#verse。 tear open a hole and free yourself.

[gutsby]

Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

[peachesofteal]

ok i have a question- for the dead disco fics, if there was a situation where ghost had to choose between reader and soap, who would he choose? idk why im thinking abt this LOL

Hey babe, what is wrong with you? (I love this so much it scratches my angst brain just right) Why do you want to feel this pain? (I too, want to feel this pain...let’s indulge)

Ghost x Soap x female reader Dead Disco - verse AU - not canon to the actual story. Warnings-tags: Angst. Inferred character death. Darling's usual (eating issues, depression, anxiety, despair, self destructive behaviors)

The bed is too big, as it always has been. As it always was before, and during. And as it always will be for now on, too. Your legs spread across it, kicking and swishing across pristine sheets like you're swimming in them, like you're drowning. Drowning, is more apt. Drowning is more akin to these feelings that swimming, certainly. Drowning is how you feel right now, smothered in your loss, lungs full of water, burning from the salt of your own tears. You're at the bottom of the ocean, lost beneath where the sunlight doesn't reach, far beyond the swell of the waves. Drowning is what it feels like, when your heart clenches in your chest and your stomach heaves it's bile free. Drowning is how you would describe this black, bottomless hole that's developed soul, the one that pulls you deeper and deeper with every breath. Drowning. You've drowned. And no one was there to pull you to shore. To safety. No one was there to save you.

"I'm home!" Your bag falls to the floor with a thud as you toss your keys on the island, loosening your jacket and heading towards the dining area of the flat. "Holy shit, wait until I tell you about my day. My boss was on one today, she was being a crazy a-" the words die on your tongue when you finally look up and see the expression on Johnny's face. At first glance, one might call it grim, but for those who know him, who know to look closer, you see the red ting to his eye lids, the rub of drier skin around his nose. He's been crying. "What's going on?" you ask, looking from him to where Simon sits, stone faced. Immobile. Neither of them answer you at first. "Hello?" The knot that's been loosely tied in your stomach tightens. Simon nods at the free chair next to him. "Sit, darling."

There are two boxes, in your bathroom. They sit, full of things, clothing, items, trinkets, pieces of memories, pieces of love. They idle next to your bathtub, waiting, watching you, every time you drag yourself towards the toilet to vomit, or whenever you muster up the strength to look at your toothbrush. The boxes have sharpie scrawled across them, big loopy letters that almost look like mouths, almost look like they could grow teeth and talk to you, or eat you alive with what's inside of them. You supposed, they could. If you were to open them, and actually look at the things inside, they would consume you. Chew you up. Spit you out.

"I- I don't understand." You take a half step towards Johnny, who visibly flinches, face torn fractured with despair, while Simon's lips press into a hard line before he speaks. "We will make sure you're taken care of, we-" His voice is cold. So, so cold it scratches at your heart, pin pricks of icicles working their way beneath your ribs. "Stop." you shake your head, willing yourself to focus. What is he saying? What does he mean? "Simon, what... wh-what does that mean?" "Darling we're so, so sorry." Johnny's voice, is the opposite of cold. It's molten. Hot, and burning red with orange, thick with something you think is sadness. "You are sorry." You repeat it, numbly. You're not crying, which is a surprise to yourself and probably the two of them too. Your brain is really working now, hard. It's compartmentalizing and organizing and shoving little things away, burying others beneath mountains of sand and locking memories into boxes that you'll never be able to open. "You can't. You can't just leave me... you... you promised." Simon stands completely still, while Johnny shifts his weight nervously, fingers tangling with one another as he watches you like a hawk. Like a solider. "This will be better... for everyone." He tries to soothe you, tries to calm you, even from where he lurks, five feet away. Simon offers you nothing. "I don't understand, everything was fine. I thought... we were okay." Simon finally moves, shaking his head with a no while you watch, mouth ajar.

The boxes have been ripped into tatters now. They lay in shreds across the things in the bathtub, covering two t shirts of Johnny's, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of Simon's. Your silk bathrobe, and giant fleece blanket from the couch. There's also a book, a collection of photographs, a few pieces of jewelry. Worn index cards with recipes on them, Johnny's mum's, and a comic book, that Simon used to keep in his drawer of the bedside table. The final touch is the secret pack of cigarettes, the ones Simon used to keep in the closet, sans the one in your mouth. You inhale it slowly, breathing in the tobacco and the nicotine and the fumes of the lighter fluid, the entire contained dumped onto of the collection of things in the tub, waiting for your final flick. When it comes, you stay perched on the edge on the bath, barely interested, unmoving, as the fire rages. As it consumes.

"You fucking promised!" You scream. You scream it over and over until your throat is hoarse and Johnny looks panicked. Simon grips him roughly, sliding him half behind his body, as if to protect him from you. As if he thinks you'd hurt him. They both watch you with stricken faces, hunters tracking a wounded animal, and your breaths come in short bursts as tears track down your face. "You said you love me." It's barely a whisper, mournful and slow, and they both hear it. "We do." Johnny croaks. "We did." Simon counters, and you flinch. "But this is what's best, for all of us. It was always going to be him, darling. You've known this." It was always going to be him. It was always... going to be Johnny and Simon, over you. It was always going to be them, and not you. The truth stings, burns, bites. It twists it's wicked claws around your heart and tugs and tears until there's nothing left. You've known this. You idiot. How could you possibly believe, in the end, you'd still be in this equation? You'd still be a part of this? How could you possibly believe, that after everything, they'd still love you? Still want you? Simon's mouth moves, but you hear no sound. You hear nothing, as you turn on your heel and barricade yourself in the bedroom. You hear nothing, as they knock, and knock, you hear nothing, until the wood stops vibrating, and the front door open and closes with a final thud. It was always going to be them. You've known this.

"Bloody hell." Gaz whistles, eyes locked on the screen. Johnny wipes a towel across the back of his neck, mopping up the sheen of sweat that lingers there while Simon saunters through the rec room doors. "Christ. Didn't ya two live near there?" "Live where?" Johnny frowns, looking up. There's a heli eye view of a burning building on the news, it's entire structure engulfed in flames, firemen barely making a dent. The camera switches to a ground reporter, a pretty woman with a serious face, who's explaining that arson investigators believe the fire started on the ninth floor, where there's still a single person trapped, unable to be rescued so far by exhaustive efforts. Something glitches in Johnny's brain, something short circuiting while he blinks, and breathes, and blinks, trying to wrap his mind around what he's seeing. The ninth floor. Someone trapped. Didn't ya two live near there? The ninth- It's almost unrecognizable, but he knows. Of course he knows. The ninth floor, the ninth floor- His heart stops in his chest, and he turns frantically to Simon, who stands like a statue in the doorway, eyes wide and frozen. "No. Nonononono-" Johnny whispers. He stumbles, away from Simon, away from Gaz, eyes not leaving the television while he drops to his knees. "She- Simon." Simon doesn't answer, just stands, broken. Empty. Like a ghost. He has no words. He has nothing. And neither does Johnny.

[ddejavvu]

Professor Hotch for your multi verse monday? please please please pretty please I'd DIE for Professor Hotch. Also my grades would do a swan dive but who even cares about that?

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

The door of his office creaks open when you knock on it and your breath hitches as you realize it was never actually closed. You feel like you're intruding, but you hear your professor's strong voice tell you to 'come in', and you step through the door.

Professor Hotchner is sitting behind his desk, his arm in a sling. It's jarring, but not as terrible as you'd expected when he'd taken a week off due to a 'firearm-related mishap'. The email had said nothing more, in fact, you're certain it couldn't have said any less, but you suppose you're just thankful he hadn't blown a hole in his chest.

"I read your email," You start, tinfoil-covered platter in hand, "And I wasn't sure if you were alright. It was, um," You struggle for the words, chuckling sheepishly, "It was a scary email to receive."

He lets a soft smile grace his tired features, a sight you don't normally get to see. "It was a scary email to write," He admits, "I did it in the back of an ambulance with my one good hand."

"Oh my god-" You can't stop yourself from reacting, but he lets out a deep chuckle at your indignance, so you don't bother beating yourself up for it. "A-Anyways, I baked you these. I guess they won't really help, but- but I hope you enjoy them."

You peel back the layer of foil to reveal a platter of brownies. Something in his face softens, and it plants delicate seeds in your chest that bloom into overzealous joy. Your professor is notorious for being stony-faced, too serious for his own good. But with his arm in a sling, dark circles beneath his eyes, and shiny eyes at a plate of brownies, you suspect he's just like everyone else.

"Thank you," He finds words after a moment, glancing back up at you with his striking brown eyes, "Really, Y/N, I appreciate this. A lot, this is.." His eyebrows raise and he exhales through a smile, "This is very sweet of you."

"Of course," You smile sincerely at him, emboldened by his reaction. He gestures to the chair across from him, sleek black armrests shining with the reflection of the overhead light.

"Would you like to sit for a while? I didn't know it before but I'm in the mood for something sweet." He clears off a stack of papers from the spot on his desk you take a seat at. You set the brownies there, and he produces a napkin from somewhere inside of his bag.

He has to use his injured arm, so it's a slow, careful movement. Without thinking you reach out and take it from him, spreading it out over the wood. He thanks you softly, and pulls two brownies from the platter.

"Here," He tears the napkin in two, pushing one of the brownies towards you, "You're welcome to join me."

"Oh, thank you!" You eagerly accept the treat, trying not to seem obvious about watching him for a reaction. The deep, guttural groan that comes from his throat strikes you with a bolt of lightning that goes straight down your spine. It has you shifting in your seat slightly, and you use the brownie to stuff your own mouth.

"These are fantastic," He mumbles, speaking politely around a bite. His massive hand covers his mouth so that you can't see him chewing, and you try not to stare at it. You think it would look similarly fantastic wrapped around your-

"My son is going to be very happy with you," He muses, mouth finally free of fudge. Your eyes widen and flit to a photo frame on his desk, a little boy with a backpack on grinning up at you. You coo, swallowing your own brownie bite.

"He's adorable," And you mean it, the boy is all toothy grin and rosy cheeks.

Professor Hotchner hums in agreement, "Brownies are his favorite."

"I hope he likes them, too." You conclude, sinking your teeth back into the brownie, "You can't go wrong with brownies."

--

The next time you sit down at your desk in class, there's a paper there. It's folded and stuck shut with a green sticker, heart-shaped. You'd have left it alone, considered it an accident, but your name is written in yellow crayon on the page. You peel it open curiously, and your heart melts at what you find.

Y/N, the card reads, in a child's handwriting.

Thank you so much for the brownees brownies. My daddy lets me have one every night after dinner. They are Very good. We think you should start a bakery. I will come Every day after school!

Thank you very much,

Jack Hotchner

One glance up at Professor Hotchner at the front of the classroom reveals him staring up at you, something nervous in his eyes. At your grin, though, his own blossoms, genuine and warm. You hold eye contact for a moment, possibly too long, and then someone breaks your line of sight with him. A student comes up to ask him something, and he's looking away in a daze. You tuck the letter safely into your bag, making a mental note to tell Professor Hotchner that he's got the cutest kid in the world, and that you'll gladly start a bakery if it means you'll see them every day.

[lichsent]

@breselin​  ∕  plotted.

How long has it been, he wanted to wonder though was incapable of finding the words. 

There’s been a time where he thought of it (the idea of freedom, though it’s so far and nearly seems impossible. it’s unwavering in how it lords over his form, staring down at him from the hole in the sky-- what in the princes’ name did he do to deserve this?) as a simple pipe dream; eventually... eventually, he’d be out. It would be as if nothing had ever happened, and Mannimarco would be free. He’s living the life many in Tamriel wished they could but were so unfortunate to be deemed as incapable to do so.

He’s given up on thrashing-- on writhing-- on struggling. It’s fruitless, he’s come to realize after a mere month’s time has passed; he’s seen a few faces, but none that were responsible enough to actually look back at him. There’s not a single voice he’s heard (he’s learned to tune the screaming out, phasing it out of his every day life-- it’s... not at all acceptable, but he’s tricked himself into believing it all the same.) that yanks him out of reality and back into fantasy-- he remembers a nord (looking down upon him with a face that speaks of empathy, of sympathy... it infuriates him, but he thinks he can use it to his advantage.) and then a redguard (staring down at him with a vague smirk. tells the nord to step back and to hurry up. leave him for dead.) before they both pull away.

He doesn’t see shadows but hears the footsteps of several other adventurers. He doesn’t try to beg nor does he try to plead for his life; he’s already tried and has been met with the same results as before. It’s worthless, truly, it was.

“...”

The room flickers, and the screams stop without warning (but mannimarco believes it’s always been like that. months and months of hollow screaming-- it’s a semblance of controlled chaos that he wanted no part of but seemed to be a crucial part of all the same.) but it does not encourage him to turn his head. He’s kept it laying on his cheek, staring at one of many cells with a body that decayed yet seemed to jump to life every random amount of days.

Was Mannimarco expected to keep count-- keep track of those that no longer had reason to exist? He supposed he should envy them. They’ve done what he could not.

His eyes twitched, snapping towards the ceiling (footsteps... footsteps, maybe? he can’t quite make them out, but what’s the point? it’s a trick of the mind-- of his or of molag bal’s, he can’t quite determine but thinks it unimportant.) at clicking of heels against solid ground. He pulled in an inhale, swallowed back a grimace at the disuse of own lungs, and huffed it out in a shattered, shuddering breath.

“Again with these games, I see--”

His voice comes out as a croaky and hoarse mess, but his pride doesn’t swell nor deflate at the idea. A tongue quietly swept itself over his lips, wetting them with a halfhearted sort of effort that spoke little of a zest for life but, rather, acceptance. His right leg gave a small thrash, rolling at its thigh only to stop once the sharp sounds of chains and iron clinking and snapping approaching his ears.

How cruel, was it, that he had to be the sole witness to such torture, he wondered?

“--... you will be disappointed, again, to know that I have no desire to speak.”

[suna-reversed]

Insatiable desires

Gojo x F!reader x Toji ft. Nanami

art credit: @sk_jkg7 (twitter)

MINORS DNI!!

warnings/tags- gangbang, degredation, spanking, spit play, cum play, oral (m.receiving), manhandling, choking, creampie, fingering, gagging, mentions of bondage

A/N: this is just porn without plot, don’t even try to figure out what timeline it falls into, just assume it’s written in the veeishornyfordilfs-verse😩

You don't exactly remember how you ended up here-

splayed across the lap of the world’s most powerful sorcerer, ass up and panties pushed to the side while one of the most elite fighters of the zenin clan sits across from you, hand lazily palming the massive bulge in his pants. 

“Told you she’s an obedient little thing-” Gojo’s bragging is cut off as a loud moan escapes you. 

“Sure she is.” Toji says in mockery, a dry laugh escaping his throat.

“What’s the point of having her tight cunt gush around you if she isn’t making any of those sweet sounds?” Gojo counters, his hand harshly coming down against your throbbing clit making you choke on another moan around the blindfold stuffing your mouth. 

Gojo’s fingers continue to explore your folds, moving every now and then to spread the wetness across your bruised ass which had been subjected to repeated spanks from both the men just moments ago. You arch your back more as his fingers come right onto your clit, face contorting in pleasure as he starts rubbing circles onto your sensitive bud. 

A loud groan pulls you out of your bubble of ecstacy. 

“Put her on the bed already, she’s dripping enough to fit 3 cocks inside her slutty little hole by now.” 

You tilt your head to find Toji’s piercing gaze fixed onto where Gojo’s fingers meet your juices, his hand pulling his cock free from the elastic of his boxers. You whine needily at the sight of it, making the tip of his cock twitch as a bead of precum dribbles down the side. A sharp slap comes down onto your ass making you wince from pain, tears welling up in your eyes from being teased for too long, 

“Better have the same reaction for my cock too sweetheart.” Gojo sings out, voice laced with a hint of jealousy. 

Toji looks amused as he gets up, not even acknowledging Gojo as he pulls up your body from across his lap, easily tossing you onto the bed like a ragdoll. You look up at him with pleading eyes as he comes to stand at the edge of the bed, his huge member right in front of your face. Even Gojo’s remarks of annoyance are silenced as he grips your jaw, slapping your cheek with his enlarged cock, 

“Do you deserve it?” His voice is deep and commanding as he pulls up your face so that you’re staring right into his eyes. You nod your head rapidly, mouth still gagged. 

