#so there's still an element of underestimating going on there

[murdrdocs]

BUT YOU'RE NOT MINE. miguel o'hara

description. if you're not his to have, why do you look like the one he has loved? why do you spread your legs and whine and moan for him?

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+, DUBCON & CNC ELEMENTS (it's complicated fr), SMUT 18+, slightly angsty but mostly filfthy smut, fem!reader, massive size kink, dacryphilia, p n v, oral (fem receiving), animalistic miguel (fangs and claws included), possessive miguel, reader is a variant of miguel's late wife, reader's miguel is dead, slight dumbification, power play, cervix kissing, brief mention of paralyzing reader unwillingly, told from miguel's pov (still 2nd person), creampies, like 3 spanish pet names (author does not speak spanish)

wc: 5.5k+

fanart creds to @shuploc

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He stalks his prey from the window. 

The house looks the same. There’s not much dust anywhere, there’s still four seats at the kitchen table and the still slightly cluttered island, the couches are the same worn in set. He can’t tell what the floorboards are like from outside, but he figures that there’s still the scratches from young Gabriella, or the times he dragged his luggage across the living room instead of picking it up like you wanted him too. 

He wonders if the kitchen has the one mixed matched knob on the furthest left cabinet like his house does. He remembers the time he underestimated his anger fueled strength, leading to the custom made knob being ripped off the wood. He remembers how upset you were for a second, mourning the loss, and then the flare of lust in your eyes as you looked at him. 

You look the same. 

A little thinner, clothing a little more muted than before, but you’re still you. 

Even though he knows you’re not the woman he married. 

And he’s not the Miguel you married. 

But you’re still his wife. 

He notices you wear your wedding ring, the band accompanying it, and he notices you’re wearing the necklace he got you for your first anniversary. So much is the same that he finds it hard to believe he’s in a different universe. He’s finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

But the confusion on your face when you open the door quickly reminds him. 

It takes a while for you to calm down from the hysterics. He makes you your favorite tea, marveling, because this is the same, too. He rubs your back when you start to inch more towards him than away. He coos in your ear lovingly, calling you the sweet pet names that you always responded to. 

And when your cheeks are dried just enough, Miguel’s lips are on yours. 

He meant to lead more up to it. He didn’t even think he came here for this. But you smell like you and you look like you and you feel like you and Miguel just couldn’t take it anymore. 

You stall in the kiss, freezing against him, but Miguel continues. He knows you love him. He knows you’re as eager to see him as he is to see you. And he knows you want him as much as he wants you. 

You kiss him tentatively at first, and Miguel slows to let you set the pace. He follows your lead, gently connecting his lips with yours, a hand rising to cup your cheek. He slides his palm towards your head to stick his fingers tips in your roots, digits separating around your ear. It’s shocking almost, how his hand envelopes your entire cheek; fingers spread close to your eye all the way down to your jaw. 

And it’s with this –– and your hands going to his shoulders –– that Miguel realizes just how much bigger than you he is. He almost dwarfs you in comparison, having both stature and structure over you. 

The thought makes him animalistic. 

He groans into the kiss, his other hand cupping your other cheek, and he can’t take it slow much longer. He kisses you aggressively, noses smashing together before he tilts his head, and even then his nose digs into your cheek. 

You hum, slightly apprehensively, and Miguel feels your eyebrows furrow. Your hands lay over his, and he thinks you’re going to push him away. He prepares himself. 

But you don’t. 

You keep kissing him, movements still slow so you don’t move in time like you should. 

But Miguel’s forgiving. 

He takes one of his hands away to slide it down your back, rough palm rubbing against the worn in fabric of your crewneck. It fits you a little big, Miguel remembers from when he came in, and he wonders if it’s his. The him from here, smaller due to the lack of necessity to go out in a Spiderman suit. 

The envy that he feels makes him aggressive. This time he growls. 

Miguel fists the back of your shirt, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer, and it’s with this movement that you pull back. 

He chases your lips, and you let him kiss you once, twice, and Miguel goes for a third time until your lips pull from his with a smack. 

“Miguel …” you say, voice uneasy, a little shy. Not like his wife but he remembers that you’re not his wife. 

He’s instantly apologizing, fear rising in his chest. “I’m sorry. Am I too much?”

Your smile is soft and comforting. Miguel quickly feels at ease and he suddenly wants to cry. Just the effect you’ve always had on him. 

“No. You’re never too much for me. I’ll always want you. Always.” 

And that’s the same too. His eyes soften for a second, widening as his eyebrows lift. He searches your gaze for the look, the one that tells him you want this, that this is where you want the night to go. Because he doesn’t know if that’s what you mean. 

But you smile gently, you nod, you bite down onto your bottom lip, and Miguel knows. 

His body engulfs yours. 

You lay there, small in structure, but also in nature, too. You look shy, timid, intimidated by the large man above you. Which does nothing but hardens the prominent length between Miguel’s legs. 

He likes that he has this above you. He likes that your safety, your pleasure, your comfort, all relies on him. 

Most of all, he likes how your legs spread for him, even though your mouth says something different. 

“Miguel, I don’t think we should do this. You’re not my husband, you—“

“I’m not?” He dips down, teeth nipping at your neck. It’s just his front ones this time. He licks the spot, kisses it. “Am I not your husband?” 

Your head shakes and your hands go to his shoulders. 

“N … No. You’re not my Miguel. You’re not the father of my child.” 

Miguel hisses and his chest flares with anger. He didn’t need the reminder, not at a moment like this. He fists the sheets beside your head to calm himself, but when he nips you this time, it’s with his sharp canines. It’s not strong enough to pierce your skin, maybe not even strong enough to sting. 

You suck in a sharp breath anyway, realizing you did something wrong, and you’re quick to apologize, leaving Miguel to shut it down. 

“Don’t apologize, cariño. Just be good for me, yeah? Let me feel you.” 

His free hand slides down between your legs, forcibly cupping your mound, pushing the heel of his palm into the area where your clit resides. You hiss, your back arching, but your hands push at Miguel’s shoulders. 

“Mig, this isn’t right, this isn’t—“ but he’s cutting you off, tired of hearing your excuses. 

His lips kiss at the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks, his mind racing with how soft your skin is, and how thin the layers truly are. If he wanted to, he could easily sink his fangs into you, claiming you forever. 

He considers the thought as he chooses to gently press his lips into your skin instead. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Missed you so much, beautiful. I need you.” Your sounds are soft, little breaths, almost mewls whenever Miguel sucks harder in a spot. 

It’s all music to his ears. It does nothing but fuels his desires more and more. He wants you louder, he wants you to whine and cry for him. 

And Miguel has always been determined. He’ll do anything to reach his goal. 

His middle and ring fingers separate from the rest on your mound to press between your lips, the pinky and pointer fingers spreading them so his middle fingers can settle between. 

Your mouth falls open. 

Miguel can tell when he hears the clearly audible breaths you let out that sound a lot more like panting than breathing. 

“You still make those pretty little noises, too, yeah?” He pulls his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you head on, brown eyes searching yours. If he’s reading you right, he’s noticing it all. There’s shock, some guilt, maybe a tiny bit of fear, but Miguel can clearly see the arousal in them. 

He can’t help but smirk, smug and overconfident as he tilts his head. “I wanna hear everything, okay? I need to hear how good I make you feel.” 

He leans down, forehead pressing against yours, and you’re so warm, nearly sweating even though Miguel has done absolutely nothing to bring you true pleasure. Your eyes close while his stay open, and Miguel takes a second to admire just how gorgeous you are. 

He takes in all of the similarities; from your eyebrows, to your eyelashes, to your nose, to your lips. But it’s beside your lip that he notices something not right. You have a scar, deep enough to be visible, clearly healed, but it’s there. His eyebrows furrow, he gets possessive, he gets angry, because you weren’t protected. You’d gotten hurt, and he knows that if he were here, the Miguel above you not the other one, this wouldn’t have happened. 

So when Miguel presses his lips to yours, it’s soft at first. Gentle for a few moments as he tries to communicate the fact that this Miguel, while he might not be your husband or the father of Gabriella, is willing to be your protector all the same.

He wants to be more gentle with this entire ordeal, but you start to kiss him back and he loses it again. He starts to devour you, face a little scrunched as he pushes his lips against yours, moving with a pressure and pace that overwhelms you. 

Your smaller hands fist at the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material up at his shoulders, pushing at them but Miguel barely even moves. Miguel understands that your reaction comes from the way he’s attacking your lips, but the more illogical part of his brain reasons that you want his shirt gone, so he pulls back long enough to yank the fabric over his head with one hand. 

It’s thrown off and into one of the clean corners of your bedroom, Miguel’s eyes quickly taking in just how clean the room is. He notices the lack of anything belonging to him, save for an old pair of sneakers that sit in the vicinity of his shirt. 

Sadness overtakes him for a second, but then he hears your soft “wow” and he turns back to you. Your eyes are tracing his exposed body, taking in his physique. Your hands reach out, hovering over his biceps before they rest fully upon them. It’s amusing to Miguel, the way you squeeze the area and your eyes widen more. 

Your heart starts to beat faster, Miguel can hear it in the silence of the bedroom, and when your eyes look at his again, he sees a bit of fear in them. 

He tries not to have a positive reaction to the emotion, but he can’t help it. He’s entertained, thinking of how you’re finally realizing that Miguel is bigger than you. So much bigger. He can do whatever he wants at this moment, and you have to take it. 

He doesn’t know if you’re aware, but you fucking whimper. You sound like a terrified pet, facing danger inescapable to them. 

Miguel reaches his free hand out, cupping your cheek just as his occupied hand starts to rub up and down your slit. Your lips part, your eyebrows push together, and Miguel smiles. 

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it.” 

You know the code word, Miguel made sure of it before you reached the bedroom because he would never hurt you. Not if he could control it. 

You just stare at him. Not saying anything. And Miguel subtly feels your hips shift to push further down, more into his touch. 

He takes it as his go ahead. 

He sits back on his haunches, all six feet and nine inches of him, his chest rising and falling with shallowly taken breaths as he eyes you beneath him. 

Stripped of your shirt and shorts, wearing nothing but a clearly loved bra and a pair of printed cotton panties. There’s no manufactured bow in the center of them, and Miguel briefly wonders if you still have those. He thinks back to how you’d always pull them out for date nights, or nights where Gabriella wouldn’t be home, and when he’d comment on them, hinting that you were surely expecting something, you said nothing, gently smiled, and turned towards the bathroom. 

Miguel doesn’t realize it, but he’s gotten lost just staring at this single garment. Your wiggling hips breaks him out of the trance and he slips his thick fingers beneath the elastic waistband of your panties and he starts to pull them down your legs. 

The movement is awkward, a product of your refusal to work with him. Your legs are spread too far, you won’t close them enough to let Miguel slide your panties down, it fucking frustrates him. He’s holding back a growl, his lips clamped shut in a thin line so he doesn’t snarl. 

“Baby, just close your legs a little, let me–” but his words are cut off as Miguel grips one side of your underwear with both hands, and then the fabric is broken into two. 

A sharp gasp from you and your legs clamp shut. But Miguel’s not having any of that. His hands, palms rough against your soft skin, grips your knees, muscles barely flexing as he easily pulls your legs apart. 

He briefly wonders if the lack of resistance comes from your own personal will, or if he’s just that much stronger than you. Either thought has Miguel feeling a little dizzy, his blinks slowing as your opened legs reveal a slickened cunt. 

Pretty, glistening with your juices, evidence of how much your body wants him. He starts to salivate a little, his enhanced nose picking up on the aromatic scent coming from you. 

Miguel barely realizes that it’s happening, but suddenly he’s leveled with your cunt and his breath is fanning against the most sensitive parts of you. 

You jump, moving a little further up the bed and away from him, your escape futile when large hands drape over the tops of your thighs, pulling you back to him and pushing you down into the mattress simultaneously. 

Miguel’s sure that the sound that escapes from your mouth would’ve been a whimper if he hadn’t decided that now was the time to lick a long stripe from the lowest point of your cunt, to the clit. 

It’s slow, a little torturous on his end, but it’s worth it with the reaction you give him. 

Mouth dropping, eyes widening as your eyebrows attempt to meet in the middle, your hands fisting the sheets, your hips trying to pull away from him and get closer at the same time. 

How reactive you are does nothing but excite Miguel. 

He launches forward, head burying in your essence, his nostrils flaring as he takes deep inhales. He gets lightheaded for a second, the dizziness coming back, but he reminds himself to breathe when his nose bumps against your clit and he hears you take a deep inhale. 

What follows is Miguel O’hara behaving in a way that can barely be akin to a man, more akin to a beast, as he tries his best to devour you. The sounds are sinful; Miguel’s saliva combining with your wetness, his tongue uncoordinated as it plunges into your walls and comes back out to slurp the surrounding area. 

This isn’t his best work, and he wants to correct his technique to bring you more pleasure, but he can’t get enough. He’s like a man starved, attempting to consume a meal as if someone’s waiting to take it away from him. 

Briefly, he’s reminded that someone could take this all away. He can’t stay for long, or else your universe could collapse. He shouldn’t be here in the first place. But his greed, the very thing he’s displaying now, brought him here, completely on selfish desires. 

Guilt attempts to cloak his being, but you whine and Miguel’s right back in it. 

He lifts his mouth to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucks, once, twice, flattens his tongue to swirl the bud around, and then he bares his teeth, turns his head to the left, and his right fang gently connects with the sensitive nerve ending. 

A little gasp comes from you. “Fuck,” you whisper, and Miguel wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing.

It’s a positive reaction, he figures, so he does it again. And again. And one more time before he has two fingers plunging into your walls, inching further in even as you heave. 

“Not used to this, are you? Your little fingers haven’t been cutting it. Need something bigger to fill you up.” 

Miguel lifts himself again, arm going to rest beside your head, body hovering over yours once more. 

You don’t say anything, but Miguel’s fine with that. The pads of his fingers are deep inside of you, they’re massaging your walls, curled and reaching for the spot that Miguel still hasn’t forgotten. He finds it after a little too long, and you try to stifle the sound by biting onto your bottom lip, but Miguel can see the pleasure. 

It shows in your wide, pleading eyes. In your raised eyebrows. In your flared nostrils. 

He smirks, proud of himself, and pays special attention there. 

“That’s it. There it is. ‘S all the same.” 

He kisses your cheek and his fingers slowly pull out, only to thrust back in, finding the area of that spot over and over again. It has you mewling, your legs spread, your body clearly enjoying it even though you pretend the opposite. 

“Mig, Miguel, please, I … I’m, it’s all…” You’re saying so much but so little. Little jumbles of words that preface something that never comes. He can’t tell if you’re begging him to keep going or to stop. He doesn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to. 

Not with the way you’re so obviously close. 

One of your hands fling to wrap around Miguel’s wrist, and he fucking laughs when he sees that your pointer finger and thumb is miles apart, on opposites sides of his wrist. 

“Don’t know how you’re gonna take this cock, baby. So fucking tiny beneath me. ‘M gonna split you open.” The words are whispered in your ear, meant as a warning, maybe even a promise, but it feels borderline threatening coming through his bared teeth. 

Your head turns away from him, your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re practically intelligible when you say, “‘M close.” 

It’s like Miguel’s been presented with a goal that could alter everything. He needs to make you come, this time being the first of many tonight. 

He has a thirst that can only be satisfied by feeling your walls squeeze and flutter around his fingers. 

He kisses your temple, his fingers speed up, and he’s encouraging you. 

