#warning: unedited af

[philosians]

ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

a three week paid-vacation provided by your captain gave rise to the opportunity to finally show you the gift sylus had gotten you. and no, it isn’t the yacht you’re on—but he wouldn’t be opposed to giving you that either.

[ !! ] — mdni | established relationship, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, mating press, unprotected sex, sylus is soft in the bedroom okay now hush ;; alcohol mention (sylus drinks whiskey), fluff. oh did I mention soft! sylus?? uhhh maybe more tags than this idk there’s a lot going on lmao. unedited af I know that’s a warning. if y’all see cut sentences just know it’s a brain glitch >.< lol

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! phew i got this out before it ended hehe just in the nick of time. I do wanna forewarn everyone I don’t actively write smut so I deeply apologize for any sort of repetitiveness or just it being inaccurate and rushed overall, my apologies. but please enjoy reading! bc i wanna curl up and die and delete this after writing it actually lmao I’ll probably never write anything like this again haha

word count: roughly 4.8k

The starry expanse of sky moves quickly outside of the window of the car, nothing but a blur of cosmic colors. Where you’re going you’re not quite sure, with all the secrecy from Sylus and the twins. It’s something Sylus has clearly planned for awhile, from the way he wanted you to dress tonight, but you’re still unable to put your finger on it.

At the very least, you’re glad that Kieran is the one that’s driving instead of Luke.

“Are you two going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Afraid not, Miss,” Kieran replies. “That’d be against orders from Boss.”

“Are we at least almost there yet?” you ask.

“We have about ten more minutes,” Luke chirps. “Then you’ll finally get to see Boss, don’t worry.”

You’re stunned into a mild fluster and look at your hands in your lap. You heard the twins snicker and you can’t help but shake your head incredulously. Oh well. You’re almost to your destination anyway.

After the last two months of an increase in Wanderer appearances, you could most certainly use a break. It’s been nothing short of hectic, battles here and evacuations there and the occasional dumbass that doesn’t want to listen to the warnings given out that an area is too dangerous to go into.

You softly sigh. You really shouldn’t be thinking about work.

You tug the large coat on your shoulders over you further, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth and the smell of the man it belonged to.

Whatever in the world Sylus had planned must be big, even so that he couldn’t be bothered to tell even the twins exactly what he had in store. All the three of you knew was that he had a surprise, and the two brothers were more than happy to have the opportunity to have the base to themselves.

You just wish you knew where you were going.

“Is this it?”

“I think so. Ah, there’s Boss.”

Oh, already?

True to word, you open your eyes and see a familiar patch of silver against the darkness of the world. And you also happen to see a very, very large yacht not far from him.

A marina? You blink incredulously. A private fucking marina. Good lord, how much money does this man really have?

Upon stopping, you watch as Sylus turns his head slightly to the car. Luke quickly jumps from the passenger side and opens the door for you, ushering his hand outward dramatically and says, “After you, Miss.”

The heel of your shoe clicks against pavement as you step out, holding Luke’s hand for stability until you find your balance.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Not a problem! Enjoy the honey— Uh, vacation!”

Luke jumps back into the car, more than likely to save himself from your questioning eyes. You can’t help but shake your head and make your way toward Sylus and the man in uniform, more than likely the captain of the yacht.

“Ah, Mrs. Sylus,” greets the captain with a tilt of his hat. His eyes blink as he does a once-over on you and then laughs. “I was wondering what kind of woman would tie such a man down, and now I understand. Please, come aboard.”

Your brows raise at Sylus as the captain pivots and boards the yacht. “Care to explain that?”

Sylus, in all his audacity, simply shrugs and smiles. “Nothing to explain, sweetie. He came up with that himself after I told him my lady would be joining me.”

You scoff in disbelief, but can’t help the small smile that falls to your lips. You take Sylus’s arm, wrapped your hand in the crook of his elbow as he leads you onto the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, gazing around as he takes you to the deck. And you could only imagine what it would be like when you went out to sea.

“I figured you would like it,” he murmurs. “Glad to see my instincts weren’t wrong.”

You don’t miss the way his red eyes look to you, knowing he’s waiting for your words of affirmation. You laugh behind your hand, because yeah, he’s right.

You hum, taking his hand in your own. “Thank you for considering me.”

You also don’t miss the way his large fingers eagerly twine with your own, nor the way his eyes soften and blend with devotion and affection.

“Always.”

Thirty minutes pass before the ship takes off into the open sea. You barely feel it until Sylus has you stand to take you back outside from the dining area.

“So, where are we going?” you ask, gazing up at him.

Sylus’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

You grumble, humoring the man. “Of course it is.”