Toji bites his lip as he apprehends your tear filled eyes and your drooling mouth. You cough a little when he suddenly pulls out the fabric in your mouth, throwing it to the side, you barely even have the time to take a breath before the tip of his cock is rubbing against your lips, urging you to take him in, 

“Let’s see what kind of sweet sounds she makes when my cum is oozing out this dirty mouth.” 

That’s all the warning you get before his cock is making its way past your lips and hitting the back of your throat. The spit that had built up in your mouth now leaking out the sides and falling onto your tits. It’s filthy and lewd as he grips onto your hair to tilt your head upwards, smearing the mixture of substances drooling out the side of your mouth across your cheek, laughing as tears fall from your eyes. You can feel him getting close, loud moans rumbling from his chest as he fucks your mouth even deeper than before. Your vision is blurry from the tears, no coherent thought in mind except for the feral need of having Toji’s cum down your throat when suddenly, you’re harshly pulled back, a sob escaping you from both shock and desperation as the back of your head hits Gojo’s chest. 

Everything happens in a flash. You barely register the growl that leaves Toji’s throat over the sound of Gojo snickering, and before your know it, the dark haired man is striding towards you, a look in his eyes that makes you want to beg for your life, but he doesn’t even look at you as your body slumps to the mattress. You snap your head behind to see Gojo pinned against the headboard, smirking at the large hand wrapped around his throat. 

Your eyes widen in surprise and heat crawls up your face as he crashes his lips onto Toji’s. Toji’s eyes hold the same expression as you for a second before a loud groan leaves his throat, hand moving up to grip Gojo’s jaw as he pulls away. The arousal that pools in your core as you watch the thick splatter of Toji’s saliva hit the side of Gojo’s lips is almost embarrassing. Gojo looks amused and it seems like they’ve almost forgotten you until he raises his hand, two fingers gesturing you to come closer, which seems to snap Toji’s attention back to you too. You crawl over to them, Gojo’s lips immediately melding with yours, the mix of both their spit coating your tongue. 

“Fuck this- I wanna be inside her.”

You’re being pulled away once again, only this time, angled in a way where you're on your fours, ass towards Toji, nose pressed onto Gojo’s muscular thigh, his cock standing tall against his stomach as he runs his fingers through your hair. You lick a stripe up from the base of his shaft to the tip of his cock, moaning as you feel your folds being spread apart, the tip of Toji’s cock lining up with your slit as he kneads the flesh of your ass. You feel Gojo’s hand pushing your head forward, urging you and you oblige. You struggle to take him in your already fucked out throat, barely halfway through when you feel the burn of a cock stretching your walls. You moan around the cock in your mouth as Toji fully sheaths himself inside of you, the vibrations making Gojo bucks his hips up into your mouth. 

The vulgar sounds of Toji’s balls slapping against your ass as he starts thrusting into your gushing cunt fills the room, overpowering the grunts and groans of the blue-eyed man stuffing your mouth with his dick. Gojo brings his hand forward to fondle your breasts, fingers pulling and pinching your hardened nipples which makes your cunt clench. Toji groans at the movement, strokes getting sloppier as he feels his climax nearing. Both men are bucking into you, using your body to their own pleasure as you lose your balance and fall forwards, mouth still bobbing against Gojo’s cock because of the push of Toji going in and out of your leaking pussy. 

Gojo is the first to climax, holding your head down, nose pressed up against his happy trail as he cums deep down your throat. The peak of your own arousal washes over you as Toji’s fingers move across your abdomen to find your clit, hastily rubbing circles onto it as his cock brushes one particular sensitive spot against your walls. You’re moaning around Gojo’s softening dick as the first wave of an orgasm hits you, tears escaping your eyes from the edging as the coil in your stomach snaps. Toji follows soon after, pumping your cunt full of his seed as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. 

Your body collapses onto the bed as both men pull themselves out, Gojo lazily reaching over the nightstand to throw over his phone to Toji who proceeds to take pictures of your fucked out oozing cunt. You’re panting from the exhaustion as strong arms wrap around you and pull you up to a warm chest, 

“You don’t think you’re done without me having filled you up, do you?” 

His hot breath next to ear makes shivers run down your spine as you shake your head, still too tired to respond as another hand kneads the flesh of your inner thigh, the bed dipping as Toji comes to sit across from you. 

“What the fuck Satoru?”

Your eyes immediately snap open at the foreign voice, both Gojo and Toji’s attention being diverted to the doorway, towards the man in the suit, tie loosened around his throat and an extremely annoyed look on his face. Arguably, it was Gojo’s fault for pulling you into a random room after he had seen you pressed against the wall in some corner, Toji’s lips latched onto the tit he had pulled out of your dress. 

“Ah- I didn’t think the room was occupied.” Gojo says nonchalantly, the side of his lip twitching upwards. 

You knew the ever-observant man would never make such a mistake, making you wonder what he was up to. The vexed look on the man’s face who stared at you from across the room would have made you want to shrink into yourself even if you were fully clothed. 

“But you have been stressed these days, haven't you Nanami? Maybe you deserve a little reward.” 

You yelped as you felt hands spreading apart your thighs, glancing over at Toji to see what he thought of the situation, but his own eyes mirrored the look of the man exposing you to the blonde at the door. 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you ever wreck my room again.” 

There was anger in Nanami’s words, he was stressed and tired from having to work overtime on today’s mission and to come home to such a mess was the last thing he expected. Still, he found his cock twitching against the restraint of his pants as he looked at your bare pussy, your eyes holding a look so innocent as if you weren’t just getting fucked by two men. Maybe he did deserve a reward after all, he found himself thinking as he strode towards the bed, pulling his tie loose. 

You couldn’t deny that the man was attractive, his aura both dangerously calming and commanding as he apprehended you carefully, his hunger-filled eyes raking over your figure with a look that said he was going to devour you whole. He didn’t put away his tie, instead tying it up into a makeshift knot and you felt yourself getting wet once again as you realised what he was planning. 

Well, you were always curious about wanting to get tied up and fucked anyways. 

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Acts of Contrition

A/N: Heeeey, it’s been a while. Like...a long time while. Shaking the rust off, this is for @chiwhorei​ and their Heavenly Bodies collab (*see here*). No beta, we die like everyone else. Per the theme, and as a send off to my fellow fallen saint and recovering Catholic, it’s a kind of riff on a prayer? Not my best Shindou, but it’s Shindou all the same. Really need to revisit this guy. ANYWAYS--

TW: Sacrilegious themes, Oral (giving/receiving), Dacryphilia, Spit, Corruption, implied monster fucking (because why not?), mild exhibitionism, squirting, mild cockwarming ================================================

Your whole life, you always tried so hard to be everything your parish priest and father wanted you to be; pious, virtuous, radiant-- the epitome of the girl-next-door with a rosary tucked between your breasts and a prayer on your lips. It was your wholesome, squeaky-clean image that initially drew his attention and had you malingering on your knees with your mouth gaping and drooling into the carpet bristles of your parish confession booth.

"Got something to confess, sweetheart?" Shindou grinned in the darkness as you gazed up at him from your knees, nose pressed into the curling pubic hair tickling your mouth as he twitched down your throat. He held you there until your eyes began to roll back and tears threatened to break free from your waterline in trails of smudged ink down your flushing cheeks. You could taste his disappointment when they didn't fall, and he curled his thick fingers into your hair to rip you from his length. Incense and shame burned down your throat and into your lungs as you gasped for reprieve. His smirk was a gleaming scythe, all but signaling the beginning of your end.

"Please, more," you begged, scrambling to clutch his parted knees and nudge his cock closer to your waiting mouth. "More." His hum vibrated the dust lingering in the cramped space, as if he needed time to carefully consider what was originally his idea. "Shindou, yo--"

Gagged by his fingers, your tongue laved over his thick digits and your voice rose into unintelligible moaning. Your saliva ran down his wrist and your chin in thin rivers to the carpet digging into your knees. "Ah, ah. I asked for your confession, not for your begging. Perhaps I need to keep this pretty mouth busy while you take your penance." Eager to please, you nodded furiously into his hand, gagging and spluttering over his fingers as he twisted your body in half. The humble pleated skirt draped over your ass like a dainty envelope, the flash of white cotton panties plastered with slick against your pussy an invitation he couldn't deny-- he tore away the flimsy fabric with his teeth and whistled low at the silvery strings of slick still binding you to your underwear. You always forgot how strong Shindou was when he had a goal set before him.

"Mm, let's begin," he purred into your cunt, the sudden lash of his tongue against your neglected clit nearly tipping you into exaltation.

"H-hewl mwwwree fughlo gwssss," you babbled over his fingers as they dug almost painfully into your tongue. Cheek pressed hard into his knee, you heaved into his skin as your eyes rolled back into your skull with another skillful swipe of his tongue teasing your spasming whole. "Haaorrtsswiffee."

"C'mon, sweetness, you can do better than that. Really enunciate. It doesn't count if He can't understand you." Your toes curled in your knee socks as another wave of ecstacy washed over you with a flick of his sinner's tongue against your swelling clit. With a bend of his wrist, he tickled down your throat and dug his teeth into the swell of your ass when you gagged around them. "So tight. Do better. You know you want to. You asked for this, sweetheart." He retracted his fingers from your panting mouth, tracing the slick, bruised skin of your lips before he gave your hair a gentle pet.

"H-hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee…" you began again trembling over every word earning another vicious bite to your inner thigh. Shindou moaned into your scent tracing his tongue over the darkening bruise.

"Y'know, I'm feeling like a Hail Mary isn’t good enough. Let's try again," Shindou hoisted you into his lap, chest pressed firmly into your back as he lined the head of his cock, glistening with dewy precum, with the touch-starved maw of your cunt aching to stretch around him. Ever the tease, he tapped at your entrance, grinning at the sticky slapping of flesh on flesh as you squirmed to better accommodate him in the booth.

"Oh, my God!" You nearly screamed, sheathing him within you in one turbulent bounce. He barked out a laugh, dark eyes glittering in the shadows as he lifted your hips again with his teeth on your neck. "I-i-i'm heart-heartily so-sorry for haaah-ving offend..fuck, offended thee…" His pace was an idle one, but the vicious gnashing of his teeth burying into your neck made the aching around his cock pale in comparison. He needed you shamed, broken and sobbing out for release before he'd taste satisfaction.

"And I de-detest all my sins moh-ost s-sincerely because they d-disp-please thee." Pried open for him to abuse, Shindou let his hands wander beneath the carefully starched collared shirt and loosened tie to tease your pert, overly sensitive nipples through the fabric of your simple bra. He searched your face as he thrust up into you, knowing it wouldn't be long before those tears would begin to fall. "My God!" you gasped.

"Keep going," he groaned, tugging your blouse open and shoving your bra out of the way. He devoured the full-body shudder of your exposure, dragging his tongue up along your ear with a sigh. "You're so gorgeous when you break," he whispered, earning a hiccuping whine and the bubble of sobs he had waited so patiently for. Gyrating onto his cock, you couldn't stop the tears staining your cheeks with mascara as he rutted into you. Glancing down at where your bodies fused into one, you whimpered out the next verse as your cream dribbled down his balls.

"M-my God, who art so-oh deserving of all my love…"

"All your love, princess?"

"Ah-ah-ah!" He busied his free hand between your spread legs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. With a jump, you keened back into him and sobbed out wordlessly. Shindou ran his tongue to capture a stray tear from your hairline and moaned into the taste as he redoubled his efforts. "All my love f-for thy infinite good-fuck-goodness and--"

"And what? C'mon, finish like a good girl." Every thrust into your clenching heat had your body tensing like piano wire tuned by a master. His pulse vibrated through your core, loosening your tongue as he continued to tease and tug at your darkening nipples. “Most ah-amiable perfections…” He smirked into your hair, breath condensing on your neck like incense cloaking you in his scent. “I firmly pu-purpose by Thy Holy Grace never more--” Eyes rolling back, you stuttered and bucked fitfully back into the hardened planes of his lap. Your voice rose, cutting through the confessional booth and earning a satisfied grunt from the two-faced demon splaying your cunt wide for the congregation to observe if anyone dare open the door. “Never more,” you cried. Shindou paused, content to flex his length into your warmth while you sobbed out another broken, “Never more.” He dug his nails into your breasts, roughing your tender flesh to coax another wave of shuddering sobs and glistening tears from your weeping eyes. He sighed into your skin, dragging his lips along the moistened trails of shame and relief running down your jaw and cheek. “Please,” you whispered, rocking your hips fruitlessly to your own end. He hushed you as if silencing a toddler and stilled your hips with a single stroke. “Ah ah ah. Good girls finish their prayers.” With the head of his cock just kissing the gummy ring of your cervix, you grinded against him and cried out again, much to his annoyance. “Figures. Couldn’t be a good, pious little shit. Had to be a filthy, needy, broken little whore like the others.” “I’m broken. More, please give me more!” He scoffed at your pleading, content to have you writhe and wring yourself out on his heavy cock. Breasts bouncing and the unmistakable sounds of flesh penetrating flesh to defile that most sacred space, the sights and sounds of you coming undone for him proved all too tempting to ignore. He could taste it on you-- the rhythmic spasming of your cunt around his cock, the wobble in your legs, the uneven cadence of your breathing when he finally fucked back into your eager hole, all of it signaled your end. “Finish your prayers, sweetheart.” With two thrusts you let out a long, piercing moan, drawing the attention from those outside of the booth. Carelessly, you thrashed against him, milking his tumescence as if it would be enough to grant you divine forgiveness. “Finish like a good girl.” Shindou’s hand wandered between your trembling thighs as he rutted into you, his fingers dancing over your swollen clit despite your body bucking and fighting against him. The pressure in your belly was indescribable under his constant attention. “Finish for me.” Your body was his to play, to abuse to his delight. Shindou reveled in your shame as your squirt painted the door and carpet, shadows playing sinister tricks on your eyes as you searched the space for his face over your shoulder. “I firmly purpose by Thy Holy grace never more to offend Thee,” you whispered, coming down from your high with dripping thighs and shame staining your features. The door creaked open on its ancient hinges. Candles flickered in the chapel like whispering witnesses to a most capital crime. Tangled in the remnants of your uniform, your eyes glazed over and stared past the nuns exclaiming over your ruined state. You could feel his fingers ghosting over your exposed buds, taste his sweat and preek over your tongue. Your cunt throbbed around the memory of him, empty and hungry for his approval. His devil’s mark ached on your throat, a bruise you hazily hoped wouldn’t fade before his return. Captivated by the spectre of his presence, you melted into the tweed cushioned seat as far removed from the shouting and outrage of your audience as one could be. He’d be back for the rest of you and leave a more permanent mark. There were more pretty, pious words to pry past your lips, more tears to taste on your road to damnation, and he would be remiss  to miss out.

[prettieparker86]

The Ghost of You is Close to Me

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Sadness? set pre-WWI

Note: I’ve been trying to find my writer’s voice again. It’s felt lost and so far away from me. I still don’t feel it’s back per say. My previous characters still feel foreign to me. But when I feel the urge to write now, I try to listen. Not quite sure what this is. Watched a WWI movie the other night and this sort of rushed out of me like a flood, so I let it pour. For this I really tried to imagine what Tommy was like before the war based on the little pieces we've gotten from the show. And I wanted to explore the idea that she sensed he'd never come back, which in a way he didn't. His body did, but not the Tommy from before.

I’m not super well versed in the Romani culture and what knowledge I gained in the past feels mostly lost, I apologize. I was trying to find the word for horse, Grast was the closest I could. As with cozonac. I’m not sure if it’s really a traditional food. My research said it was. I’m trying my best. My intention is not to offend. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks

Don’t know what I’m suppose to do, haunted by the ghost of you.

It only takes the sight of him to send you running. As fast as your horse can take you, holding tight to the notion that as long as you never stop running then he never leaves. You hide away to the place you would always run to as children. Back when Tommy's mum would drag the whole Shelby brood up into the hills, running away from her pitiful life in the city and Arthur Sr.

