#this comic was just so cute I couldn’t resist

[rinhaler]

DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

m.list | chapter two

[imrllytootiredforthis]

The ‘bad’ kind of desire

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.

warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it

a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭

“Am I bad person?”

Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.

"What?"

And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head. 

It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”

His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.

Soobin.

Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.

Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with. 

Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.

"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"

You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression. 

He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."

“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.

Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.

Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge? 

“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”

You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.

He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.

You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type. 

But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.

“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“

“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.

Really, why were you so concerned now? 

Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different. 

Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.

Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile. 

Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.

He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.

In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.

“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“

Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”

“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.

You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.

Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."

"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.

He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."

—-

You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.

Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.

He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.

He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.

But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.

You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.

And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.

You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.

But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.

It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.

Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.

And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.

Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.

Soobin was different though, special.

You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.

He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.

—-

"Fuck," he panted, "please,"

The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.

"Please,"

Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.

"Please."

"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.

Close enough.

"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"

He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.

"I need it~"

The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"

Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.

He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.

Not with you in the next room.

He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.

Because he would only focus on you.

You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.

But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.

He wanted to hear you.

Not some substitute for the real thing.

He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.

Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.

You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.

You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.

"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"

Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.

Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.

Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."

Fuck, so that was what it was.

His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.

You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.

God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.

Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.

But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.

In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.

You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.

He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.

You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.

God, that’s what he needed right now.

Needed you.

Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.

Not you fucking someone else in a different room.

Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.

"More."

He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly 

"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"

He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.

He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.

“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.

"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.

"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"

He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.

More.

"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.

He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.

"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.

"Your's." He moans in reply.

And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.

Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.

But it doesn't matter.

Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.

Up,

"Slut." You whisper.

and down,

"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.

over,

"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.

and over,

"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.

harder,

"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.

faster,

"Mine." Across his cheek.

deeper.

Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-

"-Cum for me baby,"

And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.

Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.

"Fuck,"

And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"

a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

CHAPTER SIX:

Kento’s bathroom was nice, and it was also nice the last time you sat on the edge of his bathtub, hungover. 

You stared at the drying white patch on the bottom of your dress and fought the urge to break out into uncontrollable laughter. 

It was hilarious, it shouldn’t have been, but it was. This whole situation was starting to dawn on you; Kento Nanami, no matter how tall and how stoic and sneakily flirty he was, was a virgin—a virgin who was trusting you to be the calm and collected one. Running to the bathroom after having him release on you isn’t painting the image of a calm and collected person.

Opting for a calmer approach, you changed out of your dress first and threw on his shirt. It was black and oversized, with the words “Metallica” written in big white letters.

Metallica? He didn’t seem like the type.

When you opened your door, you were half surprised not to see Kento standing at your door waiting to usher you back into the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be seen. Walking down the dimly lit hallway and back into the living room, it was empty, with no sign of the blonde anywhere. You made sure to step over the rug and look over the couch to see Kento setting up the dinner table.

Candles lit and food already set down, Kento walked around the table, fussing over every last detail. It was cute to watch from a distance. You approached slowly and quietly, stopping once you were close enough to watch but far enough not to be detected. He hummed along to some jazz song that played in the background.

“Can I sit down, or should I keep watching you shift the cutlery to the right and then the left again?” You smiled at him, stepping into the warm yellowish candlelight. Its soft scent hugged your body and filled your nose.

“I don’t know…” Kento looked up at you, “I quite like my view right now. Maybe I’ll make you stand here for the rest of the night as I eat.”

“You wouldn’t be so cruel, Mr. Nanami.”

“I just might.”

Kento took your hand and led you to your spot. You were across from each other at the ends of the table. 

“So Metallica?”

“Don’t seem like the type, do I?”

“Not in the slightest.” You laughed.

“Was very antisocial in high school.”

“More so than now?” Kento nodded before continuing,

“It was comical how bad it was. Anyways, my lack of want to socialize, along with wired earphones and a lock on my door, I found solace in music, loud, loud music.

Long story short, he was a big emo kid who swore that his life was not just a phase.”

“Awe. I was a big Orchestra nerd, Cello first chair, Always.”

“Of course you were.”

“I look like an Orchestra kid?”

“No, you look like the type to be perfect at everything.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Nanami.”

“Don’t let it go to your pretty head.”

“You think I am pretty?” you asked, taking another bite of the food, holding back the urge to moan at the taste.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately, taking a slow sip at his wine as he held your stare. 

“You have no idea what I think about you.” You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to; it was like he dared you to break it first to give in. Kento was pulling you in each direction. Did he want you to take the lead, or did he want you to give in? Something in his eyes, a glimmer of defiance. 

Take the lead, it is.

“Eat your food, Kento.” You said, a small smile painted on your face as it was your turn to take a long swig at your drink. The red wine slipped down your throat and warmed your stomach.  

“I think you should do the same, Y/N. I can’t have you drinking on an empty stomach.” You laughed under your breath, taking a bite out of your food, watching as he followed along, only eating when you did.

Soon, nothing was on your plate and an almost empty wine cup.

“Come to the couch and bring the bottle with you, Kento.” Standing up, you didn’t wait to see if he had followed your order; you heard the quiet sound of his steps tracking behind you.

Sitting across from you, Nanami Kento looked on, a proud man. 

“What do you want from me, Mr. Nanami?” Fear tightened its grip on your heart, uncertainty casting a shadow over your thoughts. You were both grown adults; there was no need to beat around the bush. Casual relationships were a familiar territory for you, but they always left someone hurt. Was Kento looking to be serious, or were you just a pawn in his game of manhood? A person must satisfy his desires and boast about them to Satoru. No matter how much you wanted to belive he wasn’t like that, he could be that type. 

“I am a virgin.”

“As we have previously established.”

“I like you, but I am a virgin.” He took a deep breath before continuing. His eyes not on you fully. “I want to please you. I want to give you what others also could. But I— I don’t know how.”

“Kento… We don’t have to jump straight into the sex. It can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you?” 

“Yes. So tell me what you want, and teach me how to do it. I’ll be good for you; I’ll be so so good if you give me time to learn.”

“You want me to teach you?”

His head nodded rapidly as he inched closer to you, and now on your thigh, ghosting over your damp-clothed cunt.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath.

“Is that what you want? Me to fuck you?” His head fell into your neck, panting as his hand pressed against your pussy. 

You shook your heads at his words. You did want him to fuck you, but your head became less and less there as his fingers rubbed you over your panties. 

“No? you don’t want me to fuck you?” He was teasing you. Mocking you.

“Kento.” You warned him as you pressed yourself into his hand more.

“Y/N.” He mirrored.

 “I want you to make me cum.”

“Teach me.” He whispered against your skin. Hands tugging at your panties until they ripped. He discarded the wet fabric on his rug and kept his attention on you. More so, your aching cunt. With one thick finger now inside you, you writhed against him.

“Tell me what to do, Y/N.” He demanded.

“Pump in and out.” He nodded, watching your face as you let yourself be taken by the pleasure. 

“Oh fuck, Kento. More. More Please More now.” You grasped his hair, tugging it back slightly as you moved your hips in time with his digit. 

“Another one?”

“Yes, God Y-Yes.” 

With another finger in you now, your whines and moans became more consistent as he forced them out of you.

“Curl your fingers up. Kento.”

He didn’t even verbally respond. He was too busy moaning at you, moaning as if your pleasure was just as much his as it was yours.

His head was already nuzzled in your neck. He took a long stripe at your jugular as his fingers made a come here motion inside you. 

You were a mess, moaning and panting. It was like he was pulling pleasure from you on a string. His breath felt hot against you, and in between the groans of pleasure he received, grinding into your words so high pitched, so whiney they couldn’t have possibly been from him. But they were.

“Teach me.” A bite to your neck and a groan followed. You could barely breathe, let alone process his words to you.

“I am teaching you.” You slurred through a honeyed tongue. 

“Teach me”, He repeated, licking over his previous bite. “Please, Y/N. Show me how to make you cum,”

“Y-You, are already doing– Fuck!” It was too much; you tried, but the words failed you. Your sentences became nothing but incoherent babbles, 

“I thought you said you wanted me to make you cum,” Kento removed his fingers, taking them to his mouth, “So Teach me, Y/N.”

He raised your hips until your legs sat over his shoulders and mouth hovering outside of your wet entrance. He took a greedy stripe at your cunt; slowly, with so much pressure, a broken sob escaped you. It was a single lick, and he pulled away immediately, not before moaning at your taste.

“Please,” he begged over and over as he continued to force your hips against him.

“Teach me.” He licked again. This time, no moan left you. Despite your mouth being wide open in the shape of an “O”, You didn’t make a single sound. Your body convulsed, and you came all over his chin.

“Teach me,” Kento demanded one last time. And you nodded mindlessly along to his words, and Kento had cum again, just from the sight of you.

Preview...

“Bend over and be a good girl.”

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CHAPTER SEVEN: loading...

CLICK HERE FOR A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Daemon T. Yandere A-Z

(I couldn’t resist, I needed to make this, this was one of the most requested things I’ve ever had so I hope that you love it!)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Daemon shows affection through physical touch, he always wants to be touching you in some way whether that’s with his arm around your waist, you sat across his lap (which is a near constant position for him to put you in) or possibly just as simple as holding your hand

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as physically possible!

•Daemon will protect you with everything he has and the idea of getting bloody will not deter him for a moment. You had better hope that blood doesn’t make you sick to see or smell because with how often Daemon believes (true or not) that men are flirting with his Princess, there’s going to be a lot of bloodstains on his clothes…and yours

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•If you push Daemon too far he can get violent with anyone

•He would never harm you the way he harms other people, however you are in no way exempt from his rage

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•If you try and keep yourself from him then yes, he will absolutely cross any limit he believes he needs to. You are Daemons wife and that means you will perform the duties of a wife as you are meant to as long as you are healthy and strong enough to do so

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Daemon is actually quite open with you about his feelings in your marital bed, which is really the only place he is willing to talk about anything personal or private

•He actually surprises you a bit with how open he is with you on your wedding night. After your third round he snuggled you to his chest to allow you a break and he began talking, ending up telling you quite a lot about himself for much longer than you expected

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Daemon would find it comical to see his cute little wife fighting back

•He will happily pin you down and fuck the fight right out of you for as long as he needs to

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•Daemon does not play games in any facet of his life (unless he’s teasing assholes/idiots like Otto Hightower or Gerold Royce), certainly not in his marriage

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience you have with Daemon is when you make the mistake of spending the afternoon that he is out for a ride on Caraxes with an old friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time

•That afternoon was spent in the library getting to know each other all over again, however as he walked you back towards your rooms for the evening, you ran into your husband who did not like you in the company of another man

•Daemon, being Daemon, would not listen to reason and that night your husband took you while covered in the blood of your friend, covering you in his warm, sticky blood while his corpse laid 10 feet away from your bed with his eyes open and unseeing

•Strangely enough, Daemon was happy to comfort you from the nightmares that you suffered for months after the incident

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Daemons plan is to breed you full of as many babies as physically possible

•He plans to fill you with an entire litter of Targaryen babies which is why he spends so much time fucking your cunt as full as he possibly can

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•110% he does!