Sylus’s coat never leaves your shoulders the couple hours you’re both out on the deck. He seems to enjoy that, too; you wearing his clothes sparks something behind his eyes that you’re all too familiar with. The thought itself has your cheeks warming and thighs pressing together.

He flicks his wrist to check his watch when a timer beeps twice. You can’t help it when your eyes linger on his hand. You’ve always had a fixation on his them—on how big and warm they are in comparison to yours, on how his long fingers stretch across your body, and how they gently wrap around you and pull you close like he’d die without touching you. Those hands that had once forced you to attempt to resonate with him for three days had become soft, remorseful and loving. And he’d more than earned your forgiveness.

“Dinner should be ready.”

You grin. “You brought your chef?”

“Just for this trip,” he retorts, standing to full height. “Come.” His hand outstretches to you and you take it without hesitation.

You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly light up at the way your fingers immediately interlace with his. It’s a small joy to you, but to him it means everything—a testament to how far the two of you have come.

Dinner, as always, is perfect. Dessert even more so. You’re not too full, but more than satisfied. You give your compliments to the chef, who in turn happily skips back to the kitchen like he’s on cloud nine. And you can’t help but look at Sylus and smile as he downs his whiskey like it’s water.

“You don’t compliment your chef enough,” you comment. “One sentence from me and he acts like he’s never heard praise.”

Sylus hums as his brows raise, humored. He chuckles with the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing it to retort, “He knows his cooking is excellent. I suppose I just have a limit to how many compliments I can give out in a day.”

You place your chin in your hand. “Oh, really? Then how many do I get to have in a day?”

Adoration fills his ruby orbs. “As many as you want, my beloved.”

His hand reaches for your left over the table. Sylus’s thumb rubs over your fingers, resting atop your ring finger.

“Have I told you that you look exquisite tonight?” he whispers.

“You haven’t,” you reply cheekily. “I think you owe me a few more, don’t you think?”

The soft music in the background dies as you begin to hear your heart thunder in your ears. You do hope that Sylus can’t hear it pounding away like you can.

“Seems like I do,” he says in an exhale, leaning back in his seat but not letting go of your hand. His eyes have changed—once filled with adoration, now filled with a fire that makes heat rise to your cheeks and desire burn between your legs. “I don’t think I’ve shown you the bedroom yet, have I?”

You grin. “You haven’t. I’d like to see it.”

But what you don’t anticipate is your man standing and abruptly lifting you into a one arm carry. Your sharply inhale in surprise, arms immediately weave around his neck for support, but you know he’d never drop you anyway.

You trail your nose under his jaw, pressing a long kiss to his skin by his ear. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the subtle presser making him hasten his long strides.

“Sweetheart—” Sylus gulps as you press two fingers to his mouth to silence him.

You pepper slow kisses down his neck, nipping at the skin every other kiss. It’s when you reach his collarbone you hear the click of a door. And seconds later you find the plush fabric of blankets underneath you and Sylus’s firm hand cradling the back of your head as he tilts your head back to capture your lips with his.

Between each heated kiss you attempt to catch your breath, only for your lover to devour your mouth with his own again and again.

“Mmmh— Sylus, let me—” another kiss “—catch my breath.”

He has a hard time pulling away. Sylus rests on one knee at the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the back of your bare calves as he catches his own breath and tries to pull himself back to his senses before he finishes himself off early.

While you toss your head back and close your eyes, trying to let oxygen catch up to your brain, Sylus lifts his head to look at you. He drinks in your appearance—the starry night sky sewn into the strapless obsidian dress (one that he had specially made for you) accentuated your body exactly the way he envisioned.

As he watches your breasts rise and fall with every breath, he feels his pants tighten even more. He’s so painfully hard just from simply kissing you—a testament to what you do to him, how deeply you affect him.

He rests his head against the plush of your thigh. As he trails his hand down your leg, he realizes you still have your heels on.

Your head snaps up at the feeling of one heel coming off, then the other.

“Sylus, what— Oh, shit.”

The momentum of him lifting your body further up the bed and hiking your dress up catches you off guard. His mouth latches to your thighs, kissing and biting all the way up until he reaches the fabric of your panties—the only thing between him and what he wants.

“Such a dark red, darling,” he hums. “Was this for me?”

“It might’ve been,” you tease.

As his finger loops around the red fabric covering you, Evol ready to help rip it off, your hand makes its way into his hair and tugs, forcing his eyes to attention.

“Rip these, I’m okay with that. Rip the dress, and I’ll kill you,” you say, half-joking. But damn did you really like this dress.

He chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “Understood.”

