#my hands keep going numb when their just in a normal position for a few seconds with that stingy feeling

[nightly-ruse]

You ever get that kinda ache where your spine just feels like a sharp metal rod that’s in your back and you ankles are socks filled with heavy rocks always pulled down by gravity?

[anystalker707]

don't let me go

Pairing: Sam Monroe x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: he confesses his feelings to you, but he's a lot softer than you thought Tags: comfort / he's puppy coded (normal) / he's also whiny (normal) / giving him a piercing, but it's brief / he cries a lot a/n: self-indulgent fic, and @sw33tsuccubus wanted to read it <3

MASTER LIST

The tips of my fingers felt something between numbness and a stinging pain while I pressed the ice cube wrapped up in a gauze over Sam’s eyebrow until he sighed, staring at me.

“It’s enough,” he said with that bad humor of always.

“If you keep being annoying like that, I’ll never do you another favor,” I sighed as well, putting the ice cube inside an empty glass on the nightstand, but he didn’t seem unsatisfied, snickering.

“You know very well that you will, independent of how ‘annoying’ I am,” Sam continued, following the needle with his eyes.

I shook my head. “Wanna test?” And he didn’t have time to answer, his words being replaced by a hiss the moment the needle pierced his skin, going in under his eyebrow and reappearing a few millimeters above it. “Done,” I said, carefully putting the barbell in the needle’s place and cleaning the area around the new perforation with a humid piece of cotton.

It sounded like Sam had been holding his breath for a while, exhaling heavily while letting his head hang, forehead pressed to my shoulder, while I discarded the needle and the cotton in the glass, with the ice. It wasn’t safe or anything, but it was what we could do when Sam had no money on him.

“Let me see.” I pulled away a little, just enough to look at his face, watching his cheeks, normally pale, now slightly flushed.

Sam tried to arch an eyebrow but suppressed the movement whilst grabbing a small mirror from the bedside table and taking a brief look at his new piercing. “It’s good.” He looked at me again, moving to sit on my lap, straddling it, and kissed me on the forehead. Curious. I rolled my eyes. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” I said, nodding, giving him a light tap on the thigh. He had a few tears in his eyes. I wiped one away before it fell from his eye and ruined his eyeliner.

The new piercing suited him very well, overall. Something that had been missing. Silver was a color that really complemented him—it was on the chains that hung from his neck and over the worn-out band shirts, and also on the ones that fell from his belts that were practically useless on the large pants that were always low enough to show the hem of his boxers and the circumference of his hips. The silver of his earrings and the labret under his plump lip contrasted fantastically with the black eyeliner, same color as his short air, save for the blue strand.

“It hurt like a bitch,” he muttered with a sigh.

“Well, I told you that I’m not exactly a professional or something,” I chuckled. “But it’s not crooked or bad. You just gotta care for it now. I’d give it a little kiss to make it better, but I don’t want it to get infected,” I chuckled again.

Sam clearly wanted to laugh, but he masked the laughter with a scoff and gave my shoulder a light pat. “Stop being stupid,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, and he was so beautiful like that. I would’ve kissed those plump lips if I could. I didn’t remember the last time I’d seen someone that beautiful. He adjusted his position on my lap to make it more comfortable for us, almost resting his head on my shoulder again before he looked me in the eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

The question was useless, really. Sam already knew a lot of personal things and could practically ask about anything, but I only nodded, muttering in agreement. My hand hovered over his thigh, tracing the logo of a band patch he’d sewn there. Very poorly.

The silence made me look at his face again, and Sam poked his labret with the tip of his tongue, his cheeks still flushed. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally exhaling and speaking up, his voice trembling slightly. “What do you think of me?”

It was hard to tell, even harder to act as if I weren’t a deer caught in headlights—a situation that only existed inside my mind, worst of all. I sighed, shaking my head. Sam was so many things. Why did he need to know that?

“Ah, dunno. You’re one of the coolest people I know.” I paused to think. “You have a great style. Smart. Cute, too. I didn’t think I’d have the patience to be friends with you, but we hit it off pretty well.” We had different backgrounds, obstacles, but it never seemed to be much of an issue. “I like you a lot, as a person, y’know.”

A crease appeared between Sam’s eyebrows until he slowly averted his gaze and pressed his lips together. “Cute? Really?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re like a puppy, sometimes. In a good sense, of course.” I shrugged lightly and leaned back against the headboard.

Sam bit his bottom lip, playing with his labret again, a loose thread of his jeans between his fingers. It wasn’t really possible to identify the expression on his face, but there was an air of annoyance. Maybe. “A puppy? I think you already called me something like that when we first met.”

I smiled. “Yeah, of course.” I hooked my finger around the ring of the black collar that involved his neck and tugged lightly, noticing the light hitch in his breath.

“For fuck’s sake, if you keep doing that all the time, I’ll go insane!” Sam’s eyes widened while he took my wrist and lowered my hand, but he still held it, between us.

“Poor thing,” I chuckled, shaking my head. Sam’s hand was warm and kinda soft. His rings were pretty silver bands, darkened through time, around bony fingers, suiting him well.

Despite grumbling, Sam didn’t say anything. His attention was in tracing my knuckles with his thumb. I didn’t like the silence hovering between us. I wanted to hear his voice more.

“Why did you want to know what I think of you? Afraid that I secretly hate you or something?” I smiled, observing our hands. “If that’s really the reason, I’m just kidding. I also feel like people secretly hate me, sometimes, so I’m not judging.”

Sam chuckled in disbelief and shook his head. “No,” he said, gulping. “It’s not that. It’s just… Dunno, I like knowing what you think about me.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Fair.” I sighed. “Does your piercing hurt?”

Without looking up, Sam squeezed my hand lightly, taking a while to answer. “Uh?” His blue eyes finally met mine. “Ah, it’s not that bad, only sore.” He moved his eyebrow lightly and clearly regretted it. It was a little swollen already.

I only nodded. Of course, he knew how to deal with that, with all the piercings he already had. His hand squeezed mine lightly again while he adjusted his position on my lap.

“Another question.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“Hypothetically,” Sam started, “if a person has been secretly in love with someone else. For years. Should they confess?”

I sighed. It was a difficult topic. I leaned back against the headboard once more, leaning my head back against it, and shrugged. “Is it better to speak or to die?” I had heard that somewhere.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a threat,” he chuckled, playing with his rings, transferring one from his hand to mine. “So, what you’re saying is that it’s better to speak?”

I breathed a chuckle. “Ah, yeah. Totally a threat. If you don’t confess, someone will show up and stab you. And it counts for everyone.”

And Sam chuckled, too, seeming calmer now. He rolled his eyes, smirking. “No need to threaten like that. I don’t have a deathwish,” he joked and paused. “You’re avoiding the question.”

I sighed again, avoiding his gaze for a moment, drumming my fingers against his thigh. “I know. Like, it’s just that I don’t know. I’m one to suffer in silence. I don’t want to tell someone to confess and be hypocritical.”

Sam took a moment to answer, seeming to ponder what I said, pouting. “Hypocritical,” he accused in a whisper, squeezing my hand.

I chuckled, nodding. “I am.”

“A coward,” he insisted, with a smirk.

“I am,” I agreed again. “I’d rather die.”

Sam asked me if I really loved someone intensely enough to prefer dying with my feelings to confessing and having them rejected, but how could I not? People are infatuating, and I had an aching heart. I had a whole universe inside me. I felt too much, saw too much, heard too much, and everything just for because I was breathing and being alive. Anyhow, I could and wanted to love that intensely.

His next doubt was about why I wouldn’t confess if I loved people that much, but feeling too much is a double-edged sword. Too much love also meant too much sadness, and letting the love fade away seemed easier than reconstructing myself again and again after every wreckage.

Sam seemed angsty, brows furrowed, and lips pressed together while he held my hand tightly, as if afraid of something. “You say pretty things.”

I chuckled. “They’re just messy words.”

“Don’t talk like that. It’s not messy…” Sam said, seeming like he was going to add to it, but nothing ever came, so I just kept in silence for a moment, looking into those beautiful blue eyes, playing with his fingers between mine.

“Well,” I broke the silence, my shoulders dropping while I smiled, “if you say so…”

A hint of despair flickered in Sam’s eyes, but I didn’t really know what to do with that. What kind of despair was that? What if I scared him? His hand shifted against mine, still holding it.

“You can’t just sit there, being poetic and holding my hand, and expect me to answer so eloquently,” Sam murmured with a pout.

I shook my head. “I only expect you to be yourself.” I squeezed his hand.

A lot of things seemed to be going on inside his head, and I asked myself why. I liked making someone like Sam—all sulky and tough—turn into a mess with me, even if that occasionally gave me a sense of guilt.

Sam gulped. “You’re making this hard for me.”

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity and a bit of surprise. “Huh? Hard? What for? Why?” I tilted my head to look at him in the eyes as his gaze fell again.

“You keep saying that poetic and romantic stuff,” Sam said sharply. “And I’m just sitting here, wanting to tell you something, but I’m afraid you’ll rip my heart out.”

I widened my eyes a little and chuckled but in disbelief. “Rip your heart out?” I scoffed. “Why would you expect that from me?”

Sam contained himself, grumbling. A faint pain spread through my hand, given the way his nails sank into my skin. “I’m being serious, and this is not funny,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm and steady. “So stop mocking me.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m not mocking you,” I tried to keep my voice soft, in contrast. “I’m trying to understand you.”

His face got redder each time. Was he that angry or annoyed? His eyes scanned my face, looking for something that I didn’t know what to be. He was panting a little. “Promise not to laugh?”

The question was childish, but I wouldn’t make things even more complicated now. “I’d never laugh at something that’s serious for you,” I said, trying to seem casual, shrugging, however, my heart hammered in my chest as I gently caressed his hand.

Nodding short and fast, Sam exhaled, humming. “Okay. You can’t laugh, alright… I’m being serious,” he said, straightening his posture and taking a deep breath.

I nodded. I had to keep calm. Be patient. “I won’t laugh. I won’t get angry. I won’t distance myself,” I reassured, holding his hand between mine.

“You won’t hate me?’

“I’d never hate you.” I smiled. “The sooner you say it, the easier it’ll be. It gets harder the more you overthink.”

Sam huffed. “You’ll say something mean after this. Gonna tell me off.”

“No, Sam, it’s clearly a sensitive topic,” I said and paused, taking a deep breath. Keep calm. “Of course, I won’t say or do anything mean. I want to know what’s going on and help you. If you want it, that is. Maybe just listen. I’ll continue here, anyway.” I made an effort to look at him in the eyes the whole time.

Sam seemed a little more desperate, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down. For a moment, I thought he would faint, but he kept sitting there, on my lap, holding my hand, breathing shakily. “I’m in love. With you.” He whimpered, eyes glassy.

My heart skipped a beat. Everything stopped. I looked at him in disbelief. Did I hear it wrong? “Huh, in love with me?” I repeated, like a fool. “You don’t have to cry about it,” I whispered, wiping a tear away before it ran down his face and ruined his eyeliner. He almost trembled in stress.

For some reason, Sam furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Stop with that! Stop being so patient!”

My mind blanked for a moment. Why wouldn’t I be patient with him? What else did he expect? I wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Sam closer. “What’s it, Sam? What’s wrong?” I wiped a few tears away from his face but didn’t stop him from crying his feelings out. It was a rare occurrence, and it seemed to be exactly what he needed, practically melting into my arms.

Sam clung to me as if he depended on it, hiding his face in my shoulder. His shoulders started to shudder, and he sobbed. “Why are you acting like that?” He sounded angry.

“Like what?” I almost scoffed. I don’t know how he wanted me to act. Maybe say something mean, laugh, reject him, or distance myself, as he feared, but as he was used to. Not a lot of people genuinely liked him. “I’m taking care of you. Am I supposed to stop?” I rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him.

He whined and sobbed again, arms tightening around me. “No. Don’t stop,” Sam said quietly, voice muffled against my shoulder, and I exhaled in relief, despite not understanding everything.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” I whispered.

Sam seemed to be falling apart while crying and sobbing, clinging, and squeezing me. His face was hot against my neck, making it humid with the tears and heavy breathing, but it was irrelevant. I held him close and squeezed him back, letting him cry out all he needed to and enjoying his presence. I pressed my nose against his hair and closed my eyes momentarily.

Slowly, his sobs were replaced by light whimpering and shallow breathing, and his face wasn’t so close to my neck anymore, though he still held me strongly. The tears were drying, the silence growing louder. “Please,” Sam whispered. His breath tickled my neck. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.” I kissed his temple, letting my lips linger against his damp skin. He closed his eyes. Made a quiet, needy sound.

“I can’t handle you being that caring with me. Fuck.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why, my love?”

Sam tensed up again, his eyes filling with tears once more, as he held me tighter. He took a while to answer. “Makes me want to kiss you.”

A chuckle escaped my lips easily. “Then let’s kiss. What’s stopping us?”

A look of disbelief took over his face as he pulled away, just enough to look me in the eyes properly, with his eyeliner all smudged. He seemed smaller like that. Fragile. “Kiss me.”