Its a grove of trees overlooking a deep fertile valley, the spot where you use to steal away as children. Long before you knew adults could run away from their grief as easily as little ones, and there was no mistaking it, you were running. You secure your horse to a tree branch where she can nibble away on the overgrown grass encircling the base of trunk, and settled atop a rock that's yours as much as it is the earth's. A rock that has only grown smaller over the years as you've grown bigger. Your family comes to this hills nearly every spring. As a child it never seemed different, now all you see is the changes.

Everything changes, this you know, but you swear if you just sit there long enough this change won't find you. It wont be so. Tommy wont leave. You're oldest companion. Your dearest friend. Gazing out at the valley blanketed in a tapestry of green hues, shadow and light, as the overcast sky moves above you - you tell yourself he isn't leaving. Even though the steady ache in your heart makes it feel like he's already gone. You miss him, before he's even left. You miss him... The words echo through you in shuddered vibrations that sting at your eyes, even worse at your heart, as a rogue tear manages to break free and make a run down your cheek before you briskly swipe at it.

You can't imagine him not being there. Being unreachable to you. You cant imagine not listening to Tommy's thoughts, his sparks of creativity, or the way he can make you laugh. You cant imagine him not being there. The hole he will leave, the one already opening up inside you feels unbearable, sickening, and you just want it to go away. Who will be there when you need someone most? Who will convince you things will turn out ok or you should keep fighting even when neither feel true? Who will know you? Who will see you? Really see you and genuinely care? You never felt you took his friendship for granted, never mistakenly felt there were others who could fill such big shoes, and yet now, as the chill of a breeze sweeps by you, sending goosebumps to prickle on the flesh of your arms, you wonder if you cherished that gift enough. You wonder if it meant the same to him and if he will miss you as deeply once you're gone.

You try not to think about it. You've been trying not to think about it since you received word Tommy had enlisted. You've kept yourself busy, both in mind and your hands. Filling the moments whenever he would start to creep in. But in the end its pointless. Because the more you try not to think of him, try not to miss him... The more you do. Its like trying to stop the rain by shaking your fist at the heavens. Futile and maddening. You see him when you're with the horses, whispering and enchanting them the way only his tongue and heart can do. You see him in the glow of a campfire where he'd often gets lost in his thoughts, scribbling them down or creating a loose sketch. You see him in the charming smirk of a young man, or a joke he once told you. He's everywhere. Inside you. A part of you. And denying that never made it less true.

And the thought of living without him feels terribly sad and lonely in a way your heart feels pathetic to admit and yet hopeless to reconcile. It isn't any place you want to be and yet you also have the sense to understand you have no say in that. You feel immersed in the overwhelming ache of your heart, the one that's been plaguing you for days now, when you suddenly hear the stir of your horse behind you. You glance back and watch as she pawns happily at the earth beneath her hoofs, snooting and pawing at the ground as Tommy appears nearby. She loves him. They all love him. You've often teased he's more horse than man and no one notices that more then the horses.

Tommy meets her joy with firm pats along her neck and gentles strokes to her mane and nose. "Hey girl" He greets.

Seeing him standing there both fills your heart with joy and deeper sorrow. Lean and strong, his hair tousled from his ride over, with those piercing sapphire eyes that cut you like a knife and see right through you at a glance. The sight of him like an old beloved quilt, comforting and well known, now tattered and tore as he rips from your life.

"Little bird", he says as your eyes meet. A name he gave you so long ago you cant even remember how it came to be.

"Grast", you answer back.

"How did you know I would be here?" You ask as you look away, not wanting him to see the turmoil brewing in your eyes the way you know he will.

Tommy shrugs easily, "Just knew." Just knew because he knows you, in a way most will never get to know you. Same way you trust in the way you know him and the ways he's shares himself with you.

When Tommy comes to sit beside you, it takes every ounce of willpower not to hug him desperately, beg him to change his mind, beg him not to go, but you don't, because you're sure it won't change anything.

"You heard," Tommy says, the grit of his breath stressing the weight of his words.

"You're a damn fool, Thomas Shelby. What did the crown ever do for us?"

He chuckles lightly to the fire on your breath, the bite in your words and you can see in his eyes he knows they only come from a place of love and concern for him.

"They need fighting men to win a war. " He tells you, as he pulls a cigarette from his breast pocket and strikes a match. Telling you things you both already know. As if it were that simple. As if the need for more men didn't come from the loss of the ones they have.

"Well then I oughta sign up. I can fight." You carry on as you snatch the cigarette hanging from his lip. Allowing yourself to feel the anger this situation ignites inside you, because anger feels far more powerful and safe than heartache and fear.

"ey, god help any man that stands between you and your cozonac." Tommy teases you, the crook of his mouth curling as he await your reprisal. Knowing your tales of blunder and greatest mishaps better then anyone. Your stories are his stories, your journeys connected.

You gasp in mock offense. "He would have eaten it all! Fistin’ it down like the whole roll was his!"

"A good stab of your fork put an end to that, didn' it?"

"He shouldn't have been so greedy." You feign defense and tug hotly at the cigarette, fighting back the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth to match Tommy's devilish grin. A battle you quickly lose as he elbows your side and snatches back his smoke before you jab him back. And just like that you aren't mad anymore. That's something only Tommy can do, make you laugh when you want to cry. Because he knows you... your dearest friend. The keeper of your secrets, biggest fears, and dreams. It's a gift to be known. An even bigger gift to be known and cherished for who you are. You never thought it wasn't, but you didn't realize how much you needed that gift until it was being taken away.

You both grow quiet against the steady decent of the sun at your backs. The low crinkle of burning paper fills and hovers in the space around you both as his cigarette burns down, subtle like the smoke dancing in swirls past his lips. Its the quiet moments that haunt you now. The hours and space he once filled in your life. The echoing loneliness that you know will only expand and grow in his absence. Those hours eat at you, devour you. Gnawing away until you feel raw and desperate to make them stop, because you swear you can't take another moment in that place. Only this time you know it wont stop. There will be no reprieve, no mercy, your best friend is leaving and you can't stop him. And when he's gone, this- This torturous way of existence, with its crawling of time, absence of joy, and echoing loneliness, it will fill the space his light once illuminated in your life. Like thick dark clouds rolling in over the backcountry hills to settle in around you and call you there home.

Tommy has his reasons, none more then Greta you suspect but you cant help but feel he's choosing the war over you, that he's abandoning you, as preposterous as you know that notion is. But there's nothing logical about missing someone. You can't reason it away with facts and rationality. And it doesn't care that it feels like it's killing some part of you. Nobody tells you missing someone is a physical sensation, a state of being above all else - like an empty or upset stomach, like a punch to the chest or falling off a horse that leaves you winded. It's not merely a thought and it's more than an emotion. You feel it in your bones, the tight hollows inside you, the vibrating ache of longing, the chill that settles in under your skin.

Sitting quietly side by side, you rest your head upon his shoulder. All the girls love Tommy, they always have. With his charming smile, deep set eyes that reach into the soul with a glance, and his devilish humor, its easy to see why so many would be drawn to him. And there was a time even you were too, but there was always too many things in the way and what you've built instead is deeper and more intimate because its not bound to the fickle confines of romance.

Closing your eyes, you can see it all so clearly in your mind. Replaying like a reel at the pictures... Wading in knee high murky pond water and reeds in search of frogs to catch. Covered in filth from head to toe as you battled on rain soaked mud hills with John to see who would be crowned king of the mountain. Sneaking off with mum's herbs and spices into the woods to craft witches brew and cast magic. Building campfires from dried old birch tree branches by the moonlight, to bathe in the scent of it, and tell old spine-chilling tales. Gazing up at the stars on warm summer night, seeing who could count the most. Lying awake late at night by candle light trying to read each other's mind. Hiding in the haystack to terrorize Arthur and any unlucky girl he tried to steal away with for a moment alone. Dragging you off to your first pub in Birmingham and knocking some bloke on his ass when he tried to get handsy. Trying to teach you to drive on slick muddy streets, as you swore at him like a sailor when he wouldn't stop laughing. The keeper of your deepest secrets as you are of his. The person who tried to offer you hope in your darkest moments and celebrated you greatest success. Who genuinely listened to you and sought out your thoughts on matters. The person you trusted most with the innerworkings of your heart and mind. The one you trusted would be there.

All of it feels like yesterday. The memories still fresh and vivid. The thought there wont be more to make constricts your windpipe, tightens your heart, as tears you couldn't possibly hold back any longer fill dangerously to the brim of your eyes... You don't know how to do this. You don't know how to live this. You don't know how to say goodbye to him. To let him go. Watch him disappear from your life. And the truth is... You don't wanna know. You don't want to say goodbye. And a part of you feels hurt this seems so easy for him, though you don't actually know it is. And the part of you that knows Tommy's heart, suspects it isn't so easy for him to say goodbye to you either.

The thought you might never speak to him again leaves a frantic feeling trying to rip free from your chest. How do you find peace when you long for someone still there but just beyond your reach, drifting further out to sea by the moment? How do you let them go when everything inside you screams to pull them back in? The tears feel warm as they fall down your chilled cheeks onto the shoulder of his jacket. He can't see your tears, but you swear he can feel them as he pats at your knee in an old comforting gesture you've grown to trust will be there. As Tommy pulls away, you fight with the urge to rapidly wipe away your tears and keep your pride. But as your eyes meet, you realize there's no room for pride here. Staring into his eyes you fear the silence that's already invading the space he holds.

But then he touches your face and you remember to breathe. Though his hands are rough from work, the pad of his thumb feels soft, full, and steady against your skin as he gently wipes away at the tears fallen on your face.

"I'm coming back." Tommy promises you, and you want to believe that more then you've ever wanted to believe in anything. That he will return to you. But you've heard the news of the war, the dyer news that continues to abound. And something deep and sharp within you whispers it isn't true. He isn't coming back, and that quiet piercing whisper radiates more loudly within you then the words on his lips.

"Let's make a fire," Tommy suggests as he gives your knee a final pat. You can see in his eyes he's trying to mend your heart, soften the blow. A solemn smile of acknowledgment creeping around the corners of his mouth, as if anything in the world can be solved by a stiff drink or roaring campfire.

You nod in agreement, there's nothing the dancing flames, glowing embers, crackling branches, and heady smoky aroma can't clear from your mind. Nothing like bathing in a campfire to wash your mind and soul clean.

You rise from the rock in slow unison. You gaze across the rich fertile valley below as it slowly descends into darkness all around you. Vibrant greens from early now turning to deeper winter tones as night begins to envelope all that you see. This place you know. This man you know. As you turn back to Tommy, watching as he moves past the horses.

Your eyes fall closed for a moment as you call to him. You pray he can hear you. The way he use to when you were children lying awake late at night, pretending there was magic between you. "Dearest friend... I love you and perhaps I always will. I see you're headed on a road, and I don't know where it leads, but you will take a part of me with you. It's been yours a long time. I hope you remember its there, I hope you protect it and treasure it. But I won't stand in your way, because that's what it means to love someone more then yourself." You whisper to him, not with your lips but from that place in your heart that already belongs to him. The one he gets to keep. You embrace the truth that your world will never feel the way it did before. You will never feel like you did before. That a part of you dies with him as he slips away. You acknowledge this new reality for what it is, whether you know how to live it or not, whether you even want to.

You take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes.

He's gone.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Happy Birthday [Donquixote Doflamingo]

A/n: as promised smutty Mingo. I warn you; it’s basically porn.

You should have declined; torn the invitation in two and went about your monotonous day, had you known how the night would end.

Better engagements will come along.

As if.

Choices like this are not yours to make. An invite to the castle is not an option to squander. You doubt that you will ever play in Dressrosa again if you were to turn down the shot to perform at the current king’s birthday party. It’s like this every year since Gatz told him about you; an invite arrives and you consider tearing it apart.

You know you shouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean you don’t think about doing it. Beni – your brother – says that you’re acting like a child. You convince him to come along; mainly to watch you, ane because there is a piece you want to play.

As darkness consumes Dressrosa you are ushered into a small room set up as a dressing room to prepare. You sit in front of a mirror and stare at your gloomy painted expression. Why did it have to be this way? And where is Beni? Everything about tonight annoys you; the short dress you’re wearing, the distant chatter of the guests in the next room.

“This is terrible,” you whine.

Beni returns from the banquet hall; platter of coral macaroons in hand, and sits them down next to you. About damn time.

“Don’t tear into them just yet. We’re about to go on,” he states.

You sigh in disappointment – the desserts are one of the few things you take delight in, coerced into parties such as this.

“How much longer?”

Beni hums. “Not sure. Soon I was told.”

“I sure hope so.”

You honestly want to get this over and done with. Beni takes a seat on the settee beside you and sighs.

“Are we ready?”

He looks to you for an answer – instruments and act; check – but even you aren’t mentally sure. Giving him a fake smile, you can’t help but to feel annoyed with yourself. It’s far too late to change your mind now.

Like the year before, Gatz calls you to the stage. You follow Beni into the banquet hall, taking your position at his side. The room goes eerily quiet and you force a smile, drawing your bow across the strings of the fiddle you love so much.

The performance begins.

Right from the start the piece is high charged. You rap the heel of your boot on the stone floor, lost in your music. Beni follows, strumming on his guitar. His playing is much louder; aggressive even.

You scold him with a wag of your finger and saunter forward towards the front of the stage, agreeing to his challenge with furious notes. He joins you again once the peak leading into the chorus builds up, but you easily dominate him; smile on your face.

Beni raises a brow; it’s a war.

At times you allow him to defeat you to build suspense, and he allows you to do the same. You dance together and sometimes pretend to be blown away by one another, but alas the cunning heroine wins. The piece ends with you panting in exhaustion, sweat coating your skin.

The banquet hall erupts in a chorus of applause. Even the King claps; tongue tracing his bottom lip. You give a bow to him, in relief that Doflamingo seems pleased. Beni takes your hand and quickly pulls you from the stage, leading you back to the dressing room.

“That was tense,” he states with a laugh. Beni shuts the door behind him.

You agree while collapsing back onto the settee. “He liked it; I’m so thrilled.”

Tossing Beni a macaroon you too eat one; you certainly deserve it for surviving another birthday.

Alas, the fun doesn’t seem to end. As you are packing up your fiddle someone knocks on the door. You give Beni a shocked look, pleading with him not to open it, but he does.

The woman behind the door you recognize. Baby 5 is the name she calls herself; a slim woman with black hair. You feel nervous. Did something happen? Was the King not pleased?

She enters the room and locks eyes with you. “The Young Master wants an audience with you. He insists you stay until the party is over and bring your case.”

You frown; somehow you doubt no is an option. Dread fills your stomach. Beni seems reluctant with this decision, but you assure him that you will be fine. Honestly you aren’t too sure. Before she leaves, Baby 5 mentions that she will return to escort you to the King once the party is over. You nod in agreement.

What could he want from you?

--

As planned, Baby 5 returns around midnight to retrieve you. Beni left hours ago, but he’s the least of your worries.

You quietly follow her through the castle, head bent towards the floor in gloom. She brings you to a large set of doors and knocks loud enough for the King to hear, allowing you to enter once he grants you access. Baby 5 shuts the door behind you and leaves you to his mercy.

The dread returns. The first thing you notice is that you’re in his chamber; a spacious room with a large bed and many book shelves. The King himself is seated in a chair near the far wall. He motions you forward with a finger and smiles as you hesitantly submit.

“Have a seat.”

You nod and seat yourself in the chair in front of him. It’s several times wider than you, but you ignore it and place your case in your lap, urging yourself to get comfortable. Once you do, despite the situation, you wait for him to speak.

“How many birthday parties have you entertained for me now?”

You hum in thought. “This will be the third year, I believe.”

“And you also play at the colosseum as well I’ve heard,” Doflamingo mentions.

You nod. It’s an honor; at the same time, it scares you. Did you upset him or someone from his family? Tears sting your eyes. “If me or my brother have done some––

He brings up his hand to stop you. “Fufufufu! No reason to worry yourself; though I find it amusing how skittish you are with me. It’s rather cute.”