As soon as he tears them away and hikes your dress even further around your hips, Sylus’s mouth does nothing short of devour your pussy. You let out the loudest, wanton moan you’ve ever heard from yourself as his tongue buries itself in and against your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you to maintain some semblance of being grounded as Sylus eats you out like a starved man. Your legs are over his shoulders, allowing him the best access to your womanhood.

“Oh— Fuuuck, Sylus. Ohmygod, please don’t stop,” you beg, threading one hand through his hair again, grip tighter than earlier.

His reply comes in the form of him pushing his thick middle finger inside of you and mouth sucking on your clit. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth. His ring finger promptly follows, stretching your cunt and sinking deep inside of your walls. Tears of overstimulation line your eyes as you grasp at then pillow behind your head.

Both hands twine into his silver locks of hair, pressing him deeper into you. What you miss amidst your own haze of ecstasy is Sylus grinding himself against the mattress to find some sense of relief. His mind is at war, wanting nothing more than to cum right then and there versus wanting to watch his seed spill from your hole. It takes every ounce of self-control of his own body to not climax while he simultaneously loses his mind while his mouth is attached to your cunt.

“Don’t— Please— Sylus! Sylus, I’m gonna—”

Your back arches off of the bed, and you can’t help but press him further into you and grind against his face. Sylus’s arms wrap around your thighs, holding you steady. The deep groan of his satisfaction that leaves him only spurs you on further and further and further until your thighs clench around his head and you cum. Hard.

And Sylus more than enjoys sucking and licking away at your release as you climax, prolonging it as much as he can. He lifts your lower body into the air as he continues his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and tongue, the pressure of your thighs on either side of his head making him dizzy. Your essence coats his chin and nose, your scent driving all his senses wild and pulls the remainder of his blood down to his cock.

He gains a free hand as you tighten your legs around his shoulders. He unbuckles his belt and slips it off with practiced ease before moving to unzip and unbutton his pants, tugging away at them.

When your hips stop shaking is when Sylus grabs your thighs with both hands and sets your body back down on the mattress. He hovers over you once again, taking in your disheveled appearance and partially-lidded eyes. His long fingers brush your skin and cradle your jaw.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks.

You pant and gaze up at him. “Barely.” You swallow. “That tongue of yours is brutal.”

Sylus laughs. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the painful fact that his cock is straining against his pants. Until your knee brushes against it when you lift yourself from the bed and he groans.

You giggle as his head presses against your shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t neglect yourself like that,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Sylus’s lips meet your neck opposite of your arm wrapped around him and presses a long kiss to your sweaty skin, murmuring hotly into your ear, “There’s no one to blame but you, beloved. And I highly suggest you take responsibility.”

You moan and arch into him as his hands work on your dress, unzipping the back entirely and lowering it just below your breasts. You arch your back so he can undo the bra, and as soon as it’s on the floor, his mouth is on your chest. Sylus sucks and bites at your nipples, worshipping them and your breasts as he grinds his clothed erection into your bare pussy, soaking his dress pants in your juices.

You begin unbutton his shirt through the haze of your desire… before you slip your hands through the remaining buttons and fully rip his dress shirt apart, exposing his thick torso. You both chuckle at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor.

“Impatient?”

“Like you aren’t,” you remark.

Sylus shrugs off his shirt in a fluid motion and tosses it to the side from one arm. You manage to slide off your dress within a few moments, just as Sylus manages to get off his pants and briefs and… Oh…

You’d almost forgotten how big he is. Sure, the two of you have spent a couple more… sensual evenings together since you had him use your place as a safe house (and then him bringing you to his), but it always makes you shudder when your eyes land between the apex of his muscular thighs.

His tip weeps with precum, heavy cock red and flushed and—

Sylus’s breath is hot against your ear as he asks, “Like what you see, darling?”

—goddamn it you need it inside of you.

Your nails dig into his bicep, your other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, and Sylus is more than happy to oblige. His kiss is deep and reverent. A small moan escapes him as you two briefly pull apart for air before diving back into one another.

Everything is hot; your cheeks are flushed with the heat of desire and your pussy aches to have Sylus buried inside of you.

You pull him down on top of you with the arm around his neck, your other hand grasping his cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sylus hisses, hips bucking slightly as his fingers clench at his attempts at restraint.

“Fuck,” he pants. His red eyes clear for a moment, turning into a gentleness reserved for you as he asks, “You think you can take it?”

“I think you ate me out enough earlier I’ll manage,” you joke. Then your nails dig into the meat of his back, the sensation making him softly hiss again. “But if you don’t I’ll be doing it for you then.”

Sylus chuckles, nose dipping to your collarbone.

“My beloved is always so greedy, isn’t she?”

There is no retort from you—only a loud moan as Sylus’s tip enters you fills the room. He stops after that though, and as you look up to him to ask him why he stopped, you’re stunned at the sight before you.