And it didn’t take me a lot to do that. It was like a dream becoming true, making my body tingle when I felt his lips against mine, and I cupped his cheek, caressing it lightly. His skin was still hot. I finally felt the sensation of kissing those plump lips. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity, and I wanted it to last for another, but our lungs objected.

The cold air substituted Sam’s hot breathing against my face when we pulled away. I tried to clean away a little of the smudged eyeliner with my thumb while he looked at me with a mix of emotions, with passion, disbelief, anxiety. It was like he was in a daze.

“Everything alright?” I looked at him in the eyes, watching him glance at my lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam mumbled. His hands were closed tightly around my shirt.

I smiled. “My boy,” I mumbled with a peck against his lips, and it seemed like Sam would fall apart in my arms at any moment. It was hard to see him like that, all needy and shy, but I liked it. So lovely.

Sam wrapped his arms around my neck, holding firmly, taking deep breaths to slowly calm himself down. “Don’t let me go, okay?”

“Of course not,” I chuckled and pecked his lips again. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. Is that okay?” I kept giving him little pecks, trying to find out how much I could make him melt just with that, rubbing his sides.

His lips curled up in a shy smile while he nodded. “Say it again.”

“I am yours,” I repeated and kissed him, letting it last a little longer, “and you’re mine.”

Sam almost whimpered. We couldn't possibly get closer to each other, but it didn’t keep him from trying, wrapping his legs around my waist. “Hold me tighter.”

If I held him as tightly as I wanted, maybe I’d break Sam, so I held back, nuzzling his nose before kissing him again and again. “Mine, all mine,” I whispered. I had waited for too much time to say that.

⋆°｡⋆🎧🎸★ 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

[muzzlemouths]

"Squeeze my hand." from the prompt list? - @clxckwork-sun-n-moon

Moon centric // Wordcount: 4245

You do your best not to wake him.

Getting two hundred pounds of deadweight metal off the ground and into a cart was already hard enough on its own, and doing so without becoming entangled in the mess of exposed wiring was another challenge all together, but you had somehow pulled it off without so much as a twitch from his end. It had been concerning, at first - the thought that Moon wasn’t just out for the count but well and truly broken - and you won’t lie, that had scared you.

But a rude awakening from his emergency startup protocol had told you he was okay - functioning, at least - bleak consciousness that lasted long enough to send him forward a few ‘steps’ before his eyes darkened and gravity dragged him back to the floor. A deep purple was already blossoming where he fell against you.

Not wanting to repeat the process, you quickly got him onto wheels so you could reach Parts and Services while you still had some time left to your shift. You’re painfully careful about it, fast and quiet, you take every shortcut downstairs. If he woke now, you’d never reach within an inch of the place without a fight. And Moon’s fight meant more than accidental bruises.

Ironically, it’s your haste that inevitably wakes him. An unpatched crack in the flooring jolts the entire cart as it’s run over and rocks his body from side to side. It results in another attempt at booting up, this one more successful, because in the next moment he’s sitting up and looking around - albeit not without some trouble. You don’t stop the cart. If you can get there before he realizes where you’re going, you might still have a chance.

He rests his forehead against one hand and curls the other over the edge of the cart for stability, bent forward at the waist, his joints creak with the effort. “What happened?” He groans - then, looking up from his palm to face his surroundings - “Where are we?”

You reach the elevator just in time.

“Morning, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” You make a point of avoiding his questions. He’ll figure it out himself soon enough. It’s better for both your health and his own if you just keep moving. “You’re a little out of sorts, took a bit of an impromptu nap for a while.” The elevator takes you down, down, down, and right as it opens again, Moon realizes.

He moves fast to get out of there - or tries to, anyway. A failed attempt at leaping from the cart has him giving his body a second glance, only now seeing the way his waist has twisted, the metal there grossly dented and his legs contorted backwards. A position that is perfectly normal for him on a good day. But this isn’t a good day. The angle of his limbs is wrong, and his wires have paid the price. You’re sure he figures out the rest immediately after; that they’re as numb as gears can be. That he can’t move from the waist down.

Moon swivels as best he can, hoisting himself into the air with the help of one arm while the other reaches behind him and clasps around a wheel, just barely reaching - the whole cart swivels and then jerks to a stop.

“Dude!” You struggle to keep yourself from faceplanting against it and falling right in with him, “Come on!”

“Where are we going?” He repeats, meeting you with a look of steel.

Your fingers tighten on the cart handle. “Moon,” a sigh escapes, your frustration settling into defeat, you try not to make a big deal out of it in hopes that he won’t, either, “you know where.”

He doesn’t immediately answer you. His expression changes like rapid fire; confusion, fear, if you reached, and then anger. “No,” he spits, “Take me back to the Daycare. I’ll fix it myself.”

You try not to laugh, but a snort escapes you anyway. The cart doesn’t budge when you try again. “Not this time, buddy,” you tell him, “this isn’t something you can just wrench together with your own hands. You need real help. The kind you can only get downstairs.”

“Get me the tools then,” Moon argues, hand glued to the wheel, “You can go and bring them back up, can’t you?”

“Moon,” you try to make your voice stern, but you know your own resolve pales in comparison to his determination to not get any closer to that dreaded metal chair, “I’m not changing my mind. Either you let me take you down to P&S or I’m bringing out the big guns.”

His eyes narrow. “Which is?”

“I turn on the lights.”

Stiffening, now, his expression turns dangerous, “You wouldn’t dare,” he growls, “Sun can’t handle that place any better.”

“It’s not up to me. The Daycare opens in six hours and they’re expecting an attendant who can manage the job, much less use their legs. If you don’t go in, he’ll have to, and it won’t be me carting him down there.” You hated utilizing such a cruel tactic, but your words are honest. They needed fixing and, one way or another, management would ensure it happened - likely with a staff member much less kind or patient than yourself. Moon was often selfish to a fault but, when it came down to it, he prioritized Sun’s safety over his own. Always had. The rest of your night hinged on that remaining true. “So, what’ll it be?”

He simmers something fierce, fitting you with a look that might scare you a hell of a lot more if his legs were in proper working order. As it stands, you would at least have a running start were things to go sour.

But his temper visibly fizzles out into nothing more than an angry bite, shoulders slumping with defeat, and a moment later he releases the wheel.

“Thank you.” You breathe a sigh of relief as he slumps back against the cart, “I promise I’ll get you fixed up as fast as I’m able. It should just be a simple tune-up and a chest piece transplant, maybe some rewiring. You’re in and out within two hours, tops.”

“Mhm.” Is all he has to say in return. You don’t push him for more than that.

The remaining walk to Parts and Services is entirely uneventful. The halls are empty and pin-drop silent, save for the creak and heave of the wheels as they turn several corners. You pause at the entrance to the big bad room itself and ensure it’s as dimly lit as it can be while not hindering your ability to work, then you drag the cart in the rest of the way and stop it just outside of the repair cell.

Moon doesn’t look up from his disfigured lap until you come to pause beside him with arms extended. He squints, attempting to figure out what it is you want from him now, and when he does he responds by hunkering down further inside the cart. “Not helping,” he grunts, “I refuse to be cradled into that chair.”

Your arms fall dejectedly to your sides, groaning, you again roll your eyes at him, “Come on, don’t make me do all the work here. The faster your ass is in that chair, the faster you’ll be done. Don’t you think it would be easier that way - for both of us? Just wrap your arms around my shoulders–”

“No.” his arms cross over his chest, face turning away from you. You have to wonder how much of his refusal stems from stubbornness, and how much of it is just plain embarrassment.

Either way, it’s wasting your time.

“It’ll only be for a second!”

“Not. Happening.”

You inhale sharply, frustrated, balling your hands into fists, you exhale hot air and come to a resolve. “Fine. If you don’t want to help, I’ll do things my way.” You round the corner right as his chin lifts to face you again, a question stirring in his voice box, but before any proper words get out you’re already behind him and reaching in for the hook on his back.

“Wait–”

Your fingers curl around metal and give it a firm tug upward. His limbs move accordingly - going limp like a cat that’s been scruffed - an effect that lasts only long enough to get his upper half out of the cart. His joints move awkwardly as control slowly returns and your hand releases the grip, arms hugging around his waist, instead, successfully hoisting him over the edge from there.

It takes the last of your strength to keep him upright and not simply drop him to the floor once the entirety of his weight is in your arms, but you manage, and half-carry, half-drag him into the cell before haphazardly releasing him onto the chair. He lands with a grunt and a look that could kill.

“Who told you?” Moon hisses.

“No one,” you practically sneer back, “You pick up on a few things when you’ve worked here as long as I have. Sun went stiff last time I accidentally grabbed it, and your body sags for a quick second whenever you use the cord. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.” You leave out the part where Sun had let the information slip. It’ll save you from having to negotiate another argument later on. Luckily, Moon seems to buy your excuse. He doesn’t like the answer either way.

You leave him to his grumbling and find a seat beside the repair monitor. There’s plenty to do and not a lot of time to do it. You can’t waste any more of your shift humoring the little pity party he’s hosting, so instead you get right to work imputing all the necessary information into the system so it’ll register what all needs done. A small machine like a projector lowers as you do so, making him freeze up entirely, and scans him from top to bottom. He is rigid from the very start up until the machine blinks and folds back into the ceiling. He doesn’t ease up any when it’s over.

The results are as you expected; a chest piece transfer - easy enough, if you let the service machine do any necessary welding for you - a manual realignment of his limbs, and finally, rewiring of whatever had become tangled and unplugged that is causing the loss of movement. That would be the hardest part by far. You were a jack of all trades kind of employee, an amateur technician, not a professional by any means. One wrong wire input and it would cost you your life or, at the very least, your job.

Not that you had a handful of options at your disposal. If it took this much convincing for Moon to let you play doctor, you doubted he would allow an actual mechanic anywhere near him. It was you or nothing.

“Hey,” Moon’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, forcing you to look past the monitor where he sits with a body still coiled tight, knees tucked up to his chest. “You never answered my question,” he says, not bothering to look up at you.

“What question?” You stand from the chair and begin to head for the tool cabinet.

He’s fiddling with the dents in his stomach, thumbing at the upturned metal there, “What happened?” His nail scrapes against a particularly gnarly piece, “I didn’t look like this a few hours ago.”

You keep your back turned to him. “Don’t know for sure. You were already out of commission by the time I entered the Daycare. The wire snapped, from what I gathered, and you fell from pretty high up. Landed wrong.” You try not to shudder, brought back to the moment where you found him lifeless in the dark, his wires exposed and splayed out like entrails, “I’m not sure how long you were like that before I found you.”

From the corner of your eye you see him grimace.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” you’re quick to reassure, “I’ll get you back in working order before my shift is over,” squinting into the cabinet, you brush some tools aside with a frown,“…as soon as I find what I need.”

“Off to a great start,” he grunts, “Remind me to get severely wounded with someone more proficient on the clock next time.”

“I can easily find someone else to poke and prod at your body, if you’d prefer.” Silence returns. You take his immediate lack of an answer as you having won that argument. “Oh, here it is!” Your hand grasps around the handle of a specific screwdriver. One that will get you inside his chestplate and on to business. You turn with it in hand and avoid the look in his eyes as you near him with it - if robots could go pale, he would be.

Fortunately for him, it isn’t yet time to put the tool to use. You set it on a small rolling table beside the chair and reach for his legs with your newly freed hands, lifting your chin to meet his gaze, “I’ll need your help with this part. Do you think you can lift your waist for me?” Your expression softens in response to his immediate hesitation to do so, “Please? I need to get you facing the right direction again.”

He isn’t so easily persuaded. It takes you attempting to do it singlehandedly, first, for him to realize you aren’t going to back down. Only then does he rest his palms on either side and lift himself into the air so you can properly get his waist to turn. It does so with an audible screech of metal on metal that makes both of you flinch.

“That’ll be fixed when we replace your chest piece,” you promise. He doesn’t look convinced.

Next came the worst part. You expect him to fight you tooth and nail when you reach for the screwdriver again and angle it against his torso, but instead he reacts in the opposite direction; with listless apathy. His fingernails dig into the seat beside himself with a strength that leaves dents and stands as the only thing giving away how he’s really feeling about this whole situation, beyond that he says nothing - does nothing - and makes no attempts to stop you. The screws fall away one by one.

Soon, the metal plating over his stomach comes undone beneath your fingertips and you pull it away entirely, setting it on the table beside you. The mess it was hiding is ugly and grotesque; wires strewn in every direction, tangled around each other, some knotted, others unplugged entirely, and some, still, that are severed and beyond repair. “Shit, dude,” you cringe outwardly, “it looks like a warzone in here. I’m not even sure where to start–” your hand dips, but pauses just within reach of him.

“Go on,” Moon senses your uncertainty like a bloodhound and suddenly remembers his attitude, and his smirk, “stick your hand in there. I want to see what happens.”

You have half a mind to grab a fistful of wires and give them a hearty tug just to wipe the shit eating grin off his face. You don’t, though. That would spell bad news for both of you. “Don’t be so cheeky,” you warn, “and hold still. I’m not looking to get my hand tangled in all of this.” You stand, again, leaving him propped open while you hunt out a pair of safety gloves. He makes a dissatisfied tsk but remains in place. Thankfully. Returning to your chair, you roll your sleeves up to your elbows and reach above your head for a light, dragging its metal neck down to your level so you can better see the disarray you’re being forced to work with, and look up at him. “Ready?”