Embarrassment warms your face. “Can you blame me? You are a king; I am a mere musician.”

“That’s extremely honest of you,” he mocks with a laugh. “But also, the reason you’re here. I want you to play me a song.”

For a second his words you don’t comprehend. Did he request a private performance? You smile; all the worries fade away.

“I’d love to play for you. It would be an honor.”

Opening up the case, you retrieve your fiddle and set it into position. He nods to urge you to continue, but once you start; a few slow notes in, Doflamingo stops you. What could be wrong? You freeze up in fear.

“I want to see you how you are on stage – erotic and intense.”

You seem to understand. “May I stand up?”

“Be my guest,” Doflamingo replies.

Getting back onto your sore feet, you start again. The piece also calls for a piano; in fact, it sets the mood for the beginning, but you make do without it. You tap the strings with the beat in your head and once the fiddle solo begins, you dance in a line from side to side as you play, rapping your boots on the floor and swaying your hips.

The notes slow down before the chorus and you slide the pointed toe of your boot in a wide circle across the floor. At the next verse, you really put your all into it, playing faster. Your entire body moves to the beat like an erotic dance and once the piece is done, you are panting in utter exhaustion.

Doflamingo seems pleased. He again licks his bottom lip and claps his hands. You bow and plop back down on the chair.

“Finished already? I haven’t told you to stop playing yet.”

Your face heats up. Is he serious? The strings are worn; there is no way another performance like the previous one can be done without replacing the strings first.

“My apologies, your grace. I acted without your blessing,” you blather out.

Doflamingo laughs. “No worries, little mouse.”

His smile fades and he stands to his full height, sauntering over to you. He’s taller up close. You sink back into the chair and stare at him with wide and horrified eyes. Only when he moves behind the chair do you lose sight of him.

His fingers slide into your hair, sending shivers down your spine. “Let me show you my thanks.”

He tilts back your head and leans down to place a hard kiss on your lips. A grunt of surprise leaves you. What is he doing? Why is he kissing you like this? Your eyes widen in shock. He’s not serious, is he?

Doflamingo pulls away and takes your hand, leading you from the chair over to the bed. This is really happening; he really wants to fuck you. Did your music do this to him? You bite you bottom lip; you should tell him no, but honestly you want him to fuck you.

He lets you go and allows you to hesitantly crawl onto the bed. You sit on the edge since your boots are still on, but he doesn’t seem to care as he bends to his knees and begins to remove them. A King isn’t supposed to do this. Strangely enough it makes you wet.

Once your boots are off and gone, Doflamingo leans up and presses his mouth against yours again. You kiss his bottom lip, moaning as he rubs his thumbs into your bare thighs. He reaches up into your short dress and tugs your panties down your legs.

“Lean back,” he orders.

You do so, watching him in embarrassment as he spreads your legs and rests them over his shoulders. Oh God please. Your prayers are answered as he lifts your hips and closes his lips around your clit, sucking lightly.

You moan and arch your hips. His warm breath fans out across your pussy as he leans back and eases his long tongue into your hole. Waves of pleasure consume you. He feels good.

“P-please, my lord … please don’t stop.”

Doflamingo smiles against you. His mouth returns to your clit; tongue drawing circles into your bundle of nerves. The sensation in the pit of your stomach grows. It won’t be long now. Sadly, he doesn’t allow you to get off and leans up with a smile. You grunt in annoyance; your arousal gleams across his lips.

Standing up, he urges you back further on the bed. You watch him take off his pants, freeing his swollen and rather long cock. He certainly is a large man, you think; not only his stature. Doflamingo crawls over you and moves your short legs to rest at his hips.

How will it fit? You try and relax your tense body as the engorged head inches into your core. Wet or not it hurts a bit; your tight walls stretch to accommodate him. Doflamingo seems unresponsive to your obvious struggle, because quickly he thrusts himself to the base inside of you, robbing you of your breath. A gasp escapes your mouth; sharp and burning pain strings your insides, but again, he seems not to care. He thrusts roughly into you.

You bring up your hands and push at his stomach. You don’t want him to stop, only to back away a bit. Every thrust hits your cervix in a harsh way that brings tears to your eyes.

“Relax,” he grunts. His eyes are hidden, but you can hear the irritation in his voice.

What does he expect? Someone as small as you can’t be expected to take a cock as large as his so easily. You nod and try to bear it for a bit longer. The uncomfortable pain is sure to go away. The stretch is a dull sting at this point. You feel good; so full that you doubt even a finger can fit into you. Have you ever felt this full before? It’s intense. You pant in satisfaction as he continues to thrust into you.

Arching your back to meet his thrusts, you relish in the fact your lower abdomen bulges when he pushes roughly into you. This has never happened before. You rub the area, moaning as you feel it press into your palm. It’s not a terrible sensation. You aren’t sure whether it’s normal or whether you are supposed to like it, but you do; fluid leaks down your thighs.

“Good little mouse. You’re taking me well for someone so small,” Doflamingo grunts. His mouth hangs open in satisfaction, but his smile never fades.

It’s a kink to him, it seems. His grace takes delight in watching his cock fit into someone much smaller than him. You swipe your tongue across your swollen lips. How lewd of him; how wicked.

“I feel so full … so good,” you sigh.

His thrusts gain intensity. You nearly cry out as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small and deep circles; round and round. Your eyes roll back in bliss as his thrusts match the alacrity of his fingers. Waves of pleasure consumes you.

Your body tenses up as you come undone, moaning softly. Doflamingo lets your orgasm ride out, then pulls out. Your core spasms around nothing, and he notices.

“Fufufufu. Done already, little mouse?”

Tears blur your eyes. You feel exhausted; your throat is dry and sore, but strangely you miss the contact. You want him back inside of you. He never even got off. There’s no warm and wet mess on your thighs – except your own.

You clutch his hips and urge him forward. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, but glides up your slit and nudges your clit. You moan in protest, short nails burying into his skin.

“Patience. You got yours.”

A whine leaves you, but you agree with him.

“Turn over and submit yourself to me,” Doflamingo commands.

You do as he orders, rearing your ass once you’re on your hands and knees in front of him. Your face is consumed in heat, but with your head pressed into the mattress you’re certain that he can’t see. Unfortunately, neither can you. Touch is the only sensation he allows you.    

His large hands grab the fleshy globes of your ass, spreading your cheeks. He thankfully lines himself back up and thrusts into you. His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks you. It feels deeper this way; a little less intimate, but honestly you don’t care.

At one point he stops and allows you to rock your hips back, fucking yourself on his cock. Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth. Pleasurable as it is, Doflamingo seems to dislike the slow buildup and lifts you up, resting your exhausted body against his chest as he continues. His thumb finds your clit and within minutes you cum again. It’s too much; too intense for you.

Your body nearly collapses onto the mattress, but Doflamingo holds you up as he reaches his own high, removing his cock from your abused walls to cover your thighs and the bedsheets in spurts of his warm cum. A shiver runs down your spine. This is honestly something you never expected to happen; you don’t mind at the moment – fucked out of your mind – but how can you ever look your king in the eye after this. You won’t be able to even play in front of him again without thinking about this moment.

In any case, your welcome feels overstayed. You pull away from Doflamingo, legs shaking in protest, and move towards the edge of the bed. Your panties are somewhere; you just have to redress and leave.  

“I thought we made it clear that until I dismissed you, you aren’t allowed to leave,” he coos. His arm slides around your waist, drawing you back onto the bed with him.

Your head rests against his heaving chest, but your eyes remain closed, listening to his labored breathing.

“Give me a minute, little mouse. The night is still young, and there’s still much I want to do to you.”

You feel too tired to protest and simply nod. Maybe you won’t faint on him; it’s possible. He’s way too much for you.

Happy birthday.

[zeoumren]

The skeletons, the swamp and the song bird(undertale  drabble)

I am not gonna post this to Ao3 (probably) but I wanted to  write something about the boys™ ( y’know San’s Red and Skull because they spark joy) and I ended up making...a swamp monster Au? hey, you know what sure. I'm chill. 

So please enjoy this little drabble 

Sans is half blue spotted salamander 

Red is half Marine  iguana

And our boy skull is an unholy amalgam of  giant leeches  that makes him look  like he has tentacles. c: 

It had been another indescribably shitty day.

You were not a pessimist but the dark circles under your eyes had something to say about your lifestyle. 

It was shit, plain and simple. You had a hard time separating your real life from your work life and that lead to more stress, less sleep and a pissy boss telling you to get your act together before coming back to the venue.

A sigh left you as you sat hunched over on a stump in the forest clearing. 

This was your quiet place, you came here to sing and practice routines.

You were an entertainer and it was hard not to keep your mask on, you pretended all the time to be someone...something you were not it was hard when someone asked you about yourself because you didn't know who you were off the stage anymore.

So yeah, life was kinda shit right now so you threw yourself into what you normally did when you hiked up here, into the humid underbrush of a forest no one wanted to come to, legends of creatures eating full-grown men whole and actual real dangers surrounded this place, but you didn’t much care anymore.

After all, the ones who were more dangerous were outside the forest.

Taking off a ball cap and letting your hair tumble free you wipe your brow free of sweat and kick your legs as you sit.

Most of the forest was loud, full if chattering and nattering of birds and other creatures, but this space that just dropped off into a bog, was quiet.

You liked to come here in the wee hours of the morning and watch the fog roll off the algae-green water, it made for the perfect ambience to a forlorn song or a crooning that let all your own heartbreak loose.

But today, in the evening after being told your routine was shit and you were one slip up from being let go and replaced by someone new, who you had no grievance with, but it was the principal of the matter, you had worked so hard to get to sing and perform for crowds and now….you were having it dangled above your head.

You grit your teeth and for the first time since you ever came here you let out a cry of pure frustration and rage.

The quiet never broke, even through all your angered screaming, then looking between your knees as you sat and into the murky water you buried your head in your hands and wept.

You did not know what to do! It was all too much all at once.

Still, you came back to a familiar song, even with a tearful voice.

"Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird teach me how to sing."

You were able to get a few verses in before the sun began to Dip down below the horizon and you got up from your perch.

No point trying to navigate this quagmire in the gloom.

You took careful steps, keeping to the path you always did when something caught your attention. A pale bluish light hovering in the air, soon being joined by more close by of other colours…you spotted red as well, and a strange, almost grey-blue light. You hummed to yourself, reminded of the fact that this was a bog, and swamp gas igniting was a thing. Still, you stopped and stared, a smile playing at your lips.

"Wow, this is the most beautiful light show I have ever seen! And people say the Fen is haunted. More like hauntingly beautiful!"

You giggle to yourself and don't even notice the lights flare brighter at your statement.

You always loved the Gloom, you just never knew the gloom loved you back.

---

Well….you never thought it could get worse, but even after giving it your all you still ended up being fired. 

So you came to the bog to say your goodbyes. You probably would have to move back into your parent’s town.

"I'm gonna miss this place, not the shitty managers, or the fights...but I always thought the locals were silly to be afraid. This place is so magical and I'm really gonna miss it…" 

It was weird, saying goodbye to a place. But you somehow still ended up crying a little.

And for the first time ever in this clearing, you heard a sound.

A mournful wailing, deep like a foghorn that rattled into your very bones.

It looked like the Bog itself had seemed to shift, the top layer of Jenny green teeth giving way to the sound of mud slurping and water gushing.

You couldn't move, frozen to the spot as you watched in awed terror.

Writhing tentacles that moved like leeches and were just as black moved towards you, you figured this was it, you were dead. You sucked in a breath and screwed your eyes up tight.

You were startled as the wet appendages slowly ran over your cheek. Delicately.

You cracked open an eye and saw there in the water a skull, a giant gaping hole that looked painful gushing water as it rose, one of its eyes was devoid of light and the other…

Was a deep crimson, the colour of blood.

Yet it smiled softly, even with so many teeth.

The tentacles seemed to be coming from it and it made you cock your head to the side as it almost shyly drew closer, hauling more of its body out of the water.

Its torso was also skeletal, and it was gigantic, at least eight feet tall without including its lower half.

You thought of story's of swamp hags dragging people under and looked at this...it seemed to fit some sort of description...it definitely looked like a drowned corpse.

But as it hauled itself out of the water and you saw how it slid over to you in one fluid motion, how its bones melded into strange dark tentacles, how it's eye lit up when it reached a skeletal hand over to pat your hair.

This was surreal, strange in every sense of the word. Your voice caught in your throat as  two other skulls, smaller than the first bobbed in the water, one had white pinpricks of light for eyes like the stars in the sky, the other had sharper teeth and predatory red slits for eye lights.

They shared a look and dipped under the surface, leaving you with the behemoth.

It was so strange having something so giant hold your face and look you over, play with your hair.

You finally found your voice, it wobbled despite your best efforts.

"S-sorry to bother you...I didn't know anyone lived here. Don't worry I will go."

The touching and playing stopped and it said one word that made your stomach drop and your bones freeze.

"N o."

It was soft, but full of a strange emotion you could not understand and you felt your eyes widen in shock as millions of tentacles surrounded you, even if you were to scream it would come out muffled as the world was blotted out by the writhing darkness.

---

The moment you were spat out from the inky prison you were on a shore...a tiny island with a cave in the center.

You were surrounded by the bog and your heart sped up when you saw the water froth and churn.

Out of the murk popped the small skeletal creature...white eyes.

He watched you curiously before sliding up onto the island. His lower body made you actually smile, he looked like some sort of blue newt from the waist down. That was it. You had to have bumped your head and were slowly bleeding out. None of this was possible.

So, since this is probably a weird dream induced by bloodless, you may as well be nice. You smile and wave to the creature who looks shocked and  his skeletal face flushes a bright blue as little wisps of blue light curl around him.

He Pat's his face roughly and scampers off into the cave.

"Bye lil guy." 

The next thing you know you are being tackled and you are staring up at a grinning maw full of sharp teeth and slit red eyes.

"Um...are you going to eat me?"

If you are already dying you may as well just get that question out of the way. The newt skeleton seemed harmless...but this one…

It looked more like one of those lizards that catches fish, it had sharp claws on both its skeletal and reptilian appendages. This was a predator and it could rip you apart...yet you were suprised when it laughed and started ...purring?

It was a gravely sound that you felt in your bones, but it was strangely warm.

"Heh, cute but I'm not gonna even try songbird. Skull would kill me...oh speak of the devil. Goodluck sweetness.~"

He scrambled off of you, but not before licking your cheek with a forked red tongue.

He too wandered off to the cave...it struck you that these creatures could talk, which sent your mind reeling, even as you were picked up by curling black tentacles.

You crossed your arms and looked at the creature holding you.

Skull...right?

"So...are you going to eat me?"

Skull...looked horrified. His one eye light got impossibly small and he surged out of the water, reaching out to hold you...your clothing was no doubt ruined by now and everything felt so surreal. He scooped you up and you were shocked by how warm he was.

"No. Wont. Keep you safe."

You blinked softly.

Huh.

"Can I go home?"

You were squeezed a little tighter and you realized he was bringing you to the cave.

"Keep you safe."

You were placed up high on a rocky shelf that was covered with sweet smelling moss and animal skins. tentacles retreating after softly patting your head. You blinked in the low light.

It...was a little home? The cave had three rocky pools of water and some different shelves and outcroppings. You held in your grasp of wonder as all around you little jars filled with bioluminescent blue mushrooms blinked to life in the growing gloom. 

You may be dead...but you guessed there were worse places to be dead. You looked down and waved at the little newtiton and received a wink from the skelezard.

Skull was winding himself into a ball of tentacles inside the biggest pool while the other two were resting on old animal skins and warming up by a fire that crackled with the smell of roasting fish.

You sighed softly and laid down on the surprisingly soft moss.

You guessed this was fine for now.

It is not like you had anywhere to be and you were safe, unless you were already dead...plus you probably were in shock, nothing felt real right now.

Closing your eyes you heard three separate voices call out to say the same thing.

" Good night songbird" 

---

"How long do you think she will sleep for?"

Sans stifled a yawn as he had stayed up to chat with the others.