•You learned on your wedding day that Daemon was a jealous man when you made the mistake of accepting the proposal to dance from a Lannister

•Growing up your mother always taught you to never turn down a request to dance but as you stood behind your husband while he was crouched over the Lion bashing his head in with a wine goblet from the Kings table, you quickly learned that your husband did not want other men to touch you in any way whatsoever

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Daemon is a sweet, loving man…to you and you alone

•No one else should or does expect that kind of treatment from Daemon. The only other people you have hope for are your children since the second you became pregnant Daemon was somehow even more protective of you

•He spends hours every day touching and rubbing your belly, talking to the babies at night in your bed after he has finished fucking you for the evening

•’I want to be sure that they know who I am when they’re born. They’ll know you, you’re their mother but should they not like me I do not know what I would do.’ It was a rare moment of vulnerability that Daemon was showing, something he only did with you.

‘Of course they will know you, my Dragon. You are their father, their protector and they will absolutely adore you!’ You assured him, not liking to see your confident, cocky husband in any kind of self doubting mind set.

‘You always know what to say to calm my nerves…I’m going to keep speaking to them though, just in case.’

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•You found out about Daemons interest the day that you were told you would be marrying the Targaryen prince

•It had only just been announced that his lady wife had passed tragically in a riding accident and then suddenly your father was telling you that the Prince had all but demanded your hand in marriage and your father had no choice but to say yes (not that he would have said anything else)

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Daemon isn’t the type of person to hide who he is, what you see is what you get

•He is just as cocky, sarcastic and angry behind closed doors as he is in public when someone upsets him, the only difference is a soft side with his wife and babies where no one else can see

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•If Daemon has to punish you he prefers to lock you in your chambers until you settle down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but if he has to then you will find it impossible to sit down for a long time

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•You can still do most things, but if you want to go out then you must ask him first

•Being around other men is the only big difference, Daemon doesn’t even want you around your own male family members lest they have an unhealthy obsession with his beautiful wife

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•The man has zero patience and zero chill. None.

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: Daemon would genuinely be torn up about your death and he would have a hard time being close to the child that you brought into the world before dying on the birthing bed

•Escaped: You would never get beyond the front gate and if you did you would be corralled by an angry Blood Worm Dragon blocking your way so escape wasn’t worth the hassle

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•He will never let you go however, every once in a while he will regret harming you when he lets his anger get the best of him, making up for it in his own way by bringing you gifts or taking you for an evening flight (which he knows is your favorite)

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you he went to the Vale and murdered his wife to ensure no one (the King) could tell him that he could not have you

•He demanded your hand right after and Viserys said he would have to wait at least a week out of respect and to not seem suspicious before he “asked your hand” despite the fact that everyone knew it was no question, you would be his one way or another and the ‘permission’ just determined whether your father needed to die first

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Daemon hates your tears and when you break down and cry, that is usually the moment he knows that he’s gone too far

•Your husband is the first person to comfort you, especially during your nightmares (that he caused) as he hates seeing you sad or scared

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Daemon would often have Caraxes eat whatever man he suspected had an interest in his wife

•He would also leave you with Caraxes when he had business to attend to, knowing Caraxes had taken a liking to you and would viciously protect you (especially when pregnant), the Dragon loving you quite a lot and enjoying the scratches you gave him when he was ordered to protect you. He had killed countless men and women for getting too close while he was on guard (whether they meant you harm or not)

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•All you had to do is point and someone is dead

•Also if you want Daemon to be soft and sweet, all you need to do is come up with a ‘reason’ to cry, it was the one thing your husband genuinely could not handle seeing

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in any way that would have a lasting impact on you

•Locking you in your chambers wasn’t something that ‘hurt you’ and the only pain Daemon ever caused you physically was when you disobeyed him or questioned/challenged his authority in front of others, and even then it was only blistering your ass (which he would then soothe with creams that he had gotten from the maester once you had truly apologized)

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Daemon is obsessed with you, worship is the word most people would use to describe how he looks at you

•Worship actually didn’t quite capture the true feeling once you had announced your first pregnancy to him and the court, he very nearly fucked you right there in front of the King and the Court, his protective streak instantly growing x10 which no one would have thought possible until they witnessed it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Daemon did not ‘pine’ at all

•The moment he met you he decided that you would be his and since your father was actively looking for a husband for you, he immediately took himself to the Vale and ensured the death of his lady wife Rhea Royce

•The only length of time that he waited was the allotted week that his brother ordered him to wait so that no one would think anything that happened had been Daemons doing, and during that week he had fed 3 different lords to Caraxes for daring to try and court you

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Daemon would not want to break you, he wants you to love him and eventually he does make that happen

•You did try to hold out and not fall for his charm, knowing that everyone around suspected that he had killed his wife to marry you so in a sense once you gave yourself over to the feeling of loving him you did ‘break’ in a way but who wouldn’t when they’re being worshipped and loved by a Targaryen Prince and his giant red dragon?

Daemon T. Masterlist

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 7 - Make it up as we go along

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bit of assault towards Bucky (but not enough to hurt him), a just a note that this probably isn't the healthiest dynamic...

Ah surprise chapter drop! Hope you enjoy. I probably won't be able to post again until monday now. As always, I appreciate your lovely reblogs and comments. I'm so glad people are engaging with this series and I hope you continue to enjoy it!! I’m afraid I don’t have a taglist for this series, I don’t use them as I’ve had technical issues with them in the past. Sorry!

(gif not reflective of how reader looks)

You knew he was right – you needed to clear the air, and fix whatever the hell was going on between you both (if anything). But you couldn’t resist being petty, lashing out after his poor treatment of you earlier. Granny always said be the bigger person…but she was a far better than woman than you.

“Sorry. Can’t. Not on the clock,” you shot back at him as you unlocked the car.

You opened the car door and his arm moved to your shoulder, holding you firmly to stop you from getting in. You held strong, not letting his touch melt you.

“Fine. I deserve that,” he said gruffly, “but I really do want to talk to you. Please”.

The softness in his voice caught you off guard and you found you were annoyed by the sudden wobble of weakness you felt. No! STRENGTH!

You sighed heavily. “Alright. Step into my office,” you gestured to the car.

You slipped into the driver’s seat as he dropped his hold from your arm, then he followed suit by getting into the passenger seat alongside you. The Mustang’s passenger seat looked almost comically small with his big bulk spread across it.

He turned to look at you, face perfectly illuminated by the parking lot lamps. It wasn’t fair that anyone could possibly look so hot in fluorescent lighting.

“This is a nice car,” he said admiringly as he looked around the interior.

“I know” you replied curtly. “She’s my girl”.

“What’s her name?”

“Sally”.

He blinked at you.

“Mustang…Sally? Really?”

You folded your arms defiantly. “Is that a problem?”

“No…no…it’s not…” but you could see in his face he was trying to hold back one of those stupid smirks.

“If you’ve come here to make fun of me you can get the hell out…”

“No! I haven’t. Christ. It’s just funny…that’s all. It’s…cute”.

“Shut up, James”.

“Ohhh…you found that out, huh?” he grinned wickedly. “Well joke’s on you, cos I like you saying it…”

You took a second to scowl and him, then stared ahead out of the windshield with your arms crossed, hoping you looked more mysterious stranger than you did tantruming toddler. The two of you sat uncomfortably in the resulting silence.

“I’ve been an ass,” he told you, his eyes intense.

“Yes, you fucking have” you growled back at him.

“I’m sorry…really-”

“Look…Bucky,” you interrupted him aggressively. “I get it, we kissed. It didn’t mean anything to you. Fine. Whatever. But you didn’t have to ignore me…you didn’t have to parade Amber around in front of me like-”

“Sugar…”

“No! I mean how hard would it have been to drop me a text? Or tell me you made a mistake? Literally anything…”

“Sug…can I speak-”

“I’m not some random girl in a bar, Bucky! You can’t just ignore me. We work together. You’re my boss. You can’t just lay one on me and act like I don’t exist and-”

“Sugar! I’m trying to explain myself here!!” he barked, but you seemed to be on a roll…the floodgates were open.

“And another thing! Why are you getting aggressive about me meeting guys?? I can date who I like! You don’t get to be angry, especially when-MMPH!”

Bucky had clamped his large metal hand over your mouth, quite literally silencing you. Your eyes widened in shock; his tactic must’ve worked because you were briefly stunned into submission.

“I’m sorry…that was rash of me, but I literally can’t get a word in edgewise…” he told you gently, his voice quiet as if trying to talk down a spooked horse. “If you’d just let me-”

You yelped and shrieked as you wrenched his hand from your mouth in disbelief.

“What the FUCK was that?” you squawked as you struck him on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, if you even could hurt him, but hard enough for him to curse and utter your name in incredulity.

Suddenly you were climbing over the seat and swatting at him, your anger boiling over. The inevitable purge after holding everything in all night. You knew it must’ve looked funny as he was so much larger than you, but your anger outweighed any self-consciousness.

“What. The. Fuck” you cried out, punctuating each word with a thwack to Bucky’s torso as he swore and tried to shuffle back, but the lack of space in the car meant he had nowhere to go. He just bumped into the passenger window as he exclaimed at you.

He quickly became tired of your attempted assault and wrapped his arms around yours, trapping them at your sides and effortlessly pulled you over the seats. “Alright,” he said tiredly. “Enough of that!”

Suddenly you were incapacitated in his hold, essentially straddling his lap as you voiced your outrage and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

“Bucky! What the-”

“You wouldn’t stop hitting me and shouting in my face! Jesus! Do you have any idea what a menace you are?”

The two of you squabbled for a little longer, faces inches apart.

“If you would just listen…”

“You can’t just DO stuff like that!”

“Why do you have to fight me on every, single, thing?”

“Why can’t you just be upfront and direct with me for once?”