Eventually, he goes still, nodding, and you convince yourself to start with the sections that are the least tangled and only need rearranging. Your hand carefully tucks into his wiring with stilted breath and you separate what you can, successfully managing to sort a handful before your knuckles brush against an exposed wire. Even through the gloves you can feel the zap of electricity shoot through your skin. Your hand pulls back as though it were bitten. His head tilts to the side inquisitively, smirk fading.

“What’s wrong?”

“The gloves aren’t enough,” you grimace, “your wires are shorting all over the place. It’s a death trap in there.”

“Get better gloves.” He says.

“Moon,” you pause, looking up at him, “I - I’m going to have to shut you down for this.”

His expression falls entirely. Not a frown, but a gape, this time you don’t have to look far to see the fear. “I can retrieve them myself,” he tells you, “and then you don’t have to–”

“I don’t know what those wires do, or how they could effect you if they’re torn out while you’re still awake.” You stand, and again head for the cabinet, “I’m sorry, there’s no way around it. You’ll be fine, though, I promise. It’ll be like taking a nap.”

“No!” His waist jolts and the metal twists, signs of him willing his legs to work and failing painfully, he sits upright to the point of nearly doubling over, “I won’t do it. The ones that are chopped up just go to my legs, right? They’ll be fine if I pull them out!” and he reaches to, immediately, hand diving in with blind ambition–

“Hey–Hey!” You swivel on your heel and take hold of his wrist just as his fingers wrap around a pair of red and blue wires, one shorted, and the other going strong, “fuck, Moon, what’s gotten into you?”

His chest moves on its own; mechanical breaths that stir with quick movements, up-down, up-down, up-down, eyes blown wide like a wild animal. He doesn’t attempt to pull away from your grip, but he doesn’t loosen his own, either, forcing you into a stalemate. “Let go,” his voice dips with venom, but it’s fickle, shaking, “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Your hand relaxes, slightly, but doesn’t release entirely. Your other hand raises to his faceplate, slow and careful, and you watch him flinch, “Tell me what’s going on,” you try to keep your voice soft, try to keep it from bottoming into pity, “why won’t you let me do this? Is it the thought of going under?”

You can understand that much, at least. It isn’t a nap at all, more like a medically induced coma, but that’s still better than sure death, isn’t it? “It’ll be quick, I promise.” Your thumb gently caresses the line up his cheek, hoping to bring him some kind of comfort, “I’ll power you down nice and easy, get the bad wires out, put some new wires in, and then wake you back up as soon as it’s done.”

“What if you don’t?”

You blink, stunned. Your hand goes still. “What?”

His eyes raise to meet you fully. “I’m not afraid of powering down. I don’t feel anything. I don’t dream. It doesn’t matter. But–” He pauses, and suddenly he doesn’t trust you with his gaze, and it slips just past you, instead, then falls to his lap. He goes silent.

“You’re…afraid I won’t power you on again?” He doesn’t answer. Your hand cradles again at his cheek, forcing him to look at you, “Moon, why wouldn’t I?”

His breath quickens, again. The hand in his stomach loosens, then goes vice, then loosens, the cords straining against their plugs. He holds them hostage like a gun to his head. “It’s stupid,” his voice is barely audible, a whisper so quiet, at first, you aren’t sure it’s there at all, “never mind,” it becomes a whine, like a low whirring fan inside his throat, “never mind, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, it isn’t stupid. I want to hear it,” you encourage, “you’re safe with me, you know that. You can talk to me.” Then, after a beat, “I promise not to tell anyone. Not even management.”

Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes find you. His fingers sag around the wires.

“There you go,” you further ease your own grip as a show of peace. Your thumb pads along his face and dips beneath the hat, worrying over the crease there, easing away the soreness. “Moon,” you try again, “Why wouldn’t I wake you up?”

He hesitates. Then, slowly but surely, he releases the hold on his wires. You let go of his wrist in turn, and both hands fall into his lap. “It would be easiest that way,” he mumbles, “Wouldn’t it?”

“What would?”

“Getting rid of me.” Moon answers.

Your stomach drops, lungs seizing, the room sways as you try to digest his words. You make a noise in your throat, something guttural and hopeless, lips moving, but no words come out. You make a second attempt at saying something - anything - but Moon is faster.

“I’ve thought it over a thousand times. How easy it would be.” His voice is bitter, but the poison in his words is turned in on itself, fatefully resigned, “Take care of the problem while the problem can’t fight back, you know?” He clears his throat, fingers intertwining in his lap, it strains like an old record.

“Stop that,” your hands find his and separate them, pressing your own palms against them instead, “You know that won’t happen–”

“I wouldn’t know the difference,” he continues, a dry laugh escaping his voice box, “It’s just a nap, after all. That’s what they’d tell me.”

Your breath catches in your chest. You aren’t sure what to say - what can be said to that. How are you meant to reassure someone when you’re just as powerless yourself? If it’s what management wanted, they would make it happen. It’s nothing you could prevent.

But damn it if you wouldn’t at least try.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Moon,” you bring his hands into your own lap and hold them there, hoping he hears you, hoping he takes your words for all their worth, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. That’s a promise.”

His eyes flicker upward for a brief moment, and he almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. Maybe he wants to - maybe he’s desperate to. But it’s not enough.

“Wait,” you pull one hand away from your lap and use it to bring the table closer, ensuring it had everything on it that you would need, “I have an idea. A way for you to know for sure that I won’t leave you behind.” You pull only one glove away and reach for him again, fingers wrapping fully between his own, intertwining them. “You can lock your joints, right?”

Moon looks at you uncertainly. “I can.”

Your smile is hopeful and genuine, “Squeeze my hand,” you tell him, “Squeeze it and don’t let go.”

He looks at you with a blank expression. His fingers twitch, like he starts to agree, but then he stops. “Won’t that make it hard for you to work?”

“I have one free hand left,” you wave it, flexing your fingers, “I can work just fine with that.”

“But–”

“I won’t be able to pull my hand away from yours while you’re powered down,” you continue, “you can let it go when I wake you back up. But not until then.”

He’s quiet. You can’t read his expression, and he doesn’t give you anything to go off of that might tell you whether or not he thinks your plan is too silly to pursue. A stupid thought. A bad idea. Then, suddenly, you feel his hand squeeze back. “I’d like that,” he croaks, “I’d like that a lot.”

Relief floods your lungs. “I really will be as quick as I can,” you promise him.

He nods. “I trust you,” he mumbles, then, “Let’s do it.”

Your free hand reaches up and past his faceplate, fingers drawing for the latch beneath the hat and behind his head. The panel there pops open once you find it. Carefully, you move, locating the small and innocent button to the bottom left of his panel that will power him down. You feel the bump and pause afterward, finger hovering just above it. “Ready?” You ask him.

You feel his knuckles go rigid, the fingers stilling in place. A short and unsuccessful flex of your own hand proves that it isn’t going anywhere. You smile, and for once, he smiles back.

“Ready.”

His chest continues its rhythm; up-down, up-down, up-down, then it goes still. The light behind his eye fades as your finger comes back from the button, and his hand remains firmly in place.

You get right to work.

The process is harder this way. It takes twice as long, and you’re nearly breaching overtime by the time his wires are properly back in working order, but you don’t mind any of it. Your hand fell asleep an hour ago, but you don’t mind that, either.

When he wakes, it’ll be to new wires, functioning legs, and the promised face of someone who refuses to let him do this alone.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mari-lair]

Y'know I've just realised that now that Aoi can see supernaturals it's going to be really interesting to see how she's going to influence the plot. Because her first interaction with supernaturals was nearly killing her childhood friend, getting attacked multiple times, watching who was meant to be her saviour (because Teru was the strongest person in that situation, he had to be the one to save Aoi because no one else could) nearly die, and slowly crumble away herself. That was horribly traumatising! And now she has to keep living her life with a numb hand and the understanding that (in particular) Nene and Akane are doing incredibly dangerous things. And since it seems the clockkeepers are becoming relevant again, Akane is almost definitely going to be in danger. Again. All the other characters have an at least somewhat positive relationship with supernaturals (as seen by the most recent chapter) but Aoi's got nothing. It'll be interesting to see how her place in the story is going to change given how in the past all she had was the distant amusement about the school's rumours.

Aoi does have a few positive interactions with supernaturals! Noticeably, with the mokkes, who she helped and they helped her back.

And with Hanako, who she doesn’t know had planned for her to die, so in her point of view, he is a friendly guy that helped her in the Far Shore. He is also someone that Nene has a crush on, and vise versa, so Aoi can fall back on her usual “love talk” with him to comfort herself, as shown by how she talks a bit about her feelings on the train, and is even able to relate to him

And while her trust in him is not blind, she does listen to him.

Her overall view is understandably still negative though.

She was clearly traumatized by all the events you listed since she kept the bracelet Teru gave her: A gift that surely brings bad memories but serves as protection.

And I suspect she still wears the bracelet in school, she just hides it, since she suddenly started to wear long sleeves, something no one else has done in her class.

So is not like the days got colder and students changed uniforms, Aoi was the only girl that made a conscious choice to wear long sleeves even if it would make her stand out.

I would love to know how her interest in supernatural rumors would be transformed now that she knows they are real and that they can be as cute and fluffy as a mokke or as dangerous as Hakubo. Or how she addapts to seeing these creatures in her everyday life.

(Please Aidairo I am on my knees begging you to explore Aoi more.)

Aoi usually worries about Nene easily, but she seems to trust Hanako with her safety, since he was so protective when Aoi threw them in the trash’ and Akane, one of the few people Aoi trust, also trusts in Hanako's competence.

As for Akane, I really really really hope she doesn’t just go “He has Teru to protect him, is okay” because while it would make some sense, considering Teru was the one that rescued Akane and led the group that came to save her, I want her to be a relevant part of this arc! Akane was so important in her arc, she should be relevant in his arc too! Not just be a goal (her hand). Let her help him somewhat. I would love that so much!!

If you want to see how a character without a single positive relationship with supernaturals would fit the narrative, we already have two: Akane and Teru. Exorcist life is not very comparable to Aoi’s situation, but please take a better look at Akane.

Akane was a normal person that has consistently been tormented by supernaturals. Since his complaints are mostly treated as a joke, people might forget that Akane never forgave the clock keeper for putting Aoi’s life at risk and tricking him to work a job he really hates.

When directly asked about his opinions, the manga drop the ‘comedy lenses’ and shows us point blank that “the clock keepers recruitment trick stuck with him even after all these years. Akane hates them on a fundamental level.”

He isn’t looking at Hanako here, his eyes are unfocused, he is thinking about the day Aoi almost died and using a ton of '...' in his dialogue: It is a trauma. Just because he tries not to think about it, and it isn’t as brought up in the narrative as the main characters' traumas, it does not make it any less of a traumatic event: Many of his beliefs and attitudes got shaped by that event.

Even the mokke try to attack him to steal his School Mystery seat. So he really has no exceptions. 

It makes sense that every supernatural is either an uncaring asshole or a beast in Akane’s eyes. Sure, he can be forced to work with them for the greater good, he is a guy that values his word and his duties, but he will never respect or like them.

[cherishedproperty]

It's not always pretty.

I stand there with my hands clasped behind my back while he brings down implements and gets everything laid out. I feel nervous. Apprehensive. It’s been a long time since we've done impact, and I’m not sure how I’m going to react. Everything has been so off with me lately. Even so, I asked for this scene. I'm not sure if I want it, but I think we need it. And he agrees.

He starts with my breasts, which is always a hard thing for me. Normally it takes a lot to make me cry during impact. But within the first few strikes, I can feel tears at the corners of my eyes. I squeeze my eyes closed to try to keep them in. But before long, both tears and snot are flowing freely.

He says what he often says during these “reconnection” moments, where it’s been a while and we are both feeling a bit outside our roles.

“You don’t make choices, do you?”

I shake my head no.

“Is that how you want it to be?”

He keeps hitting my breasts with the flogger. My left nipple is on fire from too many strikes to the same spot. He repeats his question.

“Is that how you want it to be?”

I can’t answer. I don’t know what the answer is. Because I know that this —my submission to his control—is a cornerstone of our relationship. And I know that, in general, I do want it to be that way. But right now, I don’t. It’s not even that I want to be in control. I just want to collapse in a pile on the floor. I want to disappear completely. I want everything to stop and for there to be nothingness.

But I don’t know how to say that, because I don’t even know what that is. Besides, I know that I am just fucked up right now. When I think about the big picture, I know who I am and who he is, and I know that I do want this. So eventually, I nod. Because nothing else really makes sense.

I cry the whole time. He positions me over the wedge so he can hit my ass, and a river of snot flows from my nose while I sob. I never safeword. It’s been ages since we’ve done impact. I know he needs it. And I can take it.

And somewhere deep down, I think maybe I deserve the pain. I’ve been a terrible submissive. I haven’t been fulfilling his needs. Maybe this is what I deserve for straying so far from my place. For not being the needy, horny submissive that he signed up to be with. So I just keep taking it, until he decides he’s done.

