#they were only gone for four days

[bibannana]

(Based on real events in my life. As we can tell my brother has great ideas.)

Pickup *laying on his bunk*: I feel sick.

Coy *checking his temperature*: Are you too warm? Do you have stomach cramps?

Pickup *suffering*: Yes. Help me vode.

Kix *concerned*: What have you been eating while we were away Pickup?

Pickup *hesitates*: Uhhhh-

Echo *butts in*: He ate banana bread.

Coy *raises and eyebrow*: That doesn't explain why-

Fives *proud look*: Six and a half loaves of banana bread!

Kix *blinks*: Oh yeah, that will do it.

Coy *steps back*: Well I can't help your stupidity Pickup, think you just have to suffer through this one.

Rex *resigned, accepting sigh*

[sysig]

Handplates and haircut and more Handplates after that (Patreon)

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

Do you think there’s w reason shanks doesn’t want to met luffy or does he actually believe in that stupid promise from years ago 😭 And why is he always so melancholic

the thing about shanks is that he prioritizes other peoples’ desires over his own. to an unhealthy extent. like, to the extent that he may have sacrificed his own dreams in order to fulfill a final request from his captain.

so, if luffy says the next time he sees shanks, he’s going to be the captain of his own crew, and a crew much better than shanks’ at that? shanks will do whatever he can to make that happen, even if all he can do is delay their next meeting.

if oden says he doesn’t want shanks involved in saving wano, shanks will stay uninvolved. once wano’s been saved, though, he’s free to interfere—if just to keep the navy from interfering.

if buggy leaves, saying they’ll be enemies the next time they see each other… well, probably best not to see each other, then, if shanks doesn’t want to treat buggy as an enemy.

i think it’s pretty clear shanks doesn’t want to do any of this. he wants to see luffy, he wants to see buggy, he wants to help wano and see momo and hiyori… but what he wants doesn’t matter to him.

[kimtaegis]

hate to say it but july kinda sucked

[mycological-mariner]

God you ever cant remember whether or not you took a medication? On the one hand you don’t wanna flood your system if you DID, but on the other you really don’t wanna fuck around and find out what happens if you didn’t.

[crescentmp3]

went outside today! was quite fun ^^

[zukkaoru]

maslow's hierarchy of needs pyramid except every level just says "my roommate to stop watching tv"

[krafterwrites-alt]

I'm getting really sick of my family eating all the food that I like

[pequestrian]

Story below cut. TW: domestic abuse

&lt;<; Previously

            After unpacking his truck alone, Jake waited patiently for Aleisha to exit her room. It wasn’t his place to ridicule her for sleeping in or grieving on her own, especially since there weren’t any chores to do around the house. At least, no chores that he knew of.

            While he waited, Jake made himself at home in the living room. The couch was faded and worn, but not tattered and broken. He found the remote on a side table next to the lone rocking chair and acquainted himself with the small selection of cable channels. He wasn’t one for watching television, but he had a microscopic list of things to do with his free time as he waited for Aleisha.

            The first time he needed to eat, he pillaged the kitchen in search of something edible. He found a few cans and boxes of things with expiration dates that suggested its lack of popularity within the household. The excessive health benefits the food promised to provide screamed that they were in an old person’s house, even if it did suddenly belong to Aleisha.

            In need of some sustenance from this century, he left to explore the nearest town he could find for food. Frontier turned out to be a very, very tiny town, especially compared to East Lansing up by State. Many of the buildings, even on the main street, which Aleisha happened to share with the town, were decaying and falling apart. Where windows weren’t boarded up, junk spilled out of buildings like innards from a corpse. Based on the outlook of the town, Jake was ready to pull out a map and hike his way northward to Hillsdale. He knew Hillsdale would have choice places to shop. You couldn’t have a college town without shopping, after all.

            One building promised to have something inside. Jake pulled up and made sure to lock both his doors twice, just in case. He couldn’t take too many chances, discomforted by the ramshackle buildings around him, falling apart at the seams. When Jake crossed the dusty dirt patch, despite the snow and ice, which passed for a parking lot and entered the convenience store, his opinion of the place didn’t get any better. The door handle felt greasy, and even the chime of the bell to announce his entry had a dismal tune. Jake could have been imagining things, but his skin felt like it was crawling along the back of his neck and down his spine.

            The man at the counter didn’t look up at Jake’s entry. He appeared to be reading from a book. He was far from clean shaven, sporting a beard that was twice the length of Jake’s hair. It twisted on itself, obvious teased by his fingers as the words from the book tickled his brain. Jake left the man a wide berth as he explored the layout of the shop.

            The old, grimy wooden floor creaked under Jake’s feet as he moved on. At some places, Jake could swear that it bowed underneath his weight. His horse was stronger than this building, and that was saying something. From then on, Jake tread with caution, avoiding the apparent dips in the floor, and stepping on what he hoped were strong cross beams underneath.

            The quality of the food within the store seemed to match the theme of the town as well. Jake picked a package of Oreos off of the dusty bottom shelf and saw the expiration date was nearer his birthday than the current date. He hastily replaced the package, dusting his fingers off on his pants. While his jeans were far from clean, they felt much better to Jake than the entire atmosphere.

            When Jake approached the coolers, he noticed that it looked a lot cleaner inside, and the beer much fresher. He snorted softly to himself. With the state the town was in, what else did the occupants have to do?

