda had watched you stop talking to the class, going mute, only communicating with your body language. Even when you had asked Komaeda out, it had been through drawing on his palm away from the sight of the rest of the school. He didn't understand why you had listened to them so thoroughly or why you had grimaced whenever you saw the underclassmen. Though, Komaeda doesn't remember who the underclassmen were either.

His second year at Hope's Peak was on an island. There was no way he would know.

On the island, you still kept silent. The class knew you were quiet, so no one questioned it, but Komaeda had hoped you would at least speak to him. You didn't like to. You spoke even less when he pissed you off. You had known that he would kill Twogami and tried to interfere, and the only thing that resulted in was the murder being pinned on you. Komaeda had half-expected that you would thank him when he explained he planned it, but instead, you had stared quietly at him. It was as if you hadn't cared that he was pining the blame on you and taking it back.

When you had searched the body, you had stared at Komaeda. You hadn't spoke, but you had mouthed the words. He knew what you meant. He definitely knew what you meant. You were just waiting for him to make the decision himself. Even as he was being dragged off and begging for you to understand, you had stared lifelessly at him. It was as if you were desensitized and didn't care at all. Komaeda doesn't know how a person like you exists.

You were weird.

You wander into Mahiru's room, staring at Komaeda, telling him to investigate without a word.

Komaeda thinks he was chosen to be your servant as you leave the cottage.

Yet, as you smack him in the back of his head and bow to Chiaki and Hinata in apology, he thinks you take more than enough responsibility.

Before the trial, you always scribble down what you can and can't remember to hand to Hinata. It's a cheat sheet that Komaeda isn't allowed to look at. He wonders if they're love letters sometimes, but as you're crying and holding back quiet tears in your cottage in the dead of night, he leaves you be. Even if it was a love letter, he wasn't going to let you keep everything to yourself. Hinata had pushed through each trial without error, and Komaeda suspects that you had been behind everything. You were the puppetmaster, maybe.

You even got to punt Monokuma when you were mad enough.

Though, Komaeda stares at you during trials, forming words with your hands and crossing your arms when a student got something wrong. You were charismatic. He didn't deserve you, the class didn't deserve you, the world didn't deserve you. You knew what was going to happen, clinging onto Fuyuhiko with your life as he tried running to Peko, face burrowed into his arm as the rest of the class helped you hold him back. You couldn't speak in front of them, Komaeda had realized. You pull on Komaeda's sleeve desperately. He supposes that's all you need to do.

"Do not atone for a crime you did not commit." Komaeda reads your eyes. "You must survive for her. You must survive for Peko..." Komaeda gets on a knee to wipe the tears from your eyes. "The crime was not instigated by you, so there is no need to-"

"What do you mean it wasn't instigated by me?! I was the one who told her to kill her!"

"A lie." Komaeda holds you to his chest as you cry quietly. "It's a lie. She killed her out of her own volition."

"She-"

You pass out in Komaeda's arms, and Fuyuhiko grabs him by the shirt as Chiaki reaches to catch you.

Ah.

"I was just conveying my angel's words." Komaeda holds his hands up innocently.

You wake up the next morning to Hiyoko's memorial for Mahiru. The class berates the girl as you blow out the candles and replace them one by one. You have Nekomaru help you remove the skull, replacing it with flowers instead. You finish by the time of the announcement that a new island had popped up. Komaeda stares at the memorial, and you pull him with you as you go explore the new island. He praises you quietly under his breath, and you answer quietly too. You stick close to Fuyuhiko with Komaeda, peering at the shorter every now and then to make sure he's alright. Komaeda is almost jealous of how much attention you give him. Yet, you keep Komaeda close anyways.

As expected, the next day, Fuyuhiko tries cutting his stomach open to repent. You react immediately as soon as he speaks, knocking him down and throwing the knife from his hands, cutting your own in the process. You stare at him wide-eyed, holding your hands up in the form of an X. He stares up at you, furious that you would interrupt him, but you stare down at him sternly, only getting up to take the knife before he could. Komaeda watches everything unfold, wondering if he had done something wrong for you to straddle another. He doesn't question it.

Especially not when you press your lips to his cheek later that night before bed as he bandages your hand.

When he wakes up, he brushes his fingers against your hair, mumbling about how pretty you were. You were pretty. He doesn't know what draws him to you, but you're pretty. Maybe he'll wake up every morning to you.

"ah... how filthy," Komaeda doesn't register that his words are coming out wrong. He continues to pour praises about how pretty you are, the fever making it so that he thinks he's praising you. That's when he realizes he's sick. He's feverish all over, and you hadn't spoken when he draped himself on you, eyes fluttering, almost drunk. When the two of you make it to the restaurant, you sit down in a seat, mumbling quietly. You pull him with you as Monokuma explains the new motive. Komaeda's sure he's mumbling nothing but disgusting words into your ear as you support him, but you seem unphased.

As Mikan tends to him in the hospital and you sit in his room, you start speaking.

"Komaeda-kun, I'm sure you won't remember any of this," You hum, turning to look to the side. "But I love you a lot, alright?"

"I hate you too."

Komaeda clings on to you as you sleep next to him, wrapping his hand around yours tightly, squeezing it every now and then. He stares down at your sleeping form. He could kill you here. He could end the motive right there. He has a weak body, and he isn't sure if he could survive if he continues to be sick. He loves you a lot; he mumbles. He's pathetically in love with how pretty you are. He wonders if the words reach you.

The days in the hospital are boring at first. You try playing cards with him, only to find that he's too sick to do so. That only feeds your boredom. At some point, you grow so bored that you start playing smash or pass with Komaeda. He has no idea what you mean, but you show him images and recall celebrities, asking Komaeda smash or pass. At some point, you start naming classmates and students.

"Hinata."

"Half pass."

"Me?"

"Pass."

"Really?" You spring out of your seat, eyes wide, staring down at him.

"You heard me. Pass." Komaeda grimaces at you, and you blink at him happily.

"I'd smash you too."

Komaeda really wants to tell you how lovestruck he is with you, but he supposes he doesn't need to as you climb into bed with him. You blink at him curiously, and he moves his hand to pinch your cheeks. He frowns, his mind telling him that he's smiling. He sneers when he thinks he's mumbling, and he coughs when he thinks his breath is caught in his throat. There are so many weird things going on with his body.

"When was the last time we fucked again?"

"We've fucked plenty."

"I guess that makes sense," You close your eyes, leaning your ear on his chest. "Your heart is beating quickly."

"It's 'cause you're disgusting."

"Whatever you say," You drift off, and Komaeda finds himself staring down at you. He wonders what his eyes look like. Does it look the way that his parents and the couples on the street did? Maybe he does. He wonders how much he could love a person. His heart feels as though it's going to burst at any moment. You were... he brushes your hair to the side, pressing his lips to your forehead. Maybe he wouldn't remember this once he recovered.

How pretty.

In the bright morning, Komaeda feels his lungs tighten and starts coughing. You get out of bed, blinking slowly. Ah. You caught it too. Yet, you call Mikan into the room anyways, watching as she starts tending to Komaeda full-time. You try your best to blink the disease off and come off as fine. You don't know how you're acting. Yet as Mikan holds the pillow in her hand, you remember something. You push her to the ground, eyes animalistic, chest heaving, a psychotic grin on your face. You stare down at her, straddling her, nails bloodied with her skin and blood.

Mikan scurries off in fear, and you sit on the ground, blood from Mikan's skin in your nails.

You bite your nails, lucking the blood, staring at Hinata as he enters the room.

By the time you're conscious again, there are two bodies.

Komaeda's the one to wake you. You sit up on the hospital bed, rubbing your eyes as Komaeda stares at you. The room is an eerie shade of white, and your head spins deliriously as you try and recall what had happened. Komaeda stands there, staring down at you, waiting for you to adjust to the feeling of being conscious again. You hold on to him as you steady yourself, and your mouth opens as you're conscious again.

"Two people died."

You nod slowly.

"Come on."

You follow Komaeda as he starts investigating, and you glance at the two dead bodies. Ibuki is hung on the rope, and you stare up at her body as Hinata lowers it to the floor. You stare quietly; lifelessly; almost as if you were the body itself. You don't feel real, still. Komaeda rubs his hand on your back gently, and you blink slowly. Then, you stare at Hiyoko's body as the ladder is put up to search the body and check for clues. You have a couple of hours, you think. You know who the killer is, and you were so sure that Komaeda might have died if you had not stayed in the same room as him. The rest of the class decides to search for more evidence elsewhere as you and Komaeda stay behind.

"It's a shame," You mumble under your breath as Komaeda searches Ibuki's body. "I liked Ibuki too."

Komaeda stares at you.

"Do you like me too?"

You only nod in response.

He doesn't remember. Komaeda thinks he's forgetting something as he progresses through the investigation. He did something with you. You did something with him. You call Hinata with movie tickets, waving your hand for him. You leave Komaeda in his place as you enter the movie theatre with Hinata. Komaeda only knows to wait outside the theatre, and halfway through the movie, you open the door to pull him in as well. Maybe you didn't forget him. Though, Hinata was sitting next to you. It makes him uncomfortable.

Hinata looks frazzled as you sit back next to him, and you tilt your head.

It was a bad movie, according to Hinata. You point at the ticket, and Komaeda opens his mouth to help you translate. Hinata cuts him off.

"Keep the ticket, right? Thank you," Hinata smiles.

Komaeda gets insecure easily, now that he thinks about it. He stares at you as you slip something to Hinata before the trial, and Komaeda fiddles with his fingers. Maybe you would leave him for Hinata one day. You step back next to him, taking his hand in yours, playing with his fingers. Komaeda's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows thickly. How painful. Were you going to play him even until you decide to leave him? How could you be so cruel?

Maybe he would tell you he's scared one day.

You argue from next to Hinata, explaining everything from start to the end of your memories.

Ah.

Komaeda watches as you blaze next to Hinata, and his heart sinks. You... looked much better with him. Was that your fate? To leave him? Maybe he would be a stepping stone for your hope. There was no way you would love him so much. Komaeda keeps the trial moving as you stare at him. It's like he's reading a script out of your eyes. And the culprit tumbles out of your eyes right onto Komaeda's lips as he turns to stare at Mikan.

"Mikan was the killer." Komaeda stares at Mikan, tilting his head. "Ultimate Despair."

You want to leave your podium and yank him, but he goes on a tangent, and you stare at Komaeda until he notices.

"Ah, angel," He swallows. "Sorry."

Hinata continues with the trial, and you go silent to stare at Komaeda. He... had ruined your streak, didn't he? Of course, he wasn't worth sticking around you, but he had thought just for a moment. Maybe. Maybe you would let him. Turns out he was wrong. He stays quiet for the rest of the trial, letting you do what you were supposed to before he had interrupted.

Mikan is deduced as the killer, and Mikan is executed. You stand on an orchestrated stage, and Komaeda tries going up to you after the trial. You let him stand next to you, but you don't let him talk to you. You aren't responding. Not even with your eyes. You avoid his gaze as he follows you. Even as you sit down in the cottage and pull him into bed, you don't talk to him. Komaeda catches your eyes once. You look hurt.

He's scared to touch you tonight.

Yet, as you snuggle to his back as he seems to be asleep, maybe you'll find it in your heart to forgive him.

Another island is unlocked the next day, and Komaeda's scared to face you.

You get out of bed without reaching to wake him, and you shower first thing. It's strange. He sits in the room as he stares at you leave the bathroom, tower wrapped around your chest.

"I'm sorry," the words tumble out of his lips. "let me... make it up to you?"

You stare at him, tilting your head. "how?"

He steps up to you, getting on his knees, glancing up at you.

"Can I?"

You stare down at him, swallowing. "Yeah."

You pull him to the bed, and he shakes slightly as you sit on the bed.

You're naked before him. In front of him. You're naked from head to toe. Komaeda takes your body in quietly. When was the last time you were bare before him? When was the last time you had let him touch you like this? God, what if he doesn't remember what you like? Maybe you'd push him off. Maybe you'd get even angrier at him. He doesn't realize he's shaking until you're speaking.

"Stop thinking so hard," You frown, reaching for his face, propping up on your elbows.

"Sorry."

Komaeda eats you out desperately. You don't recall a moment when he wasn't writhing to please you to the moon and back. You suppose he drinks up whatever reaction you give to him. His eyes are half-lidded, pressing a kiss to your clit before starting. Komaeda likes taking his time. He's spent hours between your legs drawing orgasms out of your body before finally tending to you, usually leaking and in pain. You wonder if he can feel how painful it is.

Komaeda likes sitting between your legs. He feels it's fitting for someone who should be nothing more than a mere tool to the ultimates like you. You were being kind enough, letting him dirty you with his body. He's a little messy, he thinks, but you like it when he makes a mess. You never berate him for making a mess. Maybe you were a blessing just for him. Who knows.

Your fingers tangle in the sheets as Komaeda sits between your legs, hands keeping your legs opened, tongue prodding and twisting inside of you. Your breathy moans fill the room, your breath quickening as Komaeda grows more desperate to get you to cum. It's strange. Nothing feels right. You usually cum from his tongue alone. Was he getting worse? He's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize you've already cum and you're writhing in overstimulation.

"K-ko," You whine. "S-stop,"

Komaeda stops immediately, apologies spilling out of his lips in terror.

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, and you close your eyes.

"We'll be doing that a lot more soon," Your breath catches in your throat as you sit up, and Komaeda grabs a towel to clean you off.

Komaeda doesn't understand your words until Monokuma is telling the class that they're stuck with no food until someone commits a crime. You rock on your feet, glancing at Komaeda. He thinks he understands now. Yet, as you leave him outside, heading into the final dead room, Komaeda's uneasy. You bet Monokuma that requires five bullets in a revolver of six. When the sound of a gun goes down and you stare at your hands, you know you won. Glancing at Monokuma, he hands you the file begrudgingly, complaining about how it was pure luck that you had won the file.

Your own name is found, and you stare blankly at the file.

Komaeda watches you return to bed that same night, still silent as ever. He coughs twice, and he stares at you.

"Hungry?" You stare at him.

Komaeda holds his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"You'll find out."

Komaeda has dinner as you do.

Komaeda drags you downstairs with him as the two of you head to Monokuma Tai Chi. A body announcement is made, and you stare across the room. Komaeda helps investigate, and he turns to stare at you. You lead him to the final dead room, laughing dryly as you look at the door again. Komaeda waits for you to get it out of your system before asking you anything. He's the ultimate luck. It'd only make sense for him to enter the room.

"May I..."

"Come back alive." You stare at Komaeda as he opens the door to the final dead room.

"Ah." Komaeda stares down at the book, heart quivering. He has to make a choice, doesn't he? He has to worry about.

This trial, Komaeda keeps silent. You don't tell him to speak, and you don't speak through him either. He feels as if he's stuck. A crossroad of destiny, perhaps. Star-crossed. It feels terrible. Komaeda doesn't know what this does to the two of you. Were you even considered lovers? How could Komaeda date someone that was the ultimate despair even though he was one too? Even as the two of you return home and you don't speak, Komaeda feels his own words caught in his throat, unsure how to ask.

"I'm in a coma," You stare at Komaeda.

"And you're... an ultimate despair."

You blink slowly.

"Yeah."

"What does..."

"We're on even ground," You exhale. "The world ended at our hands. It's that's simple."