It was no fair, he had found you first, someone singing in the early morning just for him. He had hoped to lure you with the will-o-the-wisp's into the water at first but in the end he had let you go. You were just...your song was so sad.

Mournful.

He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, and you came back. A new song each day that felt like it was just for him.

Then Red had to show up and decide he liked your singing too.

And you came once or twice at night so, skull found out too. Skull was dangerous, sans thought for sure you were dead but the behemoth seemed smitten. He liked your happy songs filled with love, your sad songs filled with loss...you sounded like you had lived all these songs.

Then you came to the fen not with a song, but with tears, with frustration and heartbreak.

And yet you had still called their home beautiful...their lights that they put up to cheer you...you called them beautiful too.

And of course it was hard to hold skull back from wanting to take you then.

"I dunno squirt. But Hell. I know she deserves some sleep...she always looks so tired. But she still hikes out here everyday."

Red growled and looked up at your sleeping form.

Their songbird was suffering all this time and they never noticed until now.

It made his instincts flare up. He had to protect you...he had to, you were too fragile to keep out of sight for long.

If he did someone else might hurt you.

You were better off here.

He may be adverse to skulls method of getting you here, but now that you were…

"So, we all agree we are keeping her?"

Sans thought it over and nodded, he may not want to share, but he was stuck in this situation now.

"...I mean...I don't want her to leave, and she is so tiny and thin. We should probably take care of her."

"Protect little bird. Needs to eat more."

Skull was already in full nesting mode with you here. It was weird to see someone so...feral become a purring kitten in your presence.

They all stopped and stared all three skulls snapping up to the shelf when you cooed out a little yawn before rolling over in your sleep. 

"...too cute."

Skull was holding his face and twirling his tentacles into tight knots. He probably wanted to hold you.

"Stars, yeah we gotta keep her. I'll get her more furs for her nest tomorrow."

And now Red was gone too. His mind working on instinct to protect, provide and comfort.

Though sans was not much better. He was already trying to figure out where to catch more humans and extort them for favours so they would give him things for you.

Yes. They all looked at each other and nodded.

The songbird was theirs. The world would never harm them again.

[guccybangtan]

tomorrow and forever - jung hoseok

 pairing; hoseok x reader

genre; angst (happy ending)

rating; pg-15 

word count; 2606

disclaimers; mentions of cheating, readers mom is a hoseok hater, also a control freak, baby panic attack (mostly symptoms, really brief), cursing, relationship problems; let me know if anything needs to be added

summary; you and hoseok were supposed to have a nice dinner for your anniversary. when he tells you he has to stay late at work you don't think anything of it; at least until Jimin sends you a few questionable photos.

a/n; this is my little piece for @ultkpopnetwork​ ‘s “A Walk With BTS’’ 7th anniversary celebration! I chose the song fake love but I don't know if I really stuck with it that well lol sorry. this was supposed to be angsty but like usual not too sure if it worked! 

let me know what you think :) 

listen to;

- fake love | bts

- 4 am | Melanie Fiona

- who | lauv ft. bts

You’d stopped expecting things from Hoseok a while ago. Every time you planned a date or took time off of work to see him, you were blown off with the excuse of another time.

In the beginning of your relationship, everything seemed to be straight out of a fairytale. Hoseok took you on a plethora of dates: watching the sunset on the Han River, visiting hole in the wall cafés, touring local parks in Seoul, anything you felt like. You’d had some of the best times of your life with Hoseok and you would never dream of  trading them for the world.

Even though it seemed like everything was going great in your relationship, things turned sour rather quickly. It was as if the moment you made it past your one year anniversary, things were destined to fall apart.

When Hoseok had first asked you out, he made sure that you understood he wouldn’t always have time for you. He loved you very much, but his job, the music,- came first.

“You know I care about you, Y/N,’’ Hoseok said to you as he grasped your hand over the dinner table, “but the music comes first.’’

“I know, Hobi,’’ You squeezed his hand, hoping to reassure the man.

You’d had that conversation over coffee on your third date. It was quite obvious that Hoseok was infatuated with you, but you could also sense the hesitance in his demeanor. This was as far as he’d ever made it with a girl in his career. Most women only wanted to be with him because of his money and status. Things never usually lasted past the first date, but he knew you were different. He could feel it.

You stayed true to your word, never arguing when he had to stay late to help one of the others with the choreography, or when Namjoon asked him to stay late in the studio to re record a verse or two. You never mentioned how you felt when you saw all the beautiful women fawning over him, screaming his name (plus a few other not so appropriate things). You didn’t even say anything when he missed your anniversary dinner. The dinner that he swore up and down he wouldn’t miss since “a year is a huge milestone!’’

“Don’t worry about it,’’ you shook your head as you spoke to your phone. It was resting on your vanity, Hoseok’s voice blaring through the speaker. You had been finishing up your makeup for the evening, readying yourself for your dinner reservation in Gangnam at some fancy restaurant Hoseok had picked out.

Hoseok had said he was going to finish what he was working on and be home by six, and you two would be out the door by six thirty. Not anymore apparently, considering the fact that he was required to stay late again.

Your heart ached as you pressed end call, shoulders sagging against the back of your chair. You should stop expecting him to come through. One can only be let down so many times before they stop even looking up.

Just as quickly as the call ended, you pulled out your makeup remover and began to wipe the product from your face. Your makeup had looked the best you’d ever been able to do, and now all that hard work was going down the drain.

The silence was deafening as you sat in your shared bedroom. It didn't take long to remove an hour's worth of work and you slipped out of your dress into some comfier sleep clothes.

You had always hoped against all hope that things would be different. You prayed that your family was wrong; that he was different.

When you first got with Hoseok, your family was immediately judgemental of his lifestyle, claiming he couldn’t be tied down to someone while living the way he was.

“He’ll never be able to please you.’’ Your mother seethed over the phone. She was angry that you wouldn’t marry her friend's son, Minsik, and of course because of this, she had an obvious distaste for Hoseok.

Always the control freak, your mother felt that she was allowed to dictate every aspect of your life, even going as far to calling your boss to tell him she didn’t like you working late. You didn’t even live with her for christ sake! Still, she felt as if she had free reign over your life and it had always been an issue.

She was the same way with your brother. It was the same reason he decided to move far away from her.

You’d explained to your mother that this was your life, and you knew what you were committing to with Hoseok. You said if she didn’t like it she didn’t have to see him.

True to her word, Hoseok was never invited to any family get togethers, and she’d refuse to attend any birthday celebrations as long as he was there.

“She’ll come around,’’ Your father told you after your birthday a few months ago.. It hadn’t been the first time he told you this, and you figured it wouldn’t be the last.

After settling into bed, you found yourself restless.

While it wasn’t unusual to be alone at this hour, you found yourself more lonely than usual.

Hoseok hadn’t given you an estimate on when he’d be home, so you now had to busy yourself for an indefinite amount of time. Sleeping would probably be the smartest option, but your brain was too busy for that. You trusted Hoseok. He’d finish whatever he was doing and hopefully be home in your arms before midnight. Maybe you’d get to spend a little bit of your anniversary together.

Deciding that sleep would in fact be the best option to pass the time, you let yourself relax against the pillows.

You hadn’t even fallen completely asleep before the buzzing of your phone woke you up.

You’d gotten a text message from Jimin.

The two of you were friends, and you were close enough, but for him to be texting you after six? Quite the anomaly.

Opening the message, you felt your heart drop. Jimin had sent you a picture of Hoseok sitting at a table with one of their backup dancers practically in his lap. The photo was from the back, so you couldn’t see his face, but by his body language it looked like he was enjoying the attention.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart, but it didn’t help.

‘Think about this, Y/N,’ you thought to yourself. Being rash and jumping to conclusions would do you no good.

Throwing the covers back, you stood up out of bed.

“Get some water,’’ You said out loud to yourself as you walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Letting the water run out of the faucet, you filled up a cup of water and took a long drink.

As you made your way back into the bedroom, your phone lit up with another notification.

Jimin had sent you another photo.

You opened this one with more hesitation than the last, only to have your suspicions confirmed.

In this photo they were standing up. Hoseok’s arms were wrapped around the girls middle, and it looked like he was tilting his head to expose his neck. It was clear she was kissing him.

You locked your phone and threw it on the bed.

What should you do? Are you supposed to just wait for him to come home and pretend like nothing happened? If he was really cheating on you, how long had it been going on for? Did he ever love you at all?

There were a million questions racing through your mind, but there was one thought that trumped them all.

Mom was right.

You needed to leave.

You fumbled through your closet, digging for your carry on bag. It was small enough for you to carry without hassle but you’d be able to fit enough things in it to last for a few days.

As you were shoving clothes into the bag, you could see your phone ringing a few feet away. Jimin’s name lit up the screen.

Not wanting to hear anymore bad news, you ignored the call, continuing on your mission to pack up and leave.

It wasn’t right to just up and leave Hoseok like this, but it also wasn’t right for him to play you like boo boo the fool for a whole year.

“This is for the best.’’ You said to yourself.

You were almost finished with your clothes, and the buzzing had stopped a while ago.

Now all you needed was your toiletries.

Heading back into the bathroom, you stopped at the sound of the front door opening.

Without second thought you left your items on the bed and walked out to the living room.

You weren’t sure who you expected it to be, but you were shocked nevertheless when you were met with the sight of Hoseok.

You had made not a peep, but still, Hoseok whipped around to face you.

“Y/N!’’ He exclaimed, nearly tripping as he tried to remove his shoes.

“Don’t.’’

“Hear me out!” Hoseok cried, managing to right himself.

He’d stepped back in front of the door which prevented you from leaving your shared apartment.

Not that you’d leave without your stuff.

The two of you stood there, both unmoving, also refusing to say anything.

Unable to stand under Hoseok’s scrutinizing gaze, you looked to the ground.

The look plastered on his face would have been enough to stop you in your tracks but with your gaze trained on the floor, you missed the pain his eyes held.

You’d never been closed off with Hoseok. The two of you communicated very well and it was one of the reasons you two had been able to make it this far. Seeing you act like this was very upsetting.

It was obvious Hoseok was trying to hold back tears, not wanting to let his emotions get the best of the situation. He was so afraid of losing you, he didn’t want to do anything to escalate the situation. If you’d just listen to him he’d explain!

“Why the fuck should I listen you, Hoseok.’’ You spat, finally looking back up at him. “It’s obvious your words mean nothing.’’

You shouldn’t be talking to him like this. You know that. You can’t help the venom that begins to lace your tone. You were angry.

Hoseok had never given you a reason not to trust him, but it wasn’t like those photos came from a fan. Jimin had sent them to you. Sweet, trusting Jimin. The same Jimin who pushed Hoseok to ask you out in the first place. He had no reason to send you those pictures as a prank. He had to be seriously concerned in order to meddle in your business.

“Baby, it’s not what it-’’

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,’’ You shook your head, feeling the tears begin to well up in your own eyes, “pictures speak louder than words.’’

“What pictures?” Hoseok asked as he took off after you down the hallway.

You snatched your phone off the bed and quickly punched in your pass code.

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re talking about? Jimin just said- what’s all that?” Hoseok cut himself off, eyes wide as he saw your run away bag.

You didn’t reply.

“You were gonna leave?”

“Why would I stay when it’s obvious you don’t love me!” You finally screamed.

Pulling up the text thread you threw the phone at Hoseok.

He rolled his jaw in annoyance.

“Jimin needs to stay the fuck out of my business.’’ Hoseok scoffed, shutting the phone off and tossing it back to the bed.

“Why, so you could keep on fucking other girls while I sat here alone? Waiting for you like I promised!” You couldn’t hold in the tears anymore.

“I’m not fucking anyone other than you, Y/N!” “Then why did Jimin send me those pictures!”

“Because he’s a fucking idiot!”

Banging on the wall knocked both of you back to your senses.

A faint “keep it down!” could be heard through the plaster.

“At least I wasn’t gonna run away from all of my problems.’’ Hoseok spat at you.

“At least I’m not a fucking liar.’’ You replied, going back to packing.

You were almost done. You could almost go.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok ripped the bag from your hands.

“I’m leaving. Give me my stuff.’’

Hoseok let out a laugh, “you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna sit, and we’re gonna talk like adults.’’

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t want to hear you say you did it.’’ You shook your head, reaching for the bag now held above his head.

“I didn’t do anything!”

God, you were stubborn.

You were practically pressed up against him as you tried to grab your bag, so Hoseok just tossed it back to the closet and wound his arms around your waist, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

“What are you doing?” You tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“She came onto me, Y/N.’’ Hoseok said, pulling you tighter to his chest.

Fuck, he really didn’t want to lose you.

“Jimin couldn’t hear what was going on because he was sitting with Namjoon. He totally misread the situation. Why do you think he called you five times?” Oh. You hadn’t thought about it like that.

“As soon as she tried to kiss me I pushed her off.’’

“It looked like she was kissing your neck.’’ You pulled his chin to the side, inspecting his skin.

It was free of marks. It was just nice and tan like usual.

“I was trying to move away from her lips.’’ He chuckled.

Maybe things were gonna be okay.

As you continued to try to poke holes in his story with your questions, Hoseok answered every one of them, never deeming any of them as stupid.

Eventually, you became pliant in his arms, feeling like a total bitch for reacting the way you did.

The two of you sat on the bed as you hung your head in shame.

“It’s okay, Y/N/N. I know you.’’ Hoseok soothed as he pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “The minute Jimin told me his fuck up I knew you’d react bad.’’

“I just.. I worry sometimes. You’re an amazingly handsome rich man in the biggest boy band in the world! I’m just me. Plain ole Y/N. You belong with someone like her.’’ You let your shoulders sag.

You’d always been a bit insecure of yourself, but Hoseok was always there to reassure you.

“I love my plain ole Y/N,’’ Hoseok spoke, “you keep me grounded. Helps me stay on track.’’

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nodded, slipping back under the covers.

You watched Hoseok as he took off his jacket, white tee following soon after. Shimmying out of his jeans, he crawled into bed with nothing but boxers on.

“I’m sorry for overreacting.’’ You said again when Hoseok switched off the lamp.

“It’s alright baby.’’ Hoseok pulled you into his chest.

You shifted so your head was resting against where his heart was, letting the steady beat relax you.

“We’ll do something tomorrow.’’ Hoseok spoke out of the blue.

“Since we didn’t get to do anything for our anniversary today, we’ll go tomorrow.’’

You just nodded, ready for this day to be over.

“We’ve got tomorrow and forever, Y/N/N. It’ll be the first year of many.’’

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 2

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,129

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Your father, Negan, chuckled as you got off the golf cart in front of the trailer you’d be celebrating Christmas in again, like you had for three of the past ten years, at the Los Angeles County State Prison.

“Hi, daddy.” You breathed in relief, grateful to spend any amount of time with the only family member that you could completely trust. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, Princess. Fuck you, give ‘em.” He barked as he pulled the bags of food and your clothes off the back of the cart before you could even think to reach for them. You simply rolled your eyes and grabbed your guitar case before thanking the officer and heading inside the family visit trailer. “So what kinda trouble did you get into this week?”

“Well…” You sighed as you sat down at the small table in the kitchen. “… I went to Cleveland on Saturday and flew back yesterday morning. Pretty sure I got pregnant, too.”

“You fucking what?!” Your dad roared as he slammed a box of Mac and Cheese down on the counter. “Fucking Henry?”

“Henry is not coming back!” You shouted back, defensively. “And does it fucking matter? I made a choice, two choices actually, to sleep with some douche bag and not take Plan B after. It is what it fucking is.”

“So what, you're just gunna throw away your fucking life…” He started as he went back to throwing groceries in the cabinets, angrily. 

“No, I made the choice to not be fucking alone any more!” You interrupted as you looked over at him. You couldn't hide the hurt in your eyes when he turned around to stare at you, shocked that you were actually talking about your emotions.