It feels like a shorter session than usual, and much less physically intense. When he finishes, he comes around to sit beside me. He wipes my nose (and the pool of snot under it). He strokes my hair and my back. He asks how I’m doing. I shrug. I don’t know what to say. I’m not upset. I just don’t feel anything at all. I wonder if he at least got some enjoyment or release from it. But asking “was it good for you” feels fucking stupid, especially with the state I’m in. So there isn’t really anything I can say.

Later, he tells me that he thought I needed the catharsis, but he thinks maybe he misread me. I don’t think there was anything to read or misread. I have been so unclear, even to myself. But I'm not upset about the way things went. I trust that he has my best interests at heart.

And sometimes he sees things in me that I can't see. He tells me he felt like I had walls up—that I didn't want him to see my emotions. He's probably right. I have felt like such a disappointment lately. I want to protect him from my numbness and lack of desire. I want to satisfy him. But hiding my emotions isn't the right way to do that.

I tell him that taking the pain was the least I could do for him. He says, "What? What do you mean? You knew you could take it, and so you did. That's your submission. That's all I want. It's not the least you could do; it's everything."

Maybe it is, but the way it happens is not always pretty.

[the-fiction-witch]

Breed P6

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Dark Af + Cute

Series Breed

it wasn't long before staff rushed into the room and carried me to the bathtub laying me there with a pillow behind my head staff all rushed around me as this purple liquid continued to flood from me and go down the drain, my body numb from the hips down but still this horrific pain continued.

"Where is she?" I heard Thomas ask as he arrived at the suite he spotted me and quickly rushed overtaking my hand and giving it a kiss "Hi princess"

"What the fuck is going on!" I screamed

"Humm you're having our first little baby" he cooes giving my temple a kiss 

"I am?" 

"Umm humm, why didn't you say you were pregnant?"

"I had no idea!"

"I told you you'd know"

"I felt kinda strange but I thought it was normal like I had air trapped or something."

"No princess that's what pregnant feels like"

"Ohh god! I've been pregnant for like two hours!"

"I did say the reason your kind works so well as breeders for us is the turnover is quick"

"I didn't think you meant that quick!"

"Aren't you happy? you are fertile and I will be keeping my cute little breeder" he cooes 

"Kinda hard to think positive right now!" I screamed 

"It alright princess it's okay I'm here" he cooes squeezing my hand he reassured me the whole time keeping me close to him until suddenly my pain stopped and I almost blacked out the moment the pain suddenly stopped I felt thomas' hand leave mine and honestly I was kinda excited, My role was fulfilled as his breeder, I helped to bring the first child in who knows how long for a desperate world, I couldn't help but be excited to see the little child I helped bring into the world. But as I opened my eyes I screamed "AAAAAAAAHHHH what the fuck is that!"

In his hand was a horrific sight, he sat perched on the edge of the tub the staff all backed away giving us space. He stood in the same shirt and pants as he had worn earlier, in his arms laid this thing. about seven inches tall and five or so inches across, covered in this neon purple liquid that had been gushing out of me laid over it like a thick slime, the thing itself was an ovid shape like an egg but more rounded and thickest at the bottom and thinnest at the top, it had a red fleshy colour that was sheer showing inside a dark red shrivelled thing. Thomas glanced at me seeing annoyed for a second before returning his attention to the thing in his hand 

"Noo noo mummy didn't mean that sweetie" He cooes giving it a little kiss 

"ahhh! don't touch it!" I screamed 

"Leave us" he told the staff and they quickly fled leaving us alone "what on earth is the matter with you?"

"What the hell is that thing! where's our child?"

"This is our child." he says and he noticed my utter confusion "You really don't know anything about linley do you?"

"No! we've been over this many times"

"Okay" he sighed still cradling this thing, "When a mummy and a daddy love each other very much" he joked "Or well a master and his breeder. And they make love at the right time for them both, his seed latches on to her insides collecting genetic material via contact cell copying or just being attached to you in non-sci-fi terms, and over the course of a day, or few hours for us given you a breeder with quicker turn over time, the seed takes the material and begins to form an embryo and protective gel which becomes muscular. Once it has reached its term in the few hours, it slowly rips itself off your womb walls typically dragging a lot of stuff along with it, and creating the lubricant to help it get out easier" he says rubbing some of the purple liquid on his fingers, Then out comes little one" he cooes showing me the thing closer I was a little creeped out but I looked taking it into my hand it felt like a fruit wet, but solid impossible to puncture though unless you had a good knife, I looked though the sheer red liquid seeing the small shape inside the start of an embryo, of a child and even as I held it in my hand it throbbed slightly with a heartbeat. "That's our little one" he cooes coming to kneel beside the bath with me giving me a kiss and gently stroking the side 

"I pushed this out of me?"

"You did, don't worry you get use to the pain. and that's what I meant by you'll know, you'll feel it inside you so next time tell me okay"

"Okay, well I didn't know," I told him "Can it... hear us?"

"Course she can" he smiled "Hello sweetie" he cooes as the little creature shifted "awww she likes you, see she's moving. saying Hi mummy"

"Aww Hi little one" I giggled "How do you know it's a girl?"

"Red interiors are always girls. there black for boys" he says 

"How long till it'll... be a walking talking person?"

"About a year. she'll sit in the nursery till then and we can visit her and watch her grow." 

"That does sound nice" I smiled "I guess its not hard being a breeder"

"No, not too hard for you?"

"no. and its nice to be able to watch them grow. and that honestly I'm literally pregnant for like three hours tops is amazing"

"good. So shall we give her to the nurse maids or"

"No. cuddle a little longer"

"Of course you can cuddle her as long as you want too" he says giving my head "Thank you y/n. really. even just this is more help to this world then I think you realize. And... for my first little girl" 

"You don't need to thank me. its my job" I smiled

[twistsandtwizzles]

Fic: Maybe This Christmas

Prompt: Several came in about how these two spent Christmas 2021. I tried my best to give them their Hallmark movie!

She cries when she calls to tell her mom that she won’t be home for Christmas. 

The elite skaters have just finished going over the most recent update from US Figure Skating about Nationals next month, and as expected, it’s bleak. No bubble, despite the soaring COVID case numbers. And beyond the obvious health concerns, a positive test means leaving their Olympic hopes completely in the hands of the committee, without a chance to let their performance have the last word. One wrong contact, one wrong breath, and their dreams could fall apart.

She’s so close to making the Olympic team that she can taste it. She is not letting this slip away.

So it is the correct choice, not to risk the extra travel and all the people just be to home for the holidays, but it breaks her heart all the same. 

“Of course I understand, honey,” her mom says gently as Mariah paces in the rink hallway, phone pressed against her ear. “And we’ll see you just a few weeks later in Nashville. I just worry about you. Are you going to be okay on your own? It’s your first Christmas since you and -”

“I’ll be fine,” Mariah cuts in. She doesn’t want to hear Romain’s name, to be reminded of him and his new life an ocean away. It’s one of the reasons she had been so looking forward to spending time surrounded by her boisterous family: to numb the sting she can’t help but feel when she thinks of all the holiday traditions she had created with forever in mind, traditions that had instead vanished right along with her ex-fiancé.

She says goodbye to her mother and turns, wiping her eyes, to see Nathan approaching. “You okay?” he asks, his concern evident on his face despite the N95 he’s wearing.

She shrugs. “I know it’s dumb, but I really thought that this year I might be able to have a somewhat normal Christmas. Like the last two years haven’t taught me anything.”

“I know you were excited to see your family,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t feeling all that festive anyway.”

“You not feeling festive just seems wrong.” He pauses, then surprises her by saying, “We’ll have to make things extra fun here, then.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Nathan?”

He huffs as if she’s offended him. “I like Christmas.”

“Right, of course,” she says. “When I think of ‘holiday spirit’, you’re always the first person that comes to mind.”

“Okay, see, now this is like you’re issuing a challenge. You think I can’t do Christmas?”

“I know you can’t do Christmas.” She smiles underneath her mask at the competitive glint that has appeared in his eye, raises her own eyebrow in response. “But I would really like to see you try.”

“Well, then, get ready for the best Christmas of your life.” He pauses, backpedals. “Okay, probably not the best, because it’s a pandemic and your family won’t be here. And we’ll still have to train. But it’ll be good.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.” She reaches out, gives his hand a squeeze. She intends it to be a quick, friendly gesture, but finds her hand lingering on his.

Things like this have been happening lately - little moments of intimacy that catch her off guard. An arm thrown around her shoulder for a photograph that feels anything but casual, her skin tingling at his touch. A shared look of amusement over an inside joke becoming charged with something else, until she drops her gaze, cheeks flaming. A correction he offers on one of her jumps, gently moving her arms into the proper air position, that leaves her breathless and keeps him from coming within three feet of her for almost a week.

If it was anyone else, she’d do something about it. But it’s him. It’s them. And she has no idea what to do about that.

She drops his hand. He clears his throat, stuffs both of his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome. I’ll, uh, see you back in there.”

She watches him retreat down the hallway, still feeling the warmth of his hand in hers.

—

Despite his protests, Nathan knows that he is indeed bad at Christmas. He’s never had a reason to be good at it, really - its proximity to the Grand Prix Final and US Championships means it’s taken a backseat to training for the last decade or so, and the people in his life have long accepted that they will not be encountering a holly jolly Nathan so close to two major competitions.

Which is why he can’t quite believe that he’s standing on Mariah’s front stoop, struggling to put up an inflatable four foot tall reindeer. In retrospect, he should have picked up something a little smaller, because this takes up about half her doorway.

He wrestles the final strap into place just as Mariah’s car pulls up, her dog’s head sticking out the back window. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, grinning, as Nala begins barking frantically in the general direction of the reindeer. “Shush,” Mariah scolds as she lets her out of the car.

“Trying to do Christmas,” Nathan replies, plugging in the cord and nodding in satisfaction as the inflatable animal lights up. “See? Festive.”

Mariah laughs, moving closer to let Nala sniff suspiciously at the decoration. “It’s so cute!”

“I noticed you hadn’t put anything up and I thought maybe you might want something … new. Or different. Or whatever.” He waves his hand vaguely, as if that is supposed to clarify what he is trying to say.

It’s been nearly six months, but he’s still not exactly sure how to navigate the Romain-sized elephant in the room. For the most part she’s avoided the topic with him, and he’s tried to follow her lead. But not talking about Romain means that Nathan does not know how she’s feeling about relationships, generally. And sometimes - like last week at the rink when she grabbed his hand - he really, really wishes he knew that bit of information.

“It’s perfect,” is all she says now, inspecting the reindeer. “What should we name it?”

“Well, I think Santa’s reindeers already have names,” he replies. “They’re kind of famous. So maybe just pick one of the nine?”

“Ugh, that’s so BORING though.” She steps back, hand on her chin, thoughtful. “It’ll come to me.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with the classics, but you do you.” 

“I always do.” She opens her door and ushers Nala inside. “Do you have to get going, or do you want to stay for dinner?”

They’d fallen into a routine of dinners and movies and game nights over the last year and a half, but the autumn competition schedule had interrupted their rhythm, and it’s been awhile since they’ve hung out away from the rink.

He doesn’t know if it’s weird to miss someone that he still sees every day, but weird or not, he’s missed her. “Dinner sounds great.”

Her face lights up, and he thinks maybe she’s missed him, too.

—

If the reindeer porch decoration hadn’t proven that Nathan was taking his oath to get her into the holiday spirit seriously, him agreeing to watch a Christmas movie - The Holiday, no less - after dinner definitely does.

“Are you sure you aren’t a pod person? You know this is a romance, right?” she asks, pressing play. Nathan has a better working knowledge of rom-coms than one would expect (she gives full credit of this to his older sisters) but she has never successfully lobbied to get one chosen for movie night before. 

“I am aware,” he says wryly. Then he adds, “Talking about it made you smile. So.”

The sentiment, and the matter-of-fact way he says it, makes her heart stop for a minute. She turns to look at him, but his eyes are fixed deliberately on the tv screen. 

She knows they need to talk about it, what they are becoming to each other. But there are less than three weeks until Nationals. Seven weeks until Beijing. And things are fraught enough: her trying to make the team, him pretending like he’s not nursing another injury while carrying the weight of their entire federation on his shoulders, both of them dodging an ever-mutating virus. They shouldn’t have this conversation now. And she’s not even sure what she’d say if they did.

But for a second, as she watches Kate Winslet realize that she is the leading lady of her own life, for God’s sake, Mariah considers it: just grabbing him by the shoulders and shouting, what are we doing?!

She doesn’t, of course. Like so much between them lately, she packs it away for another day.

As he leaves, he pats the reindeer decoration on its head, and says, “What about Iris?”

“What?”

“For the name. You know, like in the movie. She seems like a reindeer with gumption.”

“Yeah,” she says, pleasantly surprised that he was actually watching and not sneaking NBA highlights on his phone. “She does.”

He hugs her goodbye, his hand on her head in the way that makes her want to stay tucked against his shoulder until New Year’s.

“This was fun,” she says as he steps away. “Maybe you’re okay at this holiday stuff after all.”