Komaeda's voice catches in his throat, heart breaking. He shakes as you sit there, staring at him back in the room of your cabins. The stars spill secrets that neither of you speak up about, and you don't dare to meet his eyes. It was terrifying for you. You didn't know if he would leave you or do something. You get out of bed for the first time since arriving on the island, and your voice shakes as you speak.

"I'll... sleep in my cabin tonight." You mumble, rushing off.

Komaeda sits there without moving until the sun rises.

You're... an ultimate despair. You were an ultimate who caused despair. The entire class was. There was a single person on the entire island that didn't cause despair and it wasn't you. But. But. You had. You had just. You were. You were his entire symbol of hope. How could it be that you had known the entire time? You knew everything. From start to finish, you were orchestrating it all? Was that... what you were? Was he actually just a puppet in your play?

Komaeda checks on you the third day, wondering if you had spiraled as bad as he did. You're in your room, biting your nails, connecting red strings to others, desperate to get your thoughts in tow. There was one last trial. There was one last trial. One final person had to die. You couldn't let a single flaw escape from your fingers for this last trial. You chew on your lip, mumbling words to yourself over and over again. You're going to end up in tears. You don't remember the last time you felt this terrible.

Your hair is disheveled as you arrange the papers again, desperate to find the pattern. You have to know. You can't do it. You can't live knowing you'll never wake up and Komaeda one day will. You can't let him die. He can't die. How could you just let him die? You can leave the death to yourself. Worst comes to worst, you die with him. It's not that hard, right? You were just in a coma in real life. You don't know if you'd wake up with the rest of the class when they're all discharged.

Komaeda stares at you quietly.

"Angel?"

You turn your head to stare at him, deer in headlights, heart racing, dried tear stains on your cheeks. Komaeda has never seen you look so disheveled before. He lowers himself to his knees, brushing your hair back, pausing to see what you wanted. what you needed. You needed him, perhaps. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. He had to remember that. He was useless without you just as you were without him; even if the two of you were an ultimate despair.

"What's wrong?"

You burst into tears, coughing from the tears and pressure of it all. You hack furiously, hiccupping and sobbing into his arms. Drool slips past your lips and snot gets all over Komaeda's sleeve as he reaches to catch you before you collapsed onto the ground and bowed all the way to the ground. He couldn't let you do that for trash like him. But why... why were you crying like that? You looked more terrified than miserable.

"Don't die." You mumble, staring at the floor, still dissociated. "Please don't die. I'll kill myself if you don't do it. Please." Your fingers dig into his skin, and he pauses. You break his pause with more words. "Please don't kill yourself. I'm... I'm begging you. don't die. don't die. Please, don't die. Don't die, Ko. I'll kill everyone else on the island if it makes you feel better since I'm a dirty sinner anyways. I'll-"

"Angel," Komaeda cups your face, tilting your chin to stare at him. "Angel, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Come on-"

You cough, a mess of snot and tears in his arms. You lean in his arms pathetically, throat dry, eyes dead with exhaustion. Komaeda feels bad. Was he the reason you looked so terrible? He should make up for it somehow. Yet, as you cough furiously in his arms and only quiet down after he shushes you quietly, drawing circles on your skin. You look beyond repair. You look as though your entire life was crashing before your eyes, and you were without hope.

"Angel," Komaeda lowers his face to yours. "What's wrong?

You sniff pathetically.

"What's going to happen?"

You refuse to tell him. You stand up instead, staring at the scattered papers on the ground, kicking them all out of order, picking them up, and making Komaeda stand outside as you do so. You go back to sticking around him without telling him anything. You need the final motive, sure, but you wanted Komaeda to stay. Was it selfish? Komaeda reads the words off of you in waves. He sits in the dining room. Maybe reading you was harder for him.

He's not opposed to the idea of killing himself for the better hope. He obeys your word, after all.

"Why are you helping?" Komaeda watches as you tie the rope to him.

You decided dying with him was the best option.

"I'm going to miss her," You sit down next to him, legs tucked to your chest, leaning your cheek on your knees.

"Chiaki?"

"She doesn't have a body," You hum lowly. "You won't ever see her again."

"Ah." Komaeda's eyes widen as you stab yourself with the same knife. "What about you?"

You smile.

You avoid the topic.

"You know, Ko," You trace his face on your arm, "I love you a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah," You smile. "I hope you remember that."

You die with Komaeda. The two of you sit in the room talking before the rest of the class breaks in, the poison killing the both of you instantly. You don't remember much after that. You wake up in the darkness, looking around. It's boring, you think. It would take at least a day or two for the game to wrap up. The pixels form before your eyes, and you stare at your hand as you end up in the void.

You find yourself wandering in the void, running at some point, walking in others. You're waiting for the system to be shut down so you can go back into the comatose state. Chiaki appears after searching for a little while. You run over to her, sitting down next to her. She smiles at you, handing you a notepad in case you needed it. You ditch it. She's a robot. It wouldn't kill to tell her.

"Are you well?"

"I hope we get to meet again," You blurt.

Chiaki blinks slowly. "You... speak."

You grin. "I do. My real talent has nothing to do with being the ultimate unknown. I am just a fortunate isekai victim."

So you talk with Chiaki. While Komaeda's mind forms a world where which isn't demented, you sit in the void, talking to Chiaki, playing imaginary cards and spilling your secrets. You don't know when you'll wake up. Chiaki reports what's going on outside every now and then, explaining who's awake and who's yet to wake up. Komaeda holds on to his fantasy that everything is normal. You know he does.

Chiaki speaks up one day.

"Your body is showing signs of waking up."

You pause. "Really?"

"Komaeda woke up two days ago. According to Hinata... he's also," She doesn't know how to tell you.

"Just say it."

"Komaeda got hit by a truck. He's conscious but severely injured."

"Is that why I'm waking up?"

"Yeah." Chiaki laughs lightheartedly. "I'll miss playing imaginary cards."

"I will too," You smile at her.

You wake up a day later, sitting up in your pod, blinking slowly at your hands.

Your legs have no strength, you find.

Naegi is kind enough to put you in the same hospital room as Komaeda, and you pull the curtain between the two beds down, grinning at Komaeda.

"Good morning." You smile.

Komaeda smiles back at you.

You do physical therapy with Mikan's help in the room, and your legs are restored as Komaeda is recovered.

"We should get married," You sit by his bed, leaning on your palm as he blinks at you slowly. Komaeda laughs airily, coughing when his lungs start hurting.

"I wonder what kind of suffering I would have to go through if we do."

"I'll bear half of it," You grin cheekily. "Til death do us part, after all."

"But we're not married," He hums.

"Not yet," You rest your head on his hand, humming to yourself. You stare at his ring finger, lips pulled into a smile.

"You plan on marrying trash like me?"

"You're not trash," You close your eyes. "You woke me up from an indefinite coma, did you not?"

Komaeda sighs. "But you were still injured."

"It's better than nothing," You doze off. "love..."

You stay quiet for the most part, making noises and showing improvement in vocal therapy. Komaeda sits with you some days in the wheelchair as you open your mouth to speak. Other days, he does physical therapy on the side while you learn to speak. The two of you return to your hospital room and talk about everything when you finish. There was no need for security when the island was only with so many people.

"What did you learn today?"

"Names," You start counting on your fingers. "Komaeda, Hinata, Fuyuhiko, the list goes on."

"That's it?"

"We start verbs tomorrow since I accidentally pronounced your name a little too well."

Komaeda chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist lazily. "Is it fun?"

"No," You mumble back, voice just as sleepy as his. "I hate it."

There's little to do in a hospital, you think. You play cards with Komaeda when you're bored, and other days you play chopsticks. The majority of the time, the two of you sit there in silence during the day. When it's night, the two of you are too tired to do anything, so there's little to no conversation. Komaeda offers to pretend to teach you how to speak so the two of you can communicate. You refuse him.

You decide a miracle would be funnier.

You start speaking to Komaeda during the day to see who notices first. The two of you bet on different students. Komaeda bets on Hinata, and you bet on Mikan.

You win the bet as you're rambling about how shit the school is to Komaeda on a Thursday afternoon immediately after class and Mikan walks in to check up on you. Komaeda needs to be discharged, so you win the bet instead of him. You think it's a trade-off you're fine with. Komaeda being healed at the cost of anything for you was more than worth the price. You just wished he cared a little more about himself.

"I-If you can speak fluently," Mikan stares at the papers in her hands. "Th-then it's completely pointless to k-keep you here!"

You smile. "I've been able to talk. I just—" You pause to think of the word. "have been told to keep quiet."

Hinata runs check-ups with Mikan on you as you speak to them normally. You're fine to go; you're told. Komaeda takes you back to your shared cabin, grinning from ear to ear as you stretch your arms. It's surprising that you could speak so well. You don't know what to do. You don't know the amount of time that passes from one event to the next, and you chew on your bottom lip as you sit in your room.

Komaeda pulls your bottom lip from your teeth, handing you a cup of tea instead.

"What's wrong?"

You blink slowly. "We have one final event. Has Hinata looked for Mitarai?"

"He has. Why?"

You pause before closing your mouth. You grimace slowly, and Komaeda sits on the floor with you, tilting his head to stare at you properly. You look older. You've aged. Your anxiety is much worse than while in the simulation, and he does his best to fix you. You can't fix someone if you're broken as well.

Komaeda finishes therapy and accompanies you to your sessions, easing you into the sessions slowly. It's an improvement. You learn to calm down and loosen up. It's something about how you have to let go of control. It's scary. Komaeda's told to take care of you to whatever extent he can manage, and make you feel as though you have something to lean on that isn't predestinated knowledge. Komaeda doesn't know if he's really suited for the position, but he doesn't find it in himself to doubt you.

You recover slowly, and it seems as though your recovery process reverts as soon as the third killing game begins. You stare in horror at the livestream while everyone on the island starts gearing up. You don't know what to feel. That was the last you knew about the series. It was the last you knew about anything. It was. It was terrifying. You wouldn't know anything about the future, and you had been living off of the knowledge you had. How... how do you survive? What happens to the remnants? Do they return to the island? Do they go somewhere else? Wasn't the final killing game on the island?

When Komaeda returns on the boat, he brings a small gift with him. You collapse on him as he exits the boat, and Komaeda stays on the ground even as he helps you up. You wipe your tears with a frown, and you pause when you notice he hasn't stood up. You tilt your head, getting back on your knees to stare at him in curiosity. Komaeda laughs awkwardly, getting up. He... he can't just ask you to stay with him in front of everyone. It might make you feel obligated to say yes to him. He presses kisses to your forehead instead, laughing airily and joking about how you took his breath away. You smack him lightly in retaliation, embarrassment all over your face.

But days are mundane to Komaeda once they return to the island. You walk with him in the mornings, and you sit with him during mealtimes. The rest of the class gets along with you well, and the two of you do everything together. Komaeda fears you'll grow bored of him. His hesitation seeps into the things the two of you do normally, and you notice his change in behavior immediately. You never mention anything as he tries to pull away slowly, and you find yourself sitting in empty bedrooms, waiting for Komaeda to return. Some days, he doesn't. Other days, he returns when it's morning and the energy has been drained out of your soul.

You think you're doing something wrong. You don't understand why he's so desperate to leave you. Maybe you're doing something wrong. Maybe you're of no more use now that you don't know the future anymore. It eats you away slowly as you sit at the diner, chewing down breakfast slowly. Teruteru asks if it's because you don't like the food, and you assure him it's not. You wonder if you just have your emotions written all over your face. Though, no one else on the island mentions anything as you eat less and less. You wonder if Komaeda eats at all.

Well, communication is key, you suppose.

You rub your eyes slowly as the sun rises, and you mumble to yourself. Komaeda hasn't come back again.

You close your eyes and fall asleep on the couch. The bed is too big without him around.

Komaeda returns to the cottage to grab his things.

His heart drops to his stomach as he sees you sleeping on the couch. You... you don't like him. Why are you eating yourself away so that you'll continue to like him even if he treats you terribly? You have so many more people that could fall in love with you and date, yet you were killing yourself over someone as unimportant as him. He grabs the blanket from the bed, and he covers you with it, turning around to get his stuff.

"Nagito Komaeda." Your voice comes out surprisingly clear for someone who was asleep. You don't move, but Komaeda can tell you want him to stay.

"I'm sorry." He grabs what he was looking for, and you sob quietly as the door to the cottage closes with a click.

The depression chips at you slowly. You stay pooled in your cottage, relying on classmates sending food to you and only eating small portions. You wonder how bad you must have it when even Teruteru's cooking doesn't lift your spirits. Your talent no longer exists. Is that why Komaeda no longer wants you? You sit there in your room, rotting away, the blanket wrapped around your body, your existence slowly slipping away, dissociating, fading in and out, sometimes bleeding at the wrist and other times bleeding at the fingertips.

But the depression disappears one day as your brain goes into autopilot. You pack your things by yourself, and you stare at the photo of you and Komaeda on the coffee table, putting it face down as you open your laptop to reach Naegi. You want to leave the island. Your talent is the ultimate unknown, so it'd only make sense that you end up somewhere that no one knows about.

You leave the island in the dead of night, your presence completely erased along with it.

You sit in the helicopter, staring at the setting moon and rising sun, watching the stars twinkle out of life and clouds grow more visible. Maybe it was something you were supposed to do from the start. Maybe it was something that you were meant to do. You were supposed to be isekaied by now, right? That was the plan? You chew on your bottom lip as you land in the future foundation headquarters, and you go through the process with a new identity, making your way of life in the remnants of the city, the broken buildings now slowly coming back to life. You try to ignore the lack of consciousness as you do everything.

Komaeda thinks he hallucinated your entire existence when he steps into your shared cottage the day you left. You hadn't been at breakfast for the seventh time that week, and he drops the tray of food at the sight of a clean and neat cottage. It was impossible for someone who was as shattered as you to do. It's impossible. He looks around the cottage urgently, crying, begging, praying that there was a trace of you to remember just for a moment.

There's nothing.

So instead, Komaeda runs back to the restaurant, opening the doors panting. The class turns to stare at him, and his breath catches in his throat as he doesn't know how to explain that you had just disappeared without a trace off of the island. His breathing turns static as he coughs and cries, trying to explain through his pathetic sobs that you had just disappeared, and you were gone without a trace, and that you had just left as if you were never there, and that he wanted to apologize and try to talk it out with you but he had found an empty cottage without anything that could possibly remind him of your existence; it was a terrible thing to think of, and his head spins dizzily. He was going to tell you that his illness was gone and that he would be able to spend time with you again, but you had just disappeared— you were— you just— you just left him alone on an island of ultimates, people who he considered nothing more than classmates and friends when he cared, but you, his lover, the only person in the world to ever tell him that he was worth something and not insult him, was gone, and he couldn't live withou—

Komaeda passes out before he can say anything else, the stress of everything collapsing on him at once. The class rushes him to the hospital, and Mikan and Hinata check his vitals, trying their best to calm his heart somehow before he died of a heart attack. His body fights it, almost as if desperate to die and shatter and break. Komaeda's consciousness doesn't want to live or come back to life. Yet, the two succeed anyway, the boy jumping awake as he's defibrillated back to life.