A sudden silence enveloped you both as if someone had flicked an off switch, the bickering now replaced with a shared penetrating stare between you the two of you. Almost nose to nose. It was as if you both realised your close proximity in the same moment.

You weren’t sure who went in first. But it didn’t matter. He freed your hands and they flew up into his hair as he kissed you roughly, and you kissed him back just as hard. It was heated, passionate but there was anger in there too. Pent up desire and rage, a deadly combination. You nipped roughly at his bottom lip with your teeth, and he hissed and retaliated by forcefully pulling you closer into him as the kisses became deeper and sloppier and your tongue was no longer yours but a separate force you couldn’t control. His hands made their way up your back, then moved back down across your waist, then he pulled you forwards and lifted your ass up and he squeezed fistfuls of it as he moaned into your mouth. Part of you wanted to slap him and call him a pervert but you were simply too caught up to do so. It was wrong but so right. You wanted to shun him and punish him, but you also couldn’t stay away from him. Damn him.

“You’re so annoying…” he murmured softly as he dotted kisses across your jawline.

“So are you…” you retorted as you rocked your hips against his lap and stretched to get more comfortable in the cramped car.

“I should’ve implemented a skirts-only uniform policy,” he growled as his hands explored the back of your jean-clad thighs.

“Stop talking,” you managed breathily before silencing him with another kiss.

He moved you further onto his lap again and you allowed him to. He was firm in his hold but never too rough. You leaned across him to pull the lever to recline the seat but in your urgency and ungainliness you managed to hit the horn with your backside, sending a loud tone that made both of you jump.

It seemed to snap you out of your stupor as you flung yourself back against the driver’s seat, your hands recoiling away from him like your fingers had been burnt.

“No…we gotta stop this,” you panted out as you regained your composure and smoothed down your mussed hair. The silence lay thick and heavy.

He sat back against his own seat looking a little bewildered. “Yeah…sorry. You’re right. I just…lost myself a little there,” he cleared his throat.

“You hurt me,” you told him meekly and unable to meet his gaze. “I feel really embarrassed. After we kissed…you didn’t get in touch. Then tonight you almost seemed annoyed I was there when you came in. And you spent the whole time with Amber, apart from when you got pissed at me for talking to another guy”.

You chewed your lip, mortified by your own vulnerability. But you were glad you finally said it out loud. It was the most honest thing you’d ever said to him.

You could see him nodding in your periphery. “I’m sorry, Sug,” he said quietly.

He took a deep breath. “That kiss…it did mean something to me you know”.

You finally turned to look at him, surprised by his admission. “What?”

He looked back at you. He seemed…smaller, somehow. “Of course it did,” he continued. “We both felt it, didn’t we? This thing between us. I feel a little crazy around you. You’re like this…brilliant woman. Smart and funny…makes the meanest spicy ‘marg for hundreds of miles,” he grinned.

Even you couldn’t stifle a chuckle at that.

“You also get under my skin in a way nobody else does. You make me so mad. But I can’t help being near you. And when you got hurt that night…I was so angry. Angry at myself for not protecting you. Angry at you for mouthing off and not getting help. I guess…I guess it sorta pushed me to finally make a move…and then Sam interrupted and…” he sighed “Fuck. I don’t know. I suddenly felt bad. I shouldn’t be hitting on my staff. Especially injured staff…”

“Yeah…but I wanted it too, Bucky. You know I did…”

“I know…But…I dunno, I wouldn’t want you to ever think I was taking advantage”.

You swallowed, absorbing everything he’d just told you. Yeah…that was reasonable. He was your boss after all and there was always going to be a weird power dynamic there, but you still had more questions than answers.

“Bucky…” you started quietly. “If you wanted the kiss…Why did you disappear? I didn’t hear from you…and then tonight…”

He interrupted you with a noise of frustration, but seemingly towards himself rather than you.

“Alright…look. This…well, there’s no way of spinning any of this that makes me look good here, alright? But I want to be honest with you…I’m not going to lie to you”.

You nodded, grateful for his candour but uneasy about what he might say. You stiffened but still turned to him and gave him your full attention.

“Okay…so. Like I said, I wanted the kiss. And I’m glad it happened. And I was gonna text…call…and I almost did so many times, I had your contact open on my phone and everything…but I guess…I panicked a little”.

“Panicked?”

“Yeah…I mean,” he sighed. “Because I really like you. And I’m not used to that. And on top of that, I’m your boss. And…you’re leaving town soon anyway. And…our relationship is sorta, volatile? I guess? I admit this is fucked up and chicken shit of me, but I kinda freaked out. I suppose I worried that if I jumped headfirst into something with you, it might be a mess. Or worse, I might fall hard, and it would be that much harder to see you go when the time came. I know you might think this is me taking the easy way out to give you the brush off…but it’s the truth”.

You sat in silence at his admission, eyes wide and lips parted. You were surprised at how open he was. The two of you had never really done ‘direct communication’ before…and it was eye opening to say the least. You knew deep down you agreed, you already knew that finally saying goodbye to him would be tough…you didn’t want to make it any tougher.

“I still shouldn’t have left you hanging like that. I’m sorry,” he told you with sincerity. “I’m not…good at this stuff”.

“And what about you and Amber? I mean the two of you…”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Look…there is no me and Amber…”

“But-” you interrupted harshly. “I’ve seen you..”

“No. Seriously, it’s the truth,” he explained as he ran a hand through his hair. “Amber is cute. She’s fun. Again, I won’t lie to you – we’ve fooled around in the past. But I’m not interested in pursuing anything with her. She knows that, I’ve never lied to her about that. But she tries. And I do care for her. But it’s just messing around. We flirt and it’s fun, and I know it might look I lead her on, but I consistently remind her where I stand. I guess maybe she’s hoping I’ll change my mind? I don’t want to outright ban her from the bar…but she turns up…and some of the guys are involved with her friends…and I guess I’m too clumsy to give the situation the care it deserves because I don’t want to give her false hope, but I don’t want to be outright mean to her either. I know you probably think I’m just some meathead biker juggling girls, but I don’t like hurting people who don’t deserve it”.

You noted the concern in his voice. He really did seem to care about handling it right, even if he wasn’t very good at it. But you remembered the extent of tonight and rolled your eyes.

“C’mon Bucky…that’s all very well and good…but she was sitting in your damn lap this evening. So you’re not exactly taking a hard line with her….” You scowled.

“Yeah…and did you see the part where I rolled my eyes and moved her away?”

“Oh, come on…”

“It’s true! I told her to back off, but you’d disappeared…”

“Don’t insult me…”

“I’m not, it’s the truth!” He frowned. “Okay, fine, maybe I need to be stricter with her. We’ve just been doing this back and forth for so long I sometimes forget how it must look…”

“Poor little you…”

“Oh, don’t give me that. What about you, huh? Flirting and giving out your number in front of me?”

“That’s different! You were ignoring me…I thought you’d knocked me back!”

“I saw that message was from Wanda but you made out it wasn’t…I know what you were doing. You were enjoying me being jealous…And yes, obviously I was jealous, so don’t think make a whole thing of it”.

You stopped suddenly, your cheeks feeling hot as he’d caught you out in your game. “Oops. Um…okay. Fine…”

You both sat quietly until he spoke again.

“I guess both of us have played a part in this, not being upfront with the other about how we feel”.

“Yeah…” you sighed. “That’s true enough…I’m still mad, though”.

“That’s okay. I deserve it”.

He nudged you playfully and you couldn’t help but crack a smile. Damn him.

“Look…given how much drama there’s been already between us…Maybe we should just call it, put a stop to this thing and stay just friends and colleagues. Have quieter lives as a result,” you offered, unable to mask the melancholy in your voice.

He nodded. “Yeah…that probably is for the best”.

You felt sad…but you knew it was the right move. All this drama and angst and you’d only shared a few kisses. Imagine how much worse it would get? What if you’d slept together?? And he was right earlier, this whole thing did have an expiration date. You didn’t want to have to quit your job even if it was temporary. You didn’t want to leave on bad terms because you were banging your boss, or because you were insecure about who else he was banging. It all came back to the same bottom line…you didn’t need this in your life. Not now. Not with Granny’s house.

This was for the best. This was a mature decision. This was growth.

Wait.

Wait.

Why is he looking at you like that…?

What is he….oh.

Uh oh.

“Bucky…” you pleaded softly, but his mouth was already on yours.

“Just friends,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“Just friends,” you whispered against his.

Shit.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What about I could do this all day but with Arthur curry, where he is being flirty and complimenting the reader all day, even she and others are like he can't keep going, and he does and maybe it ends with him taking reader out on a date and then she starts flirting with him all day

.⋆｡Keep Going｡⋆.

Arthur Curry x plus size reader

Sick of Arthur’s relentless flirting, you strike back.

Warnings: flirting, idiots in love, fluff, pick up lines are from google

WC: 730

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

He was desperate, charming, delusional and all around annoying but there was no way you could hate him, he was just too endearing. Arthur had been following you around the Justice League tower all day like a lost puppy, showering you with any compliment he could think of. 

“I’d bet you’d look great dressed in kelp.” You came to a screeching halt and whipped around, brow raised at the huge man who was walking behind you. “Y’a know when we get married, you’ll have to wear something seafood-like and I think kelp would compliment your skin perfectly.” Your face, which already seemed permanently heated from all the attention, got even hotter.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, hiding your face behind the file you were holding.

“Actually, I think coral might look better on you, maybe a starfish or two.”

“Arthur!” You hissed, hyper aware of the fact that you were in a building full of superheroes who did not appreciate fraternisation in their League.

But Arthur just smirked as he leaned against the wall only a few inches from you. “C’mon, just let me take you out already.” He practically begged, a stark contrast from his casual stance. 

As hard as you might try, you couldn’t resist those big amber eyes looking down at you like you were his whole world. Sighing, you gave him a nod. “Fine, one date! Just one!” Immediately his back straightened and he wrapped you in a tight hug, making you yelp.

“You better go put some socks on princess cause I’m about to knock them off!” And with that, he bounded away, chattering to himself about what kind of date he would take you on.

“Are you sure about picking that one? I know lots of better men and women that would do anything for a chance with you.” Diana practically materialised by your side, gazing disapprovingly at her teammate. 

You chuckled. “Well, he is kind of cute.”

——————

It wasn’t just one date, it was five. Barely 10 minutes into your first date (he brought you to the fucking aquarium) you were lost forever.

The flirting never stopped either, in fact, it somehow got worse. Every second sentence that left his perfectly kissable mouth was either a compliment or some lewd joke that was so bad it even made Batman blush. So you were expecting Diana to come crawling to you, begging it to stop for the sake of everyone else.