“More work to do, though,” he replies, climbing into his car. “It won’t feel like Christmas until you’re forcing us all to wear Santa hats.”

The next morning, for the first time this season, she listens to Christmas music on the way to the rink.

—

He will not admit this to Mariah, but filling their evenings with holiday activities is also doing him good. Driving to a ritzy neighborhood with Michal and Dani and their toddler to look at the ridiculous Christmas light displays keeps him from dwelling on his salchow, which he keeps popping. And he can't obsess over his jump layout while he's trying to stop Nala from eating all of Mariah’s ornaments when they set up her tree.

(“Better late than never,” Mariah says, when Nathan asks if the tree is really worth the trouble just four days before Christmas. “The freaking story of my life.”)

So instead of skating, he’s spending his down time in the final days before Christmas thinking about the way she looked at him after they finished her tree and stepped back to admire their work, her eyes soft and happy. And about how he’s 90% sure, if the dog hadn’t chosen that exact moment to try and attack a string of twinkle lights, he would have closed the distance between them in two steps, put his arms around her, and kissed her.

He loves that dog, but it’s going to be awhile before he’s ready to forgive her for that.

Dani and Michal are hosting them for Christmas Eve (thankfully, because while Nathan is getting better at this holiday stuff, hosting is not something he is in any way equipped for). Dani greets him with a warm hug, shows him where to drop off his gifts, and then Nathan is confronted by a toddler wanting to play. He waves to Mariah and Michal and allows himself to be marched over to the far end of the living room.

“Don’t worry, bedtime is in half an hour,” Michal says with a laugh, as Nathan is handed a tiny teacup.

After many games of pretend, during which he is alternately a horse, princess, skating coach, and race car, Dani and Michal whisk their daughter away to begin her bedtime routine. Nathan finds Mariah in the kitchen, where she’s helping with final dinner prep.

She gives him a bright smile. “I haven’t even had a chance to say hi to you yet.”

“Hi,” he says, smiling back. “How is your Christmas Eve going? Because I am already exhausted.”

She laughs. “You were really being put through your paces.” She stirs something on the stove, then shrugs and steps back. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Dani just told me to ‘watch this.’ Watch what? What is it going to do?”

He leans over her to take a peek. “Putting you in charge of the food really is a bit of a risk.”

She swats at him, and they stand in companionable silence for a moment. Then her face turns serious. “Nathan?”

“Mariah?” he parrots back. He’s teasing, trying to hide his nervousness about whatever it is she’s about to say. They are standing close enough that he can actually feel the deep breath she takes before she starts.

“I . . . was really dreading Christmas this year. It’s why I wanted to spend it with my family so badly, because I didn’t know how I would handle it here. Alone. I thought it was going to be so hard, and that I would spend the whole time missing the way things used to be. But I never felt alone at all. And I never wished that I was doing something else, or was with someone else.” She pauses, her eyes searching his, as if she wants to make sure that he’s really hearing what she’s trying to say. “Instead I had so much fun. And I guess, I just wanted to say that I always have fun, with you. So thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He wants to touch her, but he is not sure if she has more to say, so he waits. And then her eyes move, just for a fraction of a second, to his lips.

He is done waiting.

—

What’s weird is how not weird it is.

That’s Mariah’s first coherent thought, as her brain begins to catch up to the fact that it is Nathan whose lips are finally on hers, that it is her friend she’s known for half her life whose touch is making her weak in the knees. She had assumed, in the weeks they spent dancing around this moment, that it would feel at least a little bit awkward.

But it doesn’t, not at all, and that is what has her a bit off-kilter. Well, that, and the one hand he has on her back and the other he has in her hair, and the way he is kissing her.

When he pulls back she sways a little, unprepared for the loss of contact, and puts a hand on his chest to steady herself. He watches her carefully, a bit of worry in his dark eyes.

“Oh, wow,” is, mortifyingly, what comes out of her mouth.

He grins, and she knows that whatever might happen to them next, he will never let her live that down. “Wow, huh? I’ll take that.”

“Oh, shut up,” she says, using the hand that is still on his chest to give him a light shove. “Don’t get all full of yourself.”

He catches her hand before she can pull it back, eyes serious again. “Mariah, I -”

“Okay, she’s asleep!” Dani’s voice arrives in the kitchen before her head peeks around the corner, which gives Nathan enough time to drop Mariah’s hand and take a step back. “Group picture time before dinner! And can you take the gravy off the heat?”

“The gravy!” Mariah hisses at Nathan, horrified. “I was supposed to be watching it!”

“It’s fine,” he laughs, turning off the burner. He puts a hand lightly on her back to steer her out of the room, the heat from his touch radiating up her spine. She is not sure how she is going to get through the rest of the evening pretending like everything is normal.

She’s grateful that the Brezina’s dog heads straight to her as she sits for the photo, because she needs to wrap her arms around something before she bursts. Nathan positions himself behind her with about an extra foot of space between them, as if he doesn’t quite trust himself, either. 

It’s the farthest they are apart for the rest of the night. She can’t help it; their kiss has unlocked something, and she needs to know how this feels. To brush his arm at dinner. To sit next to him on the couch, thighs touching just enough to send a thrill through her. She’s still amazed at how natural it all is. Like they were always going to get to this point, somehow.

At one point Dani catches her eye, tilts her head toward Nathan. She mouths, “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

Mariah feels herself blush, and her best friend claps silently in glee.

Eventually they gather their things, say their good nights. Laugh about how they’ll see each other at the rink in about sixteen hours - no days off during an Olympic year, even for Christmas. Nathan and Mariah step outside together, Dani giving her a knowing look before shutting the door firmly behind them.

“So,” he says, as they take the few steps to her car parked in the drive. “Is it time for you to admit that I can, as a matter of fact, be festive?”

“I think we have unlocked a Christmas superfan, yes,” she replies. “I am very proud.”

“Well, I had a secret motive, you know.” He catches her by her waist, spins her to face him. 

She circles her arms around him, tilts her chin up. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pulls her a little closer, his eyes sparkling. “See, there’s this girl that I like a lot, and she really likes Christmas. And I wanted to make her happy.”

Their first kiss in the kitchen had been frenzied, the uncorking of weeks of buildup. Their second is gentle, a promise of things to come. She smiles against his lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Nathan,” she says, reaching up and pushing a curl off his forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Mariah.”

She brings Santa hats to the rink the next day. He wears his the whole session.

[fatummortem]

I’m starting to spread my replies out over a few days for the queue. Been a bit distracted with drama & tiredness.

Ever just get so done with hearing the different ways people can justify physical abuse within a romantic relationship? I specifically got permission from my roommate to talk about it if i need advice on her relationship, but I’m not going to go into too many details. I will say I have ran out of ways of saying ‘I think you both push each other’s buttons until both of your anger gets out of hand & you should get some space from each other’ or ‘since you say you like parts of it, at least get a sadomasochist contract so being hurt becomes more positive’ among other things. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t bitch slap me for bluntly stating. “I’ve gotten his ass out the door so often, but if you keep inviting him back it’s just a revolving door at this point.’ I’m so very tired & it’s not a good thing that I’m becoming numb to this situation.

I normally turn things to jokes so i can process or deal with things when I’m not in the position to change my living situation or hers. So I may crack jokes about a tiny 5′1 trans man with no T getting a rage filled muscular man of about 5′9 out the door while he’s foaming at the mouth ready to shove his fist in someone’s face. I’m honestly shocked I haven’t been hit yet.

[talisidekick]

It shouldn't be this hard.

Warning: long post, surgery reference, talks about cock.

I've been struggling about my decision to get GCS/SRS and there's more than one complex reason why:

The first is that starting out on my journey [when I admitted I hated myself and my body so much in the past that I now felt numb, and the only real feeling I had was a want (not a need) to be a girl] I went to a transgender focused clinic in my area in the attempt to get on hormones. It was informed consent and one of the forms they gave me to choose to sign was admission to part of an optional study on transgender people and I can't go into much further detail. All my experiences have been documented thus far. And I said I was interested in getting SRS because at the start I thought I wanted everything, and there's nothing more I would love than to contribute to a study on trans healthcare in a positive way. In this world today, a study like this is paramount to countering transphobe conjecture, rhetoric, and ridicule, and especially important if it's used by local governments in the future to justify expanding trans heathcare services. And as I've continued my hormone regimen I learned my wants were needs. I needed to transition because it made me go from a numb sense of nothingness to having hopes, and wants, and desires, and feeling love, and joy, and even negative emotions like anger and envy. I'm ... alive again after so long. I feel again. So I come back to my initial statement of wanting SRS and do I actually want this? I'm part of a study, am I wanting SRS out of obligation? Or do I want SRS?

The second is ... a lack of dysphoria. I've always been ambivalent about everything. Numb. Being a girl was a want that only became a need because I realized I'd shut down all negative feeling to cope. I can now emotionally feel bad, but I still remain neutral on my own dick when it comes to my feelings. Am I just repressing again? I've never had to shower with the lights off, never felt disgusted looking down, never felt unnerved or hated masturbating, but is that because I've shut that off? Like growing boobs is probably the happiest thing in my life right now. Watching my hips fill out over this last year has been awesome. All things I wanted but never knew I needed. Is my dislike of the bulge in jeans because of societal pressure? Or do I dislike how that looks on a personal level? Am I fine with it, in reality? I've read peoples intimate recounts of sex from both non-op and post-op trans women and ... both are ... euphoric in that I could have that one day, maybe. But is that euphoria from being liked and treated as a woman in an intimate setting, or euphoria from being a non-op or post-op trans woman? Am I just looking to be accepted intimately? Loved for who I am now, or do I feel an intrinsic need to look a certain way for myself or is societal pressure, this obsession with what's in a trans womans pants making me want to change so I can have confidence in knowing bad actors could never tell if push came to sexual assault? Am I wanting SRS because the cock feels wrong on me, or because I'm looking at this hellscape before me and trying to find safety?

The third is ... well ... transitioning is expensive. Hair removal on my legs, ass, back, hands, and stomach (I got lumberjack genes apparently) costs a sizeable amount (face and chest were covered by local gov't), and so does face feminization surgery (ffs) if after a few years and the facial hair being removed I decide I need it to realize being me, and even just clothes which I don't have the money for right now. And it may come down to me needing to market myself in the porn industry to get what I need to feel normal. Just a reality of capitalism. Being a girl with a cock is a niche market and a potential source of income. So do I want to keep it because ... it'll potentially give me access to the means I need to change the things I do know I dislike about myself? Because it could improve my current quality of life? I mean ... I know my gov't pays for it but not travel expenses up front, so I don't even have the money to really even get to the clinic if I'm approved.

Fouth and lastly ... I've always loved the idea of being that girl that stands up and defends. Not to be a hero, just to know I'm justified in telling others to fuck off and help someone struggling out of the muck so they can shine. I don't ever want to really be famous or a celebrity, just someones personal inspiration that makes them a hero for others to look up to. I mean, it's in the name of the blog: sidekick. That's my goal. Someone else can be the hero. And keeping the dick and still proving to the world I am a woman regardless by just living every day in it ... that can really help others feel normal. Okay in expressing anyway they feel, shine as individuals because if I can do it so can they.

And so ... I'm stuck. SRS ... yes or no? Do I want it for my own personal reasons, out of obligation to science and peers, or safety in conforming? Do I want to keep it because I'm fine with it, because I'm trying to be an inspiration to those with greater potential than myself, or because it can help me get more of what I need if I keep it? The greater question I keep landing on, but I'm unable to answer is: if society didn't care, if there was no obligation for science or money, if I was just accepted as me and loved either way, what would I do? Only ... I can't compartmentalize. These are huge factors for who I am, who I want to be, and the impact I could be making.

It shouldn't be this hard, and it is, and before anyone jumps in saying I need to talk to a therapist or a psychologist ... there's no time. I'm sitting on the forms now. They need to go off and I have to make the choice ...

And yet ... I fear that choice is being made for me as well because even if I do ... I can't afford to go. Not just the flight ... it's 6 months recovery time and even if I qualified for disability payments during that period, it's only 60% of what I currently make ... which at my wage I already live paycheck to paycheck ... so am I fine not being able to get this proceedure? And I don't know.

This is why I haven't made a stream or video in over a month. It shouldn't be this hard. I'm struggling.

[sukirichi]

sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations. 

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner. 

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. 

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous. 

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.  

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder. 

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart. 

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact. 

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. 

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes. 

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised. 

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now? 

Silly girl, you chastised yourself. 

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story. 

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses. 

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds. 

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him,  eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin. 

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead. 

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage. 

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses. 

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded. 

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down. 

You were fuming. 

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from. 

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff. 

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop. 

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!” 

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward. 

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination. 

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it. 

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then. 

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life. 

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel. 

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you. 

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him. 

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away. 

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?” 

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

[mercy-burning]

Roommate Agreement

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader x Luke Alvez Summary: After about a year of living with Spencer, Y/N gets excited when he introduces her to a new potential roommate. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Free use, threesome, cum play, penetrative/unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk Word Count: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I was gonna write this as a blurb, but it got a little longer than I anticipated lol. I’ve been super into this kink/fantasy lately, so uh.. this was just pure indulgence 🥰✌

———

Apartment hunting and living on my own sucked, which is why Spencer Reid coming into my life was the biggest blessing I ever could have hoped for. He was handsome, kind, welcoming... And he let me live with him for free.