            Eventually, Jake made his way to the very small selection of food that wouldn’t cause diabetes in a day. He found some bread, lunch meat, cheeses, and not a whole lot else. The shop had some beef jerky, but even that didn’t look right to Jake. It looked like it had been packed in someone’s garage.

            Jake approached the counter, and the attendant put his book down in such an irritated manner that Jake figured he didn’t even want his business. Chewing on what Jake hoped was his tongue, he rung Jake up with slow, careful movements. He didn’t appear to be able to move his fingers well. Totaling everything up, he drolled out Jake’s balance.

            Jake carefully handed over a couple bills, avoiding touching the teller. He looked greasy enough to pass for a garage mechanic, piecing together old car parts to make the ultimate hick mode of transportation. With slow, less than deliberate movements, the man stuffed the bills into the register, glanced up at the return total, and fished it clumsily out of the drawer. He had to recount the change in his hand, even though he only had three coins to return. Jake cringed when he swung his hand over and dropped the one bill and change into his hand, and he packed up his purchase before the man had a chance to ask if he’d like a bag.

            Fumbling with his keys in his hand, balancing his meager findings for food, Jake hurriedly unlocked the driver side door to his truck and let himself in. Already, within the safety of his vehicle, he could breathe freely. The town gave him the heebie jeebies. No matter how long he stayed with Aleisha, he would never revisit Frontier.

            As days passed, Jake’s requirement to stay busy overrode his patience. It wasn’t that he was used to getting things his way, he just didn’t like sitting idle when there were things to do. Deciding that Aleisha needed some time for herself, he set himself to worrying about the state of her property.

            Jake began by searching the grounds for her grandfather’s tools. His first priority was to ensure the horses were safe within their own stalls when he brought them down. Any protruding nails, splintered boards, worn and uneven flooring, and missing kick boards would need to be taken care of immediately. His next order of business was to work on one or two of the paddocks so that he could let the horses out. Jake knew Aleisha preferred Days outside rather than cooped up in a stall. With his thick Connemara coat, it made sense. She didn’t choose pasture board out of lack of funds, for there were cheaper options around Lansing than James’s farm. Once Jake brought the horses onto the farm, he’d walk one of the larger pastures.

            Jake’s search began in the barn. He searched the tack room at the back of the barn. It wasn’t connected to power anymore, despite the wired lights in the ceiling. It was another project to add to his list as he helped Aleisha out. With the help of a strong flashlight beam, Jake determined that Aleisha’s grandpa did not keep his tools in the tack room.

            He next searched the house, guiltily riffling through places he thought could be logical resting places for tools. The house didn’t have a lot of space to begin with, and his rummaging abruptly ended.

            If Aleisha’s grandparents had any tools, which had to be the case on a working farm, they had to live in the garage. That was locked. Aleisha hadn’t made a move to hide her keys from Jake before she disappeared into the abyss that was her bedroom. She hadn’t made a secret of where she kept them, but left them exactly where she threw them down when they first entered the house. Jake grabbed them before heading outside.

            The garage was detached from the house, and almost twice the side. Three car doors and a single person door decorated the front. Jake found the correct key for the people door with ease, and let himself in. Finding the light switch, Jake was happy to see that the power worked. One bulb near the back flashed bright and burnt out upon the flick of the switch, but he still had enough illumination to see by.

            The building was fairly cluttered with small and large machinery, but Jake could still navigate through everything to take a look around. Aleisha’s grandfather kept his riding lawn tractor, a second larger tractor, and a myriad of attachments inside the garage. He had a table saw, a big air compressor, and a couple work benches from a quick look around. If Jake really felt like snooping, he would find all sorts of goodies. This garage was a place of business.

            Jake made his way over to one work bench, looking around and collecting the tools that he would need, and possibly need, for the projects ahead of him. Aleisha’s grandfather wasn’t a particularly orderly man, but Jake was able to discern a logical pattern easily enough. Finding the correct nails proved to be the hardest part of the hunt. Placing everything in a five gallon bucket for ease, Jake returned to the barn.

            Opening the stall windows for better lighting, Jake set to work. He began by taking off a busted kick board from the first stall, replacing it with a spare piece of wood stacked on the other side of the barn. Jake didn’t have a lot of supplies to start out with, but he figured what was laying around the barn would be enough to bring the horses down.

            Kneeling down on the dirt floor, using his knee to hold the new board in place, Jake reached around to grab the hammer. He touched something furry rather than cold and hard. “What the –” Jake spat. Startled, Jake nearly dropped the board on his toe, until he realized the creature meant him no harm.

            Three cats materialized around the stall, all staring intently at Jake working inside. The nearest was a very light calico with fairly dull amber eyes. The second cat was marked, like it had points on its face. The third hardly existed, its black coat melding with the deep shadows of the dimly lit barn, but its green eyes eerily giving away its presence. All three cats were very fluffy, and very friendly.

            Tentatively, Jake held out a hand to the calico cat, whom immediately pressed its head into his palm. A loud, uneven purr rumbled from its chest. The calico’s happiness sparked the attention of the pointed one, and it joined in on rubbing against Jake. Jake didn’t have much of a choice but to give them attention. Even when he tried to turn back to his work, the cats remained persistent. He couldn’t persuade them to get their furry, purring bodies out of the way. Managing to nudge one to the side to grab the hammer and a small handful of nails, he twisted to find a different cat firmly planted in his lap, the feather duster of a tail whacking him repeatedly in the face. Around the obstacle, Jake couldn’t get a hold of the board and nail it into place.