“Sweetheart…” He breathed as he abandoned his task and came over to sit down in front of you. “You are not fucking alone…”

“I am alone, daddy.” You nearly whispered as you put your feet up on your chair and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Mom’s dead, and you're in here for who knows how much longer. And Henry…” You scoffed and shook your head. “Henry isn't coming back. He loves being some hit shot doc the Army more than he ever loved me. So other than my research, which I've all but abandoned anyways out of sheer boredom, I have nothing. I have no one, daddy. Just the occasional visit from Ashleigh and some of the harlots from the club. Maybe a once a month lunch date with some of the people from UCLA. But that's it. So I made a choice not to get the morning after pill after I stared at the box for over an hour and weighed out the pros and cons. And I would much rather raise a sperm donor baby than be alone in that house anymore.”

“OK.” Negan whispered with a nod as he rested his hand on your bent knee. “OK. I don't fucking like it, but I will get on that train all the fucking same.” Tears welled in your eyes as you rested your cheek on the back of his hand, and you closed your eyes to hide them. “So I'm gunna be a grandpa?”

“Maybe.” You choked the slightest bit as you opened your eyes to look at him again. “It just happened but I know I'm ovulating…”

“Eww fucking gross.” He fake gagged to get you to smile as he pulled his hand free and got up to finish putting groceries away. “I don't wanna hear that shit.”

“That's what you get for raising a daughter with no filter.” You pointed out as you propped your chin between your still bent knees.

“Fucking gross.” He repeated with a laugh. “So the fuck was in Cleveland? This fuckin guy?”

“Ashleigh’s client. He’s a rock rapper that needed someone that could learn music fast and played the guitar well. So Ash landed on me. But dude is a total self absorbed prick. B minus in… well in the broom closet.”

“I'll have Simon kill him.” He said almost 100% seriously.

“You are not going to kill this idiot for being bad at sex.”

“No, I'm gunna fucking kill him for laying a Goddamn hand on my daughter.” He responded with a smile as he balled up the last empty grocery bag and put it in the recycling bin.

“You're an idiot.” You laughed as you grabbed your guitar and got up to sit outside for a while.

“Hey, be nice to your old man.” He huffed as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches off the table and followed you out front to enjoy the California sun. “And go easy on me today.”

“Yea fucking right.” You laughed as you sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs and pulled out your guitar, which took you almost a year of bribery to be able to get it into the jail it now lived in in the first place. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Pain in my Goddamn ass.” He grumbled around his cigarette as he moved his chair out off the shade and pulled off his blue prison issue shirt for as long as he could get away with it. “Alright… rock music from the 70’s.” You nodded at the category and tuned your guitar before picking an easy AC/DC song to start with. Which is pretty much how you always spent your days when you visited your father in prison.

——

Your office hadn’t looked so chaotic since you were working on a regular basis, but as of that morning, every available surface was covered in every single medical textbook, (with a focus on pregnancy and pediatrics) and motherhood book you could get your hands on. The dry erase board that usually had your equations to see if your Milky Way black hole theory was a possibility, had been wiped clean and replaced with columns upon columns of notes, to separate the ridiculous from the actual facts you would need to go through a pregnancy and raise a child.

You were blazing through the ‘Essential Neonatal Textbook’, when your house phone rang, startling you the slightest bit and forcing you to pull your attention away from a long list of the benefits of cord blood. You sighed and snatched up your headset as you set the book down to work through all of the information and pick out the more important bits and pieces to make the best informed decision.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)? I have a Colson Baker here to see you.” Your fingers froze with the cap of the marker in one hand and the marker itself in the other.

“You can let him in.” You sighed as you took a step forward and started a new list under the newborn column in the middle of the board. You heard the line click in your ear and you wrote quickly, trying to get some of the information down so you knew where to pick up when you came back inside. You got a short start and reluctantly forced yourself away from your research  to let your guest in. You started to work out your ideas vocally as you opened up the two gates and watched his purple Lamborghini pull into your driveway. You waited just long enough for him to make it half way to you, before you turned and headed inside to add more to your cord blood list with him following behind you.

“Umm… what the fuck is this?” Kels asked as he looked at the board over your shoulder in shock.

“Did you vaccinate Casie?” You asked as you continued to write.

“You’re fucking pregnant?!” He shouted over you as you capped your marker and set it back down on the easel.

“I am pregnant.” You said evenly as you walked over to find the ‘The Umbilical Cord Blood Controversies in Medical Law’ book to cross reference the former textbook. “Did you vaccinate Casie?”

“Were you gunna fucking tell me?” He shouted as you flipped through the pages, easily reading 20,000 words a minutes despite the distraction of your visitor.

“I was neither planning on telling you, nor keeping it from you.” You said simply. “I want nothing from you, Mr. Baker. I don’t need money, and I don’t need you to step up to be a father. You were a one night stand that I chose to not take Plan B after. My choice, my child, my body, my life.” He looked at you completely lost for words as you set your finished book down and headed back to the white board to add and change notes. “I would like your family medical history, though. I could easily do a diagnostics test and an MSS while I’m pregnant but…”

“Oh, I’m gunna be fucking sick.” He groaned behind you as you finished your idea and turned to move on to the next section. You grabbed the trash can and handed it to him on the way past as you tried to keep your thoughts as straight as possible, relatively unsuccessfully.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You sighed as you looked over at him for a moment. “And after the way you treated me that night, the way you just used me and threw me away like I didn’t mean a Goddamn thing…” You exhaled through your nose and shook your head as you looked away from him and out the back door to the ocean. 

“I don’t care that you’re not happy here, Mr. Baker. I don’t care if you want to be in this child’s life or not. I don’t care if you see me or this child as a mistake, or what you see us as at all. I just don’t care. What I care about is having a calm, healthy pregnancy, and becoming a mother. And I will not tolerate having someone come into our lives to walk in and out of it because he never wanted us in the first place. Nor will I tolerate someone treating me like I’m worthless trash in front of my child.” Kels didn’t say a single word as you shook your head and turned back around to go back to work. “Stay as long as you want. I have work to do.” 

As Colson sat and thought, you went over to find a book about banking cord blood so you could round out that column. The next column was pros and cons of breastfeeding verses formula, which was a lot more extensive than you originally expected due to the varying opinions on length and benefits, but after reading through seven different books, and writing and erasing conflicting notes, he finally spoke up.

“Breastfeed for a year.” He almost whispered as he watched you work. “That’s what we did with Casie. And yea, we vaccinated her.” You nodded your head as you erased the idea you were writing and stood up to make a note in the vaccines column. “I don’t turn my back on my kids.”

“OK.”

“I’m sorry.” He continued as you capped your marker “It’s no excuse but I was high as fuck and running on adrenaline. I used you and that was shitty as fuck.”

“Yes it was.” You agreed with a nod as you leaned against the front of your desk and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I’m fucking sorry.” He said a little harshly. “And I’m sorry for knocking you up.”

“Pregnancy happens, Colson.” You breathed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’m obviously a little more prepared since I actually made the decision…”

“Yea, that’s a fucking understatement.”

“OK, you can fucking leave and I can file a restraining order.” You snapped. “What’s done is done. I’m pregnant, you’re the father, your kid and my kid have a new sibling. You’re not going to have to pay child support, I’m taking primary custody with open visitations. And no, I am not going to date you. Not now, not ever. You left a sour taste in my mouth and I want nothing to do with you or your crazy lifestyle.”

“You’re just making this super fucking easy, aren’t you?” He asked as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m outta here. I’ll get your number from Ash and I’ll be in touch.” You rolled your eyes and gestured toward the door behind him.

“You can see yourself out.”

“Such a fucking bitch.” He muttered as he stormed out the doors and through the atrium to leave. You let out a huff and shook your head as you went back to your research.

“Idiot fucking sperm donor.”

Part 3

[lichsent]

@breselin - ♡

How long would it take till his endless teasing, relentlessly meant to rile up the King's very mind, would have him take the step of no return? Maybe, maybe just this once, the Soldier's own mind had lost itself in marvellous infelicity that takes them towards the end of time. "Claim me~" So he speaks it, suddenly, closely { a bare breath of a whisper, may it be heard? } into the distance between them diminished to nought. How would he do it, if given all of him to take?

And so he watches-- staring with never waning intrigue.

Sephiroth’s on the prowl (but when was he not? mannimarco liked watching him. he’s akin to a hard slap to the face. the impact was hard, but the burn was tender.) towards him, yet he does not yield. Why should he? It would be both foolish and implausible to try, and he’s found himself curious to see what’d happen. He has one hand settled neatly on other male’s hip, fingers still and lax even if they were on the verge of hovering rather than touching.

To feel. To lean into. To want. Ugly emotions for an equally as ugly being.

“How barbaric,” the words leave lips in soft whisper, returning what has been given to him. “Unkempt.”

He supposes it was fair in a way-- an excessively deplorable exchange of power. Dynamics were not lost upon him, but he feels no shame in exposing... unsightly sides of himself in regards to this. Other hand reaches, lifting and raising to thread spindly fingers through long locks of silver. It’s almost a treasure to him (to feel, to touch what was rightfully earned. it has a certain sensation, one that he’s greedily consuming.), treating it with sincere concern yet, at the same time, displaying firm urgency.

Fingers roll and curl, wrapping themselves within hair to bunch it up. Eyes flickered, moving towards the loose strands that poked out. He could’ve been neater. He couldn’t been tidier. He could’ve been more careful, but that’s not what he wants.

“Fine.”

Distance steadily comes to close betwixt them, Mannimarco subjecting himself to a closeness that he, otherwise, would have frowned upon. Knees bump into one another. Chests press against one another. He could feel his breathing stifle for but a moment, but it doesn’t matter. It no longer mattered.

Arm gave a hard tug, yanking (jerking? pulling? advising?) his head to the side as he’s immediately burrowing his head of space within head of shoulder. He releases his hip, snaking entire arm around his torso only to grab tightly at opposite hip. He wanted him to stay still, to be held within place as he assesses the situation. A moment of peace was given before he inhales, taking in Sephiroth’s scent (hard to place. it’s fine. he likes it anyway.) and shutting his eyes.

Grasp does not wane and, instead, presses further into the back of younger man’s. Entice, entice, entice... he wants it all. He wants everything.

(can you feel pain? do you mistake it as something else?)

Without warning does he finally bite down into exposed skin-- hard, relentless, and cruel.

[lady-dimitrescus-loving-wife]

Yandere! Alpha! Endeavor x Pregnant! Runaway! F!Omega || Know Your Place

You had gotten quite far, he could give you that. He wasn’t sure to be irritated or impressed really.

-

You continued to run holding your belly in your arm. Your breathing uneven as your naked feet padded along the cold ground, cuts and bruises coloring your skin. You had made a grave mistake, one of sleeping with an alpha during your heat. It was natural yes but there were always pills you could have taken. The years before you had locked yourself in your room for the month wrecking your pussy with your toys, even goin mg into humping your own furniture from time to time.

However sex with a real living being was completely different from that. The man you had met that day, Endeavor, was a living example. He had wrecked you in ways that you thought would be illegal, showed you how good it felt to be with another living being. You had a sudden attack while at the store, heat swallowing you up so bad that you were starting to strip from your clothes which seemed to be burning your skin at the time. He swooped in before anyone else could as if he had been watching you from the second you stepped into the store and now that you saw who he was you didn’t doubt it. His smile was calming and voice smooth, it made you shudder, tremble all over... you felt you knees buckle before darkness flooded your vision.

It was ironic really, the only reason you had been to the store was to buy more pills..this is when things took a left turn, where your life would get turned over. The usually calm natural suddenly turning sadistic. Next thing you knew you were in his lap. His thighs strong and wide making you feel tiny against his wife, strong chest. The room was dark, moonlight starting to leak through some of the curtains. You could only guess it was a living room but before you started to take in any major details, his arm wrapped around your waist and then an explosion of flames and his scent engulfed you. You let out a loud gasp, hips bucking as a heat pulled in your belly, the flames didn’t even hurt. They simply distracted your thoughts, playing cute little designs and images in from of your eyes.

You had never been with an alpha..you rarely even hung around with betas. In the back of your head a voice tried to cry out to you, to warn you. All alphas are evil! They only care about their own pleasure! You couldn’t hear it. Recently a lot of yanderes started to bloom in society and it wasn’t just alphas but betas and omegas as well. You remembered reading from an article from a group you were in on Facebook. You couldn’t think about it much though with that charming smile on his face. His mouth coming down and kissing along your neck, your hands grabbing onto his shirt, nails digging into the fabric desperate for more.

His mouth searing hot, you whimpered as he chuckled against your skin.

“Don’t worry kitten, I’ll take very good care of you.”

He cooed and oh god he did. Heats usually lasted about a month throughout the whole year and only ended early if you were pregnant and yes, that counted for all genders. When you woke up the next morning without a sheet of sweat covering your body or with the searing throbbing in your pussy you froze. You were naked body littered in bites, scratches, and burns...you shivered as something running out of not just one hole but both. Semen that was still warm leaking onto the messy bed, quickly you sat up to look at yourself in the mirror but rather instantly you notice that... this wasn’t your home... Not only that but your hands were chained to the bed trapping you.

You didn’t even think, crying openly, the room dark and you questioned if it was a cage with a cloak over it. If only you had knew, you could have avoided this! The chains jingled as you squirmed and whined. Suddenly the door had been pulled open and the man came in, a toothy grin on his lips. He wore a skin tight raven black long sleeve shirt and lightly baggy jeans. His scent immediately flooded in and you bit your lip, common sense fighting you natural instinct. When he came to the bed he sat next to you and you visibly flinched. He grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him.

“I’m guessing you understand what happened.” He spoke lowly before leaning down. He kissed you roughly, you trying to wiggle away but he held you firmly.

“You are mine now, fight me and I��ll hurt you.”

And you didn’t doubt his words.

-

Soon after that he had you take a pregnancy test. When you truly confirmed you were pregnant you new you had to figure a way out of this. You refused to have YOUR kids raised around this man. This using.. manipulative ..abusive and deranged man. You had already spent enough time in his house, four months to be exact, acting... lying... and planning.

You weren’t sure he truly believed you but when he unchained you for the first time falling asleep next to you hugging you tight you made your getaway, squirming inch by inch in his grip until you nearly tumbled out the bed. You got dress quickly in whatever you could find and thought about running out the front door but then again, that was too easy. It was predictable as well, he had examined you enough to know how you thought, setting up traps around the house in places you could escape.

You felt discouraged at one point, sinking down the hallway floor not sure where to go. If you stayed any longer he’d hurt you for leaving the bed, but it was nearly impossible to leave. Thoughts swarming your head of how’d you have to stay and suffer, your kids growing in a broken home and you never seeing your loved ones again... it was breaking you. Your core shattering just like your pride did long ago. Then you closed your eyes covering your ears, you had to think. Had to escape.

You jerked when a flutter of warm air landed on your head, it scared you making you think he had snuck up on you but as you looked up in the dark you could notice... a vent! You sat there, stunned for a second, of course.. you would have never thought to look up, in the last couple of months Endeavor used his height to his advantage. He made you break, fall apart, and cry. You learned that looking up to him was just as bad as letting him touch you so I stopped doing it unless he grabbed your chin making you look up. Sometimes it amused him to watch you shake while staring at the floor, it made him admire how you were the perfect little cum bucket he’d been looking for.

You stood up on shaky legs, all you were granted to wear were his shirts and a collar so that’s what you had on. Your feet naked, cold against the floor as you padded over to the kitchen getting a stool. It was round and spun but if you were quick enough none of that mattered. You brought it back to the vent and climbed on it shaking here and there trying to keep your balance. Your hand grazed the vent and you took a deep breath yanking it off and dropping it to the floor with a loud Clang!

You heard the man jump in bed, the mattress squealing under his weight. It was silent for a second before he roared your name. You jumped in rapidly scurrying through the vents until it dropped you outside.

-

You took a sharp turn, feet burning at the move. Endeavor leapt from building to building, for a big man he was silent waiting for the perfect moment, waiting for you to make to wring move, waiting for you to grow relieved so he could snatch it all up and crush it.

The police station was in view, you’d report him. Your looks would be evidence! Would they believe a citizen verses a ‘hero’? No. You doubted it but you were damn sure going to try. You were going to make it! You and your pups were gonna be happy once again!