Not even a few moments later Miguel’s fingers are constricted. His hand lifts with your hips, his ears drink in the sounds you let out; little moans and huffs of air that you’re clearly trying to keep hidden. Which Miguel is fine with for now, because he knows in due time you’ll be screaming around his cock, not even aware of the sounds that you make as you reside in complete ecstasy. 

You’re barely calmed down, the occasional twitch still in your legs, before you’re looking over at him. 

He stands off to the side of the bed now, eyes on you as his thumbs dig into the elastic of his gray sweatpants. He tugs them down, watching your eyes trail down his body. He exhales, abs flexing with the breath, and your eyes get just a little wider. 

But when his sweats are on the floor, and he’s stepped out of them, your eyes are low, lidded not just from the directional change, trained on the way his cock is straining against the stretchy fabric of his briefs. 

He steps closer, hand cupping your cheek, head dipped as he looks at you. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” A phrase he’s uttered frequently to you in this setting. Usually a wicked smile, and eager hands is your response. 

Now, you tilt your head, assumingly letting the words translate in your head, and Miguel realizes that it’s really been a while since you’ve had your Miguel. 

When you understand, your hand reaches out to his boxers, but then it stops midway. 

Miguel nods. “Come on, don’t be shy.” 

Then your nails scratch at his lower abdomen, beginning to stick under the elastic. 

“There you go.” His eyes turn down, watching his crotch, watching your hand disappear beneath the fabric. They flutter shut when you wrap your hand around him. 

The first touch is always the best for Miguel. He shudders, the feeling translating to a shaky breath. 

He wants to keep his eyes closed, basking in the feeling of you starting to timidly stroke him, but he feels eyes on him, and there’s nothing Miguel loves more than your eyes. 

So he looks down at you, he watches you as your hand trails to the tip of his cock, thumb smearing the precum along the circumference to give you better slip. 

Your hand glides up and down the expanse of Miguel’s cock, feeling him up, working him slowly. 

It feels nice. But it’s not nearly enough. 

Miguel takes the liberty to pull his briefs down his hips, the garment meeting the same fate as his pants. 

Your hand is still around him, but your grip falters just a bit when his cock springs free. 

Miguel watches your eyes size him up, taking in the sheer length and girth of him. 

He can already predict what you’re going to say before you go. 

“Miguel. It’s not gonna fit.”

The fear returns to you. It shines in your eyes, flares in your chest, scrapes up your limbs and leaves goosebumps in its trail. 

His head shakes. “It’ll fit, amor. I’ll make sure it fits.” 

He wants the words to soothe you. He hopes the words will soothe you. 

But as he situates himself between your legs, as he arranges your legs to lay over his, as he starts to line himself up, you look even more fearful. 

You’re clenched tight, it’s showing in your entire body, so Miguel rubs his thumbs along your hips, and he gives you what he thinks is a comforting look. He hasn’t been able to contort his features into that look for a while now, and he’s sure that he’s out of practice, but it works.

Your eyes set on his face, they roam over his features, then they lock onto his eyes like meeting a target. 

There’s an unspoken agreement for him to proceed. 

So he does. 

You’re tight. Miguel knew you would be, but it’s still slightly unexpected. He can’t help but hiss as the head starts to breach. You’re tight. 

“Baby. Let me in. Breathe.”

You try to do so, but it’s like no matter how many calming breaths you take, you get tighter as Miguel continues to push. 

It gets to the point where Miguel has no choice but to keep going, hoping that his attempt at soothing words work as he buries himself to the hilt. Miraculously, it’s only then that you relax, the feeling of loosening alerting Miguel of the change. 

He looks at your expression, satisfied to see your features slack, starting to morph into pleasure once more. 

He starts to move, slow drags out and even slower pushes back in. 

They’re intended to allow you room to adjust, to cease your whines and provide you comfort, in an alarmingly discomforting situation. Miguel thinks it’s working. You go mostly silent, he wrenches his eyes closed in pleasure, but they peel back open whenever he hears sniffles. 

It’s impossible for him to continue holding back when you look at him all pretty like this. Tears streaming down the sides of your face, pooling in your hair, salty liquid sticking your eyelashes together as you blink pathetically up at him. 

Something tugs at him, telling him to give it his all. 

So he does. He takes what he wants. 

He takes what he deserves. 

His snapping into yours with a force that sends you up the bed each time. He refuses to let you off the hook like this, hands gripping your hips, your soft and supple skin pinched between calloused fingers. You whine, crying out desperately as you push at Miguel’s hands. 

He doesn’t let up, believing that this is the only way to keep you close to him. Even if it hurts. 

He gives you some reprieve, however, taking away one of his hands to slide up the back of your thigh. He hooks your limb over his hip, encouraging you to dig your heel into the dimples at his lower back. It’s something the you that belongs to him would’ve done, and there’s a split second of fear in his chest as he anxiously waits for you to do it now. 

Whenever you do, the heel of your foot pressing into the skin right above his ass, he snarls. It’s unfiltered, an accident, but it’s real and raw. 

His claws come out and they swipe at your skin accidentally. A gasp from you, then a wince, alerts Miguel of the mishap, and his heart stops. His hips stop. He’s hurt you. He’s done the thing he swore he never would. 

You look at the bleeding cut, then at him, and Miguel doesn’t see hurt in your face. Instead, you pull him closer, arching your back, pushing your hips into his and grinding as best as you can against him. 

You go from stoic and pliant to untamed, your own nails digging into his forearms, your hips lifting off of the bed in what should be an unattractive motion. 

Yet there’s nothing that you could do that could be unattractive in Miguel’s eyes. 

He’s sworn to love you forever, despite the Universal difference. 

He licks his lips, and with the motion he feels his fangs. Sharp, pointy, ready to plunge into whatever flesh he can reach. He once again considers it for a second, sinking his teeth into your thigh and rendering your limbs useless. Keeping you stuck to the bed for him to use and abuse however he’d like. 

But you’ve been behaving so well tonight. So he finds no need. 

Miguel angles his hips differently and you whimper, the sound sweet and small and soft from you. It resembles a “hng”, tailoring off into a gasp towards the end that has Miguel grunting in response. 

“Acting like you’ve never been fucked like this before.” His voice is rough, lacking any romanticism in the tone. He could barely care less.

“Maybe you haven’t. Has no man taken you like this? This sweet, supple body, left unused for this long. You know that’s not your purpose. You’re wasting your potential, honey. This is what you’re made for.” He punctuates his statement with a piercing thrust, hitting a spot that makes you gasp sharply. 

“Made to give men like me pleasure. Not many can take what I can give, but you can, right?” You nod eagerly, seemingly attempting to prove your agreement by taking a deep breath and relaxing your cunt around Miguel enough for him to slide just a little deeper. 

He smirks, hand reaching to your tit where he strokes your nipple with his thumb. “Such a good girl. Probably make a good little housewife too. Maybe I'll stick around. We could do this more often. Get this tight little body to take me 24/7 until it’s second nature. I can feel her struggling around me. Pussy’s too tight. Hasn’t had a big cock to fill it in a while. But that’s alright, we can train her. She’ll be as good as new in no time, yeah?” 

It seems he’s fucked you too good, beyond any verbal or nonverbal responses from you. Instead, you’re a mess of whines and groans. Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling at the corner just before it fills over and slides down your chin. It doesn’t bother you, or you have more important things to focus on, because you let it glide down until it sits in your clavicle. 

Miguel’s ego inflates as he watches you fall apart like this. Earlier tonight you were the picture of perfection; a neat outfit, a neat home, your emotions and responses polished. But you shed all of that for him. Because of him. 

In his mind, there’s no greater honor. 

Especially whenever he slides his hand down to your clit, flicks your bud one, two, three, times, and then your back arches as your orgasm travels through your body. 

He sees it start in your loins first. Your pelvis rocks against his ferociously, and then it stops, twitching every so often as your orgasm travels to your limbs then. Your legs lifting, hovering on either side of Miguel and twitching sporadically as he continues to fuck you despite your feeble hands pushing at his shoulders. 

He’s bigger than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and he knows what’s best. He knows your body better than you do. He knows you can handle another. 

He knows you need another. 

So he continues. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, and starts fucking you to a second round of completion. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, your body tensing as you brace yourself through the pain. But Miguel tuts. 

“None of that, baby. Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this way.” It takes you a second. You huff, your eyebrows push together. 

Miguel rolls his eyes. He lifts one hand, taps your cheek with enough force to have your eyes snap open, and then he grips your face. “I said: Look at me.” 

You do as told now, fear flashing through your eyes, and Miguel grins. He likes the power. He likes this feeling. 

“There you go. That’s it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now give me another. Just one more, my love.” 

He’s so deep within you, your arousal leaking out around him, giving him access to the uncharted parts of you by virtue of providing absolutely no resistance. There’s possibly the easiest slip and slide happening between the two of you, Miguel’s cock entering and exiting your cunt rapidly, shallow thrusts that reach mere inches away from your cervix each time. 

Each drive into you prompts a sound, a gasp or moan or just a force of air from your diaphragm. They spur Miguel on, the vigilante adjusting your leg over his shoulder just a little, his chest almost parallel to yours as he forces himself deeper and fucks you harder. 

“C’mon, baby. When you’re ready, just let go for me.” 

He’s close at this point, too, but he absolutely refuses to cum without you clenching around him.

His wish comes true just a few thrusts later. This orgasm builds longer, your walls starting to flutter a few moments before your moans crescendo. 

“There we go. There we––” His words are cut off short as his orgasm pushes through his body. His balls twitch, his hips stutter, and he’s shooting warm ropes into your fluttering cunt. He can feel his claws come out and pierce the fabric of your mattress, but he doesn’t think about how he’ll replace it yet. Instead he focuses on this feeling. 

The euphoria taking over every fiber of his being as his hips automatically piston into you a couple of times as your cunt greedily milks him. It’s not until he has none left that he pulls out of you, his cock steadily softening, creating a sensitivity that has Miguel wincing. 

You’re silent except for a few breaths and Miguel mirrors your state. 

You both lay there, staring at the ceiling, and Miguel looks over at you after what could be anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. 

You’re already looking at him, smiling softly. He smiles, too, his features getting softer whenever your hand raises and cups his cheek. He places his hand over yours, body relaxing when he feels your wedding ring. 

“I’m glad you came back to me,” you say, voice earnest and honest. 

Miguel pulls you into his chest.

[eupheme]

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.  

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin. Flexing up and into you, letting you feel the hard ridge of him.

“This what you want, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles. 

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

[tossawary]

An SI-OC / transmigrator with house husband goals as Sasuke is funny to me for many of the same reasons that I like Shen Yuan in SVSSS. A Sasuke who abruptly gave up on most of his ambitions and started trying to genuinely enjoy life would break everyone around him with shock and confusion. (And on a slightly more serious note, this could be used to explore the toxic expectations surrounding masculinity and honor in this world.)

A new element making a mess is potentially a great way to explore the canonical characters who are still there. Truly, it is SO funny to imagine how Naruto and Sakura would react to a Transmigrator Sasuke suddenly being pretty nice to them and essentially saying, "Yeah, my dream is to be the husband of a Hokage." I think this would awaken something in both of them!

Maybe Transmigrator Sasuke mostly means this as a joke. Falling in love and getting married someday would be nice, sure, being protected by an OP protagonist while he focuses on rebuilding his clan would be cool, but his current focus is SURVIVAL and this is really motivating Sakura to pick up her training and it's getting scary fast. Which makes Naruto more competitive too! Also, Sasuke enjoys the grossed-out faces and disgusted noises that young Naruto makes every time that he makes a "Oh, your dream is become strong enough to marry me?" joke. So funny!

Our transmigrator is severely underestimating what this kind and flirty behavior is doing to his teammates here. (The mental term I have for this process is "Luo-Binghe-ification".) Kakashi is on the sidelines of this, watching his student (mischievously but also somewhat obliviously) sow chaos, thinking, "Oh, this is going to be a fucking disaster of teenage love drama in five years or less. Great."

(Kakashi is also potentially thinking, "I wish I'd been in the right headspace to pull this shit on Obito back in the day. Damn, that would have been hilarious.")

[soapisahimbo]

Three's Company - John 'Soap' MacTavish & Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Request by @st4rv1ng-m0uth:

Well I just finished reading uou nsfw alphabet for Soap and The idea you had under the dirty secret was just amazing so I would love to request threesome with Ghost and Johnny (also I think it if they kissed in the eiffel tower position that would be just *chef's kiss*)

Oh. My. God. This request was sent to me in January. I am so sorry that you had to wait this long, but I sincerely hope this makes up for the wait! This is a bit of a beast at 7200 words, which might not seem like a lot compared to some writers, but it is to me! I really, really, really hope you like it!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

warnings: threesome, fem!reader/female anatomy, overstimulation, soap and ghost get FILTHY with reader, eiffel tower position, oral sex, penetrative sex, semi-homoeroticism, may contain spelling errors despite checking, i fucking got carried away

You felt the world roll with a yelp and a whoosh; the floor came up to meet you, your back slammed against the mat and you knew that it was with just enough force to leave a bruise for a good week or so. Such was the way of Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley - he never actually hurt you, but he'd beat you up just enough for you to remember the lesson. To be fair though, you suspected he was going easy on you. Or, well, easier compared to the others he usually sparred with, just a tad.

With another quick sweeping motion, he pulled you by your arm to sit you up, only to slip into position behind you and wrap you up in a grip so tight you were sure that a boa constrictor would be considered child's play in comparison; one arm wrapped around your neck in a chokehold, your arm that he grabbed twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and his legs clamped around your midsection like a beartrap.

You could only hold for a few seconds before you tapped his arm with your free hand to signal submission and he released you in an instant, letting you roll over and get back up on your feet. He stood up as well, towering over you.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna let me 'fuck you over' today," he said, and you swore you could've heard a tone of mockery in his voice. The balaclava gave you a better look at his eyes than the skull-mask usually did, but it still kept any expression on his face obscured. If he even had any expressions to show.

"Shut up," you said. "You caught me off guard is all."

"Uh-huh. Isn't the whole point of this to train so you don't get caught off guard?"

Ghost had, much to your surprise, been the one to offer to train you. Not that you weren't capable, but his argument for it was that you would need to learn to take down the best and the most dangerous soldiers that you could come across on the battlefield, and he wanted to make sure you were well trained. Just learning to take down someone his size alone could be imperative to your survival. As such, the two of you had met up every other day to spar if able, and by now you had been going for at least a couple of months of the same routine.

"Well, sometimes even the best of us get caught off guard. It's just as important to learn how to regain your footing when you lose your balance as it is to keep it," you quipped, proud of your analogy.

"Well, you failed."

You sighed, planting your hands on your hips, and stared at him for a moment. "You can't just let me have a moment, can you?"

"No. You're not here to have 'moments', you're here to train. You won't be havin' any moments if you're dead."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he had a point. "I hate it when you're right."

"It's a burden I carry much too often." He stepped away to grab a bottle of water and handed it to you. "You got cocky. You lost the second you thought you could beat me."

"Oh wow, kill my hopes and dreams, why don't you?" you mumbled sarcastically.

"Never underestimate your opponent, and never overestimate your own abilities. A bloated ego will never do you any good. If you ask me, I'd say Sergeant MacTavish has rubbed off a bit too much on you."

You noticed that he was looking past you, over your shoulder, and you turned to see the very man mentioned leaning up against the wall with a grin on his face.

"Awae widdya now, lieutenant. I swear to you I've never rubbed anythin' off on anyone. Least of all any pretty ladies." He turned his gaze to you and gave a wink.