            Maybe they needed food. Jake didn’t know how long it had been until the cats had eaten. Judging by the level of their friendliness, they required sustenance from this barn specifically. He rose to his feet, the cats swirling about his feet like a miniature storm. The black cat began letting out short, halted meows. It didn’t sound like it could fully meow, but it still wanted something of Jake.

            Again, Jake began riffling through the barn, opening bins and tins, on the hunt for cat food. All the while, the cats ran about his feet frantically, nearly tripping him on more than one occasion. Coming up incredibly empty-handed, Jake turned his search back to the garage. The cats continued their attack outside, meowing and weaving around and about his feet without taking head of their safety. Soon, defeated, Jake returned to his work on the stalls without feeding them, his effectiveness slashed by the cats’ interference. Now that the cats knew of Jake’s presence, they would not leave him alone.

            Before long, Jake finished up the two stalls the horses would need, two of the paddocks, and two of the three pastures. Jake uncovered more lumber as he worked in the rafters of the old barn to replace what was broken. The fencing was taken care of with simple strands of wire or large staples. Jake appreciated the work as his voicebox filled with messages from his father, and the apprehension of returning back to his home expanded exponentially. 

            Returning, unfortunately, was unavoidable.

            Jake left for Lansing early one day, tensing for the confrontation, but set on returning to Hillsdale with both ponies in tow. He had long enough to get out of his truck when James marched out of the nearest barn.

            “Where have you been?” James demanded in a roar.

            Jake tucked the keys into his coat pocket, securing them. “I’ve been helping Aleisha,” he said unwaveringly. His voice remained strong, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his eyes.

            “You haven’t done chores in days!”

            “I told you,” Jake grunted, “that might be a possibility.” Despite himself, he added glibly, “They got covered?”

            “Of course they got covered!” James boomed. “You know what happens when we miss their schedule.”

            “Uh-huh,” Jake mumbled. He locked his eyes on James’s hands, still safely far away from Jake. James’s anger was palpable, growing the longer Jake remained passive. “But the fact remains that they got covered.” Before one of those hands could connect, Jake sidestepped away and power walked over to the house. He even reached the door and made it through before James caught up with him. The storm door shut naturally behind him, swinging sharply closed in James’s face.

            “Get back here boy!” James demanded, nearly ripping the door from its hinges. He stomped threateningly behind Jake as Jake navigated the house to his room, catching up with him in the doorway. He grabbed him by the collar of his coat, shoving him into the frame. “I was talkin’ to you!”

            Jake frowned, still avoiding his father’s eyes, and struggled to breathe against the wood pressed into his back.

            “You ain’t to leave an’ have me cover your chores, Jacob! Chasin’ tail ain’t gonna get you anywhere. Your job is here.”

            Jake tried to wiggle out of James’s grip to no avail. “I ain’t chasin’ tail,” he said with disgust. “Leave off.” Jake brought up both arms to break James’s hold on him, succeeding enough to withdraw into his room. “I do the work of at least three men in your business and don’t ask for wages. Only food and board. I do work for others on the side throughout seasons to raise enough money to pay entirely for Tick Tock an’ dressage. That’s not cheap. Of course, you would know that. For what’s probably the first time since I can remember, I tell you I need some personal tie, and you’re gonna get mad at me?” Jake could almost see the steam rising from James’s ears, beat red to match his face. “I don’t want to sound like one of those whiney asshole kids, but I’m twenty-four. Don’t you think it’s time I showed interest in a little bit of my own life?”

            James didn’t say anything or move from his spot where he stood. His breathing came hard and uneven, and Jake swore that he saw a debate in his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time James beat him around the house over something stupid, but this situation was far from stupid. In the first time in his life, Jake showed interest in something outside of the Fuller’s Estates. He wouldn’t forever be a full-time stable hand, groom, trainer, handy man, and eventually heir to the business and property.

            “Get out,” James finally said. His voice came low and calm, more dangerous than his bellowing before. “Pack your bags an’ get out.”

            “I don’t have any bags to pack,” Jake shot back much too quickly for his brain to process.

            “Don’t come back,” James continued. “Go live your other life. Hope the pussy’s worth it.”

            “I said I have some personal things to work out!” Jake shouted. He stepped forward, his own temper rising. “You think that means I have some secret life behind your back, on top of everything I just listed?”

            There was the contact Jake expected. James swung his hand around and backhanded Jake as hard as he could muster across the face, throwing him off balance. He squared himself against his son, livid. Jake rose to his full height again, feeling his lip split, but didn’t give his father the benefit of seeing him react. This would be his last beating.

            “You better hope those personal issues give you a place to live. I want that stupid pony out of my barn today. Your tack, too.” He turned around, striking out with his fist to the wall. Without another word, he retraced his steps back out the door.

            Jake slumped against his bed. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he breathed. The confrontation was much better than he’d expected, but he never thought he’d get thrown out. Suddenly Aleisha was his only option. He hoped that he could convince her to continue being so hospitable, even if it had only been accidental thus far.