Komaeda doesn't know why he woke up within a day. He would have rather just died now that you weren't on the island anymore. He starts crying immediately upon waking up, the tears making him choke, snot running down his nose and tears staining his cheeks with tracks and tracks of salt. He thinks he's going to die from how hard he's crying. His breath catches in his throat, the hiccuping killing his lungs. God. Is this how pathetic he was? Was he really nothing without you? Why did he push you away? He should've just let you destroy him next to you—

You suppose you don't suffer any less.

You sit in the coffee shop in the city, and you press the coffee to your lips, planning your next route to nowhere. You want to wander. Your backpack is packed and ready, and you're excited to leave something behind for once. Yet, the sense of dread that plagues your whole body at the thought of leaving your only pillar of support in the universe hurts you. You don't know how to let you. You don't know if you want to know if you even know how to let go.

You receive a letter from Naegi from the island. A letter that was several papers taped together. A letter that rolls on the ground as you open it in front of the man, and a letter that's longer than a senior thesis paper. You read the first two lines, and you recognize it as Hinata's writing. You refuse to touch it at first, waving Naegi off, but all it takes is a mention of Komaeda's name.

It's every single doctor's report for Komaeda's illness starting from the day you left the island.

"What's... wrong?" Naegi watches your resolve waver.

"Komaeda is bedridden and had a heart attack the morning I left the island," You read every single report, and you pause when you reach the end. He still hasn't been discharged.

"Do you have paper and an envelope?" You stare at the man.

Komaeda receives a letter passed on from Hinata detailing a single word, and Komaeda runs.

He takes a helicopter to the mainland, and his heart races in his chest the entire time. He has to find you. It doesn't matter if you'd slap him or break him or shatter him into pieces like he had done with you, he has to have you back in his hands. He knows where you want him to be, and he doesn't know what time it is or why his bones hurt, but he knows where you're waiting, and he'd hate to keep you waiting even longer than he's had you wait. He doesn't know why the two of you are stuck. He doesn't understand why everything hurts him in the way it does, but he does know that he misses you terribly.

He reaches where you want him, sitting down on the same bench when he had met you, and he pulls out the blades from his jacket, cutting two lines to make sure you wouldn't leave before he could apologize. The blood stains his jacket, but he could never be too safe. He grimaces.

You leave your bag with Naegi, stepping up the stairs into Monaca's old tower. You're surprised that there was still one left, and you sit at the top of the stairs, glancing down at the rest of Towa city. You wonder if Komaeda would know that you're referring to here instead of the bench. Maybe he'd realize it after a little while.

So, the sun sets, and you start back down the tower. The walls of it are torn, the brick showing through the wallpaper, and the mold and moss from the natural tragedies during the tragedy. You wonder if Komaeda would remember this place at all. You don't know how many years you spent in the tower with him, doing everything you could for Junko. It wasn't even despair, now that you think of it. You were just enamored with Komaeda. That desperate. Desperate to the point that you'd do anything for him. You wonder if your memories were erased. You don't know.

The place brings bad memories. Maybe it was time to leave.

The sound of running upstairs causes you to stop in your steps, and you stare down at Komaeda.

Komaeda stares up at you, stars in the background, the wind brushing your hair gently, and his legs give out. You rush to him immediately as he cries at the sight of you, and his lungs burn as he tries to catch his breath despite the tears. He clings onto your forearms, mindless babbles slipping past his lips as he cries and tries to explain himself. You catch little comprehensible words. Words like "help" "sorry" and "fault", and you wait until he calms down enough to speak to you, assuring him that you wouldn't leave.

Your heart twists and burns in your chest. You want to cry just as badly as he does.

Komaeda cries in your arms, hiccupping, clinging onto your arm pathetically. It looks familiar. It's like watching yourself break down before the fifth trial, except its Komaeda crying harsh tears over you leaving him. Maybe you came full circle. You don't know. All you know is that you should've never left the island and rotted in your place for a little longer. Maybe Komaeda wouldn't have had heart problems if you had never left. You don't know. You think you hurt him enough.

Komaeda calms eventually, wiping the snot and tears from his face, staring quietly at the tissue. He really was pathetic without you.

"I'm sorry." He manages. "I was going to—" He pauses, averting his gaze to the side. "I was going to... give you a ring when I got off the boat as a promise but I didn't want it to seem like I was proposing because then that would be like forcing you to marry me in front of the entire class—"

"You were going to what?" You stare at Komaeda in your arms, blinking, eyes wide.

"give you a ring?"

"You brought me a ring from the mainland?"

"Y-yeah?"

"How'd you even get one?" Your arms tighten around him, and you rest your chin on his head as you stare down at the stairs.

"Uh," Komaeda stumbles over himself. "I dug around my old mansion."

You laugh, pulling him close to your chest. "From your dead parents?"

"Mom's engagement ring," Komaeda smiles at the sound of your laughter.

"Do you think that's why we fought? The dead's vengeance?"

"Mother doesn't approve," Komaeda hums. "Mother knows best."

"Motherrrrr," You grin, "knows best." You pause, staring at the sunrise. "Would you say yes if I were to propose?"

"I can't live without you."

That's all you need to hear.

Some days you think too hard. Komaeda grows used to it, sitting down with you, the fireplace on, tea in your hands as he sits next to you. He doesn't know what to feel about living a casual, retired life. The two of you are back to a mundane life. The two of you swing back and forth, the sun counting your days. You wonder if Komaeda's going to propose or if he was just saying it to get you back with him.

Though, you suppose thoughts are fleeting.

You grow tired of waiting for Komaeda to propose. You stumble into Souda's cabin one afternoon, staring at him in the eye until he notices you. He yelps as he does, and you as him if he has a metal band. You wonder where you get the talent for being able to do everything as long as you have the audacity to. You bring a mirror into your old cabin, playing with polymer clay and making flowers, gluing them onto the mirror, sanding the ring and making sure you remember Komaeda's ring size as you fall asleep next to him each night.

Komaeda thinks you're up to something, but he stays put. Maybe you were going to surprise him.

The anxiety is much quieter these days, and he finds himself sitting in your shared cabin, waiting for you to come back. You go missing more often. Maybe you're running around the island exploring. You always liked wandering more than anything else. He wonders if you'd pass away on accident one day. Your ultimate talent was scary. Your real one. You could be taken away from him at any time.

"I have a surprise." You peek through the door, blinking at Komaeda rapidly.

"A good one or bad one?"

"Good one," You hum.

Komaeda follows you as you drag him to your cabin, and he pauses at the sight of roses.

"A... angel?"

"I made us a mirror." You fiddle with your fingers.

Komaeda pulls you with him as he steps into the place, and he stares at the heart-shaped mirror. The clay flowers around it cause him to pause, and he stares at the metal band that glistens, hiding in a piece of clay. Komaeda pauses at the sight of the other hole, and he pulls the ring from his pocket, slipping it into the slot, turning to grin at you.

"Ah, it seems-" He pauses at the sight of you on one knee.

"I had this whole speech prepared about how I had fallen in love with you the moment we met, but the second you put my ring in the slot my brain completely malfunctioned and I forgot half of it," You pull another ring from your pocket, and you hold it up for him. "I'm in love with you. Marry me?"

Komaeda blinks at the ring, and he stares at you, rummaging through his pocket.

Your heart rings in your head as he pulls out a ring of his own, holding it to your face.

"If you'll take mine."

You yank him onto the floor with you, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing.

There are a lot of smiles and giggles with Komaeda while the two of you plan for a wedding. Komaeda lets you do what you want, offering his suggestion when you ask, finding that it's getting easier to read what you want and what you don't. In the meantime, while he does, you tell him how sweet he is to you, pressing kisses to his cheeks, letting him know you were sure about what you were doing. It was turbulent, you think. Komaeda seemed scared you would change your mind at first.

You remind him that you care about him quietly at night, tracing circles on his chest.

He watches you fall asleep at night, and he can't help the nasty thoughts that spiral in his mind as he bites back quiet moans as you're asleep next to him, bare skin kissed by the moon and water from the shower still fresh in your hair. He feels bad, whimpering and gasping as he plays with himself next to you, but surely you wouldn't mind, right? You never have; You've let him do whatever he wants. You've even mentioned letting him do whatever he wants to you while you're asleep, but he couldn't possibly soil your body with him.

You don't wake up. You've always slept deep, he finds. He could completely defile you head to toe and you wouldn't even notice as long as he cleaned you up. He parts your lips with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips before wiping himself down with a tissue, snuggling his head into your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

Komaeda is less slick than he thinks he is.

You wake up earlier than him some days, staring at the stain on the sheets, stretching your arms, and reaching into his boxers. He tends to wake up with morning woods, his hormones still unbalanced despite his age. You don't know. You never studied the human body extensively. So, you do what you normally do, fingers freeing his cock from his boxers, spitting in your hand before running your hand through the slit to collect his precum and giving him a handjob. Some days, Komaeda wakes up with your mouth around his tongue, other days he wakes up to you reading a book while your hand is wrapped around his cock. Either way, he wakes up to himself moaning pathetically while you suck him off. He caught you kicking your legs once. He doesn't understand why you enjoy pleasing him, but he doesn't find it in himself to complain.

"I want snowdrops at the wedding," You pause. "On the dress, not the wedding. I'm not planting more flowers on the island when we already have a farm."

"It wouldn't hurt to get flowers planted."

"We're having a beachside wedding because you insisted it be one to match my fantasies," You glance at the flower catalog Naegi sent you. "Maybe I'll get a blue iris bouquet."

"Anything you want," Komaeda hums, staring at a suit catalog. "Can I just wear white?"

"Yeah." You pause. "I'm kicking you out when I pick the dress, by the way."

"And let Hinata take your nude measurements alone?"

"Sonia and Peko are going to be there," You grumble. "They've had it done before."

Komaeda pouts.

"You'll get to see it at the wedding. Isn't that enough?"

"Can I paint something for the wedding?"

"We have to plan gifts for each other, do we not?" You hum. "Like... I don't actually know what I'm going to get you."

"It's fine," Komaeda closes his eyes, the vibrations from his humming warming your skin. "I'll just spoil you rotten."

"What if I get used to it?"

"Then that would be the greatest blessing possible." Komaeda smiles.

Some days, you wonder how you ended up with Komaeda. You had been blinking slowly in and out of consciousness over a world that wasn't yours when you landed out of nowhere on top of Komaeda, and now you were planning a wedding with him. Other days, you wonder how you asked a complete stranger in English to live at his place temporarily, and now you were his home. You, a human, are his home. You gasp and twitch as he curls his fingers in you, cutting off your thought process.

"What were you thinking of?" Komaeda stares up at you from between your legs.

"A-ah," You whimper as he goes back to fingering you. "You-" You exhale. "I was thinking of you."

"Me?"

"Y-yeah," You hide your face in your hands as he presses a kiss to your clit. "H-how we met."

"You were an angel who fell out of heaven, I was convinced," The rest of Komaeda's words are muffled as he goes back to eating you out, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you feverishly. You don't know where he gets the energy to stay between your legs when he can barely survive a round with you. The sounds of his tongue in you fill the room as you flush from how lewd it all sounds. You're embarrassed again.

"K-Ko," You whimper.

Komaeda raises a brow to stare at you, drawing hearts on your thigh as he goes back to eating you out when he notices it's just embarrassment. The coil in your stomach tightens as your hand threads through his hair, your thighs closing around his head as your orgasm approaches. You squirm before you do, and you let out a salacious moan as you cum on Komaeda's tongue for the nth time that night. You squirm from the overstimulation as the orgasm fades, and Komaeda wipes the cum from his face, licking off of his hand as he spreads your legs.

He pumps himself twice before pressing the tip of his cock to your clit.

"What's wrong?"

"S-sorry," Komaeda mumbles, kneading the skin on your hip. "T-thinking."

"About?"

"How far, ah," He whimpers as he fills you, resting his forehead on yours. "we've come." He blinks slowly as you push his hair back, leaning up to kiss him. "And how you're," He starts thrusting, slowly, almost as if he were cherishing you slowly, "underneath me, bare skin, and all." Komaeda thrusts steadily as you murmur for him to speed up, cheeks warm and skin flushed. Komaeda thinks you're pretty like this. He always thinks you're pretty, but you're just breathtaking under the moon, the white haze making you look holy. You were his angel. The angel that dropped into his life as he felt his life shatter in his hands that same day.

Komaeda's brows furrow as he feels himself get close, thrusting growing desperate, thumb on your clit, rubbing desperately. The coil in your stomach tightens, and your eyes widen, reaching for Komaeda's neck, squealing about how you're in love with him and how you're desperate to marry him and settle down, your overstimulation making your head spin, the words not registering as you cum on his cock. Komaeda's head rings from the praise you give him, a waterfall of pet names spilling. "Y-you're so pretty," You gasp. "Gorgeous. I think you were blessed by Aphrodite or something. Pretty. Pretty, pretty boy." You whine as he chases his own orgasm, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i love you so much. So much. K-ko, I'm so p-painfully in love with you-" You gasp as he cums, spilling into you with something between a whimper and moan.

He stays inside of you for a moment, waiting to catch his breath as you wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Good boy," You smile, running your hand through his hair. "Such a pretty, good boy."

Komaeda laughs airily, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. "I love you too."

You turn your head to stare, and you pause. "We left the window open."

"Pray that Souda doesn't scream at us tomorrow," Komaeda pulls out of you, his cum trickling out of you, causing Komaeda's voice to catch in his throat. "You're pretty."

"You tell me that a lot," You sit up, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I mean it," Komaeda relaxes at your touch, tension leaving his shoulders. "I mean it."

"I know you do," You get off the bed, grimacing at the sweat on your skin. Komaeda lies on the bed as you walk into the bathroom, coming out with a rag to wipe him down. Komaeda lifts his arms weakly as you wipe him, exhaling when you finish, pulling you for a kiss.

"Can I sleep first?"

"Of course," You press a kiss to his forehead. "Always."

The moon spills past the windows as you stare at Komaeda's chest rise and fall, skin paler than normal. You rest your hand on his hip, tracing circles on his skin, lashes fluttering as sleep threatens to take you. It's quiet, you think. A nice quiet. the type of quiet that you could grow used to, and a type of quiet you had wished for before getting isekaied. You don't want to leave him. You hope he reincarnates with you when the two of you die.

Komaeda blinks slowly in the morning, body sore. Though, his arms aren't as sore as they used to be. He blinks slowly, turning around to face you. He stares up at you, lashes fluttering, lips parting as he presses a kiss to yours. You're pretty. When the sun illuminates the room and the waves recede, you're gorgeous. The golden streaks of the sun reflect on your hair, and each individual cell of your body. Komaeda doesn't know what he could consider prettier.

"Mm?" You furrow your brows, Komaeda sitting up to cover the sun from your eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Komaeda smiles.

"You're so hot," You yawn. "I'm so happy I'm marrying you."

Komaeda's cheeks redden, his heart racing. "love you too..."

The clocks on the walls pass quicker as the two of you get ready for the ceremony itself. Komaeda doesn't know what to feel. He's going to get to call you his wife. His spouse. He's going to be married soon. If he told himself back at Hope's Peak, he doubts he would believe himself. He's marrying you.

You sit up and rub your eyes, exhaling slowly. You stare outside the window, tossing the covers over your head again.

"I'm going back to bed."

Komaeda blinks slowly, snuggling closer to you. He doesn't want to get up either. He closes his eyes, only pausing when he remembers something important.

"You have to pick the dress today." He mumbles into your ear.