You started that morning, as soon as Arthur stepped from the zeta tube. You wolf-whistled and gave him a slow once-over. “Damn baby, if you were a Transformer you'd be Optimus Fine.” He froze comically, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped open in shock. He pulled himself together quickly and wrapped your wide hip in a bruising grip, smashing his lips to yours.

As Arthur scoured the fridge in the League kitchen several hours later, you walked into his peripheral vision and smirked as your own gaze fell onto his pert backside. “Do you drink a lot of Sprite? Because you look so-da-licious!” His head whipped around with a sickening click.

“What did you just say?” You shrugged.

“You heard me, sexy.” He groaned as his eyelids fluttered. You winked at him and turned to leave, abandoning Arthur with his little ‘problem’.

The conference room was dead silent as you all looked over your individual assignments with the occasional shuffling of papers or the sound of someone clearing their throat. Your new boyfriend sat beside you, one large hand planted firmly on your plump thigh, his fingers gently rubbing circles into the soft skin. 

Just as you finished off your reading a deafening sound came from the man beside you as he violently sneezed into his elbow. Immediately, everyone looked his way. “I would've said "God bless you" after that sneeze, but it looks like he already has.” Now all eyes were on you as you smirked evilly. They all groaned collectively at the bad line. 

Arthur’s hand tightened on your leg in warning. You squeezed his hand in return. “Stop.” He muttered under his breath as the others returned to their work, Diana smiling suspiciously.

“Stop what?” You asked dumbly.

“You will run out of pick-up lines eventually and when you do, I’ll be there.”  “Oh love, I could do this all day.” You retorted with a kiss to his bearded cheek.

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[dreamydelulu]

Freckled fascination

Genre: humor, fluffy, no shipping, casual

-

“Hyung, did you notice that your freckles look like little heart shapes? It’s so cute,” Jiwon exclaimed excitedly, pointing out Felix’s endearing feature. Felix, well-aware of the younger’s fascination with his freckles, didn’t mind at all.

With a chuckle, Felix replied, “Well, I guess they are. They’re just freckles, though.”

“No way, they’re so cool! It’s almost like you could see a whole constellation of little stars,” Jiwon expressed, his eyes shining with admiration.

Changbin, always one for playful banter, seized the opportunity to tease their maknae, not missing a beat. “Jiwon, I didn’t know you were into astronomy. Felix’s face is your whole new galaxy!”

Amidst the playful banter, Jeongin couldn’t hide his jealousy. He crossed his arms, adopting a grumpy expression. “I thought you liked my dimples more,” Jeongin mumbled, trying to mask his feelings but failing to hide his sulky tone.

Minho, always ready to stir the pot, teased Jeongin, “Jealous of Felix’s freckles, huh? Feeling left out?”

Jiwon, still in awe of Felix’s freckles, glanced at Jeongin. “Oh, Innie, your dimples are cute too! They’re like small, little smiles on your face.”

Changbin, unable to resist adding to the playful banter, teased, “Looks like our Jeonginnie got a rival for Jiwon’s attention award. Freckles vs Dimples.”

Jeongin’s cheeks flushed pink as he tried to conceal his embarrassment being caught out of guard. “Whatever.”

Felix, amused by the whole situation, added with a smile, “Seriously, Jiwon, you find a whole galaxy in freckles?”

Jiwon nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! I can count them all day, it’s like a constellation on your face.”

Seungmin, intrigued, interjected, “Wait, Jiwon, do you really count Felix’s freckles?”

Jiwon proudly exclaimed, “Of course! I’ve counted them once. Felix has exactly 62 freckles on his face!”

Felix, baffled and slightly amused, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously? I never knew that! ”

Minho joined in, grinning mischievously, “Jiwon, buddy, are you planning to create a freckle map constellation for Felix?”

Jisung chuckled, “Yeah, Jiwon, what’s next? Constellations on everyone’s faces?”

Jiwon shrugged, unfazed by the teasing. “Hey, freckles are fascinating! And Felix’s freckles are like tiny little hearts.”

Felix laughed, enjoying the banter. “You’re making my freckles feel special sounding all magical like that, Jiwon.”

With a gleeful spark in his eyes, Jiwon extended his small hand, pointing at Felix’s freckles one by one, connecting them in an intricate pattern. “See this cluster? That’s Taurus, and those ones right there make up Sagittarius! Oh, and here, this spot perfectly forms the Big Dipper!”

Felix couldn’t suppress his laughter at Jiwon’s imaginative interpretation in a playfull way . “Wow, who knew my freckles were a map to a whole galaxy?”

Chan, thoroughly entertained, joined in the playful banter. “Wony, you’ve discovered a whole galaxy of Felix’s freckles! What’s next, a freckle-based horoscope?”

Jeongin, rolling his eyes at the playful exchange, muttered, “I still think my dimples are cuter, anyways.”

As Jiwon proceeded to detail each freckle’s celestial representation, the other members chuckled at the unexpected twist, finding Jiwon’s exploration of Felix’s freckles both endearing and amusing.

•

Later:

Jeongin, feeling more and more left out, couldn't resist a dramatic reaction when Jiwon moved closer to cuddle with him. "Well, now you want my attention, Am I just a second choice to you? If you like Felix hyung's freckles so much, why don't you just go and stay with him instead of me then?" He said it in a comically grumpy, sulky tone, almost pouting.

Jiwon, still oblivious to Jeongin's mounting jealousy, paused, blinking in surprise. "Oh, Innie, that's not what I meant! I love your dimples too," he exclaimed, trying to reassure his sulky roommate.

Their hyungs couldn't help but chuckle at the entire exchange. Hyunjin, in his typical teasing manner, chimed in, "Oh, looks like we've got a freckle drama in the house now!"

Jisung in his playfully way didn’t let go the chance to tease, saying to the others “I’ve never expected it the day where Jeongin’s gets all jealous over freckles”

Jiwon, in his usual exuberant manner, couldn’t resist teasing Jeongin playfully leaning on the other. As he gazed at Jeongin’s dimple, he reached out, gently poking it with his small finger. “Hey, Innie-hyung, don’t be grumpy. Your dimples are adorable and unique too!.”

Jeongin’s cheeks flushed instantly at the unexpected touch and praise, caught off guard by Jiwon’s antics. “H-hey! Cut it out!” he protested, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, the sight of Jiwon poking his dimple made him feel unexpectedly flustered.

Jeongin, though still grumpy, couldn't help but crack a small smile at the teasing. "I don't care about freckles! Who needs them anyway? I have dimples" he muttered, trying to keep up his façade.

Meanwhile, Jiwon, seeing Jeongin's feigned annoyance, leaned in, playfully ruffling his hair. "Come on, Innie, you know I love bothering you the most."

Their playful bickering and teasing continued, the atmosphere light and fun as always, while Jiwon remained clueless about the real reason behind Jeongin's sulkiness. Eventually, their camaraderie triumphed over any fleeting moments of jealousy, leaving them all in good spirits by the end of it.

[painted-fanbird]

Fluffy white hair and a pair of faintly glowing green eyes reappeared through the tile with a curious tilt.

From @lilianade-comics Cheese Melt fic; Spirits Less than Willing. This little moment was so cute I just couldn’t resist drawing it <3

Ft. The floor plan I made for Vlad’s bathroom, with Vlad and Dani’s approximate positions, to make absolutely sure I knew what would be visible in the drawing. Because if I’m gonna do fic art I’m doING IT RIGHT DARN IT XD

[curiousquirks]

hello lovely person!!

please feed us some lady nagant extremely fluffy hcs!!!! i love her smm

She’s a blanket hog, keeping the covers all to herself. She’ll fight pretty hard in her sleep to keep them too, only stopping when you snuggle closer to her.

The cold air hits your skin, forcing a shiver out of you involuntarily. You lazily grabbed at the blanket, now barely covering your body, noting the immediate resistance. You heard the soft whining coming from Kaina next to you, tugging against your grip on the blanket. Turning over to face her just in time to watch her wrap the rest of the blanket around herself, effectively yanking the blanket away from you. You barely open your eyes, the light flicking in through the curtains straining your vision as you try adjusting them. Kaina sighed contently, clearly comfortable in her cocoon, completely unaware of your silent suffering. You groan in frustration as you shift yourself closer to her, having comical aggression as you unwrap part of the blanket that she has around herself. She whines and tries clinging to the fabric as she burrows herself into the blanket further.  “Kaina.” You whined, yanking the fabric more but failing miserably. You eventually decided that trying to get your portion of the blanket back wasn’t going to happen, not when you didn’t have enough energy to try and fight her. “...’m cold.”  Your voice got muffled into the blanket as you shoved your face into the blanket, shutting your eyes. She mumbled something, before turning to face you. You grumpily turned yourself around, pouting and freezing but too lazy to get up. You peeked your eyes open when you felt sudden warmth behind you. Kaina moved herself behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist as she lazily threw part of the blanket over your body. She pressed her face into your shoulder as she smiled. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” You joked, trying and failing to pull more of the blanket towards you. “You’re still being stingy though.”  “I’m warming you up.” She retorted, partially muffled into your shoulder. “Stop complaining.”

Kaina will always leave random pictures in her partner’s phone gallery when she has a hold of their phone.

She’ll take selfies and leave them for you to find. She’ll never directly tell you or even hint at it for you to find, wanting you to randomly come across them. After the second time, you always make it a point to check your camera roll. You love scrolling through every picture she’s taken, most of them silly and random. It’s a different side of Kaina that hardly anyone gets to see.

She enjoys sitting on her partner’s lap, laying her head against their shoulder. It’s incredibly comforting and relaxing. She feels the safest with them.

Kaina moved herself into your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck before placing a kiss to your forehead. She giggled as you started placing multiple kisses across her face. She hums lightly before laying her head against your shoulder, your hand rubbing small circles on her back. “I love you.” She said, softly, letting her eyes fall close as she takes in the moment.  “I love you more.” 

She adores putting those silly little filters over photos she takes of her partner and herself. She thinks they’re the cutest thing and always excitedly shows them off.