            “Shit,” he whispered, regaining his composure. He returned to the doorway and flicked on the light to his room. He didn’t have a whole lot for possessions, but his trip to grab Aleisha’s horse suddenly got a lot more complicated.

            Marie, Jake’s mother, showed up as Jake worked on emptying his drawers. She knocked lightly on the doorframe. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

            “’S fine,” Jake mumbled.

            “What was that about?”

            “I got kicked out,” Jake told her. He could feel her searching his posture and movements, but he couldn’t face her, either.

            “I can go talk to him –” Marie started.

            Jake stopped mid-motion and turned. “No,” he said firmly. “Don’t even think of doin’ that for me. I’ve got a back-up plan and I don’t need you gettin’ hurt. He’s blown his cap. Don’t make it worse.”

            Marie stayed silent and scanned his room. “Where are you going?”

            Jake returned to pulling his drawers clears to stack onto his bed. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the clothes after that. He didn’t have a lot, but as he told his father, he didn’t have any bags, either. “I’ll be staying with Aleisha until she kicks me out, too.”

            “Aleisha? You have a girlfriend?”

            “She’s not my girlfriend,” Jake assured her. “She’s a boarder here. Was a boarder here. Her grandfather died and I’m helping her sort things out. I came home for a change of clothes and her horse, but ….” He sighed. “Well, I guess I’m taking a little more than that.” With his last stack of pants in hand, he faced his mother again. “You should probably leave me. Before he gets mad at you, too.”

            “But Jake –”

            “No, really, Mom. I’ve got it all under control. I’ll be fine.” He set down his pants and walked up to her, arms out. “I love you.”

            Marie took Jake in her arms, pulling him tight and close. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Jake.”

            “I will. Please, don’t worry about me.”

            “I’m you mother,” she said. “I’ll always worry about you.”

            Jake released her and took his show clothes off the hangers. “Can I take one of the pillow cases?” he asked. “To carry this in?”

            Marie’s eyes grew wet and she nodded. “Of course. You’ll stay in touch, right?”

            Jake gently pulled the pillow case off his pillow and stared loading up the clothes. “I don’t know, Mom.” He gathered up the full pillow case and his show clothes in his arms. “I need to get going. I still need to hook up the trailer to my truck and load up two horses without Dad getting worse before I go. Last thing I need is him followin’ me all around.”

            “Be careful,” she said.

            “I will, Mom. I promise.”

            He shuffled past her, down the hallway, and out of the house. James was nowhere in sight as he walked across the driveway to load his truck with his clothes. Climbing in again, he started it up to line it up with the horse trailer. This particular trailer was a touch smaller than what his father preferred to use, but since both Tick Tock and Days were smaller horses, Jake figured he could get away with taking the trailer for at least a little while.

            After hooking up the hitch, Jake did a complete assessment of his surroundings. Somehow, his father remained absent. While Jake would have loved to keep his truck running and warm for a quick getaway, he didn’t trust his father to not swipe the keys and keep them from him. Despite him saying that he wanted Jake gone, Jake had a feeling that if he stayed around much longer, he and his mother would be in for the worst of James’s wrath yet.

            Tucking his truck keys back in his pocket, double-checking that his doors were locked, Jake wandered through the nearest barn where Tick Tock was stalled. The gelding poked his nose into the aisle at Jake’s footsteps. Jake couldn’t tell if he recognized Jake’s gait specifically, or if he was alert enough to pay attention to everyone going in and out of the barn. Ignoring his friend, Jake ducked into the tack room to gather his things. He had a couple saddles, saddle pads, a bridal, some training instruments, and Tick Tock’s lightly worn blanket. The grooming tools and feed all belonged to his father and Jake didn’t feel comfortable taking it.

            Taking a couple trips back and forth, Jake loaded all of his things into his truck bed as quickly as he could. He had nowhere else to fit it. Once he had everything of his packed, he went searching for Aleisha’s.  Aleisha didn’t keep Days stall boarded, but he knew she had some items stored in one of the barns. Finding anything beyond his halter would probably have to wait until the day she could pick her car up.

            Chancing a guess at one of the halters, Jake retreated back to Tick Tock. He knew Tick Tock. He knew that he would load and stay without a problem. Days was a mystery. Again, Tick Tock stuck his nose through the bars of his tall when Jake approached.

            “Hey buddy,” Jake called softly to his horse. “How’re you?”

            Tick Tock retracted his nose from the door so that Jake could open it and join him in his stall, halter in hand.

            “We’re going to go on a road trip, but won’t be coming back here. You’re gonna have a new home, okay?”

            Tick Tock lowered his head for Jake to slip his halter over his nose and ears. As Jake buckled it up, he let out a long snort.

            “It’s not the prettiest barn down there, but it just needs a little help. If Aleisha lets us stay. So you put on your best act and impress her, okay?”

            Jake wasn’t sure if it was because of his quicker pace than normal, or his heightened fear of his father approaching him again, but Tick Tock’s hooves sounded remarkably loud against the concrete floor of the barn. They sounded as loud outside the barns on the gravel as well. In a hurried state, Jake threw the lead rope over Tick Tock’s back and asked him to load. Within seconds, Tick Tock was in the trailer, waiting for caramels. Jake administered them from the other side of the trailer while securing him in for the trip. Next came Days.