Sylus is flushed red, panting and sweating as his muscles flex.

“Sylus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, shaking his head. “Give me… a moment. You feel… too good.”

The implication is clear. Sylus’s head falls as he inches himself a little further, delighting in hearing you gasp as he sinks more and more inches of himself inside of you. It takes all he has not to just cum at the feel of you; every ounce of self-control he has is being tested. He’s never been harder in his life, and being inside of the woman he loves—who feels like heaven wrapped around his cock—only proceeds to spiral him into a deeper pit of pleasure.

“Sylus… Sylus, more, please,” you hears you beg.

He’s halfway in, trying to take his time and let the romance of the evening last. But at that, and the sensation of your nails digging into his back, he finds himself a goner and lets his hips fall into yours, sinking the remainder of his fat cock into the depths of your wet pussy. A deep shudder passes through him, bliss running through his body.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel divine,” Sylus says in a deep exhale.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, eyes clouded with the haze of lust. “Oh, Sy, you feel so good.”

The praise goes to his head immediately. He drags his cock back out slowly and a whine escapes you, hating the emptiness. But when Sylus places your legs over his shoulders and leans over you, it’s over for you both.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sylus rolls his hips, sliding his full length back into the warm expanse of your pussy. His head falls back, and the pace he sets proceeds to bury you both alive underneath overwhelming ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants, clenching his fist into the sheet. “How I feel every time I look at you? Utter perfection is all I see. Do you feel what you do to me, darling?”

All you can feel is Sylus’s weight on top of you and the feel of his heavy cock inside of you as he stretches you open on him, carving your pussy into the shape of his cock. His pelvis rubs against your clit deliciously, spurring you on further. As much as you want to drive your hips up to meet his thrusts, Sylus has you pinned down into a mating press and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

The papping noises of your bodies meeting filled the room, sending your thoughts into an even dirtier place. He feels so good reaching so deep inside of you, tip rubbing against that special spot perfectly, like you’re made to be perfect for each other. You clench around Sylus at another thought and he inhales sharply.

“What’re you thinking about?” he questions.

You shake your head. “N-Nothing.”

His long fingers grab your jaw gently. “Tell me.”

And then he slows his pace. “No, Sylus—”

“Then tell me what my beloved is thinking in that pretty head of hers,” he murmurs into your ear. “Or else.”

“I was thinking… about… Uhm…” Sylus rolls his hips back into you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass as he awaits your answer.

“Well?”

“I, uh— A baby.”

At the word, you shy away into your arm. But Sylus doesn’t say anything, which makes you confused. After a couple seconds, you gaze back up at him. His eyes show how stunned he is, pupils blown as no doubt the word also revolves around his own mind.

“Sylus, I— Oh, fuucckk.”

His body weight presses your body into the mattress further, leaving you at his mercy as Sylus’s pace becomes brutal, like he’s let his base instincts take over. His big hand finds yours and twines your fingers together as he drives his cock into your pussy over and over and over again, the squelching noises only growing louder and louder in your ears.

“My kitten… wants a baby then?” He hums into your ear. “She wants me to cum inside of her and carry my baby, is that right?”

“It was… just a thought.”

He laughs as your pussy clenches around him more at his words.

“Seems like it’s more than just a thought.”

Sylus’s mouth meets yours in another kiss, powered by something more than just lust. Your brain turns fuzzy and hot, reality beginning to finally blur as another climax ascends from the depths of your core.

Your eyes shut as his mouth finds the sweet spot on your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin with his teeth and you’ve no doubt that there’ll be plenty of love bites scattered across your skin for days after tonight.

When he nips at your ear, you squeak and clench around him again. Sylus groans into your ear, “Do that again.”

You oblige, clenching down on him and making him piston himself in and out of you faster. Every thrust turns into one that pushes the air from your lungs. All you can see, all you can feel is Sylus—feel his body heat as he presses your body down with his; feel the thickness of his cock stretch you open and the weight of his balls as they slap against your ass.

And it feels so good. The shlick and pap noises are getting to you. The coil that’s been winding up all night finally feels like it’s about to burst. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressing into Sylus’s firm chest.

“Ohmygod, Sy, gonna cum, gonna cum fuckfuckfuuucckkk!”

He nips at your earlobe, biting down on it gently before whispering into your ear, “Indulge, my love. Indulge and I’ll fulfill every single one of your desires tonight.”

At long last, the coil snaps. Euphoria pilots itself to your brain and all across your body. You shake from the intensity, having to wrap your arms around Sylus to ground yourself as you reach your high.

Your orgasm sends him over the edge. He thrusts a few more times before he finds himself pressing himself as deep as he can possibly go and releasing his seed inside of your pussy. It’s almost too much, even for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum harder than tonight.