“Look!” Kaina exclaimed, practically shoving the phone in your face. “Look how cute we look!”  You lightly gripped her hand as you tried pulling the phone back so you could actually see her screen. She had placed a filter over the photo she took of you two, seeing both of you now sporting cat ears and hearts. She took her hand back, continuing to swipe different things around her screen as she softly squealed to herself.  “You look way better in those than I do.” You joked, smiling as you watched her. You swear you couldn’t love her more than you already do, and she always finds new ways to make your heart fill with more love than before.  “Oh come on, you’re so cute. Especially in this one.” She said, holding up her phone again. This time she held further back allowing you to see yourself in a different picture she took but this time with different effects across it. “It’s my favorite.”  “I still think it can’t top any photo you’re in.” You responded, grinning when she started pouting.  “Stop trying to get out of my compliments!” She said, playfully hitting you on the arm as she went back to her phone.

[latibvles]

WITH YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER.

PAIRING: Dick Winters x Reader

GENRE: Tooth-rotting fluff. Cavity-inducing even.

SUMMARY: Aimless Austria sweetness featuring shirtless Dick Winters because I am a simple woman with simple needs. Yes I was in fact listening to Older by 5SOS when writing this.

DEDICATIONS: @liebgotts-lovergirl because you can bet your ass this is me projecting all of the love I have for Major Winters into a ficlet after that cute prompt you sent me

he is literally so fine fr okay um moving right along ( and no this isn’t proofread )—

In your time in Europe — one undeniable truth became apparent. Peace was hard fought. The serenity of Zell Am See was a testament to that fact. That, and the silver band which now occupied your ring finger, catching the light of the early morning sun.

You sit patiently at the water’s edge as he swims back to you, pushing himself back up onto the rock and pushing his fingers through sopping reddish hair. Almost immediately thereafter, he slips his matching silver band onto his own finger, and shoots you a warm smile.

It wasn’t a wedding ring — but it was definitely a promise. Dick had been more than adamant on the fact that as much as he loved showering you with German loot, your engagement ring had to be more special than that. Promise rings, however, were fair game, plucked from a long abandoned house near the Eagle’s Nest, exchanged in the quiet of a balcony with the soft-spoken promise of “When things are better.”

That being said, things here honestly felt pretty damn good.

Reaching up to dry off his own hair with a towel, you begin to giggle and at that, Dick raises a curious brow.

“What is it?”

“I was expecting you to shake your head like a dog again n’ get me all wet.” You tease, and you can hear his quiet scoff as he sets the towel down.

“It was one time and I didn’t see you,” he’s not actually upset, so the way his voice takes on an almost childish sort of whine that’s so out of character for him is equally as amusing.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going blind now, Dickie.” He rolls his eyes fondly at the nickname. He’d shown you a letter from his parents once, back in Aldbourne. Ever since, when you really wanted to mess with him, the name rolled off your tongue as easily as any other quip did. Admittedly, he didn’t mind it whenever it came from you.

“Then I won’t tell you.”

His smile only grows when you reach out to slightly push him — a warm hand upon his chilled skin from the water. He sways only slightly, because he isn’t really trying to resist, before he scoots back beside you. You look over his face, the amused glint in his eyes as he returns your stare. Dick Winters was perfectly capable of smiling and joking and laughing with the rest — it was just rare to see him actually do it. Breaking professionalism was something Nixon was more often the witness of and victim to, gaining a sort of self-serving amusement watching his best friend respond to his sarcasm with equal dryness or some other remark.

Nixon, and you, who had managed to worm your way in and get him to laugh and smile more often than he really should’ve.

It started with small things, almost comically childish in nature, like pulling a stink-eye when Sobel had his back turned or participating in the good-natured ribbing that most if not all enlisted men partook in. Then going back and forth with Nix whenever he happened to be around, and eventually annexing Dick into your jests on the one-off occasion.

Without necessarily meaning to, you’d managed to stumble your way into Dick’s heart — he, on the other hand, seemed to march into yours to the cadence of your heartbeat.

“Withholding information is a terrible way to start off a marriage. Your poor mother would faint at the very thought,” All he can do is laugh, wholeheartedly, at your immediate response. While it was definitely true, Edith Winters would have many words on the matter — the entire hypothetical was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help himself.

“Then I guess I’ll have to tell you when I go blind after all.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

You lapse for a moment into silence, reaching over to lace your fingers and smile fondly at Dick’s matching promise ring. As the morning sun continues to rise and break through the trees lining the lake, you find yourself resting your cheek on the man’s freckled shoulder, pressing a kiss to it and then bumping your nose against it. In response, you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

It feels like, for the briefest moment, that the world has come to a halt, holding their breath and allowing two young lovers to cherish this moment of respite. You both knew that even in peace times, work was to be done — wrangling the soldiers into some semblance of order, managing POWs, all sorts of things that would no doubt demand your immediate attention in the coming hours.

But all that could wait.

Right now, all that really mattered was Dick’s thumb tracing small patterns into the back of your hand, the water droplets smeared by the cheek on his skin, the stillness in the air, the ripples in the pond, and the feeling that, without even needing to check — your hearts were likely beating in time, the same pulse thrumming through two bodies at a slow and steady pace.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your hair, and while he’s said it before, you’ve always noticed how it slips out easier and easier with time. Like it’s as second nature as breathing, as objective as the sky being blue.

“I love you, too.” you whisper in kind, and you don’t need to look directly at him to know he’s smiling.

When things are better, you’d promised each other. When you could really settle down, crank out a whole guest list of wedding invites, meet Ethel Winters face-to-face and Annie too. When Dick could get you a ring even more special than the ones you wore now. That kind of better. But if that was better — this kind of peace was a pretty good place to start. And it was more than worth fighting for.

And if you stay there on the water’s edge, simplistically entwined for a few moments longer than you normally would — that was no one’s business but your own.

[zine-garden]

There are SO many types of zines, sometimes it’s hard to keep track of! Here is a list of common zine categories with links to either free to read zines, descriptions, or artist shops and zine distros to buy from!

art zine - Zines that are filled with art, photo, collage, etc. This could be a sketchbook zine, drawings under a singular theme, or a general compilation of art. This is the most common type of zine produced by artists!

Subject of Devotion, Sabrina Mellado (For Shortbox Comics Fair). This was a digital collection of sketchbook scans available for free, compiled on her website

comic zine - Writing and drawing a self produced and printed comic! Another popular category of zines for artists. Also: Diary comic zines, Auto-bio Comic Zines.

How to Survive a Haunting, Jade Zhang Duende, Elle Shivers

fanzine - Fan-drawings, comics, writing, meta, fiction, etc. compiled into a self-published work!

I know the internet has taken over what many people, especially in fandom, understand a zine to be, but anyone can make a zine and anyone can make a fanzine. At the zine library I used to help maintain, there was an 8 page mini that was just a bunch of Idris Elba pics with cute kaomoji’s saying “i love uwu idris elba <3”. The first media fanzine was published in 1967, for Star Trek called, “Spockanalia.” Seriously, all you need to do is be impassioned by a subject to write, collage, or draw something about it!

Stitching Together, Annie Mok (Available to read for free, but I encourage you to send her a tip as she has recently been in recovery from surgery and is also on food stamps https://ko-fi.com/heyanniemok/shop) Good Chicken, Natalie Mark (Me! Is self promo okay?)

info zine - A zine that shares information. This can be informational, or it can be an instructional zine such as a “DIY Zine” or a “Recipe Zine.”

Trans/Disabled Bibliography, Saul Freedman. I don’t have a link to this one, but it was a really wonderful and short zine of both citations and a love letter to the works cited. Instead, I have linked you to Saul’s zine page on his website 🤠 Patchwork Primer: how do we find what we’re not looking for?, kaythi and seiji. This info zine was created for an event I organized for people creating zines on the margins. I invited the two of them to co-program an activist book club for the event!

litzine - A “literary zine” can be a collection of fiction, poetry, prose, etc. that is self published and distributed as a zine. Also called “lit zine”, or “literary zine”. Some people prefer “chapbook”, or “poetry zine” for poetry.

My favourite litzines are not available anywhere online, so I will describe one of them for you? Todo Parecia de Cristal / “Everything Looked Like Crystal”, Laura Rojas is a collection of photos of the artist’s mom and her siblings growing up paired with journaling between 2015-18. They couldn’t bring photo albums with them when the moved to Canada from Colombia, and the photos had been mailed to her years prior to the making of the zine.

perzine - A “personal zine” focuses on the artist’s life, opinion, or thoughts in some capacity. A zine about yourself, your experiences, your life, a particular memory, your feelings, etc. This is my favourite type of zine!

Sonali Menzes/glittermagpie has some really awesome perzine and info zines about anxiety and mental illness. I have her zines, So you’re anxious as fuck, and You’re so Exotic. Keet Geniza/Make! Shift! Love! is another favourite zinester! I love Keet’s perzine series, Picking Bones, which are full of reflective auto-bio comics and prose. Your Whiteness is Boring: A Gender Perzine, Cleo Peterson.

political zine - Dealing with political topics, anarchy, communism, social justice, historical movements, and present day issues.

An Illustrated Struggle for Housing from Canada to the Philippines, Julie Guevara Autonomous Resistance To slavery and Colonialism, Russell Maroon Shoatz. (Note, the prices on Brown Recluse Distro are for BIPOC only, white people and institutions are asked to donate an extra $5 USD)

[sobashahzadi]

yeah so this a comic I made a whole while ago

I don’t do many but ya know, @randomnumber20 and I were talking bout their oc and and I couldn’t resist (context at the end of u want some)

Rika-UGH! I’m so bored!

Aki-Well, you could always help us clean up?

Rika-that’s boring!

Rika-I know! Let’s talk about romance and stuff!

Endou-what romance stuff is there to talk about?

Rika-Loads! Like uh… what about… Ryuukou! I bet he’s 100% going out with someone!

Kabeyama-Really? Who do you think he would be going out with?

Rika-I dunno but I do see him talking with Reina a lot

Fudou-Nahhh, he’s deffo going out with Afuro, have u seen the way he looks at him?

Touko-but he’s always so soft and gentle around Reina?

Fubuki- (bless his sweet soul) Ryuukou and Afuro would make a really cute couple

Kougure-I bet 500yen he’s dating Reina!

Todd(wtf is his name in sub again?)- I bet 1000yen he’s dating Afuro!

Aki-guys stop we can’t be betting behind their ba-

midorikawa- I bet 1500 it’s Reina!