           The trek out to the pasture where Snow Day Today and Remember My Wish was a fairly long one. “Days!” Jake called. The horse twitched his ear at him, but didn’t otherwise move. Wish picked his head up from the grazing spot pawed from the snow, and then promptly lowered it again. Jake knew that Aleisha could get Days to canter right up to her, but he was obviously not her.

          Opening the gate, the halter and lead rope for Days slung over his shoulder, he picked his way through the field to get to the horses. Wish spun and found a new patch of snow to disturb for greens. Days finally acknowledged Jake with a great, sniffing muzzle. Jake almost ran into the plush flesh of his lips. “Oh hi!” he called, taking a step backwards. “We’re going to go on a little trip, buddy.” Days followed him, getting as close as possible to Jake’s face without knocking him over. Every deep breath pushed moisture into Jake’s face. “Thanks,” Jake said ungraciously. Seemingly satisfied, Days lowered his face and pushed at Jake’s pockets, effectively frisking him. “God,” Jake admonished. He held up the halter. “I really don’t have time for this.”

          Days knew the sight of the halter and what it meant. Whatever work Aleisha did do with her horse appeared to have paid off. Jake had him haltered up and out of the field within moments. Loading him up was almost as easy. He wasn’t as obedient as Tick Tock and didn’t load himself, but it was close enough. Following Jake into the trailer was like following him anywhere else.

          As soon as he was inside and immobile, Days starting frisking Jake for treats again. “Okay, okay!” Jake cried, pulling a caramel out of his pocket. He handed it over to the horse, whom was very fond of slobbering things. “Here you go!” Tick Tock gave Jake a side eye as he watched one of his favorite caramels disappear into the mouth of another horse.

            Jake threw the each a couple flakes of hay, checked the trailer over for safety issues, and started his truck up again to leave. As he pushed the truck into drive, he saw his father standing in the doorway of the house. When he went back inside, Jake didn’t know. Nor did he care. Instead, he was on his way to what was hopefully his new, albeit temporary, home.

            Jake used the rest of the day to unload the horses, pick up a ridiculously priced bale of hay from a local farm store, and then unwind.

            The following morning, Jake finally decided to confront Aleisha. He knocked to no avail. Holding in a breath, he tried the door to find it unlocked. Swinging it open, he stepped inside. He room was relatively plain. The few accents it had were ore frilly and girly than he expected from Aleisha, but that was enough to show him how little he knew about this girl. “Aleisha!” he called. He strode over to the window beside her bed and flung the dressings open. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake; he needed her to keep him around.

            Murky light from the permanently overcast winter sky permeated the room. Aleisha groaned from under the covers. Jake turned to face the haphazard clump. “Nope you’re done. I appreciate this is a hard hit, but I can’t let you mope in here forever.”

            “Jacob?”

            “Jake,” he corrected. “Get up. Days needs to see you.”

            “Days?” Aleisha grumbled.

            “Are you decent?” Without waiting for an answer, Jake grabbed the covers and pulled them away. She appeared to be wearing the same clothes she had when they first arrived at the house. Of course, Jake didn’t have a lot to ridicule her on, considering he only had the one set of clothes until the day before. At least she was clothed. Jake didn’t need to see anything more. “C’mon. You’ll feel better moving around. Trust me.”

            “Why are you still here?” Aleisha asked drowsily. She rolled over, squinting heavily at his face.

            Jake’s heart caught in his throat. He was about to be homeless. “I still ned to bring you back to my dad’s farm to get your car,” Jake replied smoothly. He’d bring up his homelessness problem at a later time. Right now, he couldn’t risk to anger her. She didn’t move. Her legs faced away from him, her torso twisted so that she could look him in the face. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the winter light from outside.

            Jake sighed and sat down on the bed beside her. “Look, I know I don’t have any right to tell you what to do. I just –” He cut off quickly when she rolled over and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his leg. Her body shook ever so slightly, like she was having a difficult time breathing. Feeling awkward, Jake reached around and rubbed her on the back between her shoulders. It took him a minute to realize she was crying. He allowed her the emotional release, unsure of what else he should do.

            After a couple minutes, Aleisha pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and wet, and her cheeks carried the pattern of his jeans. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. She sat upright with effort, putting a little more distance between the two of them. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I’ve been such a terrible host.

            “Actually,” Jake started, uncertain. He swallowed. “I got kicked out of my father’s house….”

            “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Aleisha gushed.

            Jake looked away. “Might turn out to be a blessing in the long run.” He felt like he was intruding, more and more.

            “What happened?” Aleisha asked quietly.

            “I didn’t come home for chores the day I brought you here,” Jake told her truthfully. “Or … until yesterday. Look, I –” He felt like a beggar.

            Aleisha forced a smile on to her face. She was pushing past her pain for him? “I told you, you’re welcome to stay here. I’m afraid it’s all I can do, though.”

            “Tick Tock?” Jake asked. “I’ll pay for everything, of course.” He just needed permission.

            “Is he still over there?”

            “No,” Jake answered quietly.

            “Here?”

            More quietly: “Yes.”

            “Good.” She extracted herself from her delicate state to quickly, Jake almost felt like he should have bothered her sooner.

            “Days, too. I kinda stole his trailer.”

            “So long as he doesn’t hunt you down and trespass here, that’s your business. You and your dad didn’t get along?” She hugged her knees, physically holding herself together. Maybe she was only putting up a mask for her state. She appeared to be brightening up quickly, but she still wasn’t completely here.