Your bodies rock together as you both fall from the heights of cloud nine. Sylus peppers your sweaty skin with kisses, across the bruised love bites he’d left earlier.

It’s only when he feels himself soft enough to slip out of you does he ask, “A family?”

Sylus’s voice is soft. So soft in fact that you barely hear him. You take a moment to reply, only to find yourself being easily lifted from the bed and onto Sylus’s chest.

“It’s… Something that’s crossed my mind a few times,” you admit bashfully.

Silence fills the air for a moment before he asks again, in the same, quiet tone he’d just used.

“With me?”

Your smile stretches across your face instantly. Your lips meet his chest, right over his heart. Your eyes meet his—uncertainty meeting unconditional love.

“And no one else.”

The next three days after are filled with you and Sylus partaking in all the activities that his yacht has to offer (plus more intimate times across the boat and it’s other rooms). He’d told you at one point that he would’ve just used the one he sails on regularly. But due to him wanting to spend more time with you than anything, and for you to have fun during the trip, he’d bought another and hired the captain to ensure safe passage.

Tonight however, was the night that you both were supposed to be arriving at your destination. You tried to help the anxiety and giddiness inside of you, trying to flatten it under a cool demeanor but Sylus just saw right through you.

Of course he would.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s not like I’m taking you into enemy territory,” he jokes, gaze flicking to you from the stars in the open sky.

“I know that. I just can’t help it,” you mutter.

You shiver from the cold breeze, and Sylus shrugs off his leather jacket and places it over your shoulders. He leans down and zips it partway, resting his chin atop your head.

“Those hunter instincts of yours need to settle down,” he hums.

“I wish they would— Sylus!”

A hearty chuckle leaves him as you bounce away from his hold. Your eyes narrow at his treachery.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you try and tickle me,” you warn playfully. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket, trying to pull the sleeves back from over your palms to point at him. “Or I’m gonna tickle you back.”

Sylus smirks and rubs his fingers together. “Is that a challenge?”

“Mr. Sylus, Mrs. Sylus,” greets a familiar voice.

Embarrassment makes you duck your head away from the captain for a brief moment before you look at him.

“Just thought I’d come and let you know we’ll be docking soon.” The captain takes his hat off and bows before you both. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to sail you both for the last three days.”

Sylus nods his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for giving us safe passage, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, reapplies his cap and heads back to steer the ship into the upcoming port.

You don’t get to watch as he disappears since Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulling your chin to his chest. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I do believe we’re here.”

The distraction of the captain was long enough that the scenery before you had changed into the moonlit sea into a large landmass illuminated by the full moon above.

Your jaw drops open at the sight, eyes lighting up as you get closer and closer to the port where the ship would dock.

“Sylus, where are we?” you ask quietly.

“It’s an island,” he states. “One that I bought awhile back and was making… renovations for.”

“Renovations? For what?”

He laughs softly and looks at you like you’re a goddess. “For whom, you mean.”

Your eyes widen into saucers. Is he…? Could he seriously mean…?

“Sylus, you bought me an island?” you inquire, utterly flabbergasted.

“I can’t exactly un-buy it, so I do hope you’ll like it,” he replies. To your ears and yours alone you can hear his wavering tone, like he’s awaiting your disappointment. You can’t have that.

You cup his cheeks and force him to look at you again.

“Sylus, I love it; even if it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever been gifted, I love it. It’s just going to take me time to get used to it,” you tell him. Then you step on your tippy-toes and give him an eskimo kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

You kiss him there at the front of the ship, wrapped in his warm, protective embrace, momentarily oblivious to the world and your surroundings.

What you’re also oblivious to, and have been since the start of the trip, is the fat diamond ring that’s been tucked away, hidden in Sylus’s bottom drawer to his dresser. And also to the fact of his other reason of being nervous.

To him hoping that you’ll say “yes” when he gets down on one knee to ask you to marry him.

But he’ll save that for later. Right now he intends to indulge and savor your lips on his and you being tucked into him, safe from the world to be loved and worshipped by him.

And hopefully, for the rest of this lifetime.

[lovecla]

MAKE IT TO THE MORNING ; JACK HUGHES

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY being jack hughes’ girlfriend comes with a lot of hardships— but in the mornings, you realize it is all worth it.

WARNINGS unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, p slapping, cockwarming, dirty talk, jack is lowkey a little shit, reader loves him tho, inspired by the song “make it to the morning” by partynextdoor. freaky af!!!