"Nevermind!" You jump out of bed, stretching your arms. Komaeda smiles as you yawn. "Do you want to see me in anything?"

"Do whatever you want," Komaeda smiles.

"I'm going to wear your servant chain to the wedding if you tell me to do whatever I want," You deadpan.

Komaeda chokes, coughing uncomfortably.

"Or the bedroom," You rub your eyes. "I think it'd be cuter in the bedroom."

"You kept my clothes?"

You blink at him owlishly. "I kept everything you ever had."

Komaeda doesn't know what he's supposed to feel when you actually pull out the chain that was originally around his neck. Komaeda returns home, supporting himself on the wall, pulling his shoes off, pausing at the sight of you in his sweater and chain.

"I swear this isn't-"

"Stay in it." Komaeda tosses his jacket to the side, stepping up to you, pressing his lips on your temple, smothering you in kisses. "Can I fuck you in that?"

"Yeah," You scrunch your nose as he kisses further down your neck, biting, tracing circles on the teeth marks, staring quietly. "God, you're so pretty."

You flush from his words, and he pulls the bottom of his shirt up, revealing your boobs. He pries your lips open, having you bite on the hem as he thumbs the bud of your tits, pinching it to get a reaction out of you. Your skin jumps as his lips close around the other bud, swirling his tongue around it. Your leg wobbles, and Komaeda has you sit, the tips of his hair tickling your chin as he continues his ministrations. Your fingers dig into the sheets, soft pants slipping past your lips as Komaeda takes your quiet moans as a sign of encouragement.

He pulls away, a string of saliva following him, and he blinks slowly at how your legs have bucked. You stare at him as he pulls away from your chest, deer caught in headlights, heart ringing in your ears. You don't know when he got so perceptive. The hem of the shirt is still between your teeth, and Komaeda pulls the cloth from you.

"Pretty angel, doing such a great job," He kisses you as a reward, lowering his head, pressing a hand to your thigh as he scrunches the shirt up to reveal your pussy. He pushes your legs open wider, pulling you closer to him, getting onto his stomach, pressing a light kiss to your clit before mumbling quietly. "itadakimasu," He delves in, sticking his tongue in first, making sure to savor your taste. Your thighs quiver, and he holds them apart as he continues, stopping you from suffocating him. You throw your head back, muffling the sounds from your mouth with your palm.

"Angell," Komaeda slurs, replacing his tongue with a finger. "please let me hear you..."

You move your hand slowly as Komaeda sits, hand reaching for the chain, pulling on it, forcing you to lurch forward, the collar cutting your breath off. You gasp as he does, whimpering as you feel Komaeda curl his finger in you, looking for the place you liked it best. You gasp, propping yourself onto your elbows to try and breathe. Your breath hitches as he slides a second finger in, your arms shaking.

"K-Ko," You gasp as he pulls on the chain again.

"Yes, angel?"

"I wanna cum," The coil in your stomach tightens as you tighten around Komaeda's fingers. Komaeda obliges, letting the chain go from his hand, pressing his thumb to your clit, drawing rapid circles. You cum with a cry, drenching his fingers, your legs shaking. You whimper as he pulls his fingers out and licks them. Your eyelids flutter, chest heaving for air.

"Can," Komaeda swallows slowly. "can you ride me?"

You nod slowly, waiting for Komaeda to strip and lie down. He makes a show for you, unbuttoning his shirt painfully slow, pulling his belt off, body weight resting on one side of his body, hips jutted out. You swallow the saliva threatening to spill from your lips. You climb over him, letting the cum from your orgasm lube him, positioning him slowly. You watch as Komaeda wraps his hand around the chain again, pulling lightly as he bottoms out in you. You pant, whimpering, the remnants of your orgasm making your walls still sensitive.

"So pretty for me," Komaeda pulls on the chain lightly. His shirt scratches and causes your body to itch, the fabric painfully uncomfortable. You remember why you didn't like it anymore. Well, as you start bouncing on his cock slowly, one hand on the chain and the other tangled in the sheets. You stare down at him as he pulls the collar, forcing your chest to his face, and you whimper as his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking ever so gently. You force your body weight onto your elbows, your bouncing turning erratic.

Komaeda helps you, thrusts matching your rhythm. You whimper as his other hand rests on your hip, drawing lazy circles as you feel your orgasm approach again. You gasp softly, biting your bottom lip harshly as you feel your orgasm approach again. Komaeda forces your chest to his face, letting go of the chain and moving his other hand to your ass. You cum on him with a cry as he bites on your nipple, the hickey bright red on your chest tightening on him like a vice. Your chest heaves as he chases his own orgasm, your legs shaking from overstimulation. You whine as he spills into you. Komaeda babbles incoherently as you collapse on top of him, pulling the shirt from over your head. The collar and chain remain around your neck, and Komaeda pulls you down to press a kiss to your cheek.

"You're so, so beautiful," Komaeda mumbles on your lips, pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

"I love you too."

Komaeda's anxiety charts as the wedding gets closer and closer. He finds himself staring at sharp objects for far too long and foods that he knows would be bad for him even longer. There's a certain sense of anxiety as he stares a little too long at dangerous items nearby, and you find yourself tracing circles on his skin and reminding him that it was fine. You didn't mind his luck cycle. Even if it rained on the big day, you could just run down the aisle with an umbrella.

You sit in your cabin, smiling as Hiyoko arranges your hair with a huff, complaining about how you had such nice hair but never took care of it. You laugh as she weaves flowers into your hair, and Sonia has you hold still as she does your makeup. Mahiru moves between cabins, snapping photos of both you and Komaeda. Ibuki arranges the music as Peko invites the few future foundation members to their seats. You don't know how you got here, really. Your heart causes your breathing to get anxious, and you grimace slowly.

"Hey," Sonia pauses, having you stare at her. "It'll be fine. No anxious thoughts. It's your wedding day."

You exhale as she has you breathe, and your shoulders relax.

"It looks like it's going to rain," Mikan mumbles. "Did we bring an umbrella?"

"I did!" Akane closes the umbrella, stepping into the room. "Wah, how pretty!"

"Thank you, Akane," You smile.

Komaeda's words serve true, rain pouring down on the day of the wedding, and you laugh as the tail of your dress stains with rainwater. You'll think of it as a fond memory. You know you will. It'll be fun to explain to people who ask why your dress is stained brown and say that you got married in the rain to the love of your life. It's a sense of acceptance. You blink at Komaeda as you get ready to walk down the aisle, and you decide to run. You're excited. Komaeda's dressed head to toe in white, and he looks ethereal. You'd love him forever, you decide. You ditch the umbrella, only stopping as you bump under his. It was big enough to fit the two of you.

"Would you like to swap shoes? Running in heels in the rain is a little..." Komaeda raises a leg to slip his shoe off before you stop him.

"I want to run in the rain, in heels, with the love of my life," You laugh, resting your hand on his bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

Impostor gives the opening speech, and you grin happily as you open the letter you had written, holding a newly brought, clear umbrella.

"To Nagito Komaeda," You clear your throat carefully. "I landed in your lap in the blink of an eye, crashing into you on the street from above. It was comedic, it was strange, and it was new. I had never gotten hit by a white truck before, and I was nowhere expecting to end up in this world of all places. You're a fan favorite in my world, and the fact that I'm being blessed with an opportunity to marry you like this is incredible. It feels strange. It felt like just yesterday when I was asking you in a foreign language whether or not I could stay with you until I found a home, and now today we're getting married. I know you like to say that it's a blessing to marry me, but I think the real blessing was falling in love with you."

You pause to breathe, glancing at Komaeda, wiping his tears already.

"I was horrified when I saw the letter detailing your frontaltemporal lobe dementia. I was determined to find some way to fix it, whether it be through someone as obscure as the ultimate neurologist whom I had only heard of once or twice. I was blissfully in love with you as I had always been. I do not remember a moment when I haven't loved you to the moon and back." You swallow, tears welling in your eyes. "Even when you were nothing more than a mere servant under Monaca, I was desperate to do anything for you. I had forgotten that the tragedy was something that you would have despised had you found out I was an ultimate despair, but I was so desperate to love you and to show you how far my love went that I went insane."

Komaeda thanks Hinata as he takes the handkerchief, crying silently into it.

"But I knew that we would love each other. I knew that you and I would love like no other, and that the sun would die and the moon would break, but there would never be a moment where I wouldn't stop loving you because I couldn't stop loving you. You were as vital to my existence as any basic commodity was. I could wither and die like the flowers you picked for me at Hope's Peak and I would still love you desperately." You pause, collecting yourself. "Because you were just that important to me. You were something that I desperately, insanely wanted. You meant the world to me, and I was willing to let everyone else burn just so I could see you live."

You cough, trying to hold back tears. "And when we had fought, I was so desperate to leave because the only thing I knew how to do was to run away. Yet, I don't know why I stayed in that tower all night until the sun was peeking from the east. I don't know why I had held onto you so desperately as you had cried in my arms, but I'm so terribly elated that I had stayed, because I wouldn't be here if I had just ran away like I always did. I wouldn't have been in our room, staring at the ceilings and counting the stars in your eyes, watching you breathe peacefully, because I would have never been able to experience anything if I didn't stay with you. I read once that love was a choice," You exhale. "So my choice, in the simplest terms," You wipe a tear from your eye. "Is to stay by your side, for better or worse, for life or for death, and until the universe would forcibly tear my heart and soul and mind away from you, I will stay with you until all that is left of me is nothing, for I know that I would love you for all of my days, even if it decides to kill me. Because even if I'm the ultimate isekai victim in my next, life, you'll always be my husband, lover, and my home in a world that despises me so much."

Komaeda wipes his tears, eyes puffy, brows furrowed, slightly embarrassed at how much of a mess he probably looked. He coughs, waiting for his tears to calm before staring at his letter. He sniffs a little, opening the letter carefully, almost as if he were scared to break the wax. He adjusts the umbrella in his hand, and he opens the letter carefully. There are words written on the front and back.

"To my angel," Komaeda reads, adjusting his umbrella. "When you had first told me to write you a letter, I thought you were saying just to write down whatever thoughts I had."

You thank Sonia as she hands you a handkerchief.

"When I first met you, I thought I was insane." Komaeda laughs to himself. "I was just thrown out of the trash, a couple million dollars on a lottery ticket. I had the ticket in my pocket, and I remembered how each year, each terrible year, I had prayed at the shrines during visits that somehow, somewhere, there would be someone who would make living worth all the suffering I had to go through. I was so desperate to be in love and to have someone who cared about me to the point of destruction like my parents were with each other. I was dying for someone to love me, and as if the universe had heard my prayer that built up over the years, you appeared. You fell from the sky, and for that short moment in my life, I was starstruck at the sight of you." Komaeda sniffs. "I was painfully in love with you. You, who had spoken barely any Japanese upon meeting me, and you who had tried drawing a white truck killing you, I was in love with you. You were so charming in my eyes. I didn't think of a day where I would have to live without you."

Komaeda wipes his tears again, coughing quietly. "I had fallen in love with you so naturally that by the time I was a remnant of despair like you had predicted, I thought that the only way to cause despair was through the death of you, but my consciousness couldn't allow it. I was frail, broken, shattered, so I thought the best sort of despair would have been to work you to the bone and have you fall out of love with me. I failed. I'm glad I failed." Komaeda sniffs, glancing at you in tears, crying into the handkerchief, hiccuping.

"And during that killing game, I died with you." Komaeda laughs airily. "I thought you would surely leave me and try to survive. I had given you a gas mask, yet you stabbed yourself to make sure that my plan would go along, and the two of us were gone. Dead. You were in a coma because I had forced you into one before leaving for the island, and I was in a coma because I had prayed and prayed for a world where everything was together and in one piece. I wanted a world where the two of us could live without the tragedy. A world where we were all classmates, and Chiaki was still alive. To me, it was a world where the two of us were in love and my luck wasn't killing anyone. I woke up and cried. I had to be in a world with you in it, so I thought it'd be chance that my luck would save you. I'm glad it did."

Komaeda turns the paper.

"I love you to the moon and back, and I love you until the sun burns out and the moon dies from heartbreak. My life is supposed to be a mosaic of everyone I've loved, but instead, it's just a painting of you. From start to finish, from the moment we met to the moment we'll die, everything will be influenced by you and you alone. I'll fly you to the moon and burn from the sun just so that you could live without worry. And when I wake up in the morning, I'll hide you from the sun's rays burning your eyes and kiss you until you grow tired of me. I'll do anything and everything so that you'll know how much I love you, because I finally, finally, found the person that I wake up each morning, smiling all silly at because of how much I love you." Komaeda exhales shakily. "So this is my vow to love you until the world shatters and my soul can't reincarnate with you anymore. Know that no matter how much the world will kill me, I'll never leave or break you. I love you, my angel, my world, my heart, and my home."

You wipe your tears quietly, and Souda hands the two of you the rings. Komaeda slips it onto your ring finger, pausing to stare at it. You hold his ring, pausing when you notice the tears pricking the corner of his eyes. You reach to wipe the tears, wiping his tears with your handkerchief as he sniffs quietly. He mumbles a quiet apology, lifting his hand so that you can put his ring on. He wipes his tears as you wait for his vision to clear a little so that he could look at you.

You slip the ring on, a stupid smile on your face, the smile of a lovesick fool.

Impostor starts again. The moment you think you've been waiting for your entire life. Your heart rings in your head, and you can almost hear Komaeda's heart beating in his chest.

"You may now kiss the—"

You feel bad for interrupting Impostor, but as you press your lips to Komaeda, throwing your arms around him in glee, the umbrella falling to the side as Komaeda's caught off guard, you decide it's fine. Though, Komaeda doesn't complain as the familiar feeling of your lips on his causes him to relax into your arms, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively. His lashes flutter as he tilts his neck to get more comfortable, and the rain soaks his hair. He might catch a cold from this, but he supposes he would only get married once. It didn't matter how his luck cycle would affect him.

The rain ceases over your head, and you pout when you pull away. "I wanted to run in the rain with you."

"It'll rain later," Komaeda hums. "We can run when it's later at night. Just the two of us"

You blink slowly, staring at Komaeda as you pause.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[wheels-of-despair]

The Boy Is Mine (The Wheels Edition) Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman have a romantic night in. Contains: Snacks, smokes, alcoholic beverages purchased at a discount, teasing, snarking, fake snoring, Eddie being a butt-head. Project: @carolmunson's The Boy Is Mine Exercise Words: 700ish

(I haven't read any of the other entries yet, so if this is similar to someone else's... I'm sorry your brain is also lame. 😂 Props and dialogue prompts are in bold.)

"I ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?"

"Eddie, we're drinking wine from a box that we got in the clearance aisle," you laugh from the couch. "A coffee mug is fine."

Eddie grins and brings two mugs to the coffee table, then kneels by the TV to put in the first movie of the night.

You take a minute to survey the heart-achingly romantic scene in front of you: Date Night at Eddie's. (Sponsored by Markdown Day at Bradley's Big Buy.) You scored a cheap box of wine, heavily discounted cupcakes with the lopsided vanilla frosting, several bags of chips nearing expiration dates, and even a small cookie cake that was originally intended for someone named Carol.

"That everything?"

"Yup," you answer, reaching for a mug of wine and propping your feet up. The VCR comes to life with a clunk, the noise on the TV becomes a crappy monster movie, and Eddie drops onto the cushion next to you with a bounce.