You'd be lying if you said Soap MacTavish didn't have an effect on you. For the most part, you considered him a good and trustworthy friend, someone who you knew you could lean on in troubled times. But he was also an incessant tease with a rugged sort of charm, a man who harmlessly liked to push buttons and limits all the same, and looked at you with a certain kind of gleam in his eyes that made you feel just the tiniest little flutter in your stomach. You couldn't let him catch you checking him out, or he'd never let you hear the end of it.

"Too busy rubbing yourself," Ghost deadpanned. breaking you out of your little moment of reverie.

Soap chuckled. "You should try it, maybe it'd help you relax."

"Now now, boys," you said from behind the lip of your water bottle, about to take a sip, "play nice."

Soap stepped away from the wall to join you and Ghost on the mat. "I always play nice, wouldn't you say, lass? LT however - he might be nice to you, but he'd shove a boot up my arse at any given moment."

You scoffed. "If this is what it feels like when he's 'nice', I don't want to know what it feels like when he plays rough."

"Might get you to stay focused for once," Ghost grumbled.

"How 'bout I join in, eh?" Soap offered. "It's always good to have some variation in your life."

"You wanna teach her how to blabber her enemies to death?"

"You know I could give some good pointers."

You couldn't help but hesitate. Getting your ass handed to you by the Ghost was rough enough, but Ghost and Soap? You knew that despite all their bickering, they were a tight and dangerous pair that garnered a lot of awe and respect from their peers. On one hand, you probably couldn't find anyone better to train you even if you tried; on the other, you weren't sure how you'd make it through a session with both of them.

You heard Ghost let out a slight sigh. "Fine." He turned to you. "You go a couple of rounds with MacTavish, I'll watch, then we switch. Stay on your toes and stay. Focused."

He didn't seem to give you any say in the matter, so you were left with little other choice but to do as you were told. You put your bottle to the side, straightened the laces on your boots and took a deep breath. "Yessir."

Soap - Johnny, as he gave you special permission to call him, which otherwise seemed to be Ghost's sole privilege - made a habit of joining you for your regular sparring sessions, and while you definitely learned some very valuable lessons, they certainly put you through the ringer. You made the mistake of thinking that maybe the sergeant would have been a bit more easygoing compared to his masked counterpart, but while he kept up the usual light-hearted humour, he and Ghost gave you very little respite. You were however making improvement, so much so that even Ghost complimented you on it, so you kept your complaining to a minimum.

You couldn't help but feel like there was something hanging in the air, though. You tried to brush it off as just good-natured competition between them, but you knew that wasn't quite it. After about two months of training with them, you started to notice some interesting behaviour to say the least.

They were usually already there when you arrived, keeping a hushed conversation that quickly ended once you entered the room. Probably some confidential stuff, you thought.

They were liberal with slower walkthroughs, one always putting their hands on you to adjust your position when grappling with the other. They're just being thorough, you thought.

They kept bantering, and you couldn't help but feel like they were showing off. For you or for each other, you couldn't tell, but they had a certain way of butting heads over what to do and how to do it better than the other. That's just the way they are, you thought.

By the end of each session, it felt like something was ready to snap, but you couldn't for the life of you put your finger on it. You found yourself waiting for something to happen, but you didn't know what, and you couldn't tell if you felt relieved or disappointed when nothing did. The more that feeling kept growing, the more that snap felt ever imminent, and it didn't seem like you could do anything but brace.

It wasn't until you happened to overhear a conversation between them that the feeling seemed to gain some sort of validity. You didn't mean to snoop, but just as you were about to step through the door, you heard Johnny mention your name, and you stopped right next to the doorway.

"We'd be going against an entire library's worth of paragraphs," you heard Ghost respond to whatever he had said.

"You keep saying that, but you still haven't said that you don't want it," he scoffed. "I'm pretty sure Price has had his fair share, and I know for a fact that Gaz has."

"Fuck's sake, Johnny."

"Listen, I'm not dumb, all right?"

"I have my doubts."

"Fuck off. Look, I'm not talking about pulling some dirty tricks or trying to persuade her into doing something she doesn't want to do. If she doesn't want anything to do with it, that's it, end of story."

"Do you realize she's in our squad? This will only serve to create unnecessary complications. We are her superiors - ever stop to think about how that'll look if anyone were to find out? Get your head out of your fucking ass."

"Of course I've thought about it! I'm aware of how fucked this is. But I also know you're as deep in it as I am." There was a moment's heavy pause and you could feel it even from where you were standing.

"We're done talking about this, Johnny."

You took this as your cue to step in and found the two of them glaring at each other, but they didn't seem to notice you until you spoke up. "Done talking about what?" you said.

It was almost as if though you had poured buckets of icy water over them with how they jolted at the sound of your voice, their heads snapped in your direction and they stared at you with such wide eyes that you thought they would pop out of their sockets. If their topic of discussion hadn't sounded so serious before you entered, you probably would've laughed.

They stayed quiet and frozen for a few more moments. "Is..." you started. "Is there something I should know?"

Johnny seemed to splutter back to reality. "No! No, no, not at all, we were just-"

"How much did you hear?" Ghost interrupted, demanding but apprehensive.

You shrugged. "Enough to know you were talking about me, but that's about it." You squinted your eyes at them. "The fuck are you guys up to that you have to be this secretive about it? Are you in trouble?"

"No," said Johnny, "no, we're not in any trouble. And neither are you, we were just... discussing something."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Listen, if there's anything I need to know, I'd prefer it if you just told me. Especially if the two of you are gonna keep sneaking around behind my back like this."

You had never seen them this stiff and... awkward. Like two teenage boys getting caught watching porn by their mom. Their eyes flitted between each other and you, contemplating whether to tell you and how much. They seemed to come to some silent agreement before turning to you once more.

"Not here," Ghost grumbled. "We can head to my room. It's... a bit more secluded."

"An invitation to Simon Riley's private quarters?" you tried to joke. "Wow, this must be something special."

Neither of them responded, instead Ghost just stepped by you and Johnny gestured for you to follow. Walking down the halls, that feeling in the air was heavier than ever, and you still couldn't tell what it was or if it made you excited or nervous; if it was something serious or just something that they'd built up in their heads to be bigger than it actually was.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you guys were up to something illegal," you said after walking in awkward silence for far longer than you were comfortable with. "Is this the part where you tell me you've been running an underground drug ring all this time?"

Johnny chuckled. "Not illegal, technically, just..." He gave an odd glance at you. "Maybe a bit questionable."

Ghost's room was not quite what you expected it to be. Clean and tidy, well-lit, organized. You'd half-expected there to be a row of skull-masks to be hanging neatly on the wall - one for every day of the week. Or mood. Maybe he hid them in his closet.

"All right," you said, watching him take a seat at his desk. "Are you guys gonna tell me what's up?"

The men glanced at each other once more. "We, uh," Johnny began. "There's something we've been thinking about. A... proposition, of sorts?"

Ghost groaned. "Don't call it that. We're not proposing or offering anything here, all right? We just need to get this out, clear the fuckin' air."

"Fine, don't lose yer fuckin' head. Listen, we don't expect anything off of you, or think that this is something you'd want, we just don't want you to get the wrong idea or get caught up in something you don't want to be involved in."

"This is starting to sound more and more like a drug ring after all," you muttered.

"It's not, all right, I can promise you that. It's just that... after some time, LT and I feel like you've been doing very well during practice and we're quite proud of you. But we also feel like there's something we can't quite... overlook."

You couldn't get over how they were acting. Johnny was usually such a cocky and confident man, you'd never seen him struggle to find the words he wanted to say.

"Ok, and?"

"Just get to the point," Ghost grumbled.

"This isn't exactly an easy conversation here, LT, I'm tryin' to-"

"This was your fuckin' idea, Soap, you get to see it through."

"Guys-" you tried, but to no avail.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want it too!"

"I want you to get it out of your fuckin' system so you can shut up about it for once!"

"Go fuck yerself, you're just as involved as-"

"You're the one that has been scheming about this shit since day one, don't fuckin' pin it on me!"

"For fuck's sake!"

You honestly wished you knew what was going on, but between their arguing and your own confusion, you didn't even realize Johnny had walked up to you until he grabbed you by the wrist, pulled you to him and planted his lips on yours. You weren't quite sure what to make of this or what to focus on - his lips were far softer than you ever would've thought they'd be, and his hands, now cupping your cheeks, were far gentler than you had experienced before. He broke off just as suddenly as he'd grabbed you and you felt your head spin, gripping onto his wrists for some sort of stability.

"Whoa..." you mumbled.

"Fuckin' hell," you heard Ghost growl.

"Sorry," Johnny muttered, seemingly just as dazed as you. "I lost my cool there for a second."

You couldn't help but chuckle. You weren't sure what to make of this, but a part of you wanted to just go with it. "I mean, I didn't really mind it."

"You serious?"

"Yeah. Didn't think this was what you were going for, but it could've been worse, I guess."

His face split into a grin before he leaned in and kissed you again, more calm and controlled this time. You weren't sure how long you stood there for until you heard Ghost clearing his throat, and you flinched at the sound, blushing profusely once you remembered where you were.

"Sorry to interrupt you, lovebirds, but if this is how it's gonna go, you can just head to your own rooms."

Johnny glanced over at him. You could see the gears turning before he looked at you, planted another gentle kiss onto you lips and then turned you towards the lieutenant, placing himself behind you. He put his hands on your waist and leaned his chin against your shoulder.

"Come on now, LT. Isn't this what we came here for?"

You looked between them, watching another lazy grin appear on Johnny's face and Ghost's hands clench at the armrests on his desk-chair. Slowly, you felt it click in your head.

"This is why you guys have been acting so weird? You both have a thing for me?"

"That's one way to put it."

"So, what, you want me to choose between you or something? You guys have been having some weird competition over who gets the girl?"

Ghost stood up. "Not quite," he said. He stared at you and you couldn't quite tell if maybe there was some sort of jealousy or if he wanted to leave you be.

"It's more of a mutual desire, really," Johnny mumbled into your hair.

Ghost stepped towards you, slowly. Gently, he grabbed your chin and tilted it up and stared into your eyes. He ran his thumb along your jaw and then up to your bottom lip. "This ok?" he asked quietly.

Oh.

Oh.

It made sense now - or at least a bit more than it did before. Their weird behaviour, their conversation, the way they'd kept dancing around the point. To be fair, you would've expected the drug ring long before you'd ever thought of this.

You took a moment to think it through; this wasn't exactly something that happened every day. Just like Ghost had said earlier, this would not look good if anyone else were to find out. All three of you would end up in heaps of trouble, them possibly more than you. You knew, logically, that it was probably for the best to end it right here, to say "thanks, but no thanks", walk away and pretend like this never happened. They definitely knew this, too, but there was something about the warmth emanating from them, enveloping you; the touch, that tension in the air. That snap that had been hanging over your heads this entire time, like a rubber band pulled to its absolute limit. You knew that you should say no to this.

But how could you?

Before you even knew what you were doing, you nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it's ok."

You could tell that they both relaxed significantly, Johnny pressing himself closer to your back and squeezing at your waist as Ghost reached up and pulled his mask off. No. Simon. You'd seen him before, but it didn't make it any less palpable to see him again.

He gave you a moment to stare at his face before he leaned in and kissed you, surprisingly much gentler than the sergeant. Your heart was already pounding and your mind was racing, not knowing what to focus on; Simon's lips on yours, Johnny's tongue at your neck, their hands caressing you all over, stroking and kneading and wandering. You didn't know what to do with your own, so they wandered as well, grabbing at their shirts, at their arms, at their hair, their belts.

"Look at this, LT," Johnny spoke softly as his hands slipped in under your shirt and up to your chest, "we had nothing to worry about."

Simon hummed into your mouth, his tongue slipping in past your lips. His hand moved downwards, cupping your mound and rubbing at it, and your hips tilted back, ass grinding right into Johnny. You broke the kiss with a gasp, leaning your head back to catch your breath.

"That feel good, bonnie?" Johnny chuckled into your ear and cupped your breasts over your bra, squeezing. "Want us to keep going?"

You nodded. "Yes! Yeah, I want- keep going."

You felt a tug and looked down to see Simon unbuckling your belt. He unbuttoned your pants, opening them up and slipping a hand right down your underwear, finding a slick heat in his wake, and your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. He groaned and rubbed circles around your hole, as if taking in the sensation of your wetness.

"Fffuck me," he whispered. "She's fucking soaked."

Johnny grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up to your chest, exposing your skin and leaning over your shoulder to get a view of what his lieutenant was doing. "Give 'er here, LT."

You watched with utter surprise and fascination as Simon pulled his hand back out from your pants, fingers glistening, and held it right up to Johnny's face, who took his fingers into his mouth without an ounce of hesitation.

"How's she taste?" Simon asked.

Johnny hummed against the hand as he sucked and licked it clean before releasing it and turned his head to look you dead in the eyes. "Like a fuckin' dream."

You whimpered as Simon ran his now wet hand over your throat, then down between your breasts, over your stomach. He then grabbed onto the hem of your pants and started pulling them down, leaving you bare.

"Oh, shit," you breathed as he knelt down in front of you.

He untied and yanked your boots off before removing your pants and underwear completely. "Lift her leg up for me, will ya, Johnny?"

Johnny shifted his weight and you felt his chest at your shoulder, holding a firm grip with his arm around your waist before he scooped up one of your legs by the crook of your knee. He grinned at you and leaned in to press his lips against yours one more, far more eager and heated than he was before. It was hard for you to focus though, as you felt Simon's large hands rub up along the inside of your thighs. Before you knew it, you felt him press his face in between your legs, and at the feeling of his lips on you, you gasped, and Johnny took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You don't know how they did it, but they seemed to work in perfect tandem. Johnny's tongue stroking against yours, Simon's tongue lapping at your pussy, driving you out of your mind with pleasure. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to find something to hold on to - one hand made it's way to Simon's head and grabbed a tight hold on his hair and had him groan into your core. The other found Johnny's arm around your waist, gripping and digging your nails into his skin.

You thought you felt a wet drop run down your leg and you weren't sure if it was your own or Simon's making, but he gave you very little time to consider it as he slipped a calloused finger into you. You broke away from Johnny's kiss with a moan and your head fell back against his shoulder.

He chuckled. "Y'feel good, bonnie? Is your pussy all wet and nice for us?"

You couldn't do much else but nod fervently. "Yes," you moaned, "yes, I'm-!" You felt another finger push inside and your hips canted against Simon's face. "Fuck!"

"Just like that, baby," Johnny mumbled into your ear. "Look at you now, hm? Gonna watch you cum all over his face like a good fuckin' girl."

The shivers that ran through your body at his words met with the heat at the pit of your stomach from Simon's mouth and fingers and you trembled. You thought you'd shake apart, but they held onto you so tightly that they might has well have been glued to you. You felt Simon's fingers curl inside you, finding the spot that you'd always had trouble reaching on your own, and his tongue worked between your folds and then up to your clit. The volume of the moan that left you startled you, and for a brief moment you were worried that someone else would hear, but it only seemed to spur your company on. Johnny ground his crotch against your rear with another chuckle and buried his face in your neck, licking and nibbling at your jawline as Simon sucked on your clit and pumped his fingers in and out, pushing against that spot again and again and again.

"Ah, f-fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you panted, "thi-this is s-so fucki- I'm-!"

"Breathe," Johnny groaned against your skin, "breathe. You're so good, so fuckin' good to us. Cum on his face now, bonnie, go on, cum on his face and then you can cum on our cocks, yeah?"