WORD COUNT 2,3k

FROM ME TO YOU a little late (literally, it’s like 3am for me), but this is my thank you gift for you guys because today i woke up with 700 of you!! i’m still too in shock to say anything besides thank you so much. i was celebrating 600 followers like a month ago and now this. i’ll keep working hard to give you guys good content <3 ily and pls enjoy

𖧷

don't scream or shout, i'm workin' my way down

girl, you gettin' loud, now put it in yo' mouth

THE SOUND of your heels clicking against the marble floor was enough to piss anyone off. It was annoying, repetitive and even you were starting to get tired of the little tec tec sound, but you couldn’t stop.

Dating Jack Rowden Hughes was not for the weak. And you knew that, more than anyone else. Being his girlfriend of three years— the longest time he has ever been in a relationship, mind you—, you knew that the prize was good, but the job of keeping it was tiring.

You stared at him across the room, talking to some random fans who definitely didn’t know what being a fan was, since they were all over him, with their hands on his arms and shoulders.

He eyed you from time to time, blue eyes making it hard for you to stay one hundred percent mad at him— truthfully, you knew that all it would take for you to forgive him for his playboy behaviour would be a single kiss and an aggressive make out session.

“It isn’t so fun watching from here, huh?” Quinn’s new fling, or whatever the girl standing beside you was, said, approaching you quietly. “Trust me, I know how it feels.”

You hummed, not engaging with her. You knew Jack wouldn’t actually do anything, but still, it didn’t feel nice to get painted as the dumb girlfriend who has to watch her famous boyfriend laugh and take pictures with hundreds of girls while she stands in the back.

“I’m lucky my Quinn isn’t as nearly as talkative as he is,” she continues, despite your silence. “But you know, Jack is everyone’s favorite.”

You turned your head to the side, watching the girl next to you eye Jack the same way she eyed Quinn, hungry and suggestive, and that was enough for you.

“Sorry,” you interrupted, putting your wine glass down— it had been empty for at least ten minutes— and smiling apologetically. “I have a terrible headache, so I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she pouts, and you can feel your eyes twitch. “It is pretty late too, so you must be tired.”

“Mhm.” You nod, looking at your phone. 3:46a.m.

“Do you want me to call Jacky?” She asks, expectantly, and the way she says his name makes you want to smash her face against the crumbles of cake sitting on the buffet table.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you play dumb. “It was nice seeing you…”

You forgot her name. It was probably something like Olivia or Madeline, but still. You didn’t remember.

“It was nice seeing you, too!” She says, apparently clueless to your lack of memory— and interest. “I’ll text you later so we can talk more.”

“Sure thing, yeah.” You walk towards Jack with long, careful steps. “Hey, babe.”

His eyes are on you immediately, his hair moving around with his abrupt move. He smiles, stepping out of the little circle the girls had made around him to wrap his arms around you.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says. “Hi, baby.”

You can feel the girls’ eyes on you, burning your skin like the fictional fairies’ whenever they touch iron. It is a feeling you are used to already, but you feel yourself shivering either way.

“Can we go?” You ask, bluntly ignoring the other women there. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we can,” he nods, turning his head back to his little girl group before smiling at them. “See ya, ladies.”

See ya, ladies?

“Bye, Jack.”

“You’re the best!”

“See ya next time!”

You can’t hide your pout on your way home— you don’t even try to. You have your arms crossed in front of your chest as you sit in the front seat of Jack’s absurdly expensive car, listening to the quiet hum of his air conditioner and the annoying noise whenever he turns on the turn signal.

“You’re not mad… are you?”

His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s scared of asking the question.

“Are you kidding me? You spent half of that ridiculous party talking to women. Tell me I can’t be mad about that.” You hiss back, not looking at him. You know there are high chances of you folding bad if you do.

“Baby, I already told you, it’s all business,” he says, once again, because he has, indeed, told you that several times before. “I can’t have them saying I’m a rude guy, can I?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the shit you say,” you scoff. “You literally told a reporter to fuck himself last week, on live. Talk about being a nice guy now, Jack.”

“Come on, you’re not being fair!” He exclaims, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “He talked shit about you. He was lucky I didn’t punch him in the face.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lips to hide your smile.

Little does Jack know you jumped out of the couch when you saw the transmission and giggled while you sent texts to your best friend about how you would have to be the mother of his children.

You stayed silent, looking at the dark streets, briefly forgetting about your anger to notice how beautiful your city is. There weren't many people in the streets at that hour— it was summer, yes, but it was almost four a.m and it was still Monday, and a lot of people were still working.

When you got to your and Jack’s apartment— a two bedroom penthouse with plenty of space and a kitchen you still fell in love with every time you looked at it— you didn’t waste time before heading to the guest bathroom shower, a clear sign that you didn’t want Jack to join you, which you knew pissed him off.