Well, not entirely.

But regardless of our little agreement, I still slip him some cash when rent comes up because it's just common courtesy. I'm grateful that he lets me stay with him and provides me with what I need (and then some), and if there's any way for me to return that favor, I'll do it.

He gets annoyed with me whenever I do it, but I always know how to get him to forget about it...

Just thinking about last night brings a smile to my face as I put away the last few glasses in their respective cupboards.

The heavy padding of Spencer's feet behind me makes me turn around then, and I nearly clench my legs at the sight of him, dressed and ready for work, except his dick is out and hefty in his right hand. It's hard, leaking, and by the look on his face I can tell he's about ready to let go.

"Give me your panties, sweetheart."

Before he even gets out the whole sentence, I make quick work of lifting my shirt out of the way and opening up the fabric, pulling it away from my body and giving him an opening. He walks up with a hungry kiss to my jaw as he jerks himself off, right into my panties until he's making a mess of them. I sigh out happily as he hums against my skin.

And when he's done, he kisses my cheek chastely and uses my shirt to clean up a bit before tucking himself back neatly into his pants. I adjust my panties and feel the warmth spread over my skin while he grabs his bag from the back of the chair to leave.

"Have a good day, Doctor," I call with a cute smile, my hand dipping down to feel the mess he made and wishing he didn't have to go.

"You too, sweetheart," he returns with a wink. He turns to leave, but before he's at the door, he throws back, "Oh, and make sure you're dressed properly when I get back, he's coming over with me after work."

"Wait, really?" I ask brightly, my heart starting to race.

"Mhm. He's excited to meet you."

I’d had plans to run some errands today, but as soon as he tells me the good news, I know I won't be able to get anything done.

———

The second I hear the door, I'm waiting like a dog with a wagging tail, excited for extra company and eager to make a new friend. I flatten my tiny skirt, though with how frilly it is, it really makes no difference— I think that as excited as I am, I'm definitely anxious about potentially adding a new person to our dynamic.

My hands reach behind my back and clasp together as I rock slowly on my feet, ready to welcome them when they come through the door.

Spencer, as always, looks positively delicious, and it only amplifies when he sees me and smiles, reaching out for me. "Somebody's excited..."

In his embrace, I laugh and welcome his hand as it slips up the front of my skirt to make sure I've followed his instructions. He quickly runs his middle finger through my opening, a smile forming on his lips— I can feel it against my neck. "Good girl."

"I couldn't help it," I tell him earnestly, refraining from whining in protest when he removes himself from me entirely. Then I look over his shoulder to see our guest of honor, Spencer's co-worker Luke Alvez. With a shy smile, I reach my hand out to shake his. "I have a new guest to impress."

Luke accepts my hand with a smile all his own, accompanied by wandering eyes that make me feel warm from head-to-toe. It reminds me of how I felt when I first met Spencer while apartment hunting last year. Luke's eyes are just a few shades darker but regardless of color, the hunger swimming within them remains plentiful.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he says smoothly. His voice makes me feel a whole new sense of ease and the overwhelming need to submit to him entirely. "I've heard great things."

With introductions out of the way, Spencer ushers Luke into the apartment and I close the door. "Let me show you around a bit," he says, and the two walk off, leaving me to follow behind.

We tour the whole apartment, Spencer taking his sweet time with the walking and the talking... I swear he's doing it on purpose, to make me wait and get me riled up, but regardless I stay patient and involve myself in their conversations as normal. Actually, it would have all felt like a completely normal apartment tour in the first place, had I not been thinking about how the men accompanying me would use me in the future...

Spencer saves the living room for last, and once we make it to the couch, I pray that he's ready to start showing Luke the added benefit of choosing to live here rather than in an apartment by himself...

And he knows me so well, because he pulls me aside with a cheeky smile, his hand resting firmly on my ass and under my skirt. "So, Alvez, you wanna give her a whirl?"

"You're uh... You're sure this is alright? You don't mind?"

His concern is sweet, but I can see the lust sparkling in his eyes as he looks over me once more.

Spencer laughs a bit, squeezing my ass with a nod. "Of course. Look how happy she is to see you... So ready to be used up..."

Luke's tongue darts out over his bottom lip at my roommate's words, his decision becoming more clear.

Still, I help out. "It's true... When Spencer first mentioned adding a new roommate to our arrangement, I couldn't wait... And you're perfect.

"So what do you say?" Spencer asks once more with finality.

Luke strides over to me slowly, my head tilting higher with each inch he gets closer. He looks down at my lips and smiles before bringing his thumb gently to my mouth. "This pretty little mouth has been calling to me since I walked through the door..."

I hear Spencer laugh beside me as Luke slips his thumb past my lips and over my tongue. I suck it into my mouth with a tiny groan, flitting my eyes up at him and arching my back as Spencer's grip on my ass gets tighter.

"Get on the couch, sweetheart," he says, letting go and giving me a small spank.

Luke's thumb pops out of my mouth and I stumble to the couch, getting on all fours so my hands are on the arm and my knees are buried in one of the cushions.

The unmistakable sound of their laughing fills my ears and makes me even more eager, though I know better than to tell them outright what I want. Unless either of them asks me to, I'm not going to beg. I mean, I'm not sure about Luke, but I know that Spencer prefers when I use visual signs in our daily routine. He likes to hear me use my words, sure, but that's only on occasions where he's in a happier, more giving mood. Most of the fucking we do is when he comes home frustrated and needs to take. No questions asked.

And truthfully, I like that more. Which is why I'd agreed to be his roommate in the end.

Spencer does seem to be more giving today, moving this right along and taking his pants off before walking over to me while his friend follows suit, but I follow our rules anyway, wanting to make a good impression on Luke (though I'm positive I've already secured that bag).

Luke's pants come off too, though he waits until he's right in front of my face. I'm looking up at him with my bottom lip between my teeth, and when he starts to work at his belt, I look down to see.

Meanwhile I feel Spencer's weight dip down behind me, and it doesn't take long for him to slide right in, spreading my legs further and beginning to fuck me steadily. He gathers my hair from my face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand while the other rests at my hip. "You gonna be a big girl and open your mouth wide, or do I have to make you?"

I respond in kind by slacking my jaw and welcoming Luke, his hands coming down to tilt my chin and slide his thick, hard dick into my mouth.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer praises, giving me another small spank and a slight tug of the hair. Meanwhile Luke is slowly fucking my throat, pushing himself deeper with each thrust.

Eventually, the two of them are fucking me with perfect rhythm. Each time Spencer goes in, Luke goes out, and their force is even the same. It's building and building with each second, and I can feel my whole body start to go numb with pleasure. My knees are tingling from the couch, my ass is surely red from how many times Spencer has spanked me, and my throat is bruising beautifully.

Spencer's hand releases my ass and reaches out to my throat. The way he's bending forward gives him a deeper angle inside me, and I can't help the choked whimper that comes out of my mouth because of it. He can feel it, too, because his fingers rest just under my chin.

"His cock feels so good down your throat, doesn't it, baby?" he coos, driving into me harder.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds to blink away the tears that blur my vision, and when I open them I look up at Luke, pure unadulterated bliss painting his features. He looks down at me with awe and lust and need, and I can tell that it won't be long before he snaps.

"When he comes, you're gonna keep it in, okay? I wanna see it..."

I clench around Spencer at his words, and my orgasm follows shortly after. As soon as I start to come down, Luke holds himself still at the back of my throat and comes with a shout, his hands rooting in my hair. I try my hardest to keep it all in, meanwhile Spencer starts to stutter as well. And by the time Luke is pulling himself away from me, his friend is coming inside me, just like he's done so many times before.

It's a familiar, wonderful feeling, though this time it's even better because I know I have cum filling both ends of me. I feel so full, so warm and numb and fucked out, and I never want to go a single day without it that way.

When Spencer pulls out and leaves the couch, Luke makes room for him in front of me. He steps into view then, reaching his hand out to pry my mouth open and examine his friend's work.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look so pretty with all Luke's cum in your mouth... Doesn't she look pretty, Alvez?"

The other man muses, his hand coming down to graze my cheek. Both their hands are on either side of my face, and they're gazing down at me with such wonderment that I swear I'll do anything to feel this way again— to make them feel this way again.

"She sure does," Luke says, and I nuzzle into his hand. "Just like a proper cumdump."

Their words and their eyes and their touches send butterflies soaring through my whole body and bring an open-mouthed smile to my face.

"You can swallow now," Spencer says, tapping my cheek. I do, and immediately afterwards he leans down to kiss me deeply. I lean into him and flutter my eyes closed, the feeling of his cum dripping out of me and down my leg only adding to the blissful state I'm in.

He pulls away, and I glance over at Luke, who has his dick in his hand and an amused smile on his face. "Damn, I could almost go again..."

I can tell he only means it as a way to keep the mood light, maybe as a joke, but in hopes that it will make him more comfortable with the idea that he can quite literally use me whenever he wants to, I smile as sincerely as I can. "That's what I'm here for," I offer brightly, getting up off the couch and trying to stand on wobbling legs.

I somehow manage, Spencer helps to steady me, and then he laughs, kissing me on the cheek. "You two have fun. I'm gonna shower, and then I have to take care of some errands. That okay with you?"

Luke and I give our approval, Spencer kisses me once more, and then admires me for a few seconds before throwing his friend a wink and heading off to the shower.

The moment I'm alone with Luke Alvez, he takes my hand and gives it a kiss. "You really are something special, princess..."

The nickname, while not entirely new since Spencer had mumbled it a few times with my mouth wrapped around his dick, sounds absolutely delightful coming from Luke's lips.

"Thank you," I purr, leading him to the couch and pulling him on top of me. "But there's still so much for you to discover..."

He hums amusedly, tracing my mouth with his thumb again. This time I take it gently between my teeth before he slips his cock inside me, which inadvertently makes me let go of it in favor of a whimper.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm moving in..."

———

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[hooman4ever]

‘Cock Warming’ !Slight NSFW! Karl Heisenberg x Male Reader

Contains: Cock Warming, Edging, Teasing, Anal, Bondage

This was torture you thought as you were sitting on Heisenberg's lap as he sat in a chair in front of his workbench, he was working on his newest project. Normally this wouldn't be a problem as you usually kept the man company while he worked but this time he insisted you did so naked- with his length buried in your ass.

At first it was bearable and almost enjoyable as you could hold him as he worked a delicious full feeling only adding to the surprisingly comfortable position, however it started to get more irritating when he started to tease you. Every now and then he would grind into you pressing against your most sensitive spots only for him to stop or when he would fondle your member occasionally stroking you all the while he had a knowing smirk on his face as you suddenly were clinging to him, your breath less controlled and your face flushed.

Once again you felt him shift the movement pressing his length against your prostate making you lurch forward a loud whine escaping your mouth, he laughed.

"Someone's needy."

You scoffed as you glared at the smug man in front of you, "And who's fault is that." you muttered under your breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Gritting your teeth you pushed yourself off his chest now sitting up arms crossed as you looked him in his eyes. "I said- shit~" your sentence was cut off as a moan forced it's way past your lips. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he thrusted inside of you once giving you the movement you needed and at the same time not giving you enough of it.

At this point your member was flushed red precum smeered on Heisenberg's lower abdomen as you once again found yourself clinging to the man.

"That's much better, be quiet and stay still. I'm almost done, little cock warmer~" he cooed mockingly at you before his hands left your hips.

You grit your teeth as you contemplated disobeying him and simply taking things into your own hands, in the end you didn't however knowing if you did he would simply leave you there hard and needy.

After a few more minutes he finally set his project down and rested both hands on your hips as he rubbed circles into them soothingly.

"See that wasn't so hard, was it? Now I believe I should reward my good boy for being so patient."

Suddenly he lifted you up in his arms, not removing himself as he pushed you to his workbench, something dug into your shoulder blade but you paid it no mind as you were more focused on the man in front of you. He moved his hips slowly at first almost as if he was urging you to beg for him, and he did. He wanted you to beg for him to pound you into his desk and make you a moaning mess underneath him. Keeping up with his slow pace you finally snapped.

"Karl, please just hurry and fuck me already!" you were annoyed and horny and his games were starting to become less amusing to you.

"Well since you asked so kindly." he scoffed before picking up his pace, his quick deep thrusts had you moaning below him as you squirmed feeling the heat in your abdomen swell with every thrust. His grip on your hips was almost painful as his fingers dug into the flesh using it as leverage as he pulled you back to meet every one of his thrusts. Skin slapping filled the room along with your moans, you felt your mind go hazy when Heisenberg removed a hand from your hips instead to give your member much needed attention.

He quickly jerked you off, matching every one of his strokes to his thrusts. Your arms flew around his shoulders as you buried one of your hands into his hair pulling slightly drawing a groan from his lips before metal quickly flew across the room keeping your hands above your head.

"Bad idea, buttercup." his voice was strained.