“Hello darling.” The voice practically growled in your ear. His shadow engulfed yours, and you didn’t get time to think as his large fingers clasped around the shirt and yanked you back. You fell under him, your belly shooting with pain and you gasped eyes tearing up. You went to cry out for help but quickly he covered your mouth. Just you and him and the road and you begged the gods to have mercy, to help you get away but his voice threw you off your prayers.

“Good job Darling, you spent an hour running from you loving husband. Does your feet hurt, I sure hope so.”

Tears started to leak down your eyes running over his hand as he picked you up dashing quickly before slamming you into an alley wall. Pain surged through you, your back meeting the cold bricks, your hands pinned as you cried-his hand leaving your mouth. “S-Stop you’ll hurt the baby!” You cried trying to kick him, it was pitiful really... your feet dangling due to the height difference. He chuckled forcing his way between your legs, pressing against you until his mouth found your throat.

“Even if I do I can always make more.” He hissed and then you felt fangs grazing your neck. They were long, thick and sharp... alpha fangs. You cried louder trying to kick and squirm but froze when he put pressure on your throat. You couldn’t believe it, you were so close and yet so... fucking... far. So close to getting free from this maniac and now he was going to bond you. No one could deny an alpha bite. Omega, beta, and alpha bites were all different. When an alpha bites someone there is no escape, you are to follow that alpha to your death, to always submit to them, to also back down-roll over on your back and let them fill you with cum.

It hurt, the fangs piercing your throat like a knife piercing a womb. You went to scream in agony but his hand quickly covered your mouth once more. He pulled away, blood coloring his mouth before he licks his lips. He let you go watching you fall to your knees, heart broken and face stained with tears. He stood over you much like an owner scolding a dog, watching as you shook and whimpered, blood running down your neck, skin rubbing against the concrete.

You hated him, you had never hated a human being more than this man. It was a burning sensation, a rapidly growing one that seemed to darken your heart with shadows and freeze your skin with permafrost.

A large thump pressed against your lips that had been quivering. He forced you to look up, you eyes wet with tears as he leaned down and gave your lips a loving kiss.

“Come now, time to go home.”

-

You gagged around the large cock in your mouth, fucking the back of your throat as the man growled holding your head in place, your nose repeatedly pressing up against the bushy red hairs. Your eyes looking lovely, absolutely desirable looking up at him as the head disappeared and reappeared around your mouth. At least he thought so, the grip in your hair was harsh, yanking and tugging at your hairs scared your scalp would before ripped off if you didn’t comply. He was veiny, the tip of his cock hot red angry.

Precum squirted out, dancing over your tongue and down your throat filling you with the bitter taste. You had been naked, a collar around your throat reading the name, ‘Cum Bucket.’ It was a thick collar, tight around your throat and a heart pattern on it along with a loop just like any other dog collar. He watched you with dominating eyes, still angry from earlier and without warning his nails dug in as he slammed his cock in deep, your eyes widening and head slamming back against the wall he had you up against.

It hurt, the pressure had made it feel like he shot you, cum filling your mouth as you weakly pushed against naked, strong thigh. With a loud groan he tilted his head back holding you there as he pumped cum in your sore mouth, his hips drawing back a little before he slammed in again, harder than the first time. Your tears fell as his cock twitched, you tried not to swallow refusing and which he notice he growled. He kept his cock inside before letting one hand fall from your hair to clasp on your nose stopping air flow.

You squirmed gagging loudly as he started a slow bit firm pace, his hips pulling back slowly just to slam back in hard. You felt sick but you needed to breath and with a broken heart you swallowed as much as you could, some cum leaking down the corners of your mouth. It ran down you throat, a salty taste you ever rarely tasted. He groaned lowly before pulling his hips away, you gasped when you noticed the cock which seemed to still be rock hard. It shone with spit before he stroked himself a couple times letting go of your nose as you coughed. Some cum landed on the floor and he made a tsk noise before squatting down to your level.

He suddenly slammed you head to the ground and you let out a low cry of distress. He merely hummed.

“Lick that up slut, clean my pups off the floor.” He hissed and you whimpered before sticking you tongue out running it along the floor, gathering the remaining cum on to your tongue. Once you had finished he grabbed you throwing you on the bed. You cried careful of your belly. In his head he wasn’t worried though, if the baby was strong it would live, if not than... it deserved to die. However Endeavor was a strong man, his baby would live and he would teach them everything he knew. He didn’t care of your feelings, he knew you were his and that’s all that mattered. You belonged to him, as his mate, his baby mother, and his toy. To him and him only.

As he got on the bed you curled up a little seeing the predatory look in those icy blue eyes. He chuckled cruelly grabbing your legs and forcing them open, the hole between your thighs slick with natural lubricant that you just couldn’t control. You cried as he looked at you, your hands desperately but weakly pushing on his large naked chest to keep what was coming at bay. He examined your pussy pressing his hips forward until the large mushroom head pressed against the tight entrance. His hands still holding you open, and for a second you froze as his cock slid against the folds before slipping and probing your asshole. It scared you to the core as he pressed closer before suddenly slamming into your pussy.

Your scream echoed, the sound clawing out your throat as your body jerked, belly bulged more than it already was.

“S-Stop! It h-hurts!” You tried but he simply drew his hips back before slamming them back in. Your head fell back as you quivered, pussy tightening and loosening around him trying to adjust but he didn’t care enough to give you enough time. What type of owner would he be after all if he didn’t train his mutt? You felt like he was tearing you apart, your hips twitching as he towered over you watching your pained expressions, grinning when some soft moans of pleasure would slip out. It was confusing you, you felt good but also felt a tearing... a stream of blood running down your hole, slipping over your asshole thanks to his thrust.

”If it hurts so bad why are you moaning so loud? Why are you tightening around me like some whore? You know you like this.”

Maybe you did, you couldn’t focus. Everything was blending together. All you let out was a shattered cry, whether it was out of pain or pleasure you did not know. You core hot with need was he pushed your hips forward listening to the popping sound like it was some sort of sweet music. He didn’t touch you, not like your first time. When he had first found you he did everything for your pleasure; ate you out, rubbed your clit, kissed your lips as if... he loved you. However you could see now that it was all just an act. All he cared about was himself and his cold eyes and harsh thrust showed that.

That’s how you saw it but to him, to him it was something else.

He loved you alright, loved you so much to breed you like a toy. You should be grateful... he’d think, he rarely ever even looked for omegas and then you fell into his life smelling the way you did. Like a fresh caught antelope to a starved lion. He couldn’t let you go and then when you both had sex he wanted to show you, show you his intense love and when you reacted positively he knew you couldn’t escape. You were his and his only. He chuckled as he drew his hips back once more and then slammed back in for the last time, you cried out as cum flooded your womb, his cock pressed far pass your cervix.

I think I found the back of your pussy.

He thought as you body shook under him. You looked completely broken and maybe because that’s what you were. Your hair a mess, neck covered in his bite marks, skin layered in cuts, bruises and sweat. You pussy spasmed around his cock and weakly you moaned as you came, creampie leaking onto the bed as he slowed his thrust. He was going to start fucking you again but then he noticed your movements slowing down and eyes getting droopy. He sighed and pulled out leaving you spread eagle as you legs slid down.

He’d let you sleep for now, getting up and leaving locking the door behind you. He wouldn’t sleep with you tonight, that would only be a treat. No, you’d sleep here tonight by yourself, loaded with thick cum, by yourself, in complete darkness. He chuckled taking his phone and taking pictures of you deciding that he’d post them if needed before he locked the door behind him.

He didn’t even wish you a goodnight, it didn’t matter now.

[holylulusworld]

Failed

Summary: The world ended, now it’s only you and Dean, fighting the whole time...

Pairing: EndVerse! Dean x Reader, End!Verse Castiel

Warnings: angst, language, arguments, almost violence, choking (non-sexual), smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling

 Talking to Castiel you see another girl leaving Dean’s hut. Instead of taking care of the preparations for the next supply run he was busy to get his dick wet – once again.

“He should take care of other things instead of little Dean.” You groan, annoyed.

“Let him have his fun,” Castiel says, relaxed as usual.

“Cas don’t get me wrong but I miss the old you, the angelic you. The ‘let’s kill some bad guys with angel blades’ you.” Castiel simply shrugs, not hurt at all.

“I’ll take care of my flowers now…” The former angel says and not for the first time you wished Sam never said ‘yes’ or at least Dean would’ve said ‘yes’ too. Seeing your friends changing into someone they shouldn’t be, drags you down every day more…

“Why are you not preparing the next supply run?” Dean barks at you.

“That’s your and Emily’s job but as far as I could see you two were busy with more important things, Winchester. You’re a shame…” You spat turning on your heels, ignoring the way he bores holes into your skull.

“I’m not done with you,” Dean yells and you shrug. “I have other tasks today, Dean. Wounds need to get stitched up. Someone must repair the truck and I need to make sure everyone got checked for an infection. I guess you and half of the girls in the camp already checked each other. Good job, Winchester.” You bite back.

“Not only half the camp…” Dean chuckles and you glare at him. “Whoa…you must be very proud of yourself. Must be great being the whore of the camp.” You retort and Dean’s features darken.

“Speak for yourself.” Your former friend snarls and you shake your head.

“I don’t have time to fuck around since Sam…” Tears want to well up your eyes, so you push them away, sniffling. “I have to go, work is waiting. At least one of the women in this camp has something better to do than sucking your dick.”

Dean watches you running away, cursing he wants to go after you, slapping your ass for talking like that to your leader.

----

Weeks have passed since you called Dean a whore – no, the camps whore. He’s ignoring you now. Not taking you on supply runs, only giving you the shittiest jobs but you bite your tongue, ignoring the way he grins at you.

Today is the worst day to pee at your tree. It’s the day Bobby, Ellen and Jo died. They got killed after the first wave of Croats ran Bobby’s house over, shortly after Sam said ‘yes’ believing he can take over control.

Dean is barking orders into your direction while you are busy repairing another car one of his bed warmers crashed.

“I got no time for your shit. One of your beloved chicks ruined another car. I need to fix the oscillator, maybe I can repair it, if not we lost another precious car thanks to your lack in using your brain instead of your dick. Letting her drive a car - she doesn’t have a driver’s license you genius.” You snarl.

“It’s the end of the world. Who cares about traffic regulations, Y/N?” Dean mutters.

“It’s not about traffic regulations, Dean. It’s about how to drive a fucking car. How to drive and not ram it into a wall or ruin the car-transmission. These chicks can’t handle a stick, okay. Now leave me alone and get your dick wet to release some pressure. I don’t need to see your face. Not today out of all days.” Your voice cracks as you glance at the engine.

“Get off the truck, now. You're useless.” Dean mutters and you turn around.

“I’m useless, Dean? Why? As I’m the only one repairing things, fixing wounds and finding supplies or as I’m the only one not spreading my legs for you, Winchester.” You yell and he glares at you, grabbing your upper arm.

“You’ll leave the camp, now.” He says and you scoff.

“Fine, Dean. Good luck realizing I was the one keeping this shithole running. You are way too busy to drown into self-pity as you failed all of us. You failed Sammy. You failed Bobby, Ellen and Jo…you failed Castiel…look at him! You failed me…” You yell not caring about Dean’s feelings any longer.

“I failed you and the others? You were the one agreeing to Sam’s plan.” Dean yells now, tightening the grip at your arm, dragging you toward his hut.

“As I believed you would talk him out of this...” You sniffle. “I thought you would tell him to stop this insanity, Dean. You didn’t. Instead of saying yes too you decided to be a stubborn idiot and now we have this…” You exhale as Dean pushes you into the hut, wrapping his hand around your throat as he slams you into the wall.

“I failed, huh? I didn’t want to play by these assholes’ rules. I thought Sammy can make it. I believe in my little brother… I was wrong.” Dean grunts into your ear, squeezing your throat tighter. “He would’ve listened to you, he loved you, Y/N. I can’t see your face any longer, leave the camp and die as you should’ve years ago…”

Now your eyes fill with tears, he wants you gone for real. You use your last strength to punch his jaw, causing him to let go of you.

“Sammy didn’t love me. Not that way…Don’t blame me for your mistakes, for your failure. I was right, fell in love with the wrong Winchester.” You cough, rubbing your throat. “You’re not worth a dime. I’m gone till tonight. Fuck you…”

Dean’s hands start shaking, anger is radiating through his body as he grabs your arms, slamming you back into the wall of the hut, causing you to wince in pain.

His lips claim yours roughly, as he almost biting the plump pillows you have the feeling he wants to eat you alive. Teeth trap your lower lip, nibbling as his hands pin yours above your head.

One thigh spreads your legs, pressing into your core. “I’ll teach you how to behave for your leader,” Dean warns and you scoff, trying to free your hands.

“Fuck you, Dean.” You spat and he bites your lip, before his tongue is deep into your mouth, forcing a moan leaving your lips.

“Yeah, I’m going to fuck you…”

----

You’ve got no clue how you ended up naked on Dean’s bed. Hands restrained to the headboard; you glare at the tall hunter as he bites down your shoulder.

“I hate you.” You gasp as his fingers dug into your thighs. You close your eyes when you feel his cock nudging at your entrance. The last thing you wanted was being another notch on his belt.

“I hate you more.” Dean rasps snapping his hips against yours. Shoving his full length into you. Embarrassed you realize how wet you are for the angry hunter. He’s grinning now, believing you gave up, submitting to him.

“Got no clue why all these chicks let you bang them. You’ve got one tiny pitiful cock.” You lie grinning up at the hunter as he fists your hair, crushing his lips onto yours.

“You’ll scream my name…” The fearless leader states sliding out of you to ram back in. He doesn’t go slow or gentle. Dean needs to release all the pressure he built up since he saw you with Mark one night.

“Make me…” You retort, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your walls pulse around his thick shaft. Squeezing him tightly. His fingers dig into your thighs as he starts pounding you into the mattress.

You cry out, sob and curse the man on top of you as he moans your name. You gasp, looking into darkened emerald eyes and for a moment you get a glimpse of the old Dean. The part of Dean which died years ago.

He’s shaking his head, angling his cock to hit your g-spot with deadly accuracy. Now you scream his name and he starts grinning as the wet sound of his dick entering you fills the room.

Sweat is dripping down his chest, curses leave his lips as you arch your back, tugging at the ropes binding your hands. Dean watches you fall apart before a few more thrusts let him fill you up.

He opens the bindings, stilling inside of you. His eyes roam your body, your face. You’re a panting mess, sweat-slicked skin glistening in the dim light as your pussy is still contracting around Dean.

He moves one hand toward your throat and you flinch but he gently caresses the bruised skin. His eyes are sad now, filled with tears he won’t allow himself to cry.

“I think you are useful after all. You will need more training but I guess I got some spare time. We will sleep now. Tomorrow I want you to bring your stuff into my hut. We need to talk about my plans on how to get Sammy back.” He mutters before he pulls out of you.

Dean is covering your body, resting his face into the crook of your neck, sighing.

“I miss my brother…I miss Bobby and the others. I can’t bring them back, but maybe Castiel and I found a powerful spell to ban Lucifer out of Sam’s body.” Dean whispers and you slide your fingers through his hair.

“How can I help you and Cas?” You whisper.

“Just make sure I won’t fail my brother again.”

“You didn’t fail him. Sam didn’t fail…Lucifer was the one doing all of this…”

“This time, Lucifer will fail.” Dean chokes out as you move your arms around him, holding your leader tight. “By the way, now I had all girls in the camp.” The bastard chuckles and you groan in frustration.

“Asshole…”

“Hmm…you liked it…came so hard. I’ll give you a rest and we train some more…I’ll never fail in satisfying a woman.”

“You sure this spell will work?” You ask.

“I’m sure, Y/N. We’ll get Sammy back and you are mine from now on…”

“I didn’t agree to be yours…”

“Didn’t ask for permission. Now sleep. We have work to do…”

SPN Forever Tags

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Dean/Jensen Forever Tags     

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana31, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @dreaminemz​, @negans-lucille-tblr​ @sadwaywardkid​, @akshi8278​, @hhiggs​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @multisuperfandom​, @deansgirl-1968​, @justanotherwinchester​, @jadesupernatural​, @squirrelnotsam​, @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​, @shortwinchester (Tumblr won’t let me tag you), @roonyxx​, @jason-todd-squad​

[vivxwrites]

Tough

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1652

Warning(s): sort of angsty, should be safe besides that. (lmk if anything else needs to be tagged!)