You were quick even though you weren’t sleepy, washing the soap off your body under the lukewarm water; happy because it was your favorite scent.

You got out of the stall, opening the bathroom door after you wrapped the towel around your body, deciding to change inside your bedroom.

Or at least that’s what you thought you would do.

“Y/n.” Jack calls you, sitting on top of the bed.

“Fuck, Jack,” you grunt. “You scared me.”

“I can’t have you mad at me, baby,” he says, getting up and walking towards you, only stopping when your covered chest is touching his. “You know those women mean nothing.”

“Jack,” you sigh. “We’ve been here before. You can’t just say that every time you flirt with other women.”

“I wasn’t—” he starts, but interrupts himself mid sentence. “You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?” You ask, holding the towel tighter. “You damn well I’m not.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m not proud with the way I acted but I already told you—”

“It’s all business. I know, you know, we all know.” You roll your eyes, stepping back and moving forward so you can leave the room. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, locking you in place. “Jack—”

“You’re so full of complaints, baby,” he whispers. “Every time we go out you complain about something.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t give me reasons to.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers over your naked arms. You shiver slightly, hoping he doesn’t see it. “You want more?”

“More what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“More reasons to complain,” he continues, chuckling as he lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Real reasons to complain.”

“Wha—”

“Because I’ll give them to you, if you want to,” he licks your skin, and you can feel yourself start to malfunction. He’s a little shit, you think, as you slowly start to give in. He’s a little shit and I’m in love with him. “Or I can keep your mouth full so you can’t complain anymore.”

He stands up straight again, staring at you while his fingers move to where you were holding your towel.

“What’s your pick, baby?” He whispers, removing your grip from the soft fabric around your body, letting it fall on the floor, like a puddle of water on your feet.

You’re fully naked, and he can’t even pretend he’s not looking— he is. He always is.

Jack kisses you with hungry, tender lips. He holds your neck while he licks your lips with his tongue, hot and messy. He tastes like beer and you hate it, but you cannot get enough.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, holding him so close to you you could feel his heartbeat. Kissing him never got old, and if you were to write down your top ten favorite things about Jack Hughes, his kiss would definitely be number one.

You breathe in his scent, your favorite ever since you met him, and you can feel your legs start to give in, just like the rest of your body. It’s late at night, almost morning, your body can’t keep up with your mind and you want to tell Jack to fuck off.

Yet.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with your hips on the edge of it. “Let me give you something to make noise about.”

That’s the only warning you get before he gets his knees on the floor and separates your legs, leaving you open and exposed. You feel his fingers spreading your lips open, and when his tongue finds its way to your clit, all of your previous complaints are gone.

You close your legs around his neck, holding him in place, while he puts on a show for you, his fingers tracing the wetness pouring out of you.

You let out a soft moan, holding his hair with your hands, not bothering to be gentle. His tongue found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, circular motions.

“Jack.”

You trash under him as he flicked your sensitive nub with his mouth, the wet noises making you want to disappear. Jack always seemed pleased to go down on you, but you still aren’t used to this fact about him.

“So sweet, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his words sending shivers down your spine, as he dives in again.

He has you curling your toes and arching your back, moaning his name loud and proud, but still, he doesn’t stop. He slides his arms under your thighs, holding you in place by gripping your waist, hard.

He has you coming in under five minutes— it’s a shame it’s over so soon, but what can you do, really. He looks up at you between your thighs, and the sight alone has you moaning, desperate for something else.

You pull his hair, gently, signaling to him that you wanted him up, closer to you, and so he does. He kisses you again, and you get to taste yourself on his lips, moaning loudly inside his mouth when you feel his dick trapped between his body and yours.

“Jack,” you whisper again, placing both of your hands on his cheeks. “I need you.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He says, chuckling as he gets off you and removes the rest of his clothes.

He slides inside you with no hesitation or whatsoever, knowing too well that your inside’s have his print all over it. You both moan loudly, louder than you should be moaning at four something in the morning, but you can deal with the complaint letter later.

He holds your legs together, pressing them against your chest, almost folding you in half. He is being rough, something you absolutely want to kill him for, but you let yourself enjoy the roughness for a moment; you can scold him later.

You can feel him deeper now, as your body gets dragged up and down against the mattress, making you want to scream.

“You’re wet,” he says through his teeth and you can tell he’s also giving in. “Y/n, fuck.”

You’re clenching around his length as he strokes your G spot, dragging his dick against your walls, once again making sure you can take everything he gives you.

“Harder.” You hear someone ask, probably yourself, and you also hear his low chuckle. “Not enough.”

“Still complaining?” He asks, but doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he removes his right hand from your waist and does the one thing he knows it will have you drooling and begging under him.