He then gripped the underside of your thighs and lifted them almost folding you as he started thrusting again, the new position allowed him to hit deeper spots inside of you. The sensation was mind numbing as your brain seemed to short circuit, your vision went white as you came. An open mouthed scream of pleasure left you as Heisenberg kept up his relentless pace abusing your hole.

"Fuck- just a little more."

His thrusts became sloppy as he reached his orgasm as well, he nestled his face into your neck as he came a moan leaving his lips as he filled you. Slowly he lowered your hips before pulling out, the warm liquid instantly slid out of you. The metal trapping your wrists seemed to disappear as Heisenberg lifted you into his arms checking you over to make sure you weren't hurt.

"How about we get you cleaned up?"

You smiled as he set you down carefully almost as if he was scared you would break.

"That sounds nice."

[peachycoreroo]

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

[daddyjackfrost]

Sakusa and #7 angst to fluff? I’m in the mood to be hurt a lil🧎🏾‍♀️💞

your wish is my command 🥰

prompt 7: “You’re scared.”

warnings: angst, angry Sakusa, slamming door, yelling, reader flinching, mention of hitting? Reader sort of has a mild anxiety attack? 

angst (hurt/comfort) (sakusa x f!reader)

aged up!

You clutched your bag a little tighter as you tried to keep up with Kiyoomi’s fast pace. 

The night was quiet, it almost seemed mocking. The silence forced you to actually pay attention to the thoughts inside your head, and none of them were happy.

You didn’t mean to spill you’re drink on Kiyoomi. You would never. You would rather purposefully spill it on yourself then even have a drop fall on him.

But you knew that Kiyoomi didn’t care, because the facts were that you did spill your drink on Kiyoomi, and you did get him dirty. Kiyoomi’s dark eyes were still on your mind, and you shivered in the summer wind.

Kiyoomi was already in the car by the time you reached. You quietly opened the car door and slipped in. You didn’t even get to close the door before Kiyoomi sped off, making your breath hitch. You quickly put on your seatbelt and kept your head down. A large part of you knew that Kiyoomi wasn’t mad at you, but at your carelessness, and the fact that he was now dirty. And sticky.

You glanced at the speed and your eyes widened. 

“Omi, slow down, please.” Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. You mentally scolded yourself for your voice coming out so weak.

“Shut up, y/n.”

You cringed back into your seat, embarrassed. You looked down at your hands and frowned when you noticed the slight shake of your fingers and the sweat that shined on your palms. 

You didn’t know why your hands were shaking. Your hands only shook when you were stressed, or highly anxious, but this was Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi parked the car and he was already out before you could undo your seatbelt. You tightly shut your eyes when you heard the front door slam close, and you clutched your bag tighter as you walked.

You quietly opened the front door and stepped inside, shutting the door gently behind you, locking it. 

Kiyoomi stood in the living room, his dress shirt now in his hands. He stood against the wall by the stairs. You didn’t even glance at his body because Sakusa always wore an extra shirt underneath. You quickly slipped off your shoes and hung your bag on the coat hanger. 

You stepped forward, your arms out. 

“Let me wash that for you, Omi.”

Sakusa released an irritated sigh and you tried not to let your composure break. You wanted to wash his shirt for him. It was the least you could do. 

“Just leave it, y/n. You’ll somehow end up messing that up too.”

Your breath hitched again, but you just swallowed the lump in your throat. You knew that Kiyoomi was already irritated from earlier today, when someone bumped into him at the grocery store. If you hadn’t begged him to come, he wouldn’t have been touched, and maybe he wouldn’t be this angry right now.

You really were just a whole mess today. 

Shaking your head, you took a few small steps towards Kiyoomi. “Let me do it, Omi.” You reached for the shirt. “You can go shower.”

Sakusa’s eyes flashed and anger washed over him. As soon as he saw your dirty hand reach for him, he took a step back. You stood frozen as Sakusa threw his shirt at you, hitting you square in the chest. 

“God, y/n! Don’t touch me. First you make me come with you to get groceries like some child, then you spill a drink on me, and now you want to touch me with dirty hands?”

With wide eyes, you stared at Kiyoomi. You clutched his shirt against your chest. Tears pricked your eyes at his tone and you bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall. 

With a quiet voice, you mumbled, “It was an accident.”

Sakusa groaned. You watched as he took a few steps closer to you and you unconsciously tightened your hold on his shirt. 

“No, y/n, bringing you tonight was an accident.”

Neither you nor Sakusa noticed the intense hold you had on his shirt, or the way your hands shook. 

You stared up at him and with a shaky voice you spoke. “You don’t mean that.”

Sakusa couldn’t really see anything, nor could he fully comprehend the situation. The intense and overwhelming feeling of germs surrounding him had his senses all numb.

Sakusa brought his hand up and slammed it against the wall, right beside your head. 

You instantly flinched and tightly shut your eyes.

At your reaction, the clouds in Sakusa’s eyes cleared up and his own eyes widened in horror. You slightly opened your eyes but when Sakusa moved his hand near your face, you shut your eyes and cringed, causing Sakusa to part his lips as he instantly stepped back.

“You’re scared.” 

You didn’t open your eyes and Sakusa didn’t breathe. He had gone to brush the hair away from your face, but you flinched. You flinched because of him. You were scared of him. Did you think he was going to hit you? Sakusa would never ever in his life ever hit a woman. Didn’t you know that?

After a few moments, when you did open your eyes, Kiyoomi was gone. You were alone, pressed against the wall. You heard the shower on, and you released a small breath of relief, knowing that after his shower, Sakusa would feel better.

You quietly walked towards your laundry room, throwing the shirt into the washer with special stain-removal detergent. You started the washer and then made your way upstairs, ready to just change and fall asleep, wanting to get this horrid day over with. 

While Kiyoomi was in the shower, you changed out of your dress and into one of his old shirts and some sweatpants. Your threw your hair into a bun and grabbed your makeup wipes from your bag, wanting to be asleep by the time Kiyoomi was done. 

You walked to the other bathroom and began wiping off your makeup, glad to finally let your skin breathe.

Meanwhile in the shower, Sakusa stared at his hands. He clenched them into fists and then flexed them, horrified that he made you flinch. Sakusa couldn’t stop thinking about how you shut you eyes and just cringed. You didn’t even say anything. Not that he ever would, but were you just going to allow him to get away with something like that?

By the time Sakusa had finished showering and brushing his teeth, you were already in bed. 

Sakusa stared at your back. Although your breathing seemed normal, Sakusa noticed your rigid shoulders, and the way you had positioned yourself so you wouldn’t touch him.

Guilt swirled in Sakusa’s stomach as he slipped into bed. He heard your breath hitch and Sakusa frowned, hating himself.

You both laid in the silence. Your eyes were open but you refused to look anywhere but the window. You didn’t want Sakusa to say anything else to you, you just wanted him to go to sleep.

Sakusa laid on his side, facing your back. He had opened and closed his mouth so many times, unable to find the right words to apologize. 

Sakusa moved slightly closer to you. Your body completely froze when you felt Kiyoomi’s arms slip around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You tried moving but Sakusa tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and to your neck.

Though your heart calmed down a bit, your body was still frigid. 

Sakusa inhaled your scent and pressed another kiss to your shoulder. 

“I am so sorry, my love. I don’t know what came over me, but I promise you, you will never see that side of me again.” Sakusa pressed his chest against your back. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Sakusa would never admit that his voice wavered, and you would never ask him.

But the small crack and shine of true vulnerability was enough for you. You relaxed in his arms and he let out a small breath of relief, pressing one last kiss to your shoulder. 

well, that was fun.

taglist: @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @h-grangerstudies @elektrosonix @snoozless

OH LOOK AT THIS

i’m 7 months tomorrow 🥰🥰

daddyjackfrost © 2021 | all content belongs to me, do not modify

[scaramoucheslove]

PLEASE expand more on that Zhongli brat tamer thing you posted 🥺

Brat Tamer! Zhongli x Brat!Reader (GN)

Listen to me

What to expect: Spanking, Size kink?(a bit), Choking, Teasing in public, Getting called “whore” once I swear, Zhongli as ur god, fingering? lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: AAA BRAT TAMER ZHONGLI NEEDS MORE APPRECIATION </33

(also im so sorry if this is shit even tho i spent so much time writing it?? hurr i apologize and i tried to make it as gn as possible! <33)

Zhongli loves an obedient sub that listens to him and obey his rules. You, were the perfect little baby for him. You were his obedient, perfect little baby. Sure, you’ve been accidentally bad a couple times here and there. But imagine if someday, you were curious enough to see what’s it like to test his limit. So, when you were acting out of the ordinary, of course he’d be suspicious.

It all started when you both woke up. He’d always wake up first, usually drinking tea at the dinner table and you’d always greet him. But today, you felt a little braver than usual and decided to just ignore him and went ahead to the kitchen to grab your breakfast. He raised his brow, but thought nothing much of it. You put your plate on the table and played with your phone while eating your food.

Zhongli cleared his throat, causing you to look at him with a confused look on your face. “Good morning” he said with a smile, a fake one if I may add. You ignored him and continued to play your phone and eat your food. You could see his smile fade away in the corner of your eye. “I expect a response, no?” you looked at him, and his expression seems blank. “Uh, morning?” you answered blankly before continuing to ignore him. He sighs in defeat, standing up to prepare a hot shower to cool him off.

Zhongli said he’ll be meeting up with a few people for a while, and of course you being you, decided to tag along. You were confused on what to wear—until you remembered your little plan to push his buttons. You smirked at yourself before thinking. You had an idea. You put on the most revealing clothes you’ve ever worn out in public just to mess with him. Once you were done getting ready, he doesn’t say a single word. His gaze was enough to make a person tremble, thus why you were averting his eyes the whole time. He simply grabs your hands and wrapped it around his and said nothing more than a simple “Let’s go.”

You finally arrived at the Teahouse after quite some time. The moment you two opened the door, all eyes were on you. You looked absolutely stunning. Your looks may even be enough to tempt a god. Zhongli clearly tried to ignore the situation and dragged you to the back and seated you both at the corner of the Teahouse.

The meeting overall was boring. Although it was pretty boring, you had to admit that hearing people talking about Morax and acting as if they know more than Morax himself was kind of funny. You yawned in boredom and continued to look around before your eyes landed to your boyfriend’s figure that was sitting right beside you. His eyes that are completely focused, the way he talks, and the way his tall figure is sitting straight, asserting dominance through small, simple things. You couldn’t help but feel excited just by looking at him. Your excitement caused you to land your hand on your boyfriend’s thighs as he was listening to some people talking and discussing about the geo archon. He looked at you, confused and you gave him a small, sweet innocent smile, in which he returned.

But what he didn’t expect was for your hand to go higher and higher, until he realized that your hand was basically almost touching his dick. Before you could do anything further, he slapped your hand away and came closer to your ear to whisper, “Behave.” That action alone caused you to shiver and it tempted you even more. Biting your lower lip, you decided to wait for the right moment. After everyone was done talking and discussing, they asked for Zhongli’s opinion. And just right before he gets the chance to talk, you took the chance and managed to place your hand between his pants without raising any suspicions. He flinched slightly, earning worried looks from other people and workers. “My apologies, I thought I saw something.” He said as he kept his composure. And surprisingly enough, they believed him. Thank god you were seated in the corner so that no one could see what was actually happening between the two of you. You palmed him through his pants slowly as he explained about his opinion. You could hear the slight shake on his voice and clearing his throat way more than he normally does, even though he looked completely focused and well composed. “Mr. Zhongli? Are you feeling alright?” someone said in which he responded with a slight nod, and a pinch to your thighs as a warning. You gasped quietly in surprise and stopped your ministrations before looking at him. His stare was menacing, daring you to make another move. In which you responded by looking the other way and pouting as you rest your hands that was palming him a few seconds ago on the table.

The trip back home was silent. You didn’t dare utter a word, not after all that. You looked fine and chill on the outside, But inside? You were trembling. Was it really a good idea to make your god angry? Is it even worth it? Your thoughts were racing as you asked yourself. But there was no turning back.

You walked inside the house slowly, trying to keep calm and collected. You knew you were in deep trouble the moment he shuts the door with a slam. You saw a glimpse of his beautiful, black hair with a gradient, glowing, neon orange color near the ends of his hair, which usually occurred where he’s focused like in battles, or if he’s really pissed. You didn’t really want to test him any further, so you just decided to follow his next commands and obey him. “What has gotten into you?” He asked, voice demanding for an answer. You turned to him, looking to the ground instead while fiddling your hands. He clicked his tongue and forcefully held your chin so you were met with his amber colored eyes. “Talk” He demanded. You were unable to form coherent words and ended up stuttering on your words. He shakes his head in disapproval and practically dragged you into the bedroom.

He lets you go once you’ve both reached your shared bedroom. You watched as he sat himself on the edge of the bed, looking down and letting out a sigh. The moment his eyes met yours, you immediately looked down, not prepared for his eyes to pierce through you so sudden.

“Strip.” He said lowly. Calmly. But you knew him. It’s always the calm before the storm. You stood there, silently, not moving in the slightest. You could feel the tension in the room. He was disappointed. Of course he was! He had all the reasons to be. He walked towards you slowly, observing the outfit you wore. One of his gloved hand stroking it smoothly as his other hand gripped your jaw gently and made you look into his eyes. “Tsk, I have given you such a simple task. But I know you humans simply cannot do anything yourselves.” He practically spat as he tore your clothes off with both hands. Your eyes widened, mouth slightly opened and you froze due to shock as he chuckled at your reaction.