Another wave of shivers had you quivering in his arms. Simon pressed his face further into your pussy, grunting like a man starved with his free hand gripping onto your thigh, and Johnny moaned at you further to "cum, baby, cum for us, I promise it'll feel so good." The heat in between your thighs felt like it was starting to boil, a sort of pressure getting stronger and stronger and stronger, condensing into a white-hot pinpoint of pleasure at your core, and Johnny cooed, Simon fucked his fingers into you and you squirmed between them until the pressure finally burst and you came with a cry and a gush over Simon's hand and mouth. Your legs shook as Simon worked you through your orgasm and you surely would've collapsed if wasn't for Johnny holding you up. You couldn't stop the sounds you let out, your hips twitching and shaking, the pleasure almost becoming too much as Simon still didn't break away, and you whined trying to get away from his onslaught.

"S-Simon," you whimpered, "too much, too- fuck, I can't!"

Johnny lifted you slightly and turned, just enough to move you away from the lieutenant. "Easy there, LT," he said when Simon glared at him and placed your leg back down. "Gotta pace ourselves, yeah?" He then gestured to you to lift your arms up so he could pull your shirt off, and then removed your bra only to fill his hands with your breasts.

Simon took a deep breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at your pussy, slick and wet and hot and delicious, and licked his fingers clean before he stood up. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, leaning down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on him. As if running on instinct, you tugged at his belt and he sighed into your mouth, staring into your eyes as you unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants.

"That what you want, sweetheart?"

You nodded, and then turned to look over your shoulder at Johnny. You arched your back, rubbing your ass against his groin and he took it as a signal to get rid of his pants as well. He grinned and made quick work of his clothes as you reached into Simon's boxers and pulled his member out. It was hot to the touch, thick and heavy in your hand, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it.

"Go on, bonnie," Johnny said as he grabbed two handfuls of your buttcheeks and rubbed his cock between them with a sigh. "Can't wait to fuck you."

You leaned forward, bending over for them. Simon gently gathered up your hair in his hand and rubbed over your shoulder blades with the other, crossing with Johnny's hand in the middle as he rubbed at your lower back. You wrapped your fingers around the base of Simon's cock and licked a line along the length of him, and you heard him groan.

"Ain't she a pretty sight, LT?" Johnny sighed. You felt him rub the head of his member against your clit.

Simon hummed, watching you with a slack jaw as put your mouth on him. "Like a fuckin' dream," he mumbled.

You wrapped your lips around the head of him and sucked gently. You weren't sure if you'd be able to take all of him in your mouth, but damn it if you weren't going to try. You heard him breathe out a curse as you worked your hand along his shaft and bobbed your head, gently trying to coax more of him in. Johnny pressed closer against your pussy, rubbing his cock against it before he lined himself up properly. You braced yourself, trying to keep a clear head as he pushed a little bit more and more, until the glans of his head finally entered you and he easily slid inside you with a moan of near relief.

"Ah, Christ, shit, you're so fucking soft," he breathed. He pushed his hips a bit harder against you, inadvertently knocking you closer to Simon and pushing his cock deeper down your throat.

You choked for barely a second before Simon pulled back. "Easy, Johnny!"

"Sorry, sorry..."

Simon stroked your cheek and went to ask if you were ok, but you wrapped your lips around him again and the words died right on the tip of his tongue. Slowly but surely, you found a rhythm of letting Johnny's momentum push you forward and let Simon's cock sink further into your mouth and then pushing yourself back onto Johnny's. The heat was overwhelming, but addictive, and you felt the buildup in your core once more, your legs already quivering.

Simon held onto your hair, stroking your face and your neck and your shoulders, completely silent save for a few sighs. Johnny, however, seemed like he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Fuck, we should've done this sooner, you're fuckin' perfect, bonnie," he grunted as he fucked into you deeper and harder. "This fuckin' ass- I knew this ass was perfect the moment I saw it, baby, and this pussy, too, this pussy is heaven." He stretched you perfectly, and you didn't think you'd ever be able to find anyone that could compare to this.

Moaning against Simon, you braced your hands against his hips, doing the best you could to swallow him down, but with each thrust from Johnny, it got harder and harder to focus.

"Awh, fuckin' shit, you're fuckin' grippin' me," Johnny rambled, "yeah, you're gonna cum on this cock, lass, I know you are, I know you fuckin' are, do it, baby, do it."

Faster and harder, deeper and stronger, he thrusted and thrusted and he praised and moaned for you to cum. He reached his hand around, slipped his fingers in between your thighs to rub your clit and you shook, almost unable to make a sound as you still held Simon as far deep down your throat as you could. You could barely prepare for the next wave of pleasure that washed over you, and you came with yet another gush, and Johnny let out an almost triumphant moan.

"Fuck yes, baby, that's it. Thaaat's it, good girl." He kept going, a bit slower and a bit softer, but still enough to have you shake. "Think you can do it again, sweetie? I'm gonna need you to do that again, I wan-"

Simon suddenly reached up one hand and snatched Johnny by the mohawk and pulled him close over you, the other hand wrapped around the sergeant's throat. You were squeezed in between them, Johnny's cock pushed deeper into your pussy, and Simon's felt like it was nearly all the way down your esophagus. In a moment of shocked silence, as your eyes rolled back, Simon kissed Johnny harshly, parting with an almost punishing bite to the other man's bottom lip.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" he growled. He leaned in again, forcing Johnny's head to tilt as he pushed his tongue into his mouth, and broke away with another bite of his lip and a thin string of saliva hanging between them. "I think I've got just the thing, actually."

He pushed Johnny away, hard enough to have him slip out of you. He was considerably gentler with you, pulling his cock out of your mouth and cupping your cheeks as you coughed to lift your head up to give you a gentle kiss.

"You ok, sweetheart?" You nodded, the soreness in your throat not all too bad considering what you'd just had down it. Pleased, he turned you around, and you saw that Johnny had stumbled onto the bed. "How about you and I," Simon whispered in your ear as he ran his hands over your breasts, "teach him a lesson for once?"

Before you could answer, he picked you up. He walked towards the bed, sat down at the headboard and leaned back. He adjusted you on his lap, your back against his chest, and placed his knees on the inside of yours before he slowly spread them apart as Johnny watched from the foot of the bed. Johnny smirked and began to crawl towards you, but before he could reach you fully, Simon reached up and yanked his hair again.

"Easy now, pup," he growled. "Put my fuckin' cock in her pussy before you even think about doin' anythin' else."

There was only a tiny moment of stunned silence, but it was heavy nonetheless. You didn't think they'd reach a point where they actually got involved with each other, but as you watched Johnny take a deep shaky breath and his eyes widen, you found that you hoped that maybe they'd go a bit further.

Johnny swallowed nervously before reaching his hand out to grab Simon. Hesitantly, but almost mischievously, he wrapped his fingers around the member and moved his hand up and down once.

"No games, Johnny," Simon warned, and Johnny actually chuckled.

He then lined the head of Simon's cock up with your hole and held it there as you sank down on it. You gasped, having to pace yourself at the thickness of it. Simon held a gentle hand just above your mound, gently pushing you down as he still held a firm grip on Johnny's hair.

"Easy, sweetheart, no need to rush," he mumbled.

Johnny could only helplessly watch as you slowly worked the entirety of Simon's length into you, and you thought you maybe saw a single drop of drool roll from the corner of his mouth.

"So I don't get to join in on the fun anymore?" he quipped, but you could hear a slight quiver to his voice.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Simon muttered.

You shivered as you tried to adjust to his size, rolling your hips once with a moan. He was thicker than Johnny, thick enough that you felt him press against every side of your inner walls, as well as the g-spot that they'd already worked up to high sensitivity before.

"There you go." Simon tugged Johnny closer by his hair. "Now then. Why don't we put that mouth of yours to some good fuckin' use for once, huh?"

He then yanked Johnny's head down between your legs and pushed his face into your pussy, and even in his own surprise it didn't even take a second before he began working his tongue between your folds. You cried out, feeling like you still hadn't quite come down from your previous orgasm, but even if you wanted, you wouldn't have been able to get away with how Simon wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and rolled his hips up. Your head fell back and you tried to find some way to brace yourself, any way, as every brush of Johnny's tongue and every thrust of Simon's cock drove you further and further out of your mind. You thought you maybe came once more, but you couldn't be sure - every sensation seemed to melt into one and you were so high-strung that you might as well be having just one drawn-out and consistent orgasm at this point.

Simon kept Johnny's head in firm position between your legs. "How's that feel, love? Is his mouth as good on your pussy as it is at talking shit?"

Johnny groaned in what sounded like some sort of protest, but he never made any attempt at moving away. He lapped diligently at your pussy, sighing and moaning against you, licking around your hole where you were split open on Simon.

"Fuck, I-" you managed to croak out, almost forgetting how to speak. "I'm gonna- you're gonna be the death of me."

Simon let go of Johnny's hair and grabbed your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest. Johnny kept his mouth on you and you let out a whine nearing a sob as Simon began rocking his hips upward faster.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart, just relax. Breathe and relax."

In a matter of seconds, Johnny had his lips around your clit and sucked, and you cried out his name, legs shaking as he forced yet another orgasm out of you. You were sure you were losing your mind - there was no way this was actually happening, no way that you could actually feel this. You were only more and more convinced of this as Johnny continued licking, eager to get every drop.

"Fuck!" you whined. "Fuck, Johnny, Simon, I-!"

Simon pushed Johnny away, planted his feet into the mattress to adjust his angle and then pounded into you with some sort of newly found energy. Johnny wrapped his hand around his own cock, jerking it in rhythm with Simon's thrusts and leaned back down between your legs with a wide open mouth and his tongue out.

"One last time," Simon groaned. "One more, just one more."

Your legs tried to squeeze together on their own, but Simon's grip was too strong and you could do little else but grab onto whatever was near and hold as you came once more over Johnny's face, him and Simon following shortly after. With a grunt, Simon pushed himself as deep into you as he could get and you felt a sticky heat fill you up, and Johnny reared up, moaning aloud as he came all over where you and Simon were conjoined. He nearly fell over, head falling onto your stomach.

The only sound that broke the otherwise heavy silence was panting. You weren't sure if you could move or if even the slightest shift would have you break apart completely; it sure felt like it would. Simon wrapped his arms around you, planting soft kisses along your shoulder and neck. You thought Johnny might have fallen asleep where he laid, but he took a deep, deep breath and turned his head to press a few kisses around your bellybutton.

"Shit," he mumbled against you, "that was..." Neither you or Simon were able to respond, but it didn't seem to bother him as he glanced up at you with a chuckle. "I don't think anything will live up to that."

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and crawled over you, his hips between yours and Simon's legs. He sighed almost dreamily and gave you a sweet kiss.

"We did a real number on you, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh, still finding this whole ordeal impossible. "You think?"

"We should get her to the shower," Simon mumbled. "Clean her up."

Johnny nodded. "Sounds like a solid plan. Although I've half a mind to just lay down and knock out."

Simon leaned forward to sit up. "Shower first. Then knock out."

You whined suddenly at the movement, his cock still sitting snug inside you. The two men instantly froze, staring wide-eyed at you. "S-Sorry, it's ok, I'm just- I'm sensitive. I feel like you guys gave me a week's worth of fucking in a matter of minutes."

"Shit, we took it too far, didn't we?" Johnny said, his hands fluttering over your hips.

"No, no! I enjoyed it. A lot. But it's not like I'm particularly used to that sort of... conquest."

Simon sighed as Johnny chuckled. "I'm gonna try to be gentle, but we will need to get you to the shower nonetheless."

You nodded and the two of them looked at each other, coming to yet another one of those silent agreements that they were so good at.

"C'mere," Johnny said. "Sit up and wrap your arms around me, yeah?"

You grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped his around your torso and began to lift as Simon pushed you up from beneath until he slipped out of you. You felt your legs shake once more and the cum dripping out of you as you drew in a shaky breath.

"There you go," Simon said, much softer than you'd heard him before.

He turned and stood up as Johnny scooped you up into his arms. It was like they moved in unison to look after you - Simon walking first into the bathroom to pull aside the shower curtain and turning the water on as Johnny followed him closely behind. Johnny then stepped into the shower and gently placed you down on your feet, reaching out a hand to feel the temperature of the water before he guided you in under the stream. Simon gathered up a few towels before he joined you and you couldn't help but laugh. This shower didn't seem like it was meant to hold more than one person at a time and yet they both seemed adamant to look after you.

Johnny crouched down to clean your legs and to gently wash off the fluids between them, trying not to rub too much at already overly sensitive spots. Simon scrubbed your back, gently massaging your shoulders and scratching the skin at the base of your skull. You were sure you were about to fall asleep then and there, but they made quick work of it, before they stepped out with you and dried you off with a fresh towel.

Simon grabbed you a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that Johnny helped you put on before they essentially tucked you in. They laid down on either side of you and as they settled down, you felt a new sense of calm wash over you.

"Rest up, love," Simon said. "I think we might have pushed it a bit too much after all."

"It's fine," you mumbled, feeling drowsy. "I liked it. We should do it again some time."

Johnny chuckled. "I'm sure we will."

It got quiet, and you felt yourself slip into a slumber, held closely between them, warm and snug. But just before you fell asleep, you thought you heard them speak.

"LT." "Hm?" "What happens next?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, is this a thing now? I know you said this was to get it out of our systems, but I honestly don't think we achieved that." A sigh. "I know." "So what happens next?" "Dunno. We'll sleep on it, Johnny. Talk about it in the morning." "Mm. Good idea. G'night, I guess." "Night."

tagging: @deadbranch @argella1300

[myuni-moon]

SAGAU: Reboot (part 1)

It was one thing to be thrust into an unknown world; it was another to experience it without the safety nets you were so used to. It was supposed to be a game, after all– but the next thing you know, you’re put in a place so familiar yet so equally uncertain. Game experience, lore, online forums, walkthroughs, character descriptions; it was all useless the moment you took your first step into the wild.

You wanted to say you knew what you were doing, but you didn’t. There was no guide, no tutorials, and no conveniently befriended companion to help you. It felt like a miracle you were able to leave the Whispering Woods with only scrapes and scratches. Climbing was more taxing than you wanted to admit, and running away from elemental slimes felt like you were a child again, trying to run through a dark corridor at home and into the safe light.

The hilichurls were the worst by far at that point. While the slimes had more capacity to damage you, they lacked any further appearance that reminded you they were considered monsters. They could still be cute if you tried. However, the hilichurls snarled and growled. They might have looked more human, but they felt more like animals. It was as if they were fighting based on the barest of survival instincts. Primitive and feral. That made them all the more terrifying.

Coming across Starfell Lake was more calming than your previous engagements with Teyvat. You only skirted around the very edge of the lake, but you could say that it was a beautiful sight. The faint blue glow of the statue gave you peace of mind– if only for a moment. It stretched up into the vast sky, and you recalled wondering just how vast the world you stumbled into was. The game’s visuals couldn’t compare to the Anemo Archon’s statue; you suppose polygons meant nothing, too. You couldn’t reach it without having to get wet, and you were extremely keen on keeping your current attire dry until you had extra. Still, you couldn’t deny your appreciation as you glimpsed at the cut stone. The wings were more intricately shaped, and the robe’s design reminded you of Greek sculptures. If given the chance, you’d look at the statue more closely.

When you saw the view of the city of Mondstadt peeking from beyond the trees, you almost cried. You, indeed, underestimated just how huge Teyvat truly was. In game, you could traverse the path in less than ten minutes; it took you almost double the time or more to do the same in your current state. It was so painfully apparent you didn’t belong.

Your walk to the city after was welcomed. You didn’t really encounter anything, and you mentally thanked whatever God there was that another trial didn’t await you. Well, there was. It just didn’t come in the form of monsters. It came in the form of anxiety and horror as you realized you didn’t know how to approach going into the city, itself. True, you technically knew how to get started, but it dawned on you that you lacked the normal capabilities that would ensure you safe passage and friendly relations.

In other words, you were completely fucked and left with no means of proper survival– the usual way, that is.

But you needed to survive, no matter what it took. You’d made it this far, and you weren’t going to let your lack of knowledge scare you into getting killed. With the same amount of time it took you to realize that you were in a game, you decided that you would walk into the city and gain as much as you could. Information, a job (if you could), food, friends. Anything to keep living.

So you plunged into the unknown. With your mind made up, you took your first step into the gates of Mondstadt.

“Stop right there!”

So much for that.

[writingquestionsanswered]

hello! i've struggled with writer's block for so long that i've forgotten how to write something that i genuinely like... recently i've been trying to go back, but given my current schedule and me being in med school, it's impossible for me to sit down and just ... write but do you have any tips how i can slowly ease myself back into writing? thanks so much 🥹🙏🏼

Slowly Easing Back Into Writing (w/ a Busy Schedule)

1 - For Now, Write for Fun and Relaxation - When you're neck deep in work, school, parenting, caregiving, or any other of life's big commitments, you may want to go the low pressure route with writing and let it be an outlet for fun and relaxation. This gives you carte blanche to write when, what, and how much you want without having to worry about any sort of "progress." And the beauty is, whether you write five words a day or five-hundred, you are still "making progress" in terms of honing your writing skills and adding to a body of work. You just don't have to be focused on that for now.

2 - Meet Yourself Where You're At - Even when you give yourself permission to write for fun, you may still find yourself wanting to create goals, a writing routine, and a writing schedule... and that's fine, just be sure to meet yourself where you're at when creating these things. In other words, be honest with yourself about things like available writing time, energy requirements, potential distractions, steady commitments, and other potential challenges to meeting goals and sticking with a routine/schedule. Be flexible. Have reasonable expectations. And give yourself grace when things don't go as planned.

3 - Go For the "Low Hanging Fruit" - Getting back into writing doesn't have to mean pursuing big writing projects, and it honestly probably shouldn't when you have other big things going on that need to take priority. Luckily, there's a lot of "low hanging fruit" you can go after to get your words in. Those will be different for everyone according to where you find inspiration and motivation, but some examples would be journaling about your day or dreams, writing reviews of books and movies, writing out your feelings about a particular current event or something unusual you experienced that day, flash fiction writing prompts, short poem, free writing, writing exercises, etc. In other words, things that allow you to write as much or as little as you want, and you can switch it up depending on how you're feeling.

4 - Spend Time Filling Your Creative Well - If you're limited on time and energy, don't underestimate the importance of using the free time you have to fill your creative well... read books/short stories/fan-fiction/magazines/news stories, listen to audibooks or podcasts, watch TV shows or movies, play video games, watch documentaries, learn about things that interest you, research your family tree... anything that puts stories and story elements into your head is going to help you be a better writer. And if that's all you have time to do right now, that's okay, too!

5 - Make It a "Whole Thing" - If circumstances permit, take whatever writing time you have each week or month and "make it a whole thing." Get yourself a nice/pretty/fun notebook and some nice and/or colorful pens. Create a writing playlist. Find a special place to write (it can change as needed) where you'll feel safe, comfortable, and will be relatively distraction free. Create a little writing routine for yourself, like drinking a certain beverage, starting by listening to a certain song, wearing a particular hat or comfy cardigan, eating a particular snack, putting on some mood lighting... whatever works. It could even be as simple as putting a particular object next to your keyboard like a pretty rock, a scented candle, a certain plushie... anything your mind can start to associate with "this is writing time" can help trigger things that will get you into writing mode when it's time.

Here are some other posts that may help:

Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write Guide: Filling Your Creative Well Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists Getting Your Writing Magic Back After a Break Writer’s Block

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[physalian]

First Time Author Mistakes You Don’t Have To Make

This is for self-published authors, somewhat, I didn’t go through the agent/publishing house process, but I did give it a try.

1. Thinking everyone you work with will like your book

I wasn’t under this illusion, but I did assume that every beta I worked with would be able to stay objective, i.e. saying while they don’t like an element they think it still works instead of “I don’t like this” with no explanation. Which was not the case. If this happens, best thing to do is to cut your losses. They’re not your target audience.

2. Underestimating how long it takes

Your book baby is your top priority and yours alone. Everyone else that you could work with does so at their pace on their schedules. I wrote ENNS in one month. It took almost six months of beta readers and a professional edit for a lot of reasons, but largely in part due to betas just not being very speedy. In other areas, too. I didn’t query ENNS because my first experience trying to work with publishing houses was a lot of “hurry up and wait” and I did not have time to wait 6+ months, with exclusive submissions, just to be told no.

3. Underestimating how much it costs

I had funds prepared and set aside in a savings account to pay the editor that I knew would be the steepest cost of the whole writing process. I’d saved up over a couple months and was virtually unaffected by the exorbitant fee when the bill came due because I had prepared. Betas and editors cost money, and you can’t skimp on those otherwise you’re just burning money. If you hire illustrators or promoters, they eat up cash. Formatting, too, costs money. If I wanted to break even with ENNS, I would have to sell over a thousand copies. Just to break even. Even if you do it all yourself, of which I did my own illustrations and formatting, the programs I used cost money, and time.

4. Vetting book promoters

Anyone following this blog might know of my recent escapades in dealing with scammers. It’s my personal opinion that anyone who will promote any book for money does not have an opinion worth trusting. Do I think my book is good? Absolutely. Do I think every book they promote is good? No. Nor do these people seem to care about anything more than profit. I wouldn’t buy a product based on a review without integrity, and have learned a hard lesson in trying to undo that mistake. If you just want word out, then you can act without discretion and just pick the cheapest influencers. But their word means nothing if they’ll sell it to the lowest bidder.

—

These are just four things I didn’t quite think about going in. I’ve been a writer for almost 10 years now but this is my first time all the way through the publication process and it was a wake up call in many areas, especially with the bad actors on social media.

But the bottom line is this: Don’t underestimate the cost of the process, whether that cost be money or time or simply stress. Writing is easy. Publishing is work.

—

My LGBTQ+ vampire fantasy novel Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is out for preorder now! Paperback debut on 8/25/24.

[ronkeyroo]

A positive Update

Friends, kind folk - Hello Again 🤍

Ever since my last update post, I've been thinking about it , a lot ;; I knew I needed time to cook and reflect, and im so glad I gave myself that...

2024 started rough for me; I fell severely ill again - I was too busy cursing my life and dwelling over how betrayed I felt by things still not getting better despite my efforts that I didn't realize I was walking into a self fulfilling prophecy. Its true that the struggles I'm going through are yet to be solved, that its gotten so much to the point giving up seemed easier, and that a couple individuals haven't been making it easier on me either; I swayed and i rattled and I steered within feelings ranging from confusion to anger to dismay and all of this back and forth did nothing but remind me of yet another self-destructive loop I just don't want to allow in my life anymore. Its exactly the kinda stuff that made me ill to begin with, and I've been so lost dealing with everything in between that i forgot to tend to the actual core centering all of this...

It grew unbearable how much emotional and physical turmoil I was pushing myself into, and knowing how intertwined these two elements have been; I had to draw a line before i majorly screwed myself over, gathering any bit of inner will to discipline myself back into some sort of clarity, enough to at least look through a lens OUTSIDE my pain for once, towards the kind of life I want to lead, and the kind of life I don't; and I came to an understanding.

From my physical state to my mental, to the people and memories I've experienced, both the good and the bad - I want to prioritize the good.

Not in a shitty ass, toxic optimism kinda way but in a "I want to prioritize knowing and living the possibility that even when it hurts, even when i want to be gone, even when life doesn't align - There's still every good reason in the world to keep moving forward, to face things from a perspective of growth & compassion, and to grow to love the promise of a better tomorrow even when today was unbearable." To know that I don't end or begin in my suffering, that the infinite potential I speak so fondly of applies to me, as well...

I want to be able to wield and create and share that goodness, too, Especially when it is already in decline...And for all gods sake, to internalize that all of this STILL exists and STILL matters even when it doesn't work the first couple or dozens of times.

As for my place here in Tumblr...I know the sentiment might feel silly to some but the experiences, memories, and connections I've made here have truly been such a significant force in my life, and i don't want to give up on that ;; Not because of my own insecurities, or an inner state of hopelessness, and especially not over a bunch of emotionally immature Anons that dont know how to handle themselves; I want to forgive all of that.

I'm stubborn, and there's an unyielding force within me that no matter how many times it is struck down, it proved itself ridiculously resilient. I'm perking up with with a fiery confidence realizing just how many times it rose back up, enough to realize it is an unchangeable part of me ;_; I shouldn't underestimate that force, and I want to keep living by its side. Whatever positive change I can sprinkle onto my life and the lives of those I care for, I will! And the reason why this space in particular is so important to me, is because so much of that already exists here, alongside you folks;

THAT'S the kind of energy i want to nourish and walk into the new year with! I want to continue growing as a person, challenging my inner turmoils, undoing the self punishing dogmas that still haunt me, stop flexing my teeth over things that don't deserve my time and god DAMN, just - indulge in the stuff that makes me happy, even when I'm going through unhappy times.

So yeah...I guess that means, I'm back & I'm staying ;_;)🧡

I know i may seem like a broken record when it comes to expressing gratitude but - Thank you, thank you thank you everyone who have reached out for me, who so fondly kept me in their thoughts and kept encouraging me whenever i was hurting, both then and now...You folks mean more than whatever ailment or struggle I can go through, and while I'm unsure of how the future will look like as I'm still going through various challenges- I couldn't have asked for a cooler, sweeter audience to have by my side whenever Its time to take a rest or hype over our sexy delicious blorbos!

Speaking of which....................I have been cooking quite a lot of things in the time i was away 👀✨ I most definitely intend to serve them, eheheh

[jae-bummer]

For You, the World

Request: "You and your bias run into your ex." This with Bang Chan please? 🥺🥺

Prompts:

15) You and your bias run into your ex.

Pairing: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

.

"Baby," Chan hummed, resting his palm on your hip. "Quit fidgeting."

"I can't help it," you grumbled. "I don't want to be here."

"That's not what you said when you bought the tickets," he smiled, pressing his forehead lightly against your temple.

You took a deep breath and allowed his presence to calm you. "I know. When I got the tickets, my intent was to make my enemies rue the day they ever underestimated me."

Chan let out a full laugh as he pulled away from you again. "I thought you said that you wanted to look hot and successful in front of your high school bullies?"

You rolled your eyes. "Same difference."

He was right. You had been excited to buy the tickets to your high school's alumni event. The opportunity to flaunt how well your life was going was too tempting to pass up. Now that you were here though, you just felt queasy and defeated. What if the same people who had made you feel so small were in the position to do so again?

You wouldn't give them that power. You couldn't.

Making your way up toward the fold-out table where you would exchange your tickets for name tags, you shuddered. The previous class president and head cheerleader sat side by side.

Sensing your unease, Chan's hand immediately found yours and gave a tight squeeze.

"Name?"

"Y/N," you croaked, looking anywhere but at the two people sat in front of you.

"Y/N..." the cheerleader cooed, sliding her finger down the iPad in front of her. "Oh my gosh, Y/N!"

Looking down in surprise, you immediately clocked the malicious joy in her smile. "Yeah, hi."

"You look soooo different!" she purred, making a show of looking you up and down. "And look at that, you lost some of that baby fat! Well, I guess it wasn't really baby fat if you still had it at graduation..."

"You lost weight too," you muttered, lifting a brow. "About 160 lbs worth I believe?"

"What?" she gasped, her hand fanning across her collar bone.

"I believe his name was Steve," Chan piped in with a flawless smile.

You looked over with wide eyes.

"I have Instagram, I know things," Chan said so only you could hear.

"Stevie and I are still close," the cheerleader insisted. "We just couldn't make long distance work."

"It was probably hard to make your sidepiece work in the relationship too," you sighed. "Tough break."

She spluttered, looking from you to Chan. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure, you don't," you nodded. "Can we get our name tags please?"

Glaring, your old classmate thrust a sticker in your direction. "One for you-"

Turning to Chan, she narrowed her eyes, giving her best attempt at being sultry. "And one for...Chris?"

"Thanks," Chan deadpanned, taking the sticker from her extended hand.

"I don't remember you in our class," she said breathily. You could only roll your eyes. She sounded ridiculous.

"I wasn't," Chan said simply, tugging you along.

You couldn't help the zap of victory as you began to walk away. Not only had you owned that entire exchange, but you had your amazing boyfriend by your side, assisting in the shutdown. That couldn't have turned out any better.

"Thank you for coming with me," you said quietly, allowing him to escort you to an open area where old classmates had begun mingling.

"You don't have to thank me," Chan said happily. "I've got you."

Smiling weakly, you prepared yourself for whatever else was to come. Logically, you knew the evening wouldn't be that bad. After all, you did actually have some friends when you were in school. Just because you imagined yourself to be a social pariah at the time didn't mean that was the actual truth.

Settling in at a table toward the back of the room, you were content with people watching for a while. You felt entirely in your element as you gave Chan the backstory of every person that came across your path. Chuckling and gasping at the appropriate times, you knew your gossipy partner was enjoying the evening as much as you were.

"Are you thirsty?" he finally asked after you had finished a particularly long story about the school mascot getting kidnapped by the Latin club.

"If I plan on talking more shit, I could probably use a beverage," you grinned. He smiled in response and nodded. Untwining his fingers from yours, he hopped up from the table and headed in the direction of the bar.

Humming along to the music pumping through the background of the room, you continued to casually watch the people around you. It was surprising to see just how far everyone had come in the few short years since you had all known each other. You had been such a tsunami of emotions as a teen, it was an odd feeling to see these people through a different lens.

While you had mentally prepared to face friends and foes alike, you had not factored in the continued existence of ex boyfriends. Sure, you had social media stalked plenty of people you had dated in the past but having them here in the flesh was another endeavor entirely. It didn't take long for an entire body shiver to overtake you as you locked eyes with someone you would prefer to have never thought about again.

Jun encompassed everything you wanted to forget about high school. If you toted around words like "high school sweethearts" that would have been the apt description for the two of you. While you spent quite a lot of time falling head over heels for him, he had been busy fostering relationships with at least a handful of other people. He made you into a joke and you would never forgive him for that.

But of course, he was making a bee-line in your direction.

"Why is he even here," you muttered. He had supposedly moved to a different country after graduation. With absolutely no social media footprint, you just assumed he wouldn't be easy to contact.

"Y/N," his familiar voice sighed, a few tones deeper than it once was.

"Jun," you acknowledged stiffly.

"Can't I get a hug?" he asked, his arms slightly extended.

For as good looking and smart as he was, he sure couldn't read the room.

"Depends, do you have any communicable diseases I should be made aware of?" you muttered, glaring up at him.

"Come on," he chuckled. "You don't still have hard feelings, do you?"

You blinked in shock. "Hard feelings?"

"We were kids!" he smiled. "Can't we leave the past behind us?"

You opened your mouth to respond, only to close it again.

"I couldn't have been that bad," he prodded, taking a step toward you. You sat in horror as he began to close the space and wrap his arms around your shoulders. Pulling you into a weird, seated hug, he spoke quietly. "I don't remember the specifics of why we broke up, but I do remember how much I cared about you."

Groaning, you pushed at his chest to untangle yourself. "We are not getting into this right now."

Setting a cup down a little too hard on the table, you watched what you assumed to be Coke Zero slosh onto the white tablecloth. "Is he bothering you, Y/N?"

You breathed a sigh of relief at Chan's appearance. He had crept up behind you. Assuming he had heard the bulk of the exchange, he had likely stepped in when he felt it to be the appropriate time.

"No," you ground out. "He was just leaving."

"Jun," your ex said, ignoring your comment and sticking his hand out toward Chan.

Chan grabbed it a little too tightly, causing Jun to wince. "Chris."

"Is this your new guy, Y/N?" June asked, tilting his head. "Thought it would be someone taller."

Chan let out a small scoff of a laugh. "You don't have to be jealous, mate."

"I've gotta have, what, at least 8 inches on you?" he continued, trying to goad Chan.

"I'll give you that. I'm short," Chan sighed, letting his palms rest on your shoulders. "But ugly is kind of a dead end. What do you plan on doing about it?"

"Enough," you groaned, surging to your feet. "Jun, please crawl back into whatever dark hole you have emerged from."

"Aw baby," he grinned. "Don't be like that."

By his simple statement, you were transported back to being a teen, getting gaslit when the word hadn't even been popularized yet.

"I'm not your "baby,"" you choked, frustration dangling you close to tears.

"You didn't say that when we were in the backseat of my Mazda," he continued. "Or did you forget about that? We made so many good memories together, Y/N."

It felt like something foreign had taken over your body as white, hot rage filled your senses. He was not only trying to embarrass you, but make Chan feel uncomfortable as well. How fucking dare he.

Swinging your arm back, you landed a harsh smack across his face.

Turning on your heel, you stomped off in the direction of the exit. At the edge of your hearing, Chan spoke sternly. "Don't you dare even breath in Y/N's direction again. Understood? You'll wish a smack was the least of your worries."

The feeling in your chest didn't let up until you had pushed your way through the door and felt the cold night air hit your burning skin. You didn't realize at what point you had actually began crying, but your cheeks were wet.

"If you want me to go back in there and make him regret ever attending high school with you, tell me now," Chan said, not far behind you.

"Chriiiis," you moaned, turning to face him. "That won't help anything."

"Who says?" he chimed. "You'll feel better, I'll feel better, and he'll feel worse. It's a win-win-win."

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. "I appreciate the offer, but no."

"Well, just know, it still stands," he sighed. "I wouldn't hesitate to burn down the world if it meant you felt better when I was done."

"Noted and appreciated," you sighed, collapsing into him. "But I think we can keep the matches tucked away for now."

Wrapping his arms around you, Chan rocked you slowly from side to side. "I am so proud of you," he whispered into your hair, tightening his grip around your waist.

"For what?" you sniffed. "I lost my shit."

"There was nothing wrong with your behavior, love," he cooed. "I'm proud of you for being brave in the face of adversity."

"I'd hardly call running into old schoolmates "adversity," Chris," you groaned, tucking your face even further into his chest.

"I would," he said definitively. "And I won't hear any arguments about it."

"Fine," you swallowed, leaning back to look at his face. His eyes were warm as he assessed you. Reaching up, he wiped a wayward tear cascading down your cheek. "Why do all of my emotions have to be directly attached to my tear ducts?"

"Just lucky like that, I guess," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you croaked. "My social battery is reaching critically low percentages."

"Let's get you a reset then," he nodded. "Couch nest and take out?"

"You know my love language so well," you hummed. "Thanks again for being here tonight."

"For you, the world, Y/N."

[twst-drabbles]

Azul, Idia and Malleus 1

Summary: Azul and Idia are dragged for singing practice with Malleus. You too were dragged in, but not to sing. Malleus wanted you to be his audience and critic.

(I think it would be funny for the Janitor to just be in a chair, watching it all. I know the event is over, but it still lives in my head for whatever reason. Also this is over 1000 words, so have fun.)

While you're not going to the social that'll be happening in the Nobel Bell College, you are still a dear friend of Malleus. And because you have such privileges, you were allowed to be the judging audience for Malleus's singing practices.

"His initiative is mind-boggling… I didn't think Malleus would be so motivated." Azul said, clearly out of his element but refusing to show as such.

You leaned your head against your fist.

"You've never attended a fae party have you?" You picked at the lint on your uniform and flicked it towards the practicing pair. "This much enthusiasm is pretty common to see. And expected, actually."

Azul's smile twitched as he turned towards you, "Ah well, excuse my inexperience with not attending any fae parties. Running a business doesn't exactly allow me much free time. Though, I suppose quality standards would be different across species, wouldn't they? I just never expected them to be this high."

"That's what happens when you live for hundreds of years," you sighed, "the medium standard rises."

Malleus clapped his hands to gather everyone's attention.

"Now now, Ashengrotto," Malleus chided Azul, "Keep from looking at the Child of Man and start again. You must be sure to practice so that you can perform perfectly for them."

It's nice that you at least get a free show before they all go. Now if only you had snacks. It's been a while since you last ate.

Lilia, ever the perceptive one, floated over dropped an unopened bag of snacks right on your head. "Seeing a performance on an empty stomach is no way to enjoy it."

You grabbed it and nodded to him. "Nice, I like this brand."

Idia, having just the tiniest bit of respite, chewed on his nail and grumbled out, "I never expected our precision security system to get literally brute-forced. I gotta upgrade that ASAP, like tonight."

You chuckled, now in a better mood with a tasty snack on your tongue, "Idia, you're dealing with an enemy that scales to your level, it's never going to work."

Lilia laughed with you, "Exactly. You shouldn't underestimate our sheer tenacity. Especially when we're under strict orders."

Malleus had a hand to his mouth, smiling right down at Idia, clearly amused that Idia thought he could avoid all of this. "As such, I and this entire dorm are dedicating our time to craft this song into perfection. Your participation is crucial for that, I'm afraid."

Poor Idia. You're enjoying this too much.

"You can't escape," you muffled through your snacks.

Idia shrunk further into himself, but resigned to his practicing fate alongside Azul.

They started from the top and Malleus began singing that song you now know forwards and backwards. He kept diligent to his nightly visits over to your dorm, alongside of working in his hours of practice. It's difficult not to memorize it.

"He really is way too good at singing…" Azul and Idia murmured like you couldn't hear them at all.

"Yeah. Anything having to do with festivities and performances, they have it down pat. Did you know it's an insult to have a party last less than three days in fae etiquette?" You said while keeping a careful ear for any mistakes in Malleus's singing.

You really only said this just to get the thought out. You weren't expecting any sort of reply. And you certainly weren't expecting Azul and Idia to slowly turn towards you in dual horror.

Azul pushed up his glasses, "… while the social will last a while, the party itself will only last a day at the end… Could it be that Malleus does not know?"

And Idia is clutching at his hair. "Oh no, oh no, oh no…"

Wow they really just swallowed your words without question, huh?

"… obviously the rules are different if the host is a human, on their human owned land." You said with a lazy grin. The both of them are so easy to mess with.

Idia deflated into a defeated puddle on the floor while Azul perked right back up as though he too wasn't on the verge of a breakdown.

"Ah, well of course! If such rules applied the minute any guest is a faerie, we'd all be cursed in one manner or another."

Azul's ability to suddenly collect himself always amuses you. The sweat upon his brow hasn't even dried up yet. No wonder Malleus likes to put him on edge.

Malleus reached the end. He breathed in, out, then turned towards you. Azul and Idia flinched, being in his line of sight.

"Well? How was that?" Malleus asked.

And you gave your critic, "You might want to tone down the intensity in the first verse. Otherwise the climb to the finale won't hit as hard like that opera performance we saw on that video."

Of course you had to gather references regarding that song. You and your thirst for historical knowledge had you scaling down an interesting rabbit hole until you ended up stumbling upon an online archive filled with recorded performances. One of them simply wowed you and you had to show Malleus.

Malleus looked down, thoughtful. "I suppose you're right. Then, I'll make some adjustments as needed. I will reward you for the sound advice later, Child of Man. Let me try again. Lilia, if you will."

And another round he went, making sure to keep the full intensity of his voice under his control.

You couldn't help but sing along with him, under your breath of course. This was his practicing performance, not yours. You tapped to the rhythm, enjoying this early taste, living in the moment.

"Huh?" Azul and Idia both turned to you.

Your voice faded out before the end, as that verse is Malleus and Malleus's alone.

Idia, during that moment, scuttled up to your face like a bug. He grabbed your shirt by the collar. "You could sing?!" He hissed out.

"Uh, yeah?" It's a skill you had to practice with. The little pixies are all about songs and dances whenever they're helping you out with your work.

"So why don't you convince him. To let me go?!" Idia shook you back and forth. "Clearly this BBEG would love to sing with you over a loser like me! Do you want me to experience an IRL game over?!"

It… is amazing how weak Idia is. There is so little strength in those arms of his that you can't even be angry that he's wrinkling your shirt.

All you had to do was grab his face and push him down.

Idia did not stand a chance. He let go.

"Because I'm not invited, so I can't replace you. Besides, this is fun for me, watching you fumble like this." You grinned at this kneeling Idia. "When you've been around the pixies long enough, you just pick up their inner rhythm eventually. That, and singing keeps their energy high while I'm working."

"Well," Azul said, "That would explain why Malleus would want your critic over mine. How… frustrating."

Malleus didn't so much as spare a glance at Idia, only asked, "Shroud. What are you doing over there? It's time for you to practice the basics again."

"Ah!" Idia shot himself out of your grasp and zipped over to Lilia, "Coming!"

"If you'll excuse me, Janitor and Judge." Azul nodded to you, "I would want to make Malleus angry."

"Have fun." You waved them both off, settling in your plush chair once more until you were called for.

This is fun. You like this.

[onesaltybagel]

Finally talking about season 5 because I’ve been putting it off

Notes won’t be in order at all and are mostly about the final episodes

Spoilers BOGOOA BOOO!!!!

When people were saying that Sean had really gone all out this season, I was like “oh ok maybe there’s a kinda sad scene or a really heartfelt scene”. NO. I WAS SO WRONG. I was NOT prepared for the scene of him screaming and wailing to the point of his voice cracking and going raw because he wanted Mk to stop so badly. I did not ever imagine I was going to see that and I’m still not over it. If I see it again, I get chills every time and I’m in love.

Nine-headed demons full form is so cool! I can’t believe we saw that before the trailer even dropped and I thought nothing of it! I thought it was just going to be another guardian of the stone! God the designs in this show rock

Mk saying “don’t make me do this” was perfect. It was so quiet, so small and full of emotion. Had he planned since that first moment he was going to use the circlet? He knew since like episode two that he was going to be doing something EVERYONE wouldn’t want him to do and- presumably- it became clear really fast to him what that was. Was he planning all along?

I cannot stress this enough- THE FIGHT IN EPISODE ONE FORESHADOWED THE FIGHT IN EPISODE NINE.

Nuwa saying I’m so proud of you, her voice actor is completely perfect for her. It was so soft and gentle :(((

Mk crying from joy. He should never have to be in that position, it is so unfair that he was created just to die- over and over and over again. I’m so glad he found another way.

Nuwa saying “my sacrifice AND yours” what did she sacrifice? When she fixed the pillar the first time, was she the one that entered the pillar to fix the sky along with the stones?

WHERE IS NUWA EXACTLY??? Is that just what- the inside of the pillar looks like?

Will we see Nuwa again?

Oh my GOD Wukong catching Mk made me want to throw up. That little bit where we see it through Mk’s eyes kills me every single time.

People gaining elemental powers? Is that- every person who didn’t already have any? Like- some went into Red son did he gain MORE power like that one fire sneeze girl or is he the same? If he is, he’ll be mad LMAO

The chaos HHUUUGHGHGHB ITS SO PRETTY? I don’t know if it’s supposed to be unnerving but I want to stare at it for hours it’s so cool. Where is that? Outside the universe? How does the chaos affect things? WHO IS “HE?” I looked up Xiangliu and the only person I could associate that with was Gonggong who is another snake like entity.

Gonggong also knocked one of the eight pillars (theres eight?) holding up the sky and ends up dying in a battle with someone called Zhurong who is a fire god and has some story with Nuwa!

They’re all snakes. What is with snakes in this world?

Was Macaque still investigating? At the end, he’s in the court room again for some reason and at the start of the season he said he was looking around for stuff related to Mk. Macaque is a hero and he cannot deny it anymore.

Oh yeah the ten kings of the underworld are dead. What the fuck happens to dead people now?

Why does Macaque have chaos magic, who did he make a deal with and WHY WAS IT ON THE STAFF.

Li Jing is a complete asshole. If we’re basing him off canon then there’s no return but if him vandalising his son’s grave ISNT CANON, then he’s just bad dad. I hope he trips and falls over and embarrassingly gets a bruise on his forehead.

Nuwa x Lady Bone Demon toxic Yuri <33

I love Nuwa but I also hate her sm right now. Why did there have to be a cycle? Because there needed to be someone to fix the sky? Because that person would never be enough and they weren’t fixing the sky they were resetting it all instead? This is down to Nuwa underestimating the world- we see that- but I just cannot get over that she made a baby for the sole purpose of dying. He gets up, he gets the stones, he dies. He experiences nothing, he speaks to no one.

And Mk has absolutely had that life a thousand times.

But she doesn’t react as emotionally as I wished she had. This is nothing against the writers, I am just a Nuwa hater and lover rn. She was perfect, so cool, such an amazing character but she still needs to pay child support.

[echantedtoon]

KNY Swap Au Ramblings

I've seen a lot of others make their own versions of a swap au and I wanted to create one too just for fun. None of this is cannon, and not everyone will be swapped out and it'll have my own twists on things. And have some things added for new story elements.

Most of the role swaps I've seen are usually with either Sanemi and Genya or Gyutaro and Ume replacing Nezuko and Tanjiro. Or the rolls are swapped with Tanjiro being the demon instead(personally my favorite interpretation of this is by @yuramec). But for this I'm swapping out the Kamado Siblings for the Tokito Twins. I won't go into depth about everyone but I will give important differences to the story.

WARNINGS: Mentioning of killing, death, lose of a child, etc.

EDIT: If you don't agree with any of the placements or head cannons that's fine. This is only my take on things.

PROLOGUE:

I'm swapping out Muzan for Kagaya for this purpose. Most of the story remains the same as it did in cannon with Muzan. Kagaya is born deathly ill, he's given the medicine made with the blue spider lily, however instead of killing said doctor out of anger Kagaya is completely overjoyed and taken by the doctor's success. He wants to make MORE medicine. He wants to give this to MORE people like himself! At first the doctor accepts this. He's excited for the success of his medical treatment. However something isn't right.

Kagaya is twisted by the medicine and it's effects on his body. He begins to crave human flesh as Cannon Muzan (who I will refer to as CM), however he sees it as a greater mercy to the masses. Why live such miserable lives when you can join him? Be a part of him? Death is a mercy. Life isn't. The doctor is appalled at the way the medicine twisted Kagaya into a far worse person. (His mindset would be a similar one to Cannon Douma. Seeing it as a mercy or better fate to become a part of something bigger for the greater good overall not really seeing his twisted thinking is only harming hundreds of others and not really caring believing the end goal is worth all the bloodshed to get there.) In a fit of frustration, he attempts to turn the doctor into a demon in order to force him to make more medicine after the doctor refuses to do anymore research disgusted by the results, however as he was still fairly new to making other demons, the doctor instead dies from the infected blood. Frustrated Kagaya attempts to make the next hundreds of years perfecting his technique and turning people into demons as 'sharing his gift'. The first few demons was his beloved wife Amane and their five children.

He attempted to turn the rest of his family into demons too but that did not go so well. (Apparently it's cannon that Kagaya used to have two younger brothers). As with the doctor his youngest brother's body didn't react to him changing and Kagaya accidentally ended up killing his youngest brother. His other younger brother and their father fled and went into hiding. His father later blamed himself heavily for all of the evil Kagaya does and takes his own life. Kagaya's brother later goes on to create the demon slayer corp in search of a way to stop him. Later down the line the Ubuyashiki name is lost and replaced by the last name Kibutsuji, their bloodline cursed due to creating the first demon progenitor.

KAGAYA UBUYASHIKI AND FAMILY AS DEMONS:

He sees his demons as 'beloved children' and as such sees what they do (eating humans, killing, etc) as nothing wrong and only as a means for survival and to spread his 'gift.' Don't underestimate him however. He may not rule by fear but his voice and mind is able to manipulate and soothe most demons into submission, and he is not afraid to use force if needed. Amane and their demon children are the ones that he allows to eat disobedient demons if they're hungry and he does so with a warm smile on his face. It puts the fear into anyone who sees it if they aren't already loyally following him. He is also crazily strong physically and mentally.

Desperately looking for both the blue spider lily and the Kibutsuji family. He doesn't want to kill Muzan and his family per say. Merely to put a endless mercy to his beloved little brother's family's torment and free his own 'children' from theirs. Whether it be by turning them or by 'sending them to heaven' he hasn't decided yet. Created the Infinity Castle as a safe haven for his newly turned family and any demon deciding to live there.

Amane is his beloved spouse and is actually the one who controls the Infinity Castle in place of Nakime, and constantly rotates it keeping track of their children. She usually just blinks and any demon her husband wants is immediately teleported to them. Their children are absolutely NOT allowed to leave the Infinity Castle. AT ALL. 

He created the twelve Kizuki as a way to reward his most obedient 'children' and as extra protection for himself and his family. The lower three moons are usually killed off not by him but usually by Sanemi in anger or by slayers. Otherwise he has no problem with how the Kizuki interact. Although his favorite is Yoriichi who happens to be Upper Moon One, and his most loyal and powerful demon.  He usually doesn't have any trouble blending into society Thanks to his personality but he still eats, kills, and makes demons. 

UPPER MOON ONE YORIICHI:

This one's sorta obvious but also an idea I haven't seen explored too often also he's not as OP as he is in cannon. Essentially everything proceeds to happen with Yoriichi the same as in cannon. I mean everything is the same except for Uta's death. As Yoriichi is late to getting back to Uta and their unborn child, Uta unexpectedly went into early labor losing the child and her own life due to complications. Unfortunately Yoriichi arrived a little too late and was devastated by the discovery of his family, but as the causes of death was natural instead of by the hands of a demon, Yoriichi does not develop the hatred for demons he has within the normal timeline. Yoriichi still buries Uta in the mountains where the blue spider lily grows unknown to everyone, and leaves to wonder aimlessly until coming across one of the strongest demon slayers at the time battling a powerful demon. Being the kind person he is Yoriichi helps him with his own sword skills where afterwards the slayer is impressed with Yoriichi's skills and invites him to join the corps. Without the drive of hatred for demons, Yoriichi decides to join instead for a desire to help others and a place of belongings. From there everything also continues as in cannon. Yoriichi meets Tanjiro's ancestors saving them from a demon and becoming good enough friends to teach the Hinakami Kagura dance, and gifts them his earrings as a keepsake. He still comes across Michikatsu and everything continues as it was.

Michikatsu's own story proceeds the same without much change. His entire backstory up to this point does not change in the slightest. His pride, his jealousy, his drive. All of it remains the same. The only real difference is when Yoriichi and Kagaya happens to accidentally come across face to face. 

Because of the real driving hatred of demons Yoriichi would've previously had, and Kagaya's own nature, it would inevitably end up differently. Kagaya's compliments of his strength and the genuinity of his compliments and kindness has Yoriichi confused. He was different than all the regular blood thirsty demons that he usually killed, so why was this so.. Different. His hesitation and confusion leaves Kagaya with an opening to explain himself and to explain his twisted 'help' and Yoriichi finds himself entranced. Kagaya's talks leads the two to genuinely bond over their own personal losses and lives and Yoriichi finds himself oddly at peace listening to the Demon King's words. What if he was right? What if this new medicine could've prevented Uta from dying and had made it possible for their child to survive? What if his mother could've also been spared such a tragic fate? What if this entire tragedy could've been prevented? 

Kagaya genuinely likes Yoriichi's personality and genuine drive of the same goals he has. Sure he manipulates him a little bit but in the end it's 'for the greater good for everyone'. So when he offers the haishira his blood, Yoriichi only needs a few minutes to think it over before accepting. Yoriichi as Upper Moon One is stoic, distant. Barely speaks. Somewhat twisted by the blood in his veins. He's been rejected and cast aside for so long and been dealt so much grief that it was easy for him to follow Kagaya. He has a place now, with a purpose. A GOOD purpose. He loves playing with the Ubuyashiki quintuplets and gets along with most of the other Kizuki, although during his long reign as a demon he's become numb to most feelings making him a ruthless asset on the battle field for Kagaya's purpose. 

His one regret is Michikatsu. 

Michikatsu's reaction to his brother ascension to a demon was rather mixed to say the least. He's angry. Enraged that his brother had not only gotten stronger, but was just handed that power essentially without even working for it as he had. (Context for that see @lavenderdrxp's character analysis of Kokushibo/Michikatsu's work ethics and character drive for this next bit.)  Not to be out done, not to be bested by his brother anymore, not to allow his work to be undermined- He rejects Yoriichi's offer to join him in serving Kagaya disgusted by the thought of joining only to never surpass him for eternity and have the proof constantly living with him. So he rejects Yoriichi's offer, opting to try and kill his brother instead. It ends with Yoriichi killing his brother in battle. The death of his (for now) only remaining family member drives Yoriichi further into his emotionless state. 

His prized possession is the flute Michikatsu gifted him which he carries with him. He fights using his sun breathing techniques and making six swords with his arms. After being changed into a demon, Yoriichi's body suffered some permanent damage from the side effects of Kagaya having problems creating demons. To make up for this, Kagaya gifted him six arms to replicate the movements he once originally had. In similarity to Yoriichi Type Zero.

UPPER MOON TWO GYOMEI: 

Most powerful Haishira becomes second most powerful demon. Gyomei runs a (cult-) refuge in the same way Cannon Douma does, the only difference is that he actually believes what he teaches, deeply believes in Kagaya, and believes sending the helpless people that flock to him to 'Eternal Paradise' actually helps them and spares them from their tragic lives.

He fights using stone manipulation demon arts similar to Cannon Douma's ice manipulation abilities.

UPPER MOON THREE MITSURI:

Not much to say about upper three. She's very strong and flexible and uses the strength to claw her way up the ranks to just under Gyomei who she couldn't bring herself to challenge because he's too nice to fight for Upper Two. She was changed after running away from home and striking a friendship with a snake demon. Obanai changed Mitsuri out of greed and selfishness. Mitsuri clawed her way up the ranks because she heard that she could get more attention from demons and slayers if she was an upper rank. Originally joined Upper Ranks looking for a husband.... Obanai is still sitting in the sidelines trying to get her attention back on him.

Her demon arts are similar to Akaza's that she fights using physical strength and reflexes, but she can also use a charming affect to lure in prey.

UPPER MOON FOUR SANEMI:

Scary. Very, very, VERY scary. But also very protective of his younger demon brother Genya whom doesn't remember his life before becoming a demon. Sanemi and Genya were the only survivors after their own mother was turned into a demon and slaughtered their own family. Their entire life was pretty much the same until Sanemi just so happened to run into the demon king Kagaya. The king felt sorry for the two brothers and forcibly turned them both so neither could be separated again. Sanemi doesn't remember much of his human life except for the love and protectiveness he feels for his brother. Extremely loyal to Kagaya and and hot tempered. Physically wrestled Tengen out of Upper Four and wouldn't let him go until he agreed to give him the placement of Upper Moon four. The only two people who he'll listen to is Kagaya and Gyomei. Although he respects Kanae. Constantly starting fights with the lower moons and weeding out the ones he doesn't think is worthy no matter how much Kagaya and Gyomei scold him.

He uses Air blood demon arts in a similar fashion to Karaku.

UPPER MOON FIVE TENGEN:

Not much to say about him. Kagaya found him depressed after leaving his father and remaining brother after being forced to fight to the death with his other siblings.  It did not take much convincing to change him. Demon Tengen changed his three wives and forcibly changed his best friend Rengoku. Is scared of Sanemi after the air demon physically held him down and forced him to give up his previous place as Upper Moon Three. Best friends with Rengoku.

Tengen fights in both numbers with his wives in ambush style attacks and by sound baced demon arts such as Urogi's screech abilities and using sounds to distract, destroy, or decoy his enemies.

UPPER MOON SIX RENGOKU:

Not much to say about this demon. He was actually forcibly turned by Tengen and doesn't remember too much about his previous life although he has glimpses of a woman who's kind with red eyes and a little flamed haired boy that looks like him sorta. Much of Rengokus positive attitude is still present but as a demon it's toxic positivity only contributing to Kagaya's toxic 'merciful' agenda. He currently is content with his place as Upper Five and gets along with most of the others. Although he has to stop Sanemi and Tengen from fighting a lot as Tengen likes to tease others. 

His blood demon arts is fire based which is why he usually doesn't leave shelter if it rains or go places where water is present. Making his abilities limited.

DEMON KANAE AND SHINOBU:

The real powerful demon is Kanae who shares it with her sister Shinobu. To be honest no one is really sure where they came from or how Lord Kagaya found them. He just introduced the demonic butterfly duo one day to the rest of the Kizuki and placed them in with the others. Kanae is the much kinder of the two sisters and believes that not all slayers are bad. Shinobu heavily disagrees with that sentiment and prefers to poison her victims slowly with a smile. The sisters have two younger butterfly demons, Aoi and Kanao, and together the four of them run a laboratory for Lord Kagaya in his research of his specialized blood. They also have three small helper girls that they took in out of pity. The three butterfly girls often can be found playing with the Ubuyashiki quintuplets in the Infinity Castle.

Similar to how Cannon Nakime didn't have an official number in the Kizuki ranks despite considered a part of it, the sisters are considered part of the official Kizuki despite having an official number. It's rare that they are in fights usually spending their time doing research, but the sisters can use flying attacks, poison, flying petals sharp enough to be blades.

LOWER MOON ONE GIYUU:

Like the sisters, not much is known about where the most powerful Lower Moon originated from. Lord Kagaya brought him back and he's been tailing after his approval since. His is mostly an outcast by choice being very quiet and reserved but Shinobu likes talking to him and Mitsuri, Gyomei, and Rengoku go out of their way to be polite to him unlike Obanai and Sanemi who openly detest his presence. Yoriichi likes him well enough though. Both are quiet and don't talk too much. He finds Giyuu's character and presence similar to his own and thus likes him.

Giyuu's blood demon arts are water manipulation similar to Sanemi's wind manipulation but because of waters flexibility he's can do much more with it. A reason why Sanemi hates him and why Rengoku keeps his distance.

DEMON OBANAI:

Similar to the Butterfly sisters, Obanai doesn't really have an official number despite being considered a part of the Kizuki.  Is the one to forcibly turned Mitsuri. After meeting the girl and starting a friendship with her (at the time she was engaged and he respected that despite not liking her fiance) , he eventually fell in love with her and forcibly changed her after her deadbeat fiance dumped her later eating him in retaliation. Obanai himself was changed by the very snake demon that killed the rest of his human family although he really doesn't remember, however he has a general dislike for most women he can't explain. Usually he just lounges around waiting for prey to ambush.

His blood arts are unique. He's able to fling sharpened scales from his serpent tail, contrict his victims, poison them, shoot darts of venom from his mouth, and a series of ambush snake strikes to take down his prey 

LOWER MOON TWO RUI:

One of the ones I didn't swap out. In a similar fashion to Muzan, Kagaya gave RUI some of his blood and allowed him to remake his own family out of pity from his own mortal life. Not really much changes  except for who kills Rui later.

TAMAYO AND YUSHIRO:

Again nothing really changes with them too much. Kagaya originally was interested in Tamayo's abilities as a doctor nevermind the fact her family tragically was killed by his own demons. Tamayo was one of the rare demons who remembered her human life and saw right through Kagaya's twisted justice agenda. She was able to mentally break free from his hold after Yoriichi's encounter with Michikatsu and witnessing the strength and driving force the Moon Haishira had endured to withstand against him.

The story from there continues as normally.

That's it for now. Might do a second drabble with the SWAP Haishira if anyone's interested in hearing more about this.

[digitalagepulao]

Sun Wukong, the Monkey King: my design notes [!! click here for the full line-up !!] [click here for just the goodies on tumblr]

also titled, "I underestimated my file sizes" TAT Separate images and info below the read more, beware this is LONG <3

Stone Monkey: himbs baby, that is all <3 he's mostly based off the François Langur, but some of his anatomy and proportions lean more on the Gray Langur and Macaque side of things. His facial fur sort of forms a pentagon shape for the five elements, and I gave him ginger fur cus it's a common depiction for him but also baby langurs are very bright orange, and him not growing dark feels like an apt display of his more childish side, both good and bad. His nails are golden for a bit of a "hidden gem" from a stone egg. Also keeping the tail either in a spiral of C-curve when "engaged", and when droopy it has a feel of a heavy rope. Old World monkeys don't have prehensile tails, he can use it for balance and basic mobility but it's not a third hand for the sake of keeping his monkey-ness.

Handsome Monkey King: in one of the poems the monkeys are said to weave grass for mattresses, so I can see them coming up with a crown of woven grass and never-fading leaves and flowers for their king at the very least. His face skin is darker as an adult, but not much else changes overall. The fuzzy upper lips and sideburns are a feature of the species I'm basing him on and it felt like a good fit to add. I also love the forest langurs are so long-furred, makes for a good way to give him dimension but also, the linework style reminds me of old woodcut shorthands for fur. Added a jade coin for the symbolism, and it feels fitting that the king of such a miraculous mountain would have a treasure like that on him. Placcid chill eyes are imperative, dude's not had an existential crisis yet, he's straight up vibing.

Sun Wukong: during his odd-ten years away from home, he learned human manners so he can stand but, I can see him still needing to lean on his tail to keep up his balance here and there. As he reaches the Western Continent (India) and learns the Way under Patriarch Subodhi, he adopts proper clothes for an apprentice and eventually becomes a Rishi. He dons his facial paint from then on, and after he masters the Way, there's a brightness in his pupils to show his cultivated immortality. The beads are purple solely to stand out over the deluge of oranges that is his design.

Great Sage Equal to Heaven: really went all out on this one orz this is Wukong at his most egotistical and ambitious, and I wanted his fit to truly embody that. Took bits from Peking Opera costumes and common depiction elements of him, with some bit of extra for appropriate levels of flair, like the phoenix feather design. I wanted to go for a mountain pattern mail but I couldn't figure out how to draw it, so I winged a pattern. I,,, doubt I'll ever draw this armor as detailed as here, but I wanted it to feel a bit overwhelming to look at, while also seeming like it doesn't quite fit him perfectly like it's swallowing him. Bit of a "baby wearing their parent's shoes" kind of vibe; he's stupidly powerful but he doesn't have what it takes to sit on the throne of Heaven. Also I leaned his expression to how he might appear during the Havoc in Heaven and then his bet with the Buddha. Full unbrindled rage murder monkey <3

-- Ruyi Jingu Bang: can't quite move on without my notes on the golden-hooped cudgel, now can I? The secondary hoops are there for further design appeal and for my own visualization of how the staff changes size (the hoops move over the staff's length as if to push it outward or inward). The metal is dark damascus alloy, though the pattern can be omitted for ease of drawing. One hoop end depicts a dragon, the other a phoenix, and in the middle of the staff is the canon inscription as described in the books, in seal script. Glow is optional and mostly for aesthetics.

Sun Pilgrim: out of his stolen armor, Wukong seems to swim in his robes but in a less overwhelming way. Went for the simple fillet headband cus his face is busy enough as it is. I know he's skilled enough to skin a tiger into pretty decent squares, but after one too many battles, anything would get tattered. He wears red, teal, black and yellow, four of the five cardinal colors, while white (the West) is still missing. His red and black half-robe doesn't fully cover the yellow underneath, a call back to his golden armor; he tries to use his wisdom and teachings to fight back the impulses of his past, but they still shine through at times. I kept only the leg bangs for dynamic elements to better show movement, but also one could say he's got.... golden hoops (haha get it, like his cudgel?? :oD)

Victorious Fighting Buddha: leaned hard on the actual portrayals of the Buddha. Seeing that he's depicted with dark/blue skin, it felt appropriate to let the guy grow out of his baby ginger fur and into adult black, but a patch remains where the golden headband used to be. I didn't want to give him long hair so no bun, but instead, his fur has a sorta lotus-petals shape now rather than his single point. His face paint changes into a more domino-mask style, and his brow white line resembles a teardrop urna. I made the mail piece he holds longer to keep the flowy bits of his previous outfits, and I turned Ruyi Jingu Bang into the sword he wields.

Hello hi, this robbed me of three days of my life and I'd like to receive compensation x.x Anyway hope you enjoy this lad, I know I do! Also if you wanna send me asks about him pls feel welcome to, I'd love to chat about this bastard monkey (affectionate) (loving) (i`d die for him)

[navybrat817]

Send Me an Angel

Pairing: Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you're an angel. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, Dubcon/NonCon elements (you are responsible for your own media consumption) dirty talk, kidnapping, beginning stages of stockholm syndrome, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty 's I Spy Challenge. I've included all three prompts in some way. Happy to get back into the soft dark pool! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, Bucky edit by the incredible Nix, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass , and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was early morning when you woke up alone in Bucky's bed. You only knew that based on the time from the clock on the nightstand since he had blackout curtains. You groggily wiped at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more as you turned on the lamp. Caffeine would help if you had any.

Maybe you could convince him to bring you a drink if you asked nicely.

"Bucky?" you called out, your voice cracking as you began to sit up.

It took you a moment to remember that he wouldn't exactly hear you even if you yelled.

The familiar ache between your thighs stopped you from sitting up completely, the memory of the previous night imprinted in your mind. And every night since you went on your first date with the handsome bartender. While you had a feeling he'd be amazing in bed the moment you laid eyes on him, you underestimated his stamina.

Like the morning after.

You always felt a bit vulnerable when you showered, your guard down more than normal. It shouldn't have surprised you when Bucky joined you, but you still shrieked when he pressed you against the wall. You were sure you would've fallen if his firm grip hadn't kept you propped up.

"Round two and three weren't enough?" you teased as he traced the water droplets on your skin with his tongue.

"It'll never be enough," he answered, leaving a small bite on your collarbone. "I can't help myself."

"Bucky, I need to finish up and go," you moaned as he moved his hands to your ass, your traitorous body not putting up much of a fight.

"So perfect for me," he groaned against your neck, like he hadn't heard you. "You can take me again. I know you can. Just give me one more."

You did. You took all of him, just like he said you would. Like a good girl.

The sick thing was that part of you craved it.

Your heartbeat quickened at the sound of footsteps outside of the door. You learned that Bucky could be silent if he wished, so the deliberate sounds meant he wanted you to know he was there. It was considerate.

Or was it just a way to show that he was in control?

"Morning," Bucky said as he opened the door with a sheepish smile. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I wanted to surprise you."

You told yourself to smile back when he held up a small bouquet. Red camellias. The same flowers he gave you when he took you out to dinner. He even wore the same leather jacket he was wearing now.

How long ago had it been since he took you out?

You were losing track of the days.

"Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

His smile widened, pleased by your reaction. "I know it isn't a diamond necklace, but I thought you'd like them. They reminded me of our first date."

"I remember," you nodded.

You watched as he walked over to the nightstand and set the flowers down. He shrugged his jacket off a moment later and tossed it on the recliner in the corner. He liked to sit in it some days to read.

Or watch you.

Whatever particular mood he was in.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked as he sat on the bed beside you.

"Just fine," you smiled, bringing a finger up to trace the tattoo on his neck.

Bucky Barnes had to be one of the most handsome men to ever grace this earth. Well over six feet tall with a buff frame and a glare that could kill, he seemed more suited to be a bouncer than a bartender. The tattoos and nose piercing added to his appeal. But it was his icy blue eyes that nearly made you spill your drink when he handed it to you.

Thankfully you recovered enough to grab a seat on an empty stool and flirt with him.

You didn't know it would change everything.

"Keep touching me like that and I'll have to ruin you."

"We can't have that," you joked.

"Why not?" he asked, taking your hand before you could pull it away. He looked into your eyes as he brought it to his mouth. Instead of kissing the top of it, he turned and brushed his lips on the inside of your wrist. "Your heart is racing."

"That's what you do to me," you said truthfully.

Out of lust. Fear. Both.

"That's what you do to me, too," he said.

To prove his point, he placed your hand on his chest.

You knew it beat for you.

"Did I tell you that meeting you changed my life?" he asked.

"It did?" you replied, even though you already knew.

You searched his expression anyway when he smiled. When you spotted him that first night at the bar, his grin appeared forced when he helped other customers. It never quite reached his eyes. He told you over dinner that it was a show for others, a mask to hide how he really felt.

With you, he showed a genuine smile and softer side.

One you believed you could trust.

"I wasn't in a good place. It's hard to explain, but I felt like I was drifting through my life," he began, moving his hand to tuck the sheet around your body more. You weren't sure when you began to tremble, but of course he noticed. He didn't miss a thing. "I was actually close to quitting the bar and leaving town when you walked up and ordered a drink. I wanted to ask you out right away, but I didn't want to seem like a creep."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. You found excuses to go back to the bar more often and it still took him weeks to ask you out. You thought he was being a gentleman.

"I'm sorry you weren't in a good place," you said.

"Don't apologize. This path in life led me to you and I'll tell you more about it one day," he smiled, sliding his hand over the sheet until he stopped at your hip. "You know, girls have hit on me, even a few guys, but no one got my attention the way you did."

His insatiable nature told you as much.

"And your kindness. How you listened to me. Wanted to know me," he continued, a dreamy look taking over his features. "You showed me that angels exist."

Listening to Bucky was easy. He didn't brag about anything to try and impress you. When he spoke, you knew it came from the heart. Who wouldn't want to know him more?

Especially when he seemed so eager to know you?

"I'm not an angel," you stated.

You sucked in a breath when he gripped your chin. You didn't see him move. He was so quick. Always faster than you.

Stronger.

"You must be an angel because you saved me."

If I saved you, why am I damned?

"Isn't that what angels do? They save people, right?" he asked rhetorically. "Bring them joy? Hope? Love?"

"Love?" you whispered.

Is this love?

"Love," he smiled, releasing your chin. "An angel leading me straight to heaven. That's what it feels like when I'm inside you. Fucking paradise. My warm, wet paradise."

It stunned you enough to stay silent when he bent down to kiss your forehead, your walls clenching around nothing.

Why were you reacting to him?

"But I'm selfish," he admitted against your skin as a tear slid from the corner of your eye. "Because you're my angel and I can't share you with anyone else."

"So you still won't let me go?" you asked evenly.

With a sigh, he pushed himself and moved to the end of the bed. He carefully moved the sheet to expose your ankle and check the cuff. You weren't sure if he was inspecting to make sure you weren't injured or to make sure you hadn't tried to tamper with it.

Bucky convinced you to go back to bed after he had you in the shower that fateful morning. He even sweet talked you into letting him cuff you before he split you open on his cock. When you reminded him that you had to work, once you could talk again, he said he already took care of it.

You hadn't left his place since.

Maybe if you had been thinking with your head instead of your pussy, you wouldn't be his prisoner.

"You know I can't do that," he said above a whisper, tilting his head a fraction and covering your ankle again.

You didn't shrink back when his gaze settled on you, as much as you wanted to. You shouldn't have asked that. All things considered, he took care of you. The chain was long enough that you could reach the bathroom. He kept the place warm. There was plenty of food for you.

No weapons were within reach though. The lamp and clock were bolted to the table so you couldn't hit him with them. If he had neighbors, they didn't hear your cries for help. He promised he would always know if you were in danger since he had cameras set up.

That was why it took him weeks to ask you out.

He was preparing for you.

Was anyone even looking for you?

"But Bucky-"

"Don't. You're not leaving me," he snapped, pulling away the sheet he had carefully tucked around you moments ago. "This is your home now and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy."

Except give you your freedom.

What happened to you, Bucky? What demons plagued you so much that you think you have to keep me here?

"I'm sorry," you said immediately as his eyes raked over your naked body.

"You don't even like the flowers, do you?" he asked in a small voice.

"I love the flowers. Really," you promised. A bright spot in a dark place. "Maybe we can even recreate our date right here at home. What do you think?"

He considered your words as you gave him a hopeful smile. He hadn't hurt you and you wanted to keep it that way. If he was happy, you could be happy.

Wait. Why did you just think that?

"We can," he agreed in a husky tone as he stood up and unbuckled his belt. "But for now, let's recreate the end of our date. I need to make my angel feel good."

You blinked away tears as you opened your legs without being told. If you really were an angel, why couldn't you fly away? Why did you let him clip your wings?

And why weren't you fighting harder to get out of the cage he put you in?

Poor thing. Bucky will take care of you, right? Maybe we'll see down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sourlemonsprout]

𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Seth, Alphonse, and Boo play Just Dance.

Word Count: 871

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It was a bit of an understatement to say that Seth was excited when Sugar invited him over for game night at their place. It had been ages since he'd sat down and played any sort of video or board game. When Seth arrived at the house, he was greeted by Alphonse who answered the door. Al informed him that Sugar was still busy in the kitchen, but they should be done shortly. As he entered the warm house, Seth could smell the sweet aroma of baked goods and spices that wafted around the air.

"Heya Seth! Make yourself at home!" a small voice called out from the kitchen.

"Oh, wow Sugar, you really went all out, didn't you?" Seth said stepping into the living room, noticing the makeshift bar area they’d set up next to a platter of what looked like mini tapas. He looked up to see Sugar across the house, carefully carrying a deep dished tray.

"You betcha, and desserts are in the oven. I made little crème brûlés for later!" They beamed, taking off apron her and joining the boys in the living area.

Al met them with a drink and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her closer, "What should we do first?" he asked looking between the two.

"Well let's see, I have a regular deck of cards, Clue, Spot It, Uno, Life, Apples to Apples, and Monopoly." Sugar rattled off.

"I'm sure as hell not playing Monopoly with Seth," Al laughed.

"Yeah, I think the last time we played that game things almost ended in a fistfight." Seth snorted.

He leaned over and loudly whispered, "It's cause that pink-haired boy of yours is a sore loser Sugar."

"Ugh, am not," Al smirked, rolling his eyes.

"ok ok fine," Sugar laughed.

"What about Uno? Or will that start a fight too?" They questioned.

"No that should be fine" the boys agreed.

After a few rounds of drinks, food, and some Uno, Sugar pulled the tray out of the oven and placed the custard-filled ramekins in the fridge to chill. On their way back, an idea shot into their head. They suggested that they boot up the Switch and play some Just Dance.

"Sure thing, I was gettin' tired of beatin' you two at this card game anyway," Seth boasted.

"Ok ok, calm down there 'hot shot'," Al said dumping his hand of cards in the middle of the table.

"Let's see if you can keep up at this game." He said with a smirk as he stood up to stretch.

Seth had never played Just Dance before, and it was fair to say that dancing was not his forte. But why ruin all the fun? The other two seemed excited, so he stood up and helped move the coffee table full of Uno cards off to the side while Sugar and Al set up.

Seth had greatly underestimated how much of a workout this was going to be. After the first few songs, he was feeling the heat and had to take his jacket off. Nevertheless, he was having fun, and it was clear that Al and his Boo were in their element.

"Don't Stop Me Now " was the straw that broke the camel's back. Seth, exhausted and embarrassingly sweaty, retired to the couch. He continued to watch as the couple in front of him continued to kill it song after song.

How the hell are they able to play this long? He thought with a small chuckle

"HA, MEGASTAR! TAKE THAT BOO." Alphonse yelled triumphantly throwing his hands up in the air.

"Nice to see you catching up after such a long losing streak," they replied smugly, jabbing at his side playfully.

"I promise that won't last long, prepare to say goodbye to your crown after this one." They said, readying up the next song.

Before the song even started, Sugar was posed and ready, Al following not too far behind once the characters fazed onto the screen.

Seth's eyebrows furrowed as Sugar effortlessly struck a "perfect" on every move while Al struggled to regain his lead.

"Uhh Sugar… how often do you play this game?" he laughed. With a quick jump and spin, they were facing Seth. He sat up in his seat a little more, shocked (and honestly a little concerned) as he watched the screen while Sugar continued to hit every move on the mark.

"There's a solid chance you could beat me in just about any other video game, but Just Dance is my shit. I can't tell you how many of these I have memorized!" They smiled sweetly, striking a golden "YEAH" pose, before jumping back around to finish off the song as normal.

"It's not fair, you had that song completely memorized," Al complained as he plopped onto the couch next to Seth.

"Alright alright you two, haven't those crème brulés chilled long enough? I think it's time for dessert!" Seth said eagerly.

"Oh yeah! I wanna burn the sugar on the top of mine!" Al said scrambling for the blowtorch on the kitchen counter.

"Ugh we better go watch him before he sets something on fire," Sugar smiled as they followed Alphonse into the kitchen.

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The End <3

[froginninjago]

I know we always talk about the influence of Kai's element on his emotions and general demeanor, but I think we need to acknowledge the other ninjas as well.

Yeah, the guy with fire is hot-headed, we all saw that coming. But there's also the fact that he's an older brother, and seen to embrace the role. It's easy to forget that fire is necessary for life as well as destruction.

The earth elemental is like a rock. He's usually calm and controlled. But also, when he does get mad? It isn't small. He holds grudges, and doesn't seem to let go of them easily. He's more stubborn than we give him credit for.

I have to say it: The ice guy is cool. He's neutral in most situations, and holds strong values. But also, the things he do take time, like ice. Of course, unlike actual ice, he can't wait centuries to crack one large rock. But at the same time, he does. Through careful planning and considering all the factors, he chips away at everything slowly so you don't realize everything that's happened until it's full force.

Talkative, energetic, sporadic lightning guy, I know. But also: lightning guy that's often underestimated, like actual lightning. A lot of people don't think about lightning as being as destructive as fire or other natural disasters, but that's just because it's so rare that it actually hits full force. He's just the same, he may attack or do things often enough people are careful, but he's incredibly underestimated.

Girl who controls the water having constantly changing emotions, like the tides? Sounds just about right. But also: the way that she's shown as a kind force, like how water is necessary for life. But on the same coin, the immense power she holds and just doesn't unleash often, because she knows the destruction it would cause. She may have moods that change like the tides, but the tides still cause massive waves.

And we don't talk enough about the influence of what seems to be the master of life. He may be called the master of energy or power, but those are so all-encompassing you may as well call them life. But it's the way that he's introduced as someone wild and uncontrollable, incredibly hard to work with. Until you find the trick. Then he's one of the strongest forces you have.