Aki-MIDORIKAWA! Not u too!

midorikawa-sorry…

______________________________________________________________ CONTEXT-

-Ryuukou is @randomnumber20’s Inazuma eleven oc, go ask them about him if your curious but beware the guy does not shut up once he starts (only if there isn’t anything else in common to talk about ofc)

-Everyone from past Raimon teams (most characters, some aren’t there for the plot but they were all supposed to go, so like the s2 team and Inazuma Japan and all) gathered to have a match or whatever just for fun before they graduate middle school (this is before their actual post-graduation match) just for funsies under coach Hibiki, coach Kudou and coach Hitomiko. -but suddenly a storm started to brew and crashed their parade, now these poor players must wait out the rain and thunder in the club room-chaos ensues (coaches went for shelter to the school because they’re professional adults, also Hitimiko refused to step inside that “shabby looking ramshackle of a shed”)

-basically they’ve been there a solid 5 minutes and Rika is already bored out of her mind and she wants to do what she does best, gossip about romance. When Endou, oblivious to everything but sakka asks what romance there could possible be to talk about Rika thinks hard and suddenly remembers a fairly new face that happened to catch the hearts of many recently, the one the only, the thundergod of the field Ryuukou.

-she first suggests that Reina might be interested in this handsome specimen, however Fudou, always looking to stir up trouble brings up the fact that Afuro seems mightily interested in the him too

-this sets off a series of comments on both possible romantic candidates only for the fire to be further fanned by the ever so mischievous Kogure who starts betting on who he thinks is the better option of the two for their dear friend, not at all intending to pay the price

-Kurimatsu joined in and Aki worries for another storm brewing in their club room and wishes to stop this betting nonsense, Midorikawa, ever so oblivious to the conversation simply wants his dear friend Reina to win, not knowing the stakes at hand, he bets even more for her only to upset Aki further.

I got a bit carried away lol, I’ve never written or even drawn a proper comic or even a fanfic (I mostly only do crackfics) so this was fun

I have part 2 of this drawn up and ready to go if anyone is interested in seeing how this goes and I also have a separate comic involving this same oc in ie-go.

OH YEAH FORGOT TO MENTION- this was drawn up very very late at night whilst I was very tired and feeling very high on Inazuma eleven brain rot so mind u the drawings may look a bit sloppy

[cafalla]

Animal Crossing New Horizons: Deserted Island Diary Free Comic Book Manga (2023)

I read a LOT of manga when I was younger, mostly from independent scanners and editors. Now that I’m working on archiving some items of mine, I understand how time consuming the process can be. Granted, I don’t edit or translate the text of the things I scan, but scanning and formatting a book or comic can be a lengthy process.

Today I decided to scan my copy of the free comic book day Animal Crossing manga. I got it from a comic book store my partner and I visited while on vacation last month. 

It includes the first chapter of the Animal Crossing: Deserted Island Diary manga, as well as an excerpt from the manga Kirby Manga Mania.

I personally am not that into comedy/exaggeratedly goofy manga, which these both are. I’m more into shoujo and serious drama stories. But I couldn’t resist a free book, so I grabbed one on my way out of the store.

This sounds silly, but I had a lot of fun editing these scans. Below are a few of unedited pages along with the pages I edited to be more clear/get rid of the printing on the other side of the page that was showing through.

I think they turned out good! I know it’s a silly thing no one other than me cares about, but I thought they turned out nice.

The Animal Crossing manga is about four villagers arriving on the island and adjusting to island life. Shenanigans ensue.

My favorite part of the Animal Crossing section is Tom Nook, Timmy, and Tommy. They're so cute!

The Kirby manga is a Beauty and the Beast-like story. King DeDeDe gets turned into an ugly toy, and he needs to feel true kindness in order to turn back into his normal form.

The art style is a bit off putting for me personally. Here’s a couple examples.

But like I said, I’m not really into over-the-top comedy manga. The expressions are supposed to be exaggerated and crazy, so it works for that reason. 

It's just not my cup of tea. I did get a chuckle at this part where it says Toy DeDeDe lost all hope and notices he glows in the dark while crying.

If you’d like to read the comic and see higher quality scans, feel free to check it out on my Internet Archive account.

Thanks for reading!

[antihibikase2]

For the writing prompts ask game I’m doing!  

@rivalhughs​ HI MAIT thank you for sending a request! Suuuuper sorry it took me too long to get to this! I had something in mind and just. Forgot how to do it. So I made a different scenario instead. :] Thank you so much again!

Bianca looks up from her can of Lemonade.

Beside her, Cheren held a can of warm coffee in his hands, basking in the feeling of warmth despite it being the middle of a hot summer.

She doesn’t blame him; she doesn’t know what it feels to be constantly cold. She could only imagine how painful it was, to never feel the winter breeze as anything but an embrace of death, a reminder of what he had become.

But she does not dwell on that; what she focuses on is his annoyed expression as he tries to open the can with his freshly-cut fingernails.

His brows furrow and he has an almost comical pout on his lips as he grunts, somehow finding the task too difficult to accomplish. On his lap, Kitty looks up in confusion, cocking his little head and meowing slightly.

Bianca feels her Espurr- Luttite, climb onto her lap and stiffly reach out for her can of Lemonade with curt cries. She lets her little darling hold the can between its paws, even if it stumbles a little from the weight.

Cheren finally feels her eyes on him, and he turns with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks turning slightly pink. A part of Bianca wondered how that even happened, considering the-

“W-What?” He stammers out. “What are you looking at!”

And suddenly, Bianca was in her daycare days again as Princess Beebee, being much taller than both Little Cheri and Lil’ Hil. 

Suddenly, Little Cheri was back to hiding behind her and crying on the back of her newly acquired coat from Kalos, all because someone in daycare pointed out that they couldn’t play with the other boys.

She couldn’t resist the fond chuckle that leaves her.

“Sorry, you just looked so,” Not helpless. Not pathetic. “Cute!”

“C..Cute?!”

“Yeah! You’re so focused on opening that can- it’s like it personally offended you!” She laughs as she offers her hand out. “Need any help?”

Cheren looks appalled for a moment.

But, he puffs his cheeks, and with an indignant huff, turns away as he allows her to open the can.

[stegrossaurus]

Capes and Cowls

Capes and Cowls

by Lyle

Arty was a great friend when we were little kids. We met in kindergarten and clicked in that way that only little kids do. I think he’s the one that got me into superheroes. We spent the next few years with paper masks on our faces and towels tied around our necks playing in my backyard. 

I’d like to say that I don’t know why we grew apart, but I know it was mostly on me. Still liking superheroes and comics and whatnot is fine, but at a certain point, wearing a domino mask to school and publicly geeking out about the new Superman movie stops being cute. His ill-fitting hand-me-downs, perpetually broken glasses, and greasy hair didn’t make him any more popular. It wasn’t Arty’s fault that his family was poor, I know. But the fact is, you’re only as safe as you make yourself and when you cut off deadweight, you can run from a bear a lot faster. So when Arty and I graduated to high school, I left him behind. 

“Oh God. Arby’s Olsen is sitting right next to us,” Sheila hissed not-so-quietly to us at lunch. We called him Arby’s because he was greasy and undesirable. Not the most clever of nicknames, but it was nasty enough that we used it anyway. “I can smell him from here. Is he even allowed in the lunchroom?”

“Well, there goes my diet,” Yumi sighed loudly. “I can already taste the food getting greasier.”

 Parker flicked a fry at the neighboring table, hitting Arty in the head. “Hey, greaseball! If you're going to be here, you could at least take a shower first!”

The rest of the popular kids laughed. I’m not proud to admit that I did, too, but like I said, you’re only as safe as you make yourself. I don’t want to make things worse for Arty but I want things to get worse for me even less. I tried to avoid looking in my former friend’s direction, but when I couldn’t resist and turned my head, I saw his thick glasses aimed at me. Then he got up and walked over to our table.

At 5’2” with chopstick limbs, Arty didn’t cut a very intimidating figure. But he walked with enough confidence that we all quieted down as he approached. He paused at my seat for a second then pushed by me to get to Parker.

“You dropped this,” he said, flicking the fry in Parker’s face.

In all the years of Arty being picked on, I don’t think I’d ever seen him retaliate. Parker’s stunned face told me that he hadn’t, either. Unfortunately, he wasn’t stunned enough to stop him from grabbing Arty by the throat and tossing him to the ground. He gave Arty a few sharp kicks, while the rest of the kids cheered. I didn’t join in, but guilt burned in my chest as I watched.

Arty managed to pull himself to a sitting position and gave me another glare, his eyes wet but sharp behind his thick glasses.

“Not gonna help me up, Black Drac?” he wheezed. “Some hero you are.” He didn’t sound disappointed, though. As the lunch monitor hauled him away for “fighting”, he was smiling.

“Black Drac? What the hell was that dweeb talking about, Lyle?” Yumi asked.

It was the favorite of the superhero identities that we’d made when we were kids. Black Drac, the vampiric vigilante, and Zodiac Man, master of the 12 powers. Of course, I didn’t tell them that. I just said, “No idea. All that family moonshine must have gone to his brain.” Everyone laughed and I tried to join in, but the guilt burned hotter when I did. 

And it didn’t stop there. When Parker tripped a few freshmen in the hallway and I laughed, the burning came back. When Yumi showed off the bracelet she stole from a classmate and I complimented her, it came back again. At the end of the day, when Bart and Parker shook down some nerds to do our homework for us, it happened once again. But this time, Arty popped up behind me.

“You could intervene, you know,” he said, almost smugly. “It’d be the right thing to do.”

Bart, Parker, and even the kids we were bullying looked at me expectantly. Arty was right, of course, I could intervene and it would be the right thing to do. Instead, I shoved Arty to the ground.

“And you could take a shower for once, Arby’s!” I snapped. I thrust my math homework at the nerds and said, “If this doesn’t get an A tomorrow, you and I are going to have a serious problem.”

I walked off without looking back, hoping that sent the right message to Arty and the others. Almost immediately, the burning sensation came back with a vengeance. It hurt so bad, I wouldn’t have been able to walk home if it had lasted more than a minute. The first thing I did when I caught home was check the mirror. I pulled my shirt down and I saw it: a blackening, green-tinged lump of raised flesh in the clear shape of a V. Far from faint or invisible but not quite to disfiguring or concerning levels. If I’d had an explanation for it, I wouldn’t have been worried. But I didn’t have an explanation, not for the bruise of the burning that I’d felt all day.

It didn’t take a genius to grasp how it worked, though. Watching my friends do something nasty made it burn a little, doing something nasty myself made it burn a lot. And the fact that it started happening after Arty pushed by me to get to Parker wasn’t lost on me, either.

For a half hour, I tried ice packs and antibiotics to make the bruise go down, but nothing looked like it was working. I knew I was just stalling. Arty had done something to me and I needed to know what. Steeling myself, I decided to go visit Arty.