He leans back with his own drink, and you clink your mugs before sampling your cheap-ass wine… which actually isn't bad.

"The hell is this," Eddie mumbles into his mug.

"Cheap wine?" you supply helpfully, going in for another sip.

"And you like it?"

"It's everything I want from a box of discounted grocery store wine," you chuckle.

"It's fruity," he complains.

"So are you."

"Shut up," he grumbles good-naturedly, leaning forward to grab a bag of chips.

You crunch and munch and maybe take a few hits off a bowl and drink your cheap wine while you enjoy your cheesy monster movie.

Every few minutes, Eddie leans forward to grab a small notebook from the coffee table and scribble in it with a pencil he's chewed the eraser off of.

"Whatcha doin'?" you finally ask.

"Campaign stuff," he says without looking up.

"Yeah? Am I inspiring you?" you tease.

"Nah," he mumbles. "Movie."

"Hmph," you scoff playfully. "I see how it is." You scoot toward the other end of the couch, leaving behind the warmth of the thigh that had been pressing against yours for the last hour. You lean back over and steal the bag of chips from his lap as an afterthought. This is when he decides to look up.

"What are you doing?"

"Being uninspirational," you say cheekily, popping a chip in your mouth.

"Aw, don't be like that. That's not even true." He puts down his little notebook and his gnawed-on pencil and crawls toward you. He rests his head on your shoulder, throws an arm across your stomach, and looks up at you with his best puppy eyes.

You roll your eyes and reach into the bag for a chip, holding it to his mouth. He opens wide and accepts. You alternate between feeding him and yourself through the movie's thrilling climax.

Eddie doesn't move when the end credits begin to roll. You give your shoulder a gentle shake to get his attention. His head slides down onto your breast.

"Eddie. Movie's over."

He nuzzles his face into your chest.

"I'll change the tape. Just let me up."

"Can't hear you. Sleeping."

"Eddie. I gotta pee."

"Honk-shoo, honk-shoooo," Eddie fake snores. You know he's grinning. Like an idiot. Because he is one.

You reach for the nearest throw pillow, take aim, and smack him in the face with it.

"That wasn't nice," he grumbles.

"Unhand me, nerd."

"No."

You hit him again.

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

"Already got one," you smirk. "Big eyes, bigger mouth, won't get the hell off of me."

You feel him chuckle, but he still doesn't move, so you whack him in the face with the pillow again.

Eddie growls and tries to take it from you. A struggle ensues. It's all a tangle of hair and limbs for a few seconds, but you emerge from the chaos victorious and free of one Edward Munson.

He crosses his arms over the pillow and pouts when he realizes you've escaped.

"I'm coming right back, nerd," you call over your shoulder. "Pour me another mug of that crappy wine if you want me to put out tonight."

You hear him scrambling into the kitchen before you even close the bathroom door.

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕓𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ɪɢ, ᴄᴜᴛᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

⋆ ★ ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ 30 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ :)

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter 

Walking around a busy neighborhood, looking for a place to eat when you see people dancing on the street. 

Seeing a live band playing dreamy romantic music, and couples swaying lovingly together. 

You flash him a smile, beckon him over, and join hand in hand, Hunter’s arms wrapped around your waist and your hands meeting behind his neck. 

You two aren’t the most amazing dancers, stepping on the other's foot occasionally and bumping into another couple, but it’s perfect ‘cause it’s you two, and he twirls you around and brings you back into his arms with a smile. 

There’s so much adoration and pure softness in his eyes, you can’t help but indulge in a little PDA and kiss his pretty lips and press your foreheads together.

Tech 

Lounging in the cockpit of the Marauder, sitting across from each other and eating your favorite meal together, just talking. 

This sweet boy went to great lengths to get your exact favorite food, doing extensive research on where to get it, or, if needed, how to make it.

Exchanging small glances and smiles even when the sound of chewing overtakes any other noise. 

Holding hands as you eat, exchanging thoughts and ideas and little snippets of your day or week to each other.

As the night goes on, maybe putting on some music and rocking together, softly holding the other in your arms, or Tech showing you whatever new he’s been working on or researching on his datapad, avidly sharing with wide and loving eyes. 

He doesn’t even bother watching himself and what he’s saying, because he knows you wouldn’t interrupt or be bothered.

Wrecker 

A picnic on a sunny, leafy planet, your setup nestled somewhere away from busy roads and cities, blanket and basket of food placed on the lush grass, and his smile brighter than the sun.

Feeding each other fruits and sandwiches, smiling giddily when he gets sauce all over his mouth and reaching over to wipe it off with your thumb.

Wrecker insisting there’s something on your face too, and reaching over to steal a long, thorough kiss that has you giggling when he pulls away.

Ending up on his lap or him lying on his back, your head on his chest. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your face in the crook there or listening to his heartbeat. 

You might end up falling asleep in each other's warmth, taking a nice little nap under the sun together before having to wake up and go about your normal, boring, unromantic business.

Crosshair 

Walking through busy shopping streets, leading him by the grip you have on his wrist and looking at all the goods and services.

Him insisting he doesn’t care to get anything, but you see him eyeing a sleek gray holster that would definitely pair well with his kit.

Getting drinks and sipping from each other's straws, Crosshair insisting yours is too sweet and you insisting his is too bitter.

A baby pointing at Crosshair with wide eyes and him glaring back with that mean look, but the baby only laughs. You can’t stop giggling.

Him sneakily interlocking your fingers for a split moment as the throngs of people become too crowded and it being harder to see you.

He says he’s not going to buy anything for either of you, but he goes back later as you’re using the restroom to buy that good you were admiring while window shopping. 

When you ask him how much it cost, he insists that it’s nothing you should worry about.

Echo

Finding a skyline view, maybe some sort of quiet restaurant or lounge above the Coruscant sky.

Somewhere modest but thoughtful and romantic, just like Echo.

Not wanting to sit across from you so instead finding a loveseat and leaning on each other, arms linked.

Observing speeders and people walking past, making up lives and stories about them. 

Giggling to each other when you make up outrageous ones. 

Having to finish his food when he picks out all the parts he doesn’t like.

When you’re walking home holding hands pulling him down an unoccupied hallway, letting your back press onto the wall, and kissing him silly for a few moments before finally deciding to go home.

dividers by @saradika ~ tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @anotherschuylersister @wolffegirlsunite @star-burned @starrylothcat

[mrsniallhoran505]

Good Morning Austin Girls!

Blood And Chocolate.

An Austin Butler Smut.

18+ minors do not read.

Warnings!

Oral (female receiving) choking, edging, fingering, use of toys, food (that is a warning) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it).

Hope you all enjoy!

You could feel the silk on your face, covering your eyes, the plush straps keeping your arms and legs spread and secure. You weren’t sure where your partner, Austin, was. You could hear you own breathing but nothing else. You couldn’t even scent him. You were starting to worry about what you had gotten yourself in. Wondering just what you agreed to. 

“Let me own you… Just for tonight.” Austin had whispered in your ear. You were dancing with him, feeling your whole body heat up. Everything about him screamed money and luxury. The silk suit, the diamond encrusted watch, the spicy cologne, even the request; it all said money and lots of it. 

“Just for tonight? What about tomorrow?” You asked looking up into his icy eyes. 

“Tomorrow you can decide if you want to be mine forever.” He smirked and pulled you close again. 

You agreed but now, tied to a bed with silk sheets, in a room only lit by candles, you started to wonder if you trusted the wrong person. Agreed to the wrong request. 

Just as you opened your mouth to speak you felt something cool and smooth pressed to your lips. 

“Bite.” He commands and taps the object to your lips. 

You hesitate but when he doesn’t remove it you part your lips and teeth. He pushes it a bit further and you bite down. Juice coated your lips and the sweet rich flavor of a chocolate covered strawberry fills your mouth. You chew the bite and swallow with a hum of approval. 

“Good girl,” He hums. You feel the cold of the bitten strawberry circle your pert nipple making you gasp. He chuckles and gives you the berry to finish. As you chew he leans down and licks and sucks your nipple clean. 

“So sweet for me.” He licks his lips and crawls onto the bed between your legs. He places something a bit cold on your belly, chuckling when you hiss and flinch away from it. “Settle down.” He tells you before feeding you another strawberry. This one was dark chocolate. 

Before you had enough time to really taste the chocolate and sweet fruit his face was between your legs and his tongue was lapping at your clit in long slow strokes. You tense up and pull on your restraints. He places his hands on your breasts and squeezes, while sucking on your clit. 

“Austin!” You moan and buck your hips. He pulls back and sucks his teeth at you. 

“Darling you need to hold still or you will make a mess of my very expensive sheets.” He gives you another strawberry before going back to eating you out. He takes his time, really enjoying every lick and suck. Learning what makes you feel good and what makes you cry out his name. 

Each time you think you’re gonna cum he stops to feed you a strawberry. It was the sweetest edging you have ever had. Finally he seemed to be satisfied with how wet you were, or maybe it was the begging you did, either way he gave into you. 

“Last one darling.” This time he feeds you a chocolate covered cherry. As you chew and enjoy the taste he goes back to sucking your clit. His two middle fingers slowly push into you and start pumping slowly at first. When he’s sure you won’t choke on fruit he speeds up, curving them to stroke your gspot.

Your orgasm washes over you like the sweet juice of the cherry coats your tongue, slowly then all at once. He keeps you going till you are trying to squirm away from him. He kisses your thighs slowly while withdrawing his fingers from you. 

“Your cheeks would be as red as that cherry if you could see the mess you made of my hand.” He chuckles before picking up the last strawberry and letting some of your juices drip on it before taking a bite. His satisfied hum has you wondering which of the treats he ate. 

“Need something to drink, darling, or can you keep going?” He ran his hands over your thighs and stomach. 

“Something to drink, please?” You ask and feel him pull away immediately. He gets off the bed and walks somewhere in the room. The carpet silencing his steps. A few breaths later he gently touches your face. 

“Here you go, darling.” He gives your restraints some slack before helping you sit up slowly. You feel a weight behind you and then his legs against your back keeping you sitting up. He places a glass rim to your lips and slowly tips the drink. You’re expecting water but you taste coconut. It's refreshing and after a few drinks he pulls it away. 

“Better?” He asks and gently smoothes your hair down and fixes your blindfold. 

“Yes, thank you.” You smile at what you hope is him. He helps you lay flat again before tightening your restraints. He steps away and places the glass somewhere. When he returns you feel something cold on your lips. 

“Tongue out.” He commands and you slip your tongue out. He drags something cold over your tongue a few times. It takes you a moment to register a taste. Blue raspberry, more than likely a popsicle. He lets you suck on it a bit before pulling it away. You think maybe it was to taste it himself but then you feel it circling your nipple. 

You gasp and try to move away from it but it just makes him chuckle. He moves it to your other nipple before giving it back to you to suck on. He leans down and sucks and licks your nipples clean, making sure not even a spot of the melting ice was left on your skin.  

He knew better than to put anything with sugar near your vagina so he let you enjoy the popsicle but he had other ideas to let you enjoy an icy feeling. He reaches over to the bedside table to grab a bullet vibrator. It was small and had been chilled in the fridge. 

He moves to your lower body and uses the cold tip to trace your lower lips, smirking when you gasp. He continues to tease you till you relax. He pulls the toy away and dips it in the ice water he had nearby then turns it on and presses it to your clit. 

You didn’t know if you should press into it or pull away. The cold of the metal had you hissing and pulling away but the vibration had you lifting your hips to get more. It was strange, new, conflicting, and so pleasurable. He kept the toy pressed to your clit while helping you suck on the popsicle. 

When the toy felt warm to him he would dip it again and up the vibrations before giving it back to you. Each time he thought it was warm you were so close to cumming and him pulling it away to chill it again was enough that you calmed down. He seemed to enjoy edging you.

You were half way through your popsicle when he finally let you cum. He watches your body squirm on the bed, rolling like you were trying to do the worm facing the wrong way. It was a beautiful sight and he’d never tire of seeing it or being the cause of it. 

He pulls the toy away and sets it aside before grabbing a bigger version. This one was also chilled. He gives you some slack on one wrist, but only enough to allow you to hold your own popsicle.

“You stop sucking, I stop fucking.” He instructs before slowly pushing the child dildo into you. You gasp loudly and clench around it. Before you could even adjust to the cold he turns the vibration on and starts thrusting it. He counters the cool metal with the warmth of his mouth on your clit. This was torture in a delicious way. 

Just like with the bullet, he keeps removing the toy to chill it again. He never lets you feel warmth that wasn’t coming from his mouth. The cold between both sets of lips as you hyper aware of your own body and the pleasure it was experiencing. 

This time he didn’t stop when you started tensing. He actually speeds up when you start to tense. You toss the popsicle aside, crying out his name while grinding your pussy against his mouth. He pulls the toy out and moves to be kneeling between your legs. 

“You’re doing so good for me darling.” He hums and feeds you another chocolate covered cherry. You can’t help but moan as you eat it, remembering what your body went through the last time you had the taste. 

“Got one more for me?” He ask before getting up and walking to the bowl of ice water. He dips his hand in and then strokes his cock. It sends a pleasurable shock through his body. He walks over and gets between your legs. 

“Yes, I think so.” You finally answer now that you swallowed the cherry.  

“Good.” He doesn’t waste time with more teasing; he just pushes into your wet pussy. The cold coating makes you gasp, and your warm depths make him groan and push deeper. 

“Fuck! So warm and wet for me.” He grunts and pulls out to push in again. He grips your hips and starts to thrust, finding a slow rhythm. His cock warming up with each thrust. When the cool sensation is gone he reaches to his side and grabs a slice of mango. He holds it up to your lips. You lick your lips before parting them and taking the piece. 

His pace is slow while you chew and swallow, but once he’s sure it's safe he goes faster. He licks his thumb and presses it to your clit to rub it in circles while feeding himself some mango. 

He presses his palm down on your lower abdomen and rolls his hips slowly. He watches your body tense and bow before pulling out and grabbing a mango slice. He puts it between his lips and leans over you to feed you the other half. You both bite together and chew. 

“So sweet.” He muses before kissing you deeply, tasting the mixture of fruits and chocolate on your tongue. He pushes into you again, gripping your hips tight and pulling you into his thrusts. 

He never seems to give you pause before making you feel something new. The fruit feeding had you aware of senses you never paid attention to before during sex, the cold and warm gave you pleasure you never thought you’d like. And now…

He takes the blind fold off and kisses you deeply. “I want to watch you come undone. I wanna see the look in your eyes when I give you everything you ever craved and thought you couldn’t have.” 

He sits up and starts thrusting faster, his thumb working your clit just as fast. You tug on your restraints, your back arching off the bed. Your body had already been through so much that you couldn’t think straight let alone recognize your fast approaching orgasm. 

Austin watched you closely, having learned how to read your body. He saw when you were reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. He leans forward and braces himself on one hand beside your head. He rolls his hips to keep his thrusts deep and to stroke your gspot. His free hand wraps around your throat and applies some pleasure. From the way your eyes roll back he knows you are enjoying it. 

“Come for me. Make a mess of my cock. Ruin my thousand dollar sheets.” He growls in your ear making you whimper and nod your head. You tense up and start trembling, your lungs burning begging you to breathe. He lets go of your throat just as your orgasm takes over. You scream his name and claw at his sheets, hearing them tear. He pushes deep, feeling you clench and quiver around his cock makes him shiver through his own release.