Summary: Just a little songfic to the song Tough by Quinn XCII ft. Noah Kahan

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

A/N: hey all, i’m back with a request! this one was sent in by a nonnie quite some time ago! i hope you all enjoy! also, please go listen to this song because it’s pure nat. You’ll see what I mean.

*lyrics are italicized*

Maybe it's 'cause your mom never kissed you

If you ever cried, you'd wipe with muscle tissue

You bench pressing more than me's not the issue

I know you're actually weaker than that

Let's hope that nothing get deeper than that

“Nat wait,” you called out desperately. She didn’t turn back and continued to angrily stomp away in the direction of her quarters. You cursed yourself and chewed on your lip before standing up and chasing after her. 

After sprinting down the twists and turns of the tower you made it to Natasha’s door seconds before she slammed it shut, barely managing to shove your foot in the entryway. She made a noise of frustration and reluctantly flung the door open with a glare. “Can’t you leave me alone?” She asked the question sharply but you were well-versed in the tendencies of Natasha Romanoff. She used her anger in an attempt to intimidate the other party but you vowed to stay strong against her well-defended emotional barriers.

 From your spot in the doorway you could just barely make out her bed, where upon closer examination you noticed a pair of silver handcuffs dangling, one metal ring closed securely around the column of the headboard while the other remained unlocked and hung idly. You heart sunk in your chest at the thought of Natasha reverting back to the ways of her tormentors for a sense of stability. “Oh, Nat,” you paused and trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.

 Tears swam in Natasha’s green eyes before they hardened and she ripped her gaze from yours. “Natasha please, let me help you.” Be it some form of psychic powers that resulted from HYDRA’s multiple experiments on you or some factor completely unrelated, you could tell Nat was on the brink of a mental breakdown large enough to rival the Eiffel Tower and you wanted to comfort her in any way that you could, not that she made it easy. 

 “I don’t need your help,” she growled. “I’m strong enough to handle myself on my own.” She slammed the door in your face. ‘But you don’t have to’, you thought before turning and walking away, with a heavy heart.

Like why, why are you only vulnerable when no-one's around?

Your gym membership is not a crown

You're not so tough

I know that nightlight's on when you sleep

You're not so tough

Yeah, you watch Eat Pray Love on repeat

And I'm sure you'd win in an altercation

But you're still insecure to me

Oh, so mess me up

I know you're not so tough

When you saw her the next morning at breakfast you could tell from her bloodshot eyes that she had cried herself to sleep. You grit your teeth to withhold saying anything to her and instead busied yourself with drinking the rest of your freshly brewed coffee, courtesy of Clint. But God, you couldn't help but wonder why Natasha kept all of her feelings tucked away, why she was only vulnerable when no-one was around. 

Against better judgement, you forced yourself to give her some space and decided that a trip to the gym was in order. About an hour or so after you had started running on the treadmill you caught a flash of red hair and pale ivory skin donned in black workout gear. If she had even spared a single glance your way she would’ve seen the obvious concern shining in your eyes, but she hadn’t. She had only crossed the expansive room and stepped into the shooting range, picked up a massive Russian Rifle with ease and set her sights on the automated targets ahead. You knew that Natasha had a habit of visiting the gym twice, sometimes even three times a day to prove a point to who, you hadn’t the slightest clue. You just wished that she would take more time off and not work herself into the ground.

Even as you watched her take down target after target, her biceps straining yet holding the gun perfectly steady, you knew deep down that she wasn’t as tough as she let on. Sure, physically she could break all the bones in your body in less than a minute, but on the inside, she was comparable to a pile of sand held in someone’s palm, furtively trying not to slip right through the gaps between their fingers.

You knew from the countless nights where you would wake up to screaming that Natasha slept with multiple guns and knives under her pillows, having had one of the previous mentioned weapons pointed and ready to put a sizable hole in your forehead after you had entered the widow’s bedroom one night when you had heard screaming. Needless to say you didn’t pop by for any more nightly visits, even while you lay flinching in your own bed from the sheer intensity of her screams.

And sure, she was deadly and very well could kill you, but you only wanted to help her work through her insecurities and fears. And maybe you had ulterior motives, like wanting to get closer to her, closer than anyone else on the team had ever managed and-

You stopped yourself from continuing your thoughts. Right now Natasha didn’t need someone to love, she needed to love herself.

Are you insecure that the steroids are causing hair loss?

That your Lulu shorts don't quite vibe with your camo AirPods

And if I ran into you past sunset, I'd probably be scared, oh

I know you're honestly weaker than that

I bet you know that you need to relax

You could see the way she would try to inconspicuously avoid touching anyone, as if she were scared that her mind and body would turn against her and injure those she loved. Your chest panged with the sorrow you felt for her and if you could’ve swept her into your open arms, you would’ve in an instant.

Here, in the low lighting of the common area, Natasha looked almost relaxed. With her nose in a book and wearing sweats, the world’s deadliest assassin didn’t look so deadly. But even doing nothing, she was still intimidating. Her obvious intelligence and beauty would have scared a younger you further into the shelves of the library in an instant. Her hands twitched on the outside cover of the book, clenching and unclenching while her brow furrowed and after a moment, her body relaxed into the plush leather of the couch.

And I don't mean to come at you like it's Watergate

My pale ghostly body's purely water-weight

Yeah, I should probably substitute what is on my plate

But I still acknowledge those feelings inside

Let's work on your habit to run or to hide

You approached Natasha as calmly as you could, though inside you felt an unsettling combination of both nerves and anxiety. She snapped her head in your direction, reluctantly looking away from the view of the skyline that she had discovered at the top of the tower. “Hi,” she said meekly and you were surprised to hear the undertones of something in her voice, Natasha usually being extremely skilled at hiding her real emotions.

You sat down next to her and turned your body to face her, preparing yourself for the possible aggression she might direct towards you after you say your little tidbit. “Natasha, I’m worried about you,” you began. When she didn’t reach over and shove you to your death you decided that it was safe to continue, “You’re strong all the time and I just wonder, are you alright? I know it’s not the most healthy thing, bottling everything up.” She blinked at you with a blank look on her face and you chuckled nervously, “Not that I’m the healthiest person alive, there’s some stuff that I could work on too, like actually going to medbay after missions like I’m supposed to or being on time to Fury’s mission briefings or-” You were suddenly cut off by the feeling of Natasha’s soft lips on yours and you were sure that your eyes had widened to a level bordering cartoon-like as your brain frantically screamed at you to reciprocate the kiss, after a while, you did just that.

It was chaste and left you longing, a kiss that screamed Natasha in so many ways. She smirked at your expression, a stunned look still present on your features. “I appreciate the concern, (Y/N), but don’t worry about me.” You opened your mouth to cut her off but she shushed you by placing a single finger against your lips. “Besides, you’ll help me work on it, won’t you?” 

She rose to her feet and with a wink and a teasing grin, made her way back into the tower. You sat dazed on the rooftop for a while until the events finally registered. Natasha had kissed you and, apparently you would help her learn to open up more. You didn’t know exactly what the future would hold but you knew that you were excited to find out.

Like why, why are you only vulnerable when no-one's around?

Your gym membership is not a crown

You're not so tough

I know that nightlight's on when you sleep

You're not so tough

Yeah, you watch Eat Pray Love on repeat

And I'm sure you'd win in an altercation

But you're still insecure to me

Oh, so mess me up

I know you're not so tough

You're not so tough

You're not

You're not so tough

You're not

You're not so tough

You're not

You're not so tough

You're not

You're not so tough

I know that nightlight's on when you sleep

You're not so tough

Yeah, you watch Eat Pray Love on repeat

And I'm sure you'd win in an altercation

But you're still insecure to me

Oh, so mess me up

I know you're not so tough

A/N: I feel like this isn’t good but I owe it to all of you to post it anyway. Super sorry for all the delays with my writing, I’m doing my best to juggle school and this and all the other events of my life. Feel free to shoot me a pm or ask if you ever have questions or want to talk! Love, Viv <3

Permanent Tag List: @autumnjackson4 @captainwonderwidow @5aftermidnight @lesbian-x-blackwidow @taramitch96 @blushycarol @fansanctuary @pruemania @envy-adamss

P.S. Let me know if you’d like to be added!

[lilyths-blog1]

♦ : ^ ). You can set this in our normal verse or write that lil scene I told you about that coulda happened in America.

Intimacy Meme. — (( @rinadealga

♦: Slow dancing.

The ear numbing cacophony of overzealous shouting, singing, and overall merriment echoed throughout the halls of the White House; sounding so strongly within the now mess hall that the walls quivered. The atmosphere was electrified with excitement and anticipation . . Only causing the crowd of celts to grow louder and more rowdy by the second as the aura gradually grew stronger.

They were celebrating; Celebrating the final approaching battles, completely assured that with the power of a grail, their beastly king, and his newfound magus that the said battles were already won. A grave mistake, perhaps, for any other battalion . . But even SHE knew that they were not overestimating themselves. It was entirely possible that they would win . . Against Chaldea, the savior of humanity, and likely every battle to come after that. They would win here, and the world she’d left behind would end in flames.

Rubied hues stare out, over hundreds of exclaiming, joyous heads . . Scanning the groups and crowds below her balcony perch as a realization hits her. It does not strike her with force as it should have . . It is not the mind shattering, gut wrenching thought that it should have been. It’s subtle, and simply put, and by the time it even becomes a true thought, she’s already accepted it.

Her mind had wandered for a moment, and now as it returns, she brushes her fingers along the balconies marble rails before walking from it; Leaving the bustling main hall behind her as she walks into the somewhat darkened presidential suite.

The heels upon her feet click softly as she moves to take a seat upon the side of the bed, reminding her of the dull ache they’ve caused upon her soles. With a sigh, she reaches down and removes them, bending down and placing the pair to the side . . As her head raises once again, a glint of silver catches her eyes, and she pauses.

Slowly sitting to her full height, a satin gloved hand reaches out, fingers gingerly curling about the chipped music box on the nightstand. Staring down at it for a moment, her free hand reaches for the small key about her neck . . It had never worked before. Clearly broken when they had found it during their excursion . . A peace of junk with no use to anyone any longer, left to ruin along with the building about it as the war raged on. Naught but fancy scrap metal now . . And she had only been allowed to keep it back then because she had promised to keep her mouth shut.

It had never worked before, just a small chunk of wood and metal that shouldn’t have been able to bring joy to anyone anymore; Completely useless. So . . There was no point in trying to play with it anymore. Her free hand drops back to her lap now, eyes dimming as she stares down at the music box, thumb idly pawing along its sides.

No . . No. She should try again. Maybe some sort of miracle would occur and this time it would work? Her hand once again reaches for the key, removing it from about her neck and sticking it into the music box’s keyhole. With a deep inhale, Selena twists the key slowly . . Around, and around, until she hears a soft ‘click,’ indicating that it could be turnt no further. Holding her breath, she slides the key from the hole . . Soft mechanical whirs come from within, and her eyes light up seeing the top of the box slowly lift open . . Revealing a miniature ballerina upon a spring. A singular musical note resounds from the box, and the ballerina begins to turn. Ah, was it actually going to—?

But no. It falls silent after that. Excitement immediately dissipating, Selena places the music box back down upon the nightstand with a defeated exhale.

The sound of the door opening behind her alarms the woman, though she knows by the sound of the footsteps that follow that she has no need to be startled. With her eyes glued upon the music box, she waits for him to speak.

‘It was your idea, remember? So . . Why aren’t you out there?’

It had been her idea; Some sort of get together . . One last, large shindig of sorts to raise morale . . And it had certainly worked judging by the ever present buzzing from the main hall. It was a party, and everyone was enjoying it, except her. So, why wasn’t she out there?

Sighing, Selena puts on a half-smile, glancing back at the mad king over her shoulder, “ . . And YOU’RE their king. Shouldn’t YOU be down there too?” When had she grown so bold? How could she sit there and speak to carnage made man with such cheek? She didn’t remember when the feelings had shifted . . But she did know, that had she been anyone else, she wouldn’t have been sitting there intact for much longer.

Meeting his gaze, they’re silent for a moment and the quiet fills the room, her eyes returning to the music box, “It was my idea, yeah. But, I’m not much for crowds, honestly. They make me queasy.” She was lying, partly. She had no problem with crowds, but . . She WAS feeling queasy. As for why? It was easier to know and accept than explain. This seemed to be the one time a fib of hers had actually been convincing judging by the berserkers tone (tinged with worry so faint it would be unnoticeable by most,) when next he spoke.

‘Then rest. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow. I’ll go get some water—’

He must’ve seen the way she was shaking her head because he paused there and waited, “No. I don’t need it.” Silence consumes the suite once again until, at last, the magus stands. Walking about the side of the bed, she makes her way to stand before the man before extending a hand . . A soft smile taking its place upon her lips.

“This is a party, isn’t it? I don’t know about you guys but, at OUR parties . . Theres usually dancing. And since I don’t see anyone else up here, I guess you’re just going to have to dance with me.”

She watches with slight amusement as a wave of confusion washes over his face . . Though it’s soon replaced with resignation before her hand is engulfed in the claws and scales adorning his own. Slowly raising her opposite hand, she moves closer so it can gently grasp his free hand and place it upon her hip before it trails its way up his arm to perch upon his shoulder.

And as the first step of their waltz is taken, just as her now bare toes land against the floor; The music box begins to play.

Eyes now fixated upon her partners, she grips his hand firmly as she leads them both about the room in gradual circles. The white noise of the main hall suddenly forgotten as she focuses in upon the gentle melody filling the room. It was strangely peaceful considering what was happening . . As if the world outside had gone and poofed away for the moment. No party, no celts, no war . . Just her, and him, and the music box.

And when at last the music stops, and feet along with it; She decides. No, she’d already decided, from the moment those command seals had appeared on her hand . .

Her eyes fall to the ground now, though she doesn’t let go of him just yet.

“ . . Tomorrow.” A pause as she inhales, “Tomorrow is it. Tomorrow is our last fight . . At least for now.” And now her gaze rises again, “We’re going to win. And when we do, you’re . . Really going to be king around here.” Theres blatant confusion on his face now . . And she understands why.

“I must sound really fucked up right now, right? After all, this was all a mistake. I was never supposed to be here to begin with . . And then you locked me up, forced me to make a pact with you . . Made me fight against the people I was supposed to be fighting to save. Not to mention you pretty much forced yourself on me multiple times—” She pauses, shaking her head, “Yeah . .  I’ve gotta be screwed up in the head or something . . But that’s okay. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“ . . I’ve . . Never been able to do anything for anyone. Never once have I ever felt that I’ve been of use to anyone no matter how hard I tried. No matter how desperately I strived or how much I pushed myself . . I’ve never been useful, I’ve never been enough.”

“I poured years of my life into training . . To become a magus actually worth a damn. I gave up a normal life . . So that for once I could be useful to someone. And thats why I went to Chaldea . . Because surely they could make use of me there, right . . ?” A quiet, sorrowful laugh escapes her after this, “But, of course not. In the end, Fujimaru was the only one they cared about . . And I ended up being nothing but a bother they pushed grunt work on so they wouldn’t feel bad because I had nothing to do.”

“Then I come here, and I become your . . Master. And god I hated you. I should STILL hate you, you know? You’re my enemy . . You’re my WORLDS enemy at this point, you are what stands between a future of prosperity, and one that ends in fire. But . .”

“But you’re the only one who could make use of me . . you’re also the only person who’s ever NEEDED me. And after years . . And years of searching for that, to find it here of all places . .” Her voice gradually turns whisper like as she speaks . . She’s shaking now, it’s barely noticeable but . .

Selena lets go now, stepping back . . And when she raises her chin, tears have begun to stream down her face, “Please . . Just say that, after tomorrow, you’ll still need me. Even if it’s just as a mana source . . So long as you continue to need me . . “

“Then, I’m content staying here with you. Forever.”