I didn’t want anyone I knew seeing me entering the trailer park, so I went through the forest. His family’s trailer was right on the edge of the property, so I could easily go from the trees to his front door, mostly unseen. Walking through the forest brought a wave of nostalgia as I remembered all the fun we had playing there. Arty’s parents were pretty harsh and mine were pretty controlling, even back then, so the forest is where we spent most of our time. Not for the first time, I started to regret cutting him off, but I shut that thought down.

“It’s not my fault that Arty never grew up and it’s not my fault that his family’s trash,” I said softly to myself. “He was deadweight and I cut him loose.” The second those words were out of my mouth, the V started to burn. It was really starting to hurt.

While gritting back the pain, I heard something through the trees. It sounded like a blowtorch flaring up and it went down just as the pain did. As quietly as I could, I crept through the bushes towards the noise. 

I recognized the clearing a split-second before it came into view. It was one of our favorite spots. The large boulder at one end was always our superhero HQ (or Pride Rock or Arctic fortress or whatever) and the shallow, rocky ditch on the other was the bad guy’s lair. 

Both of those areas were smeared with blood. The boulder had a large H painted on it surrounded by other smaller bloody drawings, and the ground around it was littered with bones. The ditch had a V painted in the center of the dying grass and flyblown entrails everywhere else. One of the rocks had a single black candle with a sickly green flame stuck to it. That unnatural fire somehow commanded more of my attention than the gore around me. Until another blowtorch hiss came from the boulder and I turned to see a blue flame rising out of a red candle that I hadn’t noticed before. Then I heard something else, a loud crunch of wood and stone as something large started coming closer through the trees.

On second thought, I decided to confront him at school the next day.

The bruise was still there when I woke up and it only got worse by lunch. Helping Bart sell his brother’s meds to burnouts. Setting up a prank for the pep rally with Parker. Taunting the special needs kids with Sheila. Giving Yumi the idea to blackmail her history teacher with some doctored photos. Every time the pain came back. I knew I should have stopped, but I couldn’t find a way to do it without wimping out in front of my friends. Still, I was swiftly caring less and less about that as the pain grew and by lunch, I had no problem leaving them to go corner Arty.

“Whatever you did, make it stop, Arty,” I said, once I’d dragged him to a quiet corner.

“You make it stop, Lyle,” he sneered smugly. “If you stop being garbage for 24 hours, the mark will disappear. Of course, it’ll come back if you start up again, but at least it’ll reset.”

I was about to ask what he meant before I remembered how the bruise worsens with each act. I checked on it before lunch. It was close to pitch black and the green veins were almost glowing. If I stopped being a bully for a day, according to Arty, it’d go back to the start, but wouldn’t really go away.

“I’m not being garbage. You’re just being too sensitive,” I snapped. “Are you seriously willing to kill me just because I won’t play Power Rangers in the backyard with you anymore?”

“You abandoned me for those scumbags,” Arty hissed. “And now, you’re the same as them: just a piece of crap that deserves to be punished. And you know that, don’t you?” His smirk came back. “That’s why you just sit back and watch when your new friends are being turds. You think it’ll keep your hands clean.”

“I’m just adapting!” I shout. “I didn’t want to ditch you, but this was the only way to get through life. My parents, the kids at school; none of them would have left me alone if I stayed your friend. I did it to keep myself safe. And you obviously know that or I’d see you sticking up for people like you seem to think I should do. Don’t act like you’re any better than me.”

We stood in silence for a bit. Then he nodded solemnly.

“So will you stop this?” I asked again.

“I’ll undo it after school. Just behave until then. Your candle’s almost melted down so I know you’re getting close.”

“Will this kill me if it keeps going?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

Arty’s watery gray eyes lit up. “So glad you asked. Come with me, Black Drac, I want to show you something.” 

He wandered into a stairwell, digging through his backpack. He smiled wanly as he yanked down his shirt with one hand and pulled a stretch of fabric free of the backpack with the other. On his chest was a deep red and blue-veined bruise in the shape of an H. In his hand was a big leather cloth crudely stitched together. The back of the cloth was red fabric except for a rougher part towards the top where Arty was holding it.

“I made part of it with my old towel cape,” he said, wrapping what I then realized was a cape around his shoulders. “The rest is made from my parents’ old curtain and my parents.”

It took me a second to process what he said and a second more to take in that the leather parts of the cape were surprisingly flesh toned. In those seconds, Arty’s thin, short, weak body changed. His Martian Manhunter shirt turned to indigo form-fitting fabric, which immediately ripped under the weight of fur-covered muscle. His sneakers became combat boots that tore around prehistoric reptilian hooves. Avian claws ripped out of leather gloves. His gruesome cape strained as his shoulders separated to make room for the 12 monstrous heads, most of which were wearing domino masks.

“Say hello to Zodiac Man,” the pig, tiger, rabbit, and snake heads said at once. The dragon head laughed cruelly and the baboon head screeched hungrily. The massive ox head extended its thick neck to give my head a sniff. All of his eyes glowed with blue fire. “Doesn’t last long. But once I have my villain, it’ll be permanent.”

“Villain?” I whispered. I was too scared to even try running. I slowly raised a hand to the V blooming under my shirt.

The rat and rooster heads nodded while the dog and horse heads said, “Well, yeah, every hero needs a villain or we’re just weirdos in spandex.” He thoughtfully stroked the ram head’s chin and said, “Dead parents help an origin story, too. You used to know things like that, Lyle. But you were right.” His voices grew pensive. “I’ve been more focused on getting back at you than I have in being a hero. And you were just trying to survive. You’re not my enemy, Lyle, and I don’t want you for my villain. I want you for my partner.”

As promised, the 12-headed nightmare in front of me shrank back down to my former best friend a few seconds later. He left me in the stairwell with a promise to remove my candle after school. I didn’t join in anymore bullying for the rest of the day. I never felt good about being a bully, but after talking with Arty, I wasn’t sure what to feel.

I thought a lot about what Arty had said and what it meant before the bell rang. His parents were always hurting him in one way or another and they thought our friendship was making him “fruity”, so I couldn’t say I’d miss them. My own parents only talked to me when they wanted to tell me how disappointing I was and they thought our friendship was holding me back. Probably wouldn’t miss them, either. I kept that thought with me as I went to the clearing.

Art was there chiseling off the black candle with a knife. Once it came loose, I immediately felt a heat extinguish on my chest. When he saw me, he smiled and walked forward, holding the knife and the old gray towel that Black Drac wore.

We talked for a while about what it meant to be a hero (strength, bravery, dead parents, cool costumes) and a villain (cruelty, selfishness, greed, cool costumes).  How hard it is to sew skin to cloth and how bones would make great helmets. How villains are designed to lose no matter how powerful they are. He never told me how he made all this happen (I still don’t think even he knows), but it was fun talking to him after years of trying to shut him out. When I went home for the night, it was with the knife.

The following week was rough. Lying to the police about my parents’ disappearance was a one-time thing; there’s no way they’ll believe the business trip excuse a second time. Rekindling my friendship with Arty meant a fair bit of bullying for both of us but it’ll be worth it.  The ditch’s black candles far outnumber the boulder’s two red ones (all it takes is a touch from either of us), but Arty told me not to worry.

“Every new villain just makes us stronger,” he said. “Remember, villains always lose.”

And so here we are at the school pep rally. The laxatives Parker put in the cheerleaders’ drinks start to take effect at the same time the brown dye-packs hidden in the marching band instruments go off. An overhead projector starts playing footage captured from cameras he’d hidden in the bathrooms and the crowd erupts into laughter and taunts. Followed quickly by yelps of pain as over twenty people, both students and faculty, rub their chests and start choking.

“It’s happening, bud,” Arty says excitedly. “A lot at once, look like. Capes and cowls, quick!”

We pull our gear out of our backpacks. The cowls made from scalps and skulls were my idea. We put them on and start our transformation just as our villains start theirs. In all honesty, we’re just as monstrous and frightening as they are, but there’s something sickly about them. The fur under Parker’s ragged spandex is patchy and mangy. Sheila’s six buglike limbs look too frail and skeletal to hold her laser guns properly. Yumi’s second and third heads are practically vestigial, so only her main head has a psychic enhancer helmet. Bart actually shrank a bit as his body broke out in warts and was covered with a bloody lab coat. Compared to them, my thick midnight fur, upturned snout full of fangs, and massive leathery wings look gorgeous.

The villains start attacking the normals who haven’t run away yet. I adjust my skull mask, now transformed to match my new face, and summon ectoplasmic energy to my claws. Zodiac Man readies his cosmic sword and levitates into the air.

“Good to fight alongside you again, Black Drac,” his dragon head shouts over the din.

“Same, Zodiac Man,” I rasp. “It’s good to feel like a hero again. Now let’s have some fun.”

[wroteclassicaly]

Warnings: Language, NSFW, piss kink, watersports, dom!Eddie, sub!Reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, and MORE!

Summary: You and Eddie try out a kink that you just can’t deny.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: Listen, I already know I’m going to hell, so why not add to it? This is something I’ve been hesitant about, because I know a lot of people don’t like it and will be very judgmental. But I ask that if you don’t like it—KEEP SCROLLING! Eddie with this kink is one of my favorite tropes and I’ve been wanting to write a fic like this for some time. Gotta thank @corrodedhawkins for encouraging me to share this (join me in hell, yeah?), and for listening to my ramblings on the subject.

PLEASE, PLEASE don’t send me nasty anons! I get it if this isn’t your thing, but no one needs to be kink shamed, yeah? Anyways, for those who will read, I hope you enjoy! <3

Side note: I didn’t tag anyone that I didn’t know if they would be reading this or not. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to tag anyone that doesn’t like this kinda content. :(

~*~

You’re splayed out on Eddie’s bed on Saturday night, his next day show looming like the promised hangovers of those who will be his drunken crowd at The Hideout, focusing heavily on making sure those nails have a perfect shining secondary coat. Once finished, you blow on the midnight colored polish, smiling up at your boyfriend as he chews a Marlboro filter between milky white teeth.

“All done, baby?” His questions, a smirk on his features that you love so much.

You nod rather proudly, leaning down to peck his wrist bone with a chaste kiss, sliding back into a cross legged position, confirming. “Good to go, love.”

He admires your handiwork, flexing his fingers, twisting his hands back and forth. “Looks bitchin’.”

You reach back to pick up his vest that you’d been working at prior, helping put your home economics sowing skills to good use, threading on some new patches Eddie had bought for the denim. He winces a little, gripping his crotch and causing your eyes to dart in concern. “You good, Eds?”