When you both calm down he pulls out slowly and feeds you another cherry. “Relax darling, I’ll get a cloth to clean you up.” He kisses you deeply before getting up to do as he claimed.

While you lay there eating your cherry you get a bitter taste mixed in and realize that there was blood on your lips. You checked yourself and found no wound. When Austin turned to face you again you were shocked to see red eyes, and teeth marks on his own lip that were already healing...

GMAG! Tag List:

Sometimes tags work sometimes they don’t!

@ilovemycrayons​ @blurredcolour​ @dre6ming​ @slowsweetlove​ @pennyroyalcreep​ @austiebuttbutt ​ @lisathewife101 ​ @jojam10 ​ @xxindiglow ​  @crackerbarrelslut ​ @katsukis1wife ​  @macey234 ​ @lucid315 @katelswan @introvertisms @purejasmine @bcofl0ve @feral-fae-writes @eliseinmemphis @klizzie93 @scarlet-sunsets @austinbutlermischief @emmamartinez @dazzledbycarrie   @sunset-striptease-redeux @chasingwildflowers @justafangir1 @kctj82 @lettersfromvenus

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

⋆ 𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓮: 𝓐 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶…𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓮?! ⋆

Just a silly Cathie fic, based on the fact that Cater wasn't originally going to be part of Breakaway Beauty: For True Love's Cure! ♡ Enjoy! ♡

⋆ Cater's day had gone like usual, going to class, scrolling through Magicam. He thought it was odd he hadn't heard from Ruthie, meeting no response whenever he texted her. At one point he had even tried calling, getting only a dial tone before hanging up. He did his best not to worry but couldn't help it, wondering if she was alright. He shook his head as he came back to Heartslabyul, doing his best to reassure himself. As he walked through the garden he heard a familiar laugh, instantly heading towards it's direction. He was about to say something but froze, shocked by the sight before him.

⋆ Ruthie and Riddle sit in the gardens, a table set up for them. A tea pot sits in the center with a tea cup in front of each of them, and a strawberry tart next to Ruthie. She scoops some of it up onto a fork, holding it out for Riddle.

"I hope you like it! Trey told me it was your favorite!"

Riddle seems flustered by her trying to feed him, his face turning red as he looks away.

"You...you don't have to feed me, you know?! I'm not a child!"

"Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to upset you, it's just..."

Ruthie's face turns pink as she grows shy, her grip on the fork wavering.

"I've seen couples feed each other before, and since we're a couple now, I..."

Riddle softens at her words, turning his attention back towards her. His face is still pink as he shakes his head, doing his best to meet her eyes.

"I see...I suppose I can allow it...Just this once, though!"

Ruthie's eyes shine at his words, a bright smile coming to her face as she presses her free hand to her cheek.

"Ah, really?! Thank you so much, Riddle!"

She proceeds to move the fork closer to his mouth, Riddle looking away as he eats it. His eyes widen as he chews, finally meeting her eyes.

"It's really good!"

She laughs as she scoops some more onto the fork, feeding him again without resistance this time.

"Better than Trey's?"

"Much better, but don't tell him I said that."

"It must have been all the love I put into it~" She says with a laugh, causing Riddle to almost choke.

⋆ "What in the world is going on...?" Cater mumbles to himself, pressing a hand to his forehead in disbelief. Trey passes by and notices him, greeting him before following his line of sight.

"Oh, I see Riddle finally asked her to join him for tea. It's about time those two got together."

Cater's head snapped up at Trey's words, confused as he stared at him.

"WHAT? Trey, I think you're forgetting...Ruthie already has a boyfriend."

Trey's eyebrow raises in surprise, laughing at his words.

"Where did you hear that from?"

"C'mon now, Trey, everyone knows I'm her boyfriend!"

Trey stares at him as if he grew a second head, confused by his words.

"Um, Cater, are you sure you're alright...? I didn't even know you two had spoken before, let alone enough for you to think you're dating."

Cater feels like he's going crazy as he looks around, wondering if someone is filming him.

"Ha ha, very funny guys! And such an elaborate prank too, did Lilia help you plan it?"

⋆ As Cater and Trey talk, Ace and Deuce head to their direction, curious to know what they were looking at.

"Oh, it's about time! Now we know why he kept fussing over that letter yesterday"

"Maybe if you didn't tease him, he would have told us, instead of collaring you again..."

Cater shook his head at their conversation, wondering just how many people were in on this.

"Not you guys, too! Look, I appreciate the effort put into this, and I'm sure it'll go viral on Magicam, but I would really like to have my girlfriend back. So if you could end the prank now..."

Ace's eyebrow rose as he turned to Trey, "What is he talking about?" as Trey shrugged his shoulders, unsure.

Deuce puts a hand on Cater's shoulder, looking just as confused as the others.

"Um, Cater...are you alright...?"

"He must have hit his head in flight class"

"You might be right, Ace, I think we should take him to the infirmary..."

Trey puts his hand on Cater's other shoulder, looking him over with a worried expression.

Right as they were about to lead him away, Cater saw Riddle and Ruthie lean in for a kiss, causing him to shake their hands from his shoulders. He walked towards them, waking up in a cold sweat right as their lips met.

⋆ He was panting as he sat up in bed, pressing a hand to his face. It was just a dream, he thought, laying back down once he relaxed. He immediately reached for his phone, calling Ruthie without checking the time. On the second ring she answered, sounding like she just woke up.

"...Cay...? Is everything alright...?"

"Oh, yeah! Totally! Everything's fine. I just wanted to see how you were doing"

"...Honey, it's 3 am..."

"...Good morning...?"

"...Are you sure you're alright?"

"...Yeah, I'm alright. Better, actually, now that I heard your voice."

"...I'm glad. Try to get some sleep now, ok? I'll see you tomorrow."

There's a pause, Cater listening as she tries her best to stay awake.

"...I love you"

"I love you too, Cay. Have a goodnight."

⋆ As soon as she entered Heartslabyul Cater was there waiting for her, pressing kisses to her face as he spun her around in his arms.

"Ahahaha, Cater! What's this all about?"

He stops spinning as he looks into her eyes, holding her close as he kisses her lips gently.

"What, I can't be happy to see my cutie?"

As she aww's at his words he finally notices the pan she's holding, silently hoping he didn't ruin it. He asks her what it is, causing her to jump in excitement as she explained.

"Ah, Trey is going to introduce me to his friend Riddle today! I've heard about him in the past, and I always seem to miss him whenever I stop by, so he thought it would be nice if we finally got to meet! I made a strawberry tart for him, as Trey told me it was his favorite! I hope he likes it!"

Cater freezes at her words, feeling a sense of deja vu as he notices Trey heading towards them.

"Oh good, you're here! I hope you don't mind if I borrow her for a bit. Riddle's waiting for her in the rose garden."

⋆ Before she could follow Trey, Cater grabs her wrist, pulling her back towards him.

"Actually, we have plans today, so she's gonna have to reschedule. Sorry!"

He hands Trey the tart before pulling her along, Ruthie looking back towards him in confusion before focusing on her boyfriend.

"I thought we didn't have plans today...?"

"Oops, my bad! I must have forgot to text you about it!"

"Oh, that's alright! Where are we going, then?"

"Anywhere that isn't here..." ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[sehodreams]

oh. it just didn’t like the way i had it formatted💀 welp.

maybe you just woke up with an attitude, but you’ve been a menace all day, ignoring sungchan’s help to get dressed, refusing to eat the breakfast that eunseok made, and snubbing anton when he asked you to sit with him in the living room, they all just kinda left you to be for now, assuming you just weren’t feeling well and giving you a chance to calm down and come back to them with a sweet apology, but you didn’t. by lunchtime, sungchan came back around to the bedroom to check on you, but you didn’t answer when he knocked. he carefully opened the door further, to you just hanging out watching videos on your phone. “come on sweetheart,” he’d coo, “you know you’ve gotta eat,” he’d say, half out of concern for your wellbeing, it’s almost 2pm and half because you know what you’ve agreed to. “i’m not hungry,” you snap, not even looking up from your phone screen, “come on,” he’d try again, firmer, “you’re making eunseok feel badly, he spent a lot of time cooking for you” you’d respond with “don’t care” and that’s when sungchan decided he’d had enough.

he walks over to the bed, calmly, before pulling the blankets off of you and taking your phone. you whine, and struggle a little when he grabs your wrists and pulls you up, picking you up with a grunt from the weight of your body on him, before taking you out in the living room. “stop it,” he’d growl before setting you down onto the couch next to anton before kneeling in front of you. you’re so embarrassed from the treatment but now you’re doubling down on your behaviour because it would be even more humiliating to back off at this point. “you’re going to be a good girl, and eat what we made you, okay?” you’d shake your head, and squirm. anton leaning next to you, pulling your hair away from your face, saying “come on, angel, we talked about this”. eunseok would come over with what he made for you, let’s say it’s pasta again for simplicity’s sake, and try to feed it to you. still being bratty, you’d shy away from it, but again, all three of them having had enough dealing with this, anton would grip your chin, while sungchan forces his fingers past your lips to pull your mouth open to take the bite that eunseok was giving to you. they’d make you chew, and swallow, keeping your mouth closed so you can’t spit, and repeating this until you start to get full. “are you going to behave now?” sungchan would ask, easing up slightly to see if you’ll keep squirming, your head is spinning a little, definitely aroused by the way they’re manhandling you but you don’t want to let them know (they 100% know, they’re turned on too), you’d shift your hips, trying to relieve the pressure between your thighs but it doesn’t help, if anything it makes it worse, and your tummy is starting to feel tight which is just making you feel flushed and warm all over. they’d feed you the last few bites of pasta, and you’d think it was over, but idk they’d pull out cake or something because you’ve been very bad.

normally, desserts would be a treat for you, just a way of them spoiling you but now it’s to punish you for going against them and disrespecting the agreement. they take care of you, so how dare you not give them the one thing they ask from you? complete and utter control. “open up,” eunseok says, bringing the bite of cake to your lips, on a clean fork now, and you’d go back to shaking your head, “we’re not asking, angel” anton would chime in, squeezing your thigh, and sungchan would pinch your slightly swollen tummy, making your squirm and swallow a moan. the cake makes your mouth water but you almost can’t fathom swallowing another bite of anything right now, so you keep your mouth shut, biting at sungchan’s fingers when they return to your mouth. now you’ve done it. if you hadn’t already. sungchan would take his fingers away from your mouth to cup your core instead, pressing his palm against your cunt, holding back a groan at how wet you feel. he’d quickly pull your panties aside to rub your slick folds, and you can’t help the sounds that escape you. “you gonna open your mouth now? huh?” he’d mock, pushing his middle finger deep inside you, hissing as it glides easily against your soaked walls. eunseok would take the opportunity of your mouth falling open in pleasure to force the cake past your lips and anton would encourage you to swallow. sungchan pumping his finger in and out of you slowly, before adding another, wrist bumping against your plump lower tummy as he does. you’d go dumb pretty quickly from having sungchan fuck you with his fingers, anton helping himself to your breasts, sucking on your nipple to stimulate you further. and eunseok would just keep feeding you.

idk. i lost the plot a bit. also i’m really bad at switching between past, present, future tense 😬i wrote some other stuff too but then none of it really went together. maybe if i’m feeling brave enough and you wanted i could just dm you from my blog? but it’s up to you, i don’t wanna be too weird. 😶 and i’m pretty new to kpop fic tumblr so idk if ppl chat really or if everyone just minds their business but anyways, thank you for always entertaining my nasty ideas😭😭

Hahahaha you can dm me anything you think about, I really enjoy talking to people! (Although I only have one friend that actually talks to me through dms 😫)

But wth, how could you write that, it's so hot I'm going insane 😭🙏

I can see what you were doing, and honey, I understood it all.

You know what comes to my mind? The Wonbin situation you mentioned first.

Like, imagine you're nice to your new coworker because you've been assigned to help them integrate into the group, so you start talking a bit more than normal with him, but to be fair, your chat is almost all pure work talk.

There was only one message that was different, and it was from him asking where did you buy the lunch you took that day, which obviously had been made by Eunseok, who is in charge of everything you eat.

They notice it, how you're looking more at your phone, how you come fresh from work because you feel you've made a friend, and you don't even try to hide it, telling them that you've had a great day and letting them be more touchy than normal (as if it was possible).

Not much later you notice that Anton, as the first one you told about your friendship with the new boy, has started to check your phone when you were busy doing other things, to then snitch on you with the others.

Sungchan, who usually focuses on your own pleasure when he's touching you, whispers that you're his and obliges you to repeat his words if you want to cum.

Eunseok, who used to only check on you when he arrived before going to his room, now slips into your bed in the middle of the night to grip your stomach and leave marks on your neck before he lets you drift back to sleep.

They're all getting out of control, and you know you're privileged for having so much attention and love from them, but they're exhausting you with how rude they're getting, not asking nicely for you to eat the food they buy you, even less leaving love trails in your skin, those being more like animal bites to mark you as their property.

"Anton- wait, please, it hurts" you cry when his fingers are pinching your nipple too hard. He doesn't stop, and when Sungchan arrives and you look at him with pleading eyes so he helps you, he decides that torturing your clit is more interesting, fucking you with his long fingers while Anton continues focusing in your chest, pushing you to cum but then stopping his attentions to your clit the second you tremble from how close you are.

Eunseok has been making more greasy food too, and even if you've begged him to add more vegetables because you don't want the flavours to overwhelm you, he ignores all your requests and does whatever he wants.

If you start to become bratty, it's because they're not treating you like their princess that deserves everything anymore, and you don't like that game.

That's the reason you say no so adamantly when Sungchan calls you to eat. You're tired of eating greasy food, even more, from feeling ignored whenever you step into the living room and they do whatever they want. You want to simply eat a salad and call it a night, sleeping with your door closed and no one interrupting your precious night.

Being a brat is not normal for you. You like to please them, but you want to be treated nicely, so you decide to ignore them like they've been doing with you.

At first, like you said, they just expect your act to stop at some moment, but it's been going for days, and now it's their special day, when they're all together and they can tend to you like they really want. Eunseok knows he's been bad these days, so he decides to make your favorite pasta, Sungchan goes to buy your favorite cake to tell you that he's sorry for being so rough, and Anton has already started his preparations to have a movie afternoon in the living room, putting blankets and your favorite drinks so you can cuddle all together (and, if things get better, play nicely with your nipples to erase the occasion in which he was so hard with you.)

They all have their own special thing ready, but none of them expected you to continue being a brat and saying no to anything they offered.

Still, you should know that, by being with them, there's a point in which they won't tolerate you being a brat, and if they have to make you accept them, they will.

[paalove]

so today's episode totally shattered me! would you consider writing that ep5 canon divergence we talked about where sand tells ray about the 25th hour thing. i think it would really help your traumatized fellow fans exorcise from their minds the image of ray's face when he's saying that sand never cared about him

:D

your wish is my command. to be posted on ao3 within the minute xoxo also on ao3

...

Maybe they shouldn’t have gone for another cookie, but Ray had picked one up and ripped it in half before Sand could bring himself to stop looking at Ray’s smooth cheeks long enough to protest, so instead he’d allowed Ray to feed him one half.

The smaller half, but Ray might not have even noticed that.

He swallows the last of it, plants a hand over by the beanbag, and leans into Ray.