He slaps your pussy. The wet, loud sound that fills the room makes you squirm, unconsciously trying to remove yourself from his hold. But he’s stronger, always has been.

“Take it, baby.”

He then slaps you again, and again, and so many times you stop counting. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, and his rough slaps against your clit is enough to make you come, leaving you almost lifeless under him.

“Good girl, Y/n,” he says, kissing your lips, briefly. “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

“Inside, please,” you hear yourself mumbling, and you’re not even sure if Jack hears it.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Inside?”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m—”

He cums inside you, the familiar feeling making you sigh with bliss. You are both panting, the room smells of sweat, alcohol and sex, and you swear you can see the sun start to rise through the bedroom’s floor to ceiling windows.

You’re just about to tell Jack you want to go to sleep when you feel him start to pull out, which has you protesting, immediately.

“No, I— sleep inside, please?”

His blue eyes are staring down at you, and now, there’s a hint of a smile plastered on his face. He nods once, manhandling you around until you’re under the sheets, with your back glued to his chest, and his length still nestled inside you.

“Well, if you’re still mad at me,” he whispers. “At least we made it to the morning, huh?”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, barely hiding your smile. “If you keep talking, there won’t be any other morning.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Very well, then.”

𖧷

NHL MASTERLIST. JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST

[hees-mine]

BULLY HEESEUNG

Warnings: oral, blackmail for sexual favors.

wc 500+

Note hard thought unedited and rushed af

-

Bully heeseung who threatens to tell about how you cheated on multiple assignments and how you also smoke on school grounds using your delinquency as a form of blackmail unless you do him a one small little favor.

Bully heeseung who tells you what said favor is right in the hallways, and you refuse even though he’s got dirt on you you would never do such a thing with him. Well, that’s what you said, but then, with an evil grin, he easily spots a teacher in passing ready to tattletale on you, but you quickly cover his mouth, deciding to do it cause you can’t get caught, and you can’t believe he’s blackmailing you like this what did you ever do to him?

Bully heeseung kisses the palm that covers his mouth, and you quickly retract it in disgust. He smiles, knowing he has the one up on you, and he wastes no time dragging you to an empty, dark classroom telling you to get on your knees. You tried to talk him out of it, but he was adamant as he grabbed your wrist, guiding your shaky hand to his growing cock as you sank to your knees for him.

Bully heeseung who tilts his head back in pleasure as you stroke his covered cock relishing in this feeling that he’s been craving so desperately. “Take my cock out and suck you filthy little whore” he commands, and you automatically obey because you can’t let anyone find out your secrets and also because maybe deep down you were kind of actually looking forward to this….maybe.

Bully heeseung who moans and groans as you work his length into your warm wet mouth but it’s not quite enough for him. “Suck it like you want it, like you need it” he digs his fingertips into your scalp forcing your head down on his thick tip, making you choke and gag around it.

Bully heeseung whose cock twitches delightfully in your mouth as you give him the sloppiest head drool running down your chin as you whine and choke, squeezing his thighs for him to give you a breather, but he doesn’t, too lost in the euphoria to pull away.

Bully heeseung who starts to thrust harshly in your mouth, creating a steady rhythm, balls slapping your chin as he uses your tight little throat for his own pleasure.

Bully heeseung who holds your head still with both his hands fucking into your neck like it’s his personal flashlight groaning deeply as he spills his hot cum in your throat and keeps your head in place so you swallow it all while he twitches in your mouth till he goes soft.

Bully heeseung who wipes the residual cum off your lips, tapping your cheek with a smile on his face. “That’s a good girl,” he says, watching as you swallow the rest of his creamy load. “Meet me here every day unless you want the whole school to know how thirsty you are for my dick��� Before you can even protest, he holds up his phone, showing you a picture that he snapped of you with your eyes in the back of your head and his dick buried in your throat yet another piece of evidence for him to blackmail you with.

-

Discounted Patreon and link to full length exclusive fics!!!

[oc-brainstorms]

My strange addiction 18+

Perv!Dom!Voyeur!Kang Dae-ho x Sex addict!Fem!reader/Thanos x Reader(kinda)

This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Synopsis: SMUT! Sex addict reader finds Dae-ho jerking off to her and Thanos having sex, she makes it her mission to try him out next and Dae-ho treats her exactly how she wants to be treated wink wink

warnings: Kinda dark/swearing/mentions of death/murder/ kinda cheating?/Mentions god(in a bad way)/Voyeurism/bathroom sex/public sex/mentions of anal/smut/reader uses thanos/Dae-ho is kinda pervy/rough/non-con?dub-con?ish/unprotected sex/p in v/Oral (M receiving)/daddy kink/reader is a sex addict/horny af/