“Yeah, just gotta hit the can real quick, babe. You’re doin’ great, by the way. Couldn’t do all this shit without you.” He’s comically hopping around to show his eagerness to find that small bathroom in the trailer’s hallway, making you snort, then he quickly leans in to peck your forehead. Your eyes close in sheer happiness, those butterflies clawing at your insides.

He leaves and you continue your task. That is, until he’s calling for you moments later. “Uh, babe?”

Lifting your head towards the direction he’s calling from, you place the vest off to the side. “Yeah, Eds? Everything okay?”

“Would you… can you give me a hand, please?”

You’re a little concerned, hoping he didn’t trip over his own two feet (as he is prone to do), but he sounds exasperated and winded, so you’re following his voice and heading into the cove of the tiny bathroom, bare feet cool against the peeling linoleum that decorates its floor. “Eddie?”

He’s got his belt halfway undone, shirt bunched above his navel, making your brow raise. “What’s wrong?”

“This’ll teach my dumb ass not to drink so much beer before you come over. I didn’t think.” He wiggles his ringed hands, as if to show you something, his nails still wet and sticky. And it clicks in an instant as to what he’s implying, or rather, requesting.

“Wait, you want me to—“

“Help me piss? Yeah, I know. I’m a grade A asshole for asking.” His cute chocolate eyes do that wide eyed thing and you can’t resist him or his banter.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and step forward, jerking the belt apart and helping him with the button and fly, that zipper a resounding echo in the confined space.

Eddie has to force himself to be a gentleman when your hand slides into his boxers and tugs his soft cock out, cutely looking at him for instruction.

“You just, kinda… aim it?” Eddie directs, making you both laugh at how incredulous it is, and that relaxes you.

His palm lays flat over top your hand that is curled around him, an immediate groan toppling off his lips once you’ve got him where he needs to be as he lets go, his other hand propped on the opposite wall. It’s an everyday thing, but it’s loud. And you’re staring. Confused and ashamed, you force yourself to look away when Eddie brushes your knuckles with his fingertips—a simple intimate action he’s done countless times before. Once he’s finished, you make quick work of helping him tuck himself back in and try to work through no eye contact as you thread his belt together, leaving him alone.

What you didn’t know, is that Eddie saw your wondrous stares and your brief thigh clenching, the words, “Fuck, you’re into this?” Dying on his lips.

~*~

Around midnight, you and Eddie had laid down in a serene calmness that one of Summer’s last remaining storms can bring. And he can’t stop thinking about that glazed look in your dilating pupils, the way you tried to completely ignore helping him in the way that you did. And he’s upset that you are embarrassed, especially with how much his cock has been twitching in his boxers at the entirety of this newfound kink. You’ve been in a committed relationship for years, so why this? You’re still awake—albeit—silent, your neck tucked into the curvature of his jugular, fingers playing with his pick chain.

He pokes your nose with a manicured nail, causing you to peer up, still wide awake. You’ve been frustrated all night, something else that he’s noticing, unbeknownst to you. Eddie isn’t sure how to broach the subject matter, so he goes right in for it, no sugar coating shit. “I love it that you’re so fucking filthy.”

You’re absolutely horrified, tears burning your lash line to the brim. He knows. You let go and automatically turn over, hands wrapping around yourself and tucking beneath your breasts.

His heart constricts painfully, his arm elongated to reach for your waist. “Hey, hey. Baby, c’mon.”

“Eddie, just stop. Forget it, please.”

He can hear the desperation in your voice and it has him scooting impossibly closer, his arm tossing completely over your waist and pulling you back against him, his mouth finding that particular spot on your neck, a hot whisper coming off his mouth. “What if I liked that you liked it?”

“I’m a fucking freak.” You whimper.

Eddie chuckles, a throaty and soft rasp. “Listen, baby. I can assure that, out of the two of us, I’m the only real freak here.” Eddie’s hand splays across your abdomen, drifting, pressing. You squirm and your hips gravitate towards his backside.

He’s getting hard… Fuck.

“But Eddie, what normal girl gets off on seeing her boyfriend piss? Like… I’m fucking disgusting.”

“So you do get off by it, baby?

“I…” You heartbeat pulsates rapidly beneath your breast, feeling as if you’d skipped a step. “That’s not, no I don’t.”

Eddie is amused, not buying it. “You’re tellin’ me that if I checked your panties right now, you wouldn’t be soaking wet? Hmm?”

Your eyelids flutter closed and you take Eddie’s fingers as they press against your now open mouth, sucking them inside. He rocks you back into his cock, rolling his hips so you feel what this is all doing to him.

“Shit. That feels so good.” You hiss around his guitar playing digits.

“Yeah?” He’s nipping at the shell of your ear. “Know what feels even better, Y/N?”

You turn to face him, his fingers falling out with a wet pop, his other hand cradling the nape of your neck. Your voice is trembling when you answer him with a question you already know. “What?“

“Letting go. And I don’t know about you, but I need to.”

Your thighs wrap around the leg he’s slotted between them, tightening. He groans into your flesh, kissing you harshly, tongue finding yours in a wet slope of slippery domination. Moments pass and when you break to breathe, Eddie is pushing down on your abdomen, tone light and airy, yet heated and heavy. “You gotta go, baby?”

Like a true submissive to his gravitational dominance, you incline your head in a confirming nod.

“Yeah? Real bad?”

“I… don’t know.” And it’s a truthful answer. There wasn’t a pressing need on your bladder, but you felt… something. And not just that insane amount of slick coating your swollen cunt now.

“You wanna try for me, sweetheart? Be a real good girl?”

Your irises glistening have Eddie stroking your cheekbone with his thumb pad. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, honey. You know I’d never—“

“Yes, Sir. I wanna be your good girl.”

His cock throbs, his night wear suddenly too confining. He pushes off you and waves his hand towards his bedroom door and the open hall. “Go.”

You clamber out of the bed and down the corridor, with your heartbeat galloping full speed ahead, feeling as if it’s dusting your bones to ash. You aren’t surprised when you pull your pajama shorts and panties down after you get seated, to see that arousal stringing from the crotch to your pussy. A ring covered hand taps idly at the framework of the door, Eddie’s nude form standing in your sights, black polished fingernails at attention, his fingers wrapped around his girth. Your body heats up, eyes trying not to look at his demolished irises. “Look at me, Y/N.”

Fuck.

He’s stepping closer, a command clear. “Scoot back and spread your legs.”

“Eddie…”

“What? I have to go too. And I can’t do it when I’m fuckin’ hard, so you better hurry, because I can see how wet you are, and that’s not doing me any favors right now.”

Kicking off your shorts and underwear, you shift back a little on the seat, widening your legs. That ridiculous ache latches on and punches your insides, helping you let go in front of your boyfriend, who watches with a head tilt, his knees bending to a slight kneel between your open legs, as he too relieves himself. You have nothing to hold onto, so your fingers reach out and rest across the meat of your bare thighs. Eddie finishes before you, his cock swelling in his grip as he watches you, a wild smirk coating his flushed features.

Leaning in, he captures your mouth, his hand sliding down between your legs, two fingers pressing into you with an ease that sucks them inside your sopping wet walls. He’s moving his mouth down your jawline, to your neck, his fingers scissoring inside, thumb finding your clit. You’re reaching for his wrist, crying out, begging… you aren’t quite sure.

“You’re so fucking soaked that you’re dripping, baby. And I’m not just talking about the piss.”

Your toes curl, tipping into a point on the flooring.

“Please, Eddie…”

“Please, what? Maybe, please do… this?” He curls his fingers against that spongey spot, making you let out a scream that you didn’t know was in you.

That coil is beginning to tighten inside your stomach and Eddie feels you soaking his wrist with your cream and piss, clenching around his fingers. He pulls them out and orders you to stop, yanking you up and pinning you against the wall, lifting your right leg around his slender waistline, ripping your camisole down the middle to palm your tits. You’re discombobulated.

“Fuck,” You’re caught between a complain and a plea. “I wasn’t finished yet, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna finish on my dick, baby.” He taps his pre-cum slick head into your clit, drawing it down the damp seam of your pussy, before resting his forehead against yours. You slide a hand up his back, his necklace resting over your knuckles, your other hand brushing through his messy curls.

“Think you can do that, princess? Soak my dick before you cum all over it?”

You aren’t able to be vocal, head lolling back, receptive to his kiss as his fat cock parts your drenched folds and sinks inside your cunt, beginning an immediate rhythm. He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, letting you get used to his length as he always does, but then, oh then he is.

“Start going again for me, baby. Show me that you can be good.”

He doesn’t let you hide in his neck this time, tilting your chin in a tip, his eyes on yours. Your lashes are soaked in tears of a desire so high that you won’t come back down for days. And Eddie, his chest is heaving, his chocolate irises gone beneath a murky lake of black, skin sheathed in sprinkles of red flush. He bounces you into a particularly hard thrust, and you clamp down on him, making his swollen lips part. “Fuck, m’ gonna cum for you, baby. I’m right there.”

“Have to. Eddie, please, can I? Just, let me…” Is all your garbled frame of mind can come up with it.

“You wanna cum too, sweet girl? You’ve been the definition of a galactic goddess for me. Fucking do it, Y/N.”

Every cell in your body splits apart, you folding in and imploding, outwardly exploding in screams that dig from the depths of your diaphragm. The last bit comes from you in his plunging thrusts and it’s intensified by your orgasm that causes your vision to white out, your hand to pulling Eddie’s hair down to the roots. He swells inside your cunt, balls heavy and drawn, your arousal and spray soaking him down to his happy trail, and he cums, harder than he’s ever came in his entire twenty years of life, filling you full of him as he holds and helps you both ride it out until it subsides. It’s heavy breathing and holding each other, your leg being stroked softly by Eddie’s fingertips before he releases his grip on it. Your muscles are softly pliant, sated.

You hum with closed eyes, head back against the wall paneling. “Fuck, that was intense.”

Eddie chortles, your eyes opening to see him in time for another passionate kiss. On the saliva-strung break away, he’s checking in with you. “Was that okay, baby? You’re not too overwhelmed from it?”

“Did it feel like I was?” Still shy, but no longer ashamed, you giggle after responding.

Eddie shakes his head fondly, ruffling your hair and looking down at the floor. “We should probably clean this mess up and take a shower before Wayne gets home.”

Though you both know, with shared and agreeing Cheshire grins, that the night has just begun.

~*~

Tagging: @corrodedhawkins @ethereal27cereal @boldlyvoid @chaossmoonlights @prettyboyeddiemunson