Concrete roughness under his hand helps him anchor himself, because otherwise every sense is Ray, Ray, Ray, all soft and glittery. He kisses him and tastes the cookie, again, licks some of it out of Ray’s mouth because he might have interrupted mid-chew but Ray doesn’t seem to mind, hand on Sand’s neck pulling him in and tongue in his mouth probably trying to get the cookie back.

It might be a little gross if it wasn’t Ray.

Not in a romantic way, just that Ray’s been covered in beer or piss or vomit often enough that this isn’t on the scale.

Sand gets stuck in considering that for a second and Ray falls away with a laugh.

It’s a giggly little thing; he’s been riding the wave of the edibles and not much else since Sand couldn’t bring himself to pour any more, so he’s more high than he is drunk.

Ray laughs in the most beautiful, time-stopping way, of course, because he’s Ray, but the giggles always make Sand want to look and look and never stop, and of course he’s high too but that would be a good idea anyway so he fixes his eyes and drinks Ray in.

He’s still laughing, it’s in his eyes, which are dark under Sand where he shields him from the light coming from inside the apartment, and his lips are kiss-red and wet.

Sand kisses him again.

This is amazing, but he’s not sure how to stare at Ray from here – when he tries to pull away, though, Ray makes an annoyed noise and clamps his arms over Sand’s shoulders.

Ray wants to keep kissing; Sand will.

He’s on his knees, now, on the stone floor. One hand still balances there too, but he finds that the other is trapped between Ray’s back and the fake leather of the beanbag he convinced P’Yo he could find a use for once it stopped matching the bar aesthetic.

The trapped arm could be easily freed.

It’s easier to leave it there and feel like it’s on purpose, like Ray wants to anchor him down. Sand wants to press Ray down, so it would be fair.

Their kiss slows, tongues retreating in almost-synchrony, and Sand pulls their mouths apart just enough to say, “You’re pretty,” and regain a little of his breath.

“Your eyes are closed,” Ray says.

That’s true.

Sand isn’t sure why he’s saying it, but Ray’s high too, so that’s chill.

This Ray-laugh is more of his wide, cackly one that happens when he’s been delighted by something. Sand likes that.

“Good,” Ray says to nothing.

He’s so warm.

Sand’s arm is still under him, so when Ray stretches up, cranes towards him, Sand helps to hold him up.

When he’s in reach, Ray starts to kiss Sand’s neck, all tickly breath and warm mouth.

It makes him feel everything else more, the slightly-cooler floor and the barely-there breeze over his neck and of course the cloth of Ray’s shirt and Sand’s own.

He needs his arm, the one not already touching Ray, so without thinking-

Sand falls heavily on top of Ray, squashing him into the beanbag, and Ray’s soft oof sends a puff of air over the spit-damp part of his neck.

But he has his hand free now and he strokes at Ray’s hip and kisses what’s in reach.

Mostly what’s in reach is hair, but there’s some ear, too.

“Sand,” Ray says. “You’re squashing me.”

With a hum onto Ray’s ear and a pleased feeling at the resultant shiver, Sand says, “You don’t like that?”

He’d be surprised.

“No, I do,” Ray informs him, so Sand bites his ear and doesn’t get up.

Their legs are pleasantly tangled as they kiss, now, and as Sand gropes sort of absently at Ray’s chest and waist and hips, Ray starts to grind his crotch on Sand’s thigh.

He crawls up towards Ray, to get in a better position for that, uses the leg that isn’t caught between Ray’s to pull himself towards the beanbag and gets it in front of him, underneath… something. It lets him feel Ray, hard, against his other leg, so that’s good.

It also means he’s got space to lean over Ray, space between their chests.

Sand smiles, probably goofy, at Ray’s half-lidded dark eyes and his sweat-slicked hair. Pausing a moment, he strokes a lone strand of Ray’s forehead.

He’s so beautiful.

Probably mad about how far up Sand is, Ray whines, “Sand, stop it.”

“Sh,” he hushes, leaning down to meet Ray’s open begging mouth.

Time slows, the way it likes to around Ray. He’s time’s favourite the same way he’s Sand’s favourite.

Sand gets a little desperate, slowly, nameless urgency and need building up against him as he kisses and kisses and occasionally takes a moment to do something equally important, like letting Ray kiss his neck or collarbone or chest, or kissing Ray on the ear or the forehead or the cheek, biting his jaw once, and the need gets to be something hot and buzzing under his skin and suddenly having hands on his chest, legs between his own, that’s not enough, and when he tries to move he realises it’s the beanbag that his leg’s trapped under.

Frowning, he considers the situation.

It’s hard to do that, Ray still rubbing against his leg and so, so beautiful with lips swollen and eyes dark, but he considers it.

One hand on each side of Ray’s waist, which is firm under the layer of nice, touchable soft, he rolls them.

“Ouch,” Sand adds.

Ray frowns down at him, says, “I’m not too heavy for you, dick,” in a voice with hardly any breath in it.

He nods up agreeably.

This is a good angle for Ray, the way he’s kind of haloed in the light from inside really making the perfect shape of his lips and the soft, smooth skin of his cheeks apparent.

Eyes cutting away from Sand’s, Ray says, “The floor’s hurting my knee,” and looks at Sand expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Sand tells him.

They pause for a second.

It’s hard to pick Ray up and put him back onto the beanbag, from here, but the reward – getting to move Ray where he pleases, getting to see Ray smile and pull him into another kiss when he’s seated on top of the beanbag – is definitely a good one.

His core and thighs complain, but they don’t get a vote.

Ray is significantly more upright than before, sitting up on the bag rather than lying against it, and Sand pulls out of the kiss to gaze at him, look him up and down and see the way Ray attractively stretches his neck, lets his legs fall apart.

He’s doing that on purpose.

With a hum, Ray says, “Yeah.”

Under the moonlight, sounds from the street loud but oblivious to them, Ray like this is perfect – it’s like he’s just for Sand, and the world is just for them. Sand has a hand on the bare skin of Ray’s knee through the rip in his jeans, but that isn’t enough.

He mourns having to move it away, but he’s not coordinated enough to undo Ray’s jeans one-handed, not the way he is right now.

As he tries, Ray says, “I’ll help.”

Then Ray gets in the way of Sand undoing Ray’s fly for a little while, hands getting uselessly in the way and distracting Sand with the way their sweaty, warm hands slide against each other, but the button is eventually undone and the zip down.

Ray already has his hands on his own waistline by then, and wriggles to pull it down over his hips.

Instead of assisting, Sand strokes a finger over the tattoo at Ray’s hip, too lightly to even move his skin, not so much reading the words as watching the pattern of light and dark.

“Huh,” says Ray.

Sand looks up, follows Ray’s gaze to his own crotch, and agrees, “Huh.”

He tries to make his brain work, think when that could have happened, looking at Ray’s softening cock and clearly cum-stained boxers. Is it cum-stained, actually, when the cum is still wet? Most things aren’t really stained until they’re dry.

“When did you do that?” asks Sand.

Ray struggles to lean forwards, on the beanbag, so he can lean into Sand’s face and say, “It wasn’t just me.”

He’s pretty, so Sand smiles and kisses his sweaty cheek.

“But when?”

Making no move to pull away from Sand, to move at all, still looking at his crotch in mild confusion, Ray says, “I don’t know.”

“Should we,” Sand doesn’t want to say it, but makes the words come, “Stop?”

He didn’t want to miss it.

Ray’s been on edge since morning – definitely since the vintage store – and Sand’s been working it up, it’s disappointing to miss the moment.

But shaking his head, Ray turns so Sand can see his scowl as he tells him, “Absolutely the fuck not, no, you should… fuck my thighs.”

Ray’s thighs are really good.

“Are you sure,” Sand asks, taking his own pants off.

From somewhere above his thighs, Ray’s voice says, “I said I’d give you your present tonight. And they’re already wet,” because Ray is sweet and thoughtful.

“Good idea,” Sand tells him before kissing mostly-his-mouth, barely hitting his cheek at all, especially once Ray helps and turns into it properly.

But they stop kissing pretty quickly, and Ray sits there with wide expectant eyes as Sand looks at him and considers the best way to do it.

They normally fuck facing each other – Ray has such a lovely face that it feels like a shame to not – but Sand nudges his side and says, “Turn around,” and gestures until he gets it.

“Here,” says Ray, handing over his jacket.

Sand blinks at it.

“What?”

With a pout, Ray tells him, “The floor hurts my knees.”

Carefully positioning Ray so he’s lying over the beanbag, facing forwards, he pushes Ray’s legs together and shoves the jacket under them.

“Hold them tight, right?” asks Ray.

“Mm.”

Sand is staring at Ray’s thighs, so he doesn’t spare a lot of thought for answering.

There’s less cum on this side, but he can see white creeping, peeking through, and he pushes his hand between them to feel that Ray is holding them tight enough; it’s wet underneath, of course.

Ray trembles a little under his touch; Sand didn’t think he could get harder, but his dick kind of pulses in recognition.

So, crawling over, he runs his hand again over the long crease and tells Ray, “You’re so good,” and lines up his cock.

This time it’s a shudder.

He fucks Ray’s crease slowly, and it’s not like lubed thigh-fucking, there’s less slide but more tightness, and he leans over Ray’s back as he fucks into it, into the legs held tight just for Sand, just because Ray wants it, and he kisses Ray’s neck and, for Ray’s sake, wraps a hand into his hair and pulls a little.

At Ray’s groan, he finds his hips moving a little harder, a little more jerkily.

“So hot,” Sand adds.

Ray says, “Yeah, always,” and there’s a laugh in his voice.

Sand loves it when Ray laughs; he pulls his hair again and lets the laugh break into a hiss, kisses his neck and fucks his thighs and finds that he cums pretty uneventfully, more a tumble off a curb than a dive into the water.

Lying on Ray’s back more, now, he hums into Ray’s neck.

“They’re mixed,” Ray informs him.

Sand says, “Huh?” or maybe just hums.

But Ray, probably feeling the now-cloying heat, starts to wiggle, and Sand falls again onto the concrete but slowly this time, controlling his fall, and moves to the side so Ray can roll off the beanbag too.

He leaves an arm out, and Ray comes to a rest using it as a pillow, looking at Sand and saying, “You came in my cum, and it’s mixed.”

That’s so stupid.

Sand starts to laugh, snorting in the least cool way he has, and Ray joins in more prettily.

Pins-and-needles tingle in his hand.

Ray’s head is heavy on his arm, but he can’t not let him keep his pillow, so Sand doesn’t pull it away, instead turning it a little, shuffling to move Ray’s weight to a better part of his bicep.

It seems to help.

And anyway, it brings Ray’s face closer to his.

Sand watches him.

There’s a breeze in the night air but there’s humidity too – it feels almost like it wanted to rain but the sky decided to just filter the water down with the rain, making it unusually thick and warm for an evening at this time of year.

Ray is mostly in darkness, now, in the shadow of the beanbag.

His silhouette is, still, of course, Ray’s face. Perfectly shaped and expressive and amazing, wide eyes and an often-pouting mouth. There are tiny points of light in his eyes, reflecting from somewhere.

Staring back, Ray shuffles closer and puts a hand on the side of Sand’s head, starts playing with his hair, running his fingers through it.

That feels nice.

Today has been so fucking good.

Especially when Ray strokes his hair.

When Ray’s there at all, it’s good, and he was there all of today. It feels greedy of Sand, keeping him like this, when Ray has other places to be and surely other people to see, but Sand will take it and keep it.

Ray looks so pretty like this.

But Sand is so greedy, taking Ray for all of a day, waking up with him in the morning and making him breakfast and taking him everywhere, all day, when Sand is supposed to get brief moments – snatches of Ray’s day, the extra hour in his own.

Time stops for Sand when Ray is there to get that twenty-fifth hour, pushing in between anything else, never taking away, but he’s been there for the whole of today, so today has been all extra time, stopped time, secret time.

He’s so happy they’re here, on his balcony, not wearing pants.

Slowly, Ray blinks, and Sand watches the fluttering of his eyelashes and the glittering of the tears collecting in his eyes, visible in the tiny, tiny reflections of the outside world behind Sand. He watches the slow movement of the shadow of Ray’s throat as he swallows.

Moistening his lips with his tongue, Ray slowly, slowly says, “What do you mean?” and his voice sounds like thin, thin glass, and he leaves a pause before adding, “Sand?”

His voice is trembling.

Thoughts moving like Ray’s throat – slowly, slowly – Sand realises he’s waiting for a response.

“What do I mean?” Sand repeats.

There’s more strength in Ray’s voice, less trembling, but also not as much volume when he says, “Your… twenty-fifth hour?”

Oh.

Sand said that out loud.

That’s- wrong somehow. He can’t remember how. But there’s a hole in the ground, somewhere, that he has to remember not to fall into, something in the back of his mind saying be careful where you walk, but he can’t remember what to be careful of and it feels like it’s probably more important to make sure Ray understands it right.

So he sits up, pushes himself up on one arm, and it’s a harder motion than it should be; Ray mirrors him, facing him.

That’s why he sat up, to look at Ray properly.

Shaking his head, he finds himself not saying but admitting into the dark air and Ray’s barely-parted mouth, “It’s your twenty-fifth hour, Ray, it isn’t mine,” and he’s smiling as he says it because Ray is there and it’s good to say it, “Carved out in my life for you – it’s only yours.”

But then he frowns.

Because Ray’s face crumples first, lips pressed together against something as his eyes squash together and he’s fully crying, now.

Sand puts his hands on Ray’s face and tries to stroke the tears away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Ray doesn’t answer, but he lets out a shuddering breath and falls forwards, briefly crushing Sand’s arms between them.

He rearranges his arms to pull Ray in firmly, and then Ray is burying his face in Sand’s shoulder and sobbing.

It’s not right for Ray to cry, can’t be right, and Sand strokes his back and hums something and stares out at the night. Ray is shuddering and hugging him back, arms clamped around him like getting his finger caught in a clip.

As Ray’s breathing starts to even out, Sand wonders if he can carry Ray to the bedroom like this.

He would never drop him.

It’ll work.

…

The unpleasant sharpness of the morning after a night where he didn’t drink to the point of sickness greets Ray when he wakes.

All the colours and shapes of Sand’s room are clearly visible; rude of them.

It’s bright and the blanket is somewhere at the end of the bed, but Ray can’t smell anything nice, can’t hear Sand moving in the kitchen, so he hasn’t left to make breakfast.

Ray would always go looking for him, of course, he isn’t the type to sneak out on anyone and especially not on Sand, but today-

He can’t pretend not to remember.

Sand was high, and Ray was too, but he knows the difference between high and tripping and, more than that, he knows Sand’s face. It was so soft and bright when Sand said-

Well, Ray can’t believe it all the way, because last night he thought he saw something like love, but it was Ray that he was looking at and Ray knows he can’t be that to him, Sand doesn’t want it and Ray hasn’t asked for it, but Sand was still looking at him like that and saying that stuff and-

He can’t pretend not to remember, but he doesn’t have to mention it. Sand meant some amount of it, and it’s not like Ray can ask how much he meant, and meaning any amount of it is-

Ray won’t look at it.

And he won’t ask.

But he’ll still go looking for Sand, because there’s something.

Even if there wasn’t something, today is Sand’s actual birthday; hopefully he can give him a birthday blowjob, those are definitely a thing.