            Jake scanned her room, looking for something else to focus on. The decorations around the room looked too young for Aleisha. “No, not really.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            Jake immediately looked back to her. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He stood up from the side of the bed, turning to offer her his hand. Aleisha stared at it for a moment before unwrapping her arms from around her legs to take it. She swung her legs around so her feet were inches from the floor, and she used his support to help her stand up.

            “Breakfast? I can make, um, toast.”

            Aleisha leaned her head against his shoulder. Whatever barriers she had erected between the two of them from placing him as a faraway idol quickly dissipated. Jake would rather her treat him as an equal than a superior anyway. He was glad that she didn’t take his intrusion as a problem, at the very least. He needed to make sure he didn’t cross any lines. He was certain he was toeing them before this interaction.

            “Is there any milk?” Aleisha asked. “I wouldn’t mind a plain bowl of cereal.”She followed him, refusing to let go, through the house to get to the kitchen.

            “Uh, yeah. I bought some a couple days ago, so it’s still good.”

            “You know how grandparents have a knack for finding food that you’ve never seen before in your life? Either they make it or it’s some off brand hidden in the dark depths of the grocery store?”

            Jake couldn’t say he knew what she was talking about, but the question turned out to be rhetorical.

            “My grandma was great at that, especially with cereal. Eating it will be like returning home.” The thought brought another wave of grief, so she buried her face back in his shoulder.

            Jake delicately lead her to the counter nearest the refrigerator, making sure she would stand on her own before gathering the things she would need for her bowl of cereal. He’d gotten fairly good at navigating the kitchen while she barricaded herelf in the room. He set a bowl and spoon next to her, and then moved to open the fridge door in one smooth movement. Taking out the milk, he set it down next to the arrangement of dishes. Aleisha grabbed the cereal. Her grandmother had it stored in a tall transparent tub above the fridge with no indication of what was inside.

            “I’m sorry I left you all alone the past couple days,” she apologized after she settled down to eat.

            Jake waved his hand. Her couple of days was a little off base, but he didn’t mind the alone time. “Don’t worry about it. I managed to get a few things done while you were in your room. I’ll take you out to see once you’ve finished your breakfast.”

            “Aren’t you going to eat?” Aleisha asked. She suddenly looked very concerned over his lack of food.

            “Already had a little somethin’ before I woke you up,” Jake assured her.

            “I wasn’t really asleep,” Aleisha admitted. “I don’t now if I’ve really slept the entire time we’ve been here. I’ve felt so tired and depressed, but I’ve only had fitful naps. I usually just end up laying there, eyes open or closed, day dreaming or something.”

            “All the more reason you need to get moving,” Jake said. “You have a life ahead of yourself. Honor your grandparents by living it.”

            Aleisha cracked a small smile. “Hai, sensei Jacob Fuller.”

            “Finish up,” Jake encouraged with a roll of his eye. “There are animals in that barn that really want to see you.”

            “Animals?” Aleisha echoed.

            “Days and those blasted cats. Can’t get anything done with those fuzzy rags prowlin’ about.” Even after Jake spent money on food for them, they continued to follow him around the barnyard.

            “How many?” Aleisha asked. She sounded excited.

            “Three.”

            She gave an unconscious shrug, a little disappointment curbing her excitement. “What colors?”

            “One black, one most white with colored points, and a calico.”

            “Aww, my babies. That’s Marble and Lily for sure. The black could be a couple different cats,” Aleisha told him. “There used to be a couple more hanging around, but I bet you would have seen them around with those three if they were still here.” She drank the milk from the bowl and brought it over to the sink. “So what kind of things did you get done?”

            Jake grabbed her coat from beside the door and held it up for her to get it on. She held out her arms to slip them into the sleeves and pulled the zipper closed to keep in the warmth. While she dealt with getting her shoes on, Jake got dressed for the weather as well. They exited the house together. Jake led the way, following the path he’d already carved through the snow to the barn. He opened the door for Aleisha and stood aside for her to enter.

            Aleisha flicked on the light, but it didn’t do much good. Most of the light Jake used to see by came through the windows or door from outside. She had to stand stationary for a moment until her eyes adjusted to the dimness inside.

            Days, upon realizing Aleisha stood there along with Jake, let out a long whinny.

            “Hey, buddy!” Aleisha called. She held out her hands as she strode over to the stall. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long.” She reached through the bars of the door to scratch at his nose. Even in his enthusiasm, Days didn’t appear to like the nose attention as much and pulled his face away. “Brat,” she giggled.

            She then walked over to Tick Tock’s stall, greeting him as well. Jake couldn’t help but smile at the tenderness she showed the pumpkin pony as opposed to her own pony. Jake accepted it as sensible, considering that he and Tick Tock were unobtainable demi-gods at his father’s barn. He still couldn’t believe that that was how she viewed the two of them. There was more to life than inside the dressage arena, even for Jake and Tick Tock.

            “You did a great job,” Aleisha said, more clearly than the soft words she spoke to Jake’s horse.

            “What?” Jake asked, having been pulled out of his own thoughts.

            “The stalls,” she clarified. “They look nice. They haven’t looked this nice since I was a little girl. As the horses disappeared from the farm, they took bits and pieces of the barn with them. Not just the tack and warm bodies, but the spirits of the horses seemed to hold this barn together. Without the horses, things fell apart. You gave the barn its life and purpose back.” She turned around to fully face him. “Thank-you.”