His two hands grabbed you by the shoulders and threw you onto the bed roughly, a contrast to his gentle grip on your jaw earlier. You continued to freeze in your place and he took the chance to pin both your hands with one of his, as his big and strong body kept your smaller one caged. You tried to get out of his grip. But it was no use. No matter how much you try, he will always overpower you.

“Tell me, love. Were you being a brat on purpose?” He asked you with a teasing tone on his voice. You closed your eyes and gave up, exhaling the breath you didn't notice you've been holding while nodding your head slowly in shame and embarrassment. He chuckled lowly as he lets both of your hand go and flipped you over. You yelped in surprise as he positioned himself so that your stomach was on his lap and he places his hand to rub gently on your ass.

You cried out, “Zhongli please I’m sorry-“ “Now, now. It’ll hurt a bit. But you mortals really need to be taught a lesson to know their place.” He says as one of his hand stroked your hair and the other continued to move gentle motions on your ass. “Zhongli pleas-“ Smack. A loud noise echoed across the room as you jolted forward and you felt your eyes beginning to water. “Can you just listen to me, brat?” his voice sounded clearly annoyed. The room was quiet for a while, until he broke the silence. “Stay silent and take it like the good pet I know you are.”

The sound of your cries and sniffles could be heard in the rather silent room. You were sobbing, hands starting to go numb as you gripped them onto the bedsheets, your ass sore and red from all the painful and harsh smacks Zhongli has delivered. You were trembling. It felt like hours since he started and it never seemed to end. He eventually stopped and started caressing the spots he had abused minutes before. “I’m sorry my love, but If I don’t do this then… you’ll never learn from your mistakes.” He explained. You were still sobbing, but a part of you was relieved that it was over.

He got you off his lap and laid you down carefully onto the bed as you finally closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. That is until you feel a hand tracing your back and onto your underwear. You felt him come closer as he whispered in your ear “Seems like someone got excited. Well, it isn’t really a punishment if you enjoyed it. Don’t you agree?” you can feel his hot breath fanning your ear.

He flipped you over, your back now facing the bed. You hissed slightly at the sting because your ass still hurts from his ministrations. He gently spread both of your legs apart as he sat himself in between your now-parted thighs and pulled your underwear down, in which he threw across the room. You tried to cover yourself up but again, it was no use. You were now exposed for him and his eyes to devour. “But I’ll have to admit, seeing you in that revealing outfit where everyone can see really makes me…” he paused as he searched for the right word before continuing. “Jealous.” You prayed to the archons to make it out alive before answering him. “Oh? M-maybe you’re just mad they can probably fuck me better than you.” You’ve done it. You took back what you said about obeying him, but at the wrong time. “Getting brave now, are we? How ironic for someone who cried over a punishment moments ago.” he bitterly chuckles. “Well then, we’ll just have to see how hard I’ll break you tonight.”

He took off his gloves and immediately gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, combining it with the drool he managed to get at the corners of your mouth. He wastes no time as he inserts one finger into your needy hole. You gasped and held onto the bedsheets once more, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. God, his fingers were long. You can feel him filling you up as he kept pistoning one finger in and out of you. But then you started to whine for more. For him to fill you up more. “Humans are indeed greedy, but you’re my greedy little human, aren’t you whore?” you scrambled over your words before he used his free hand to wrap it around your throat and tightening his hold around it. “Answer.” He stopped moving completely and you whined as you finally managed to answer. “Y-yes!” “Yes what?” “Yes, my lord.”

[itsthe-neo-zone]

[03:18PM] ~ Park Jongseong x Reader, Apocalypse au

You didn’t want to live with the misery of regretting everything.

But that all went out the window as soon as the apocalypse began.

2 weeks, it’s been 13 whole days and 12 nights since the whole world decided to end itself.

The reason? An outbreak, a malicious deadly disease terraforming the earth in its own way. Killing everyone and everything with it. And when you say terraforming you mean turning us all against each other.

You regretted waking up that Wednesday morning, regretted getting out of bed, not hugging your mother in your arms longer and giving your family a proper farewell.

You were in school when it happened your district sounding the sirens, mid-week morning meaning you were in the dinner halls, you heard the sirens and all hell broke loose, the diners small tv monitor picked up an emergency broadcast.

Shaking your head subconsciously you drifted your mind away from what happened. It had been difficult thinking the past few days, even eating was becoming a luxury at times.

Like now, you’ve been wandering empty suburb streets looking for something to sustain yourself, where you were looked to be like a neighbouring district, but you weren’t sure, the sign posts were all ripped down to make any form of defence weapon, supplies were scarce at this point.

The scent on you was horrid but not as putrid as the stench of rotting corpses filing the earth. You stopped turning to look around you. The street was dusted with ruined houses all damaged and crumbled to the grounds.

Maybe you could crash into an abandoned one, maybe there was food and maybe you’d finally be able to use an actual bathroom. Your stomach grumbled with delight at the thought of food.

As you were about to pull the rusting metal rod in your hand towards the nearest property you heard a shrieking ear deafening pop,

The blood hit your brain, adrenaline began quickly building up inside you, like a band slowly stretching about to snap, your heart rattling in your chest. It tightened slightly. You swayed slightly from the shock of adrenaline hitting your numb body.

You swiftly turned to see nothing behind you but a pelleted bullet, someone around you had a weapon, and their target? You.

You began seeing the blurred edges of your sight return a sign to take response. Fight or flight. You chose the latter feeling weaker than expected. Heading outwards past the last few properties your best hope was to lose your hunter out in the wilderness.

Brushing past leaves twigs and the thicket of the edges of the lush greenery you low down once you’re no longer hearing bullets trailing after you. It was quiet

Almost too quiet to be normal. You push yourself up against a tree, straining your breath to regulate faster than it should. You regretted being stupid to do that too as you felt the persisting tickle at the back of your throat.

It let a much needed cough to begin crawling up your oesophagus. Shutting your eyes for a moment you stiffened your lips slightly holding it back. Why now of all times, you’d been surviving fine…

You could hear a slight crunch of foliage under careful feet, slowly creeping up on you.

You’d be done for this time if they did have a weapon. Trembling fingers dug into the metallic rod in your palms, they’d make indents from how hard you were gripping.

Feeling your chest tighten a little. The metal was starting to feel slippery in between clammy fingers but you held it to your face keeping your stance ready.

You were scared, no, terrified even. But that didn’t mean you were going to give up so easily. You wanted to survive, you had to.

Ironic.

A few weeks you were ready to give up on life itself.

As you sighed, you prepared to turn and show yourself but as you made a move you felt something restrict your breath and pull you away from the edge of the tree. You didn’t have your hand on your mouth though.

It was a foreign feeling but it was something you greeted with open arms, it was warm, and you forgot the caress of another on your cold stiff body.

Caress of another? It wasn’t my hands.

Gunshots sounded across the clearing you hid from. Disturbing screeches of birds fleeted from above. A harsh thump fell to the floor. A limp body.

But it wasn’t yours. You still had a chance.

Eyes widening, you registered the figure behind you keeping you hold in a strong grip.

The surging boost of energy you had left pushed you to kick with your feet. Backwards tripping up your attacker. The gunshots stopped but you were sure it was them, not just one but 2, maybe more…

The figure fell back unable to balance themselves but you were pulled back, you pushed yourself out of their hold, they pulled away regained their stance before attacking you from your side,

the male twisted his arm around your head and the other at your waist holding your arms down. He was agile and had strength but you managed to be faster. Quickly thinking, you moved.

Digging your elbow into their side hitting them right beneath their rib cage.

Bingo,

you heard a slight grunt they pushed away from you trying to recover.

You turned grabbing the rod, eyes shaking to survey the sight before you. It was just one, you swing your arms back getting ready to attack.

“Stop!” A strained call out towards your direction, but you faltered, it wasn’t for you? He directed it behind you falling back slightly. You turned to see another male.

Eyes trained like he was about to pounce on his prey. What was more horrifying was the gun now in his hold pointed directly at you.

“Don’t, Jake, she’s harmless.”

His arms stayed firmly ahead of him holding the weapon. “Harmless my ass, you were about to lose your head,” his fingers wavered.

“Just listen to me.” The guy stood up. You noticed the tattered and beaten up clothes they wore, rips and smears all over each article. Dried blood splattered across parts of their body. Judging by the colour it wasn’t from today.  

The combat boots the two wore made you think twice about setting down your weapon as you remained in your stance.

But their eyes and faces showed different,

They were anxious, in pain, alert like you.

“Idiot.” He dropped his arms. Mumbling before walking towards the other who was now slowly guiding himself down by supporting himself on the tree.

His face was etched with strain. And for a second you felt a pang of regret. You shrugged the feeling away watching the two converse.

“Are you survivors?” you swayed slightly, pressing forward kept your feet stable you regrated the shakiness your voice had, first people you spoke to in a while and you sound like you were about to cry.

“Just barely,” one huffed, “As I said he was about to lose his head.” The one named Jake turned from tending to his friend and shot you a dirty glare.

Jakes eyes were intense and focused, he didn’t flit nor shy away. Pressing further. You subconsciously step back, eyes looking past him and towards his friend.

“I had to protect myself.” You pull your arms downwards stepping out of the position and lowering your guard slightly.

“Mhm, sure.” He muttered. He turned back lifting the others shirt. A long tear in the seamless skin ran down the males side. It wasn’t bleeding, it looked like it was an old scar. Just barely healed.

“You’re, fine,”

“She had, shit, every right to do that.” The other caught his breath then spoke.

“Right.” Jake pressed his lips into a thin line. It looked like he wasn’t having any of that, his jaw clenched, he was stopping himself from speaking any further.

Standing up and walking past you. He glanced at you up and down before moving back to the clearing.

“Sorry about that,” the boy sitting at the bottom of the tree pushed himself to try getting to his feet, you stared cautiously your fingers tingling to help him, so now you were starting to get your humanity back? Where was this feeling a few days ago?

The fliting sound of slipping feet against the rough terrain is what brought your focus back as you moved to assist him. He groaned.

His eyes caught yours, cautious and foreign, was this just the way he looked at people him or was he anxious to be around you.  

“I’ll … uh.” Your hand waivered, before holding his free arm. “I’ll help you.”

“Um… Thanks.” He nodded clenching his jaw he pushed himself up with your help.

“I’m jay.” His lips pressed into a thin line the edges pushing upwards slightly as he nodded, he stayed silent for a second. You figured out this was an introduction a few seconds late, sucking in a quick breath you mumbled.

“Ah i- yeah…. I’m _____ .” your face tensed up. Jay flashed you a lopsided smile.

“Sorry about earlier, I had to make sure you didn’t interfere while Jake finished up with—uh…”

“Were you the—” you paused. How were you going to ask him if he was the one that was chasing you. How do you word that without sounding weird. “the… I was—”

“You mean the gunshots?” he mumbled.

You quickly nodded giving yourself a mini headache at the fast movement.

“No, we were… in the distance, yeah, when we heard the sound. Just me and Jake.” He lead you to the clearing.

You were slowly introduced into the new space, you watched Jake push the body dressed in black to the side. There was someone following you his face hidden beneath the mask.

“Found all this.” He kicked at the floor with his foot. “shit thing is he’s probably a trained assassin.” He nodded towards the pile of weaponry. “All in his bag, some on him,”

Jake stood up facing Jay. “We need to fucking leave, where there’s one there’s always more.” He lifted a few small items. Something that looked like a smaller loaded gun, testing its scope he tucked it into his pocket.

“Here, take that.” He threw a shielded knife at jay and grabbed a larger gun and handed it to the male next to you.

“lets go.” He walked past Jay and farther out.

As Jay turned he caught your eyes, he saw the anxious glimmer, the shiver you tried to hid and the fact that your fingers were digging in to your palm.

“Our chances of survival are bigger…” he stated. It cut you out of the worry trail your brain was starting to follow,

“Together than apart.”

You caught his eyes. Jay was trying to be as friendly as he could, you could see a glimmer of hope, something you lost within the first 3 days.

“Are you-, I’m sorry I’m a bit confused right— shit, I’ll just ask… are you asking me to…”

“You should come with us.” You silently thanked him for putting you out of your misery. Shocked he was asking you this. And relieved to have met people you could somewhat trust.

“What?”

“HEY! Hurry up if you want to fucking live dude!” Jake was already way ahead.

“Gimme a second!” he sighed, calling out.  

“I was wondering if you wanted to join us. That is if you’re not with anyone right now.”

You could almost cry from the surge of relief you felt. It was almost draining the life out of you fending for yourself. And night-time was when it got its worst alone. No more going crazy talking to yourself.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You voiced out, he smirked, hearing your voice so relieved.

“Glad to hear.” He nodded towards the direction they were headed. Leading you further ahead.

“Do you know how to wield a gun?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll teach you don’t worry.”

~~~

(thinking of truning this idea into a fic what do you think?)

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