It takes him a couple of seconds to spot Sand, when he goes looking – Sand isn’t standing up, so Ray scanning for his lanky frame does nothing.

His voice shows Ray the way, though, a muttered, “Yeah, mae was no help at all – she’s all ‘I’m so proud of you, baby,’ and then she hangs up. No, yeah, that’s what I thought, but thanks for checking,” he’s saying as Ray gets to the balcony, leans against the wall, and watches.

Sand is kneeling on the balcony with a bucket filled with bubbly water, scrubbing at the red beanbag with a handtowel.

“You should fuck my thighs,” Ray remembers, a genius revelation coming to him suddenly and sharply at the time, like a vision from the heavens.

It definitely was visionary, but he feels kind of bad, watching Sand scrubbing like that.

He’s got his phone pinched between his shoulder and his ear as he bitchily continues, “No, I get it – mae never tried cleaning a beanbag, it’s whatever, but you looked online, I’m sure she can too, right?”

Bitchy Sand is very cute, so Ray abandons his post against the wall and walks over, drops down behind Sand, and hugs his waist.

“Happy birthday, Sand,” he says as he props his chin onto Sand’s shoulder from behind.

A light flush on his face, Sand turns his head and drops his phone, scrambling to pick it up and say, “Bye,” before abandoning it again.

That makes the annoyance he hadn’t really noticed bubbling up entirely recede, and Ray asks, “Nick?”

“Mm,” Sand nods, turning back to his scrubbing. “I think I woke him up in bed with the guy he’s been seeing.”

Ray hisses and says, “Shouldn’t do that, it’s not allowed. Some people don’t like leaving their guys alone in bed,” punctuating it with wide, innocent eyes.

Rolling his own and turning his head enough to grin at him, Sand replies, “Jackass. I had to – look at the beanbag.”

“It’s very wet,” Ray agrees.

Sand didn’t protest at Ray calling himself his guy just then – Ray’s going to keep not asking what he meant, and keep wondering what he means, himself. The balcony is small and warm and bright.

It’s enough.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| 23. Food Play ||

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Frank Castle x female reader

Warnings: fingering.

Author's note: this is SOOO self indulgent 😁 this is honestly my ultimate fantasy when it comes to this man, I just want him to hold me, feed me pizza, and make me 💦 🫠

The way you storm in the door, throwing your bag on the floor, kicking your shoes off so they hit against the wall and huffing with a look of thunderous rage on your pretty face, it’s not hard for Frank to see you’ve had a shitter of a day. He gets up meeting you halfway across the room, throwing his big arms around you to give you the hug you’ve been craving since about 9:30am that morning when everything started to go downhill.

“Alright lil girl, you wanna tell me about it or d’ya just want me to make it better?” he asks, nuzzling the top of your head and kissing you there.

You groan in defeat of the day and hang limp like a ragdoll in his arms. “Make it better Frankie, please. I’ll love you forever.”

He just laughs. “Thought you’d love me forever anyway kitten,” he flashes his wedding ring at you. “Ain’t that was this is ‘bout?”

“Of course it is! I just-”

He cuts you off before you can get wound up by his teasing. “I know, baby. Go on and get into your pajamas and do whatever ya gotta do, I’m gonna order us pizza okay?”

You squeeze him as tightly as you can before you head to the bedroom to get your comfy pajamas on.

When you return a while later Frank’s got a drink ready for you and the buzzer for the pizza guy rings soon after. He gives him a generous tip for being so fast.

Frank sits down on the huge armchair, legs spread wide beckoning you over. “alright, sit right here." he orders, gesturing between his thighs, and you get comfy half lying on him with your back to his chest. He holds a slice of the pizza up to your mouth and you take a huge bite, groaning with pleasure at the taste of the melting cheese.

"Mm, oh god yes!" You mumble as Frank keeps it coming, chuckling behind your shoulder as he's feeding you. When you're busy taking another bite Frank slips his other hand down the front of your pajama shorts and starts stroking his fingers along your slit, parting your pussy lips.

"Fraanbbff!"

He smiles and shushes you as you mumble and wriggle in mild protest. "Just eat your pizza baby, there's my girl."

You chew, swallow, and then throw your head back and moan as he delves his fingers into your wetness. He teases your entrance as he grabs another slice from the box and brings it up to your lips. You can't believe the audacity of him, but you eat and you squirm as he gathers up your slick and spreads it all over your pussy, gliding around your clit as you feel his lips kissing your ear. You could get used to this little treat for sure.

"Mm, how'd you feel now angel?" he asks you, his voice getting lower.

"S'good Frank…" you purr and lick the sauce from his fingers, sucking the tips of them into your mouth.

"Yeah…" he takes his time exploring and playing with your pussy, softly coaxing more noises out of you. He makes his own noise as you suck the fingers of his other hand exactly the way you want to suck his cock, and maybe you'd get to that later you think, as you lap your tongue between them. When you shift in his lap feeling the hard press of him against your lower back it just turns you on even more. Opening your legs wider, he wastes no time in taking the invitation to push a couple of fingers inside your wet, silky heat and you arch your back as he curls them, stroking and teasing right where you need it. You keen as he slips his hand from your mouth, running down your thin vest to cup your breast. He pinches the nipple of one through the fabric, your slick drenching his fingers at the sensation as he fucks them faster in and out of you.

You're moaning at every touch now, your skin tingling with the growing warmth and he's loving it. Your arms reach up behind you encircling his neck as you're spread out for him, your eyelids fluttering closed for a few seconds as the intense feeling of pleasure increases.

"Fuck, you're so cute." he rasps in your ear, pressing more firmly into you making you gasp and start to shake.

"Yeah, that's it sweet thing, just wanna make you feel real good. Atta girl… atta-fucking-girl." He says as he grinds the heel of his hand against you.

"Oh, m'gonna-" you writhe in his arms as you feel the thick pulse of your orgasm sliding over you. "Ahh fuck, Frank!" You moan long and loud and he holds you in his strong arms as you break apart, bucking your hips into his hand and cumming hard on his fingers. He swears blind as he feels you contract and release over and over, dripping wet and warm all over him.

When you're relaxed in his arms he licks the taste of you off his fingers and grabs some pizza for himself. "You good?"

You tip your head back to look at him. "I'm all better now, thank you baby. Who knew pizza could cure all ills?"

He laughs, licking his lips, "Well, it's some fuckin' good pizza." he answers, grinning back at you.

[cordeliaflyte]

Today

By Victoria Chang

On Kawara’s “Today” series

Jan.4.2022

A call is just a call. I pick it up.

Jan.6.2022

I lift blankets looking for my father.

Jan.7.2022

When I take off the patch, your eye is gone.

I spend the day in other people’s tears.

Jan.9.2022

Someone says your eyelid almost came off,

the doctors tried to reattach it. I

close my eye all day to see if I can

feel your dying. What is dying but a

form of hunger, visible to God. When

we pull down your shirt, your good eye opens.

All the waiting, the moon is an athlete.

Jan.11.2022

The woman who let you fall won’t look at

me. In each of us, there is a stranger,

a single road that in one instant forks.

Jan.12.2022

There’s a name for it. The way your mouth stays

open, no breathing. We hold our breaths as

if companions of your dying. Cheyne-Stokes,

named after two doctors. What if we named

everything? The last hand-squeeze before death,

the way your eye looks at me when I talk,

the way the reincarnated cry the

most, bewildered by the star’s second blink.

Jan.13.2022

I tell a story about something, with

my arms waving. And your arm grabs mine, as

if I am a messiah. But really

I withheld food and drink from you so that

your feet that loved to walk would never touch

the ground again. And I wonder why we

are always on our hind legs, to see what?

Jan.15.2022

Maybe we feel dizzy because we are

moving and so is the earth. On some days,

I can tell the earth is rotating in

another direction. Today I meet

a hospice nurse named Harsh. He is sweet, sweet.

Jan.16.2022

They drop the morphine under your tongue. How

it must feel like a faint raindrop taken

from the sky. It’s been two weeks since the fall

and death still catches me by surprise.

I feel nothing. It is raining morphine.

Jan.17.2022

No matter how I scold you, you won’t die.

Meanwhile, there are no birds in the sky, they

have all flown into your brain. I always

knew that our thoughts were birds, but I didn’t

know they would return for the funeral.

Jan.18.2022

Five breaths. Then a minute of not breathing.

I time it, announce it, as if you are

running a race. You would have loved winning

this race to annihilation. Because

you are winning, your mouth is shaped like an O,

has been open for fourteen days now, as

if to say you aren’t done telling me

that Rilke’s Open doesn’t exist, that

our eyes aren’t inverted, that we can see

everything an animal sees with our

eyes closed and our mouths open. If I lean in,

I can hear all the words said in your

life, now in a different order. There’s still

no love, even though I’ve looked through all the

words twice. I go digging in the mass grave

of language for the extra loves and I

end up bringing loneliness back with me.

Jan.19.2022

Every phone call says the same thing, that he

is hanging on. And I imagine you

holding on to the edge of a building,

the city’s mouths waiting for you to jump.

Jan.20.2022

Today is your birthday. Someone came in

and said, they’re still not feeding him? thinking

I was someone else. The eyes press against

the glass of my brain. They can’t touch me but

they won’t stop looking. Eyeballs have footsteps

too. When they walk, they sound sticky. Hundreds

of them have gathered outside the window.

Jan.22.2022

The sky is crooked at my feet. I’m tired

of someone else’s dying. I’ve lost two

pounds because I’ve been chewing rain instead

of swallowing it. Because you haven’t

been eating or drinking, all the food I

eat tastes twice as dead. Twice as good. In the

room down the hall, a man has a stroke, half

of his body splits off. The caretakers

gossip. My sister won’t stop crying, keeps

telling everyone she was your favorite.

Jan.23.2022

They called me at 4:30 am and

I don’t remember what they said. But I

know they never said the word death or died.

Jan.24.2022

The funeral home calls and I open

your checkbook, a balance of mocking birds.

Jan.26.2022

On my notebook, a large group of ants. I

wonder why they had only gathered there

and on Etel Adnan’s Time. They walk on

these words: When no one is waiting for us

any longer, there’s death, so faithful. I

spend the morning killing ants and wonder

how many insects I have killed until

now. All the killing to prepare me to

forgo the feeding tube. Yesterday I

drove past a group of boys running without

their shirts. At the stoplight I could only

see the way their sweat lifted from them. And

I realized the ants weren’t coming from the

floor but were coming from my words. Down the

road, another group of runners going

in the opposite direction, having

no idea of the other runners. All

this time, I thought I didn’t know a thing.

Jan.27.2022

When death was near, I could touch time. It was

softer than I thought it would be. There were

two of them. When I tried to measure their

lengths, I was sent back to the living. I

was shorter but my shadow was longer.

Jan.31.2022

I read you ten poems, eight-hundred-fifty-

nine lines, I had fourteen coffees, nine creams,

twenty-three bobas. I cried zero times.

Feb.1.2022

Another day went by. Still no feeling.

Why is language the only thing I have?

I wonder if it’s possible to live

by persistence, wanting so badly to

remain secured to the body, that his

soul left fourteen years before its vessel.

When asked when a painting was done, Rothko

said, there’s tragedy in every brushstroke.

Feb.3.2022

A man from the funeral home called me.

His voice was so flat, I took a nap while

he talked. When I woke up, I was in the

casket looking up at the ceiling fan.

I couldn’t move my body and a patch

covered my left eye. I heard my own voice

describing my fall onto a knob, how

I lost my left eye, how I refused to

die. And then I saw myself bend over

to look at me. My own hand grabbed my hand

but I couldn’t feel it or move my eye.

I saw myself for who I was—evil,

full of syllables. Poets are useless.

Feb.4.2022

Twice now I’ve thought about the wood casket

and what proportion of the ashes are

wood. Twice now I’ve read about the chamber,

this time I learn it is called a retort,

also a sharp reply. This time, I read

about the pugilistic stance when they

burn the body, the boxer-like pose the

body makes. I think about my father,

alone in the retort, in a small box,

two thousand degrees, his legs bent, his fists

ready to punch me and my live flesh.

Feb.6.2022

The cows have spread out and I have counted

fourteen. Their heads always hang down. They don’t

seem to need to look up. In that way, they

are unlike us. Our euphoria that

comes directly from despair. Look up, we

say, to remind us that we will all die.

Here, the sky is made of nothing. It is

so vast that the twenty-five people who

live here don’t have enough sight to change it.

Feb.9.2022

Today they burned my father. A man named

Garrett called me, in his toneless voice, to

say that someone cleaned his body, covered

him in white linen. After the man called,

I felt warmer all day. My body reached

two thousand degrees but would not burn. I

realized I had not thought of my father

more than once in Wyoming. You’d never

know the planet is dying. Here, the clouds

have holes in them and the deer are more etched

with shadow. A sandwich arrives at my

door at noon. I’m so hungry that I eat

the sandwich first, then think of my father.

Feb.10.2022

Today the river is in crisis, no

horizon dares to go near it. Today

my father is in a small jar. At dusk,

I went into a painter’s studio,

saw his stretched canvas on the table, white,

empty. What are we without those who made

us? May his memory be your blessing,

people emailed me all week. The artist

was painting a series of doors, which were

so real that I walked through the one that was

slightly open. Inside the room was my

breath that I had held since January

13, an eyelid, a loose eyeball, the

knob the eye fell on, the girl’s hands that tried

to catch him, which were charred and still waving.

Feb.11.2022

The white truck went from one frame to the next

and I thought of the time when someone lied

about me. How day and night I cared so

much about the lie that it split into

two, one part went out the left window frame,

the other out the right. Like the blue car

that disappears at the same time as the

white one, yet I can see both at once. When

they burned my father’s body, I wondered

if the eyeballs spread so far on each side

that they could see Wyoming, these two panes,

me on a small brown chair, looking out the

windows, waiting for oblivion to

travel through with its eighteen wheels and truth.

Feb.12.2022

At the beginning of our family tree

was hope. Or maybe it was just an owl.

Feb.13.2022

The same wind was blowing here eighty years

ago, always snapping families in half.

Feb.14.2022

If I keep the window closed, I am stuck

inside with language as it buzzes back

and forth, trying to get out and start wars.

My sister is the only one left. If

she is the favorite of nothing, then

I must be one of Calvino’s cities,

the one with angular shadows, the one

that when turned on its side, becomes a line.

Feb.15.2022

The caskets are shaking. The white-tailed deer

gently cross the river. I hike up the

hill to find my feelings. Instead, I run

into Hope, who doesn’t look at me or

stop, but walks down the hill. Today could be

a day where everything is beautiful.

Feb.16.2022

Yesterday, I walked to the small chapel,

head down, yet all the people driving by

waved to me as if they knew what I had

just done, as if they knew I was going

to the chapel. When I got there, fourteen

white-tailed deer stopped and stared, moving away

from me, as if they also knew. Inside, the

cold mixed with the cold from my body and

the moment of mixing, the stained glass, and

my sobbing finally came. It was so

delayed that I wasn’t sure if I was

crying for the deer that wouldn’t stay, or

the nine people I had just met and would

soon leave behind, the snow that would

come after I am gone, or my father.

I left a note in the guest book, wrote his

name. Above it, Thomas and Claire Bushnell,

married the day before my father’s death,

a tribute to Traveler, one of the

best horses ever. It’s time to go home.

Feb.17.2022

Each of us comes from somewhere with blossoms.