            Jake shifted. “Uh, that’s not all. Grab Days.” Jake reached for Tick Tock’s halter, entered his stall, and slipped it on. Leading him out, he attached a lead rope and dropped it to the ground. Tick Tock, groomed for show, needed his blanket. He threw it on and latched it into place within seconds.

            Jake and Tick Tock led the way out the barn, and then to the nearest pasture he had patched up. “I walked it last night to double-check everything’s tip-top,” he explained to Aleisha. “Does it matter if Days goes first or not?”

            Aleisha shook her head. “Jake, I don’t know what to say.”

            Again, Jake shrugged her off. “Nothin’. Just givin’ me a place to stay until I figure things out is enough.” He opened the gate, led Tick Tock through, and released the lead from his halter. “I should be the one sayin’ thank-you.”

            “Where have you been sleeping?” Aleisha asked with a blink. She released Days behind Tick Tock, then stepped through the gate to watch them.

            “On the couch,” Jake replied. It sounded more like a question than a reply, as if the answer was obvious. He nodded his head in the direction of the barn with intentions of throwing the horses a couple flakes as they sorted themselves out.

            Aleisha’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m so sorry.” She followed back to the barn, wringing her hands together. “I should have made up a room for you.”

            “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Speaking of sleeping arrangements, you keepin’ your teeny bedroom you’e always had, or you gonna claim the master bedroom as yours?”

            Aleisha tore her eyes away from him, watching the snow crunch under her feet. “It feels wrong.”

            Jake licked his lip, careful of the crusted over split. “Even though this is your house now? You gonna stay here or go back to MSU?”

            “I’m staying,” she said with fierce finality. “Something about staying feels … right. It needs to be rejuvenated and brought back to its formal glory. My dream was to work with horses ever since I was a little girl. My grandpa is making it reality in his dying wish. I can’t shoot him down.”

            Jake nodded as he grabbed a flake for each horse. “And you’re sure I can stay?”

            “Of course!” Aleisha said quickly. “I can’t help but feel responsible for being part of the reason you got kicked out. Plus, I could use you around here.” She paused, her eyes losing focus as if she were thinking about something big. Like she was recalling a plan she had mulled over for a good period of time. “Look, I was thinking…. I can’t pay you or anything because even with inheritance, I’m a little broke. But I can give you and Tick Tock a place to stay in exchange for your help around the barn? And, once spring comes along, we can build an arena and you can start making your own money around here by giving lessons or something?”

            Jake stopped in the doorway of the barn in surprise. She wasn’t kidding when she said she didn’t mind him staying. She went from avoiding him around the barnyard to inviting him into her home to stay within a matter of days.

            “It’s a better deal than I got at my dad’s,” Jake told her. “Do you plan on boarding horses, too?”

            “Of course,” Aleisha said. “How many good stalls do I have?”

            “Just the two at the moment, but I can have the others fixed up real quick.” He continued out the door, his eyes finding the horses as soon as they were within sight again.

            “Right. I have the pastures on top of the paddocks, but I think I’ll keep a look out for eight boarded horses. If they want pasture kept, that’s fine, but I don’t want more than one horse per stall on this property. At least not yet. I’ll have to go through my grandpa’s old connections to see if anyone has some hay they can bring over me and stock up the barn.”

            “I got a few bales from a local farmer off Craigslist, but I don’t got a lot’a money left.”

            Aleisha pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I really appreciate you feeding Days and taking care of things. I’ll pay it back to you.” She watched as Jake threw the hay over the fence.

            “How many acres is this farm built on?” he asked out of mild curiosity.

            “A hundred, give or take.”

            “Damn.”

            “A good thirty or so is wooded with trails. I’ll show you around some day.” She paused, watching Days come up and nose one of the flakes into the snow. “It’s not like it’s a maze back there or anything. It’s fairly easy to find your back to the yard once you want back. You’re welcome back there any time. We’ve never leased the land out to hunters.”

            “Thanks.”

            “Way I see it, what’s mine is yours.” She let out a breath and headed back toward the house, her hands deep into her pockets. “So I think I’m going to call around for the hay tomorrow, and if I find someone that can help us out, I’ll head over to library and put up an ad to find some boarders. My grandparents never really learned what the internet was. It was too much to get them cell phones. They still have a landline.” She chuckled. “There’s something so cozy about technology dated in our childhood. It’s amazing how much things have changed the past few years.”

            “Are you sure ‘cozy’ is the right word?” Jake asked. “I think you mean ‘familiar’. I’m not sayin’ a flip phone is from when I was a kid, but whenever I had people to talk to, it was downright annoying when they’d rather send a text than call. What makes people think texting is a more efficient way of communicatin’?” He wouldn’t admit that he’d sent his dad a text rather than call when he wasn’t going to make it for chores. That was a different story.

            Aleisha’s eyebrows shot up and her lips tucked in, like she was holding in a laugh. “Why don’t I formally show you to your room?” she asked as she let them back inside the house. “Consider it yours. Do what you need to do to it to make it feel like home.” She kicked off her shoes, shrugged off her coat, and crossed over the living room to the hallway. There, she opened up the door that belonged neither to her room or the bathroom.

            The room was rather plain and a touch small. It had a small dressed tucked against the wall, leaving just enough space for a double bed to stretch out across the middle. The quilt was old and worn, but completely functional. A nightstand hugged the opposing corner of the room, completing the furnished feel. Drape hung down from behind the bed, concealing one window, to give the illusion of a little more space.

            “Thanks,” Jake said. He brushed past her to feel the firmness of the bed. It was a little old and protested the pressure, but it would still beat the couch.

            “Closet –” Aleisha pointed to the double-wide door behind the main door “-dresser, bed, and the rest is up to you. If you want, you can come with me when I got to the library to pick up some paint.”

            “What? No,” Jake said quickly. “That’s not necessary. This is fine. I’ll only be spendin’ nights in here anyway.”

            Aleisha shrugged. “It’s up to you. Um … wanna take me shopping so I can make us dinner? We’re probably going to have to make another trip to grab my car.”

            Jake tossed a smile in her direction. “Sure, let’s go.”

Next >

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

And now I've just learned that Tumblr now throws you a little party when making a post from desktop, it throws confetti across the screen and a little banner at the bottom with the options to Blaze the post?? what the heck

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one reason i'm grateful a) to have been getting into treating my meta as An Art Form as much as fanfic/art/etc, and b) that there's an import function for that on AO3, is that i write very little prose these days, and Actually Having Substantial Things to Post helps me get past the stumbling block of 'well there's nothing much worth going to the trouble for anyway, is there' to the 'alright let's address all the other baggage that makes using AO3 so emotionally fraught for you bud' step (staircase.)

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight-kilo baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of reluctance that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[bogleech]

Suddenly hit with the vivid memory of when a cat had kittens and I was maybe four years old, and an older kid (I think a cousin?) kept saying with disgust and horror that she was "eating the afterbirth" (as mammals do), but I didn't know what that meant and started asking, only to be ignored or dismissed by the adults, who also wouldn't let me see no matter how FRANTIC I got with my questions, even when I started bawling my eyes out. Because, see, my interpretation of that sentence was that she was eating the kittens. What else would you conclude if you don't know the word "afterbirth," you're too little to know anything else comes out with the babies, and everyone is acting like it's something too nasty to explain to you in words? I don't remember when I figured out that they meant something else but I remember four-year-old me being devastated all day and terrified the next morning that all the kittens would be gone. All they had to say was "it's yucky stuff that was on the kittens, so she's cleaning up!" but no they could evidently not come up with anything more creative than just "it's nothing!" And worse yet my questions made them laugh. They LAUGHED at the unfathomable violence I was sure had happened in that cardboard box. Can you even imagine how demented I thought these people were. I was four years old already thinking I was the only rational compassionate being in a house full of sick sadists. Please try to entertain the questions of children, especially if they seem upset. You never know when they just think you're a fucked up asshole hiding a kitten massacre.

[lokis-army-77]

Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight. 

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception. 

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out. 

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself. 

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum? 

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.” 

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well. 

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum. 

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

And then the live is over. 

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed. 

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class. 

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you. 

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang. 

He apologizes before making his introduction.  He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you. 

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence. 

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention. 

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O. 

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen. 

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand. 

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone. 

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes. 

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself. 

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’ 

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad. 

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans. 

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat. 

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes. 

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth. 

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. 

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one. 

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off. 

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs. 

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length. 

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?" 

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound. 

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth. 

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect." 

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit. 

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level. 

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast. 

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy. 

"Oh fuck," you cry.  Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions. 

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized. 

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core. 

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end. 

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.” 

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated. 

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight. 

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure. 

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week. 

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you. 

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you. 

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space. 

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?” 

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.” 

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it. 

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students. 

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job. 

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay. 

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition. 

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together. 

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster. 

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer. 

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen. 

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

… 

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean. 

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not. 

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand. 

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered. 

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised. 

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans. 

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly. 

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin. 

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out." 

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved. 

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself." 

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped. 

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long. 

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to. 

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it. 

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen. 

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head. 

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more. 

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut. 

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him. 

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls. 

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more. 

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does. 

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” 

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises. 

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark. 

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see. 

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf. 

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear. 

“Hi, Sweetheart.” 

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face. 

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret. 

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?” 

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer. 

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. 

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking. 

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head. 

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful. 

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down. 

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.” 

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.” 

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips. 

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours. 

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does. 

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.  

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank. 

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine. 

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work. 

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it. 

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise. 

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster. 

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg. 

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you. 

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt,  uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. 

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs. 

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds. 

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are. 

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you. 

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him. 

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster. 

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight. 

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.” 

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions. 

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room. 

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half. 

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part. 

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again. 

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans. 

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow. 

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.” 

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits.  He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either. 

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight. 

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.” 

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice. 

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit. 

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!” 

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.” 

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed. 

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out. 

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.  

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time. 

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy. 

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yeah?” You whisper. 

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin. 

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened. 

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you. 

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.” 

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again. 

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.” 

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on. 

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground. 

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first. 

[selineram3421]

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[firstdegreefangirl]

"I'll see you ... sometime tomorrow, but it damn sure won't be at 10 a.m."

- Me, to Housekeeping Buddy, as he's punching out while I'm faced with three hours of extra coverage, bringing me to an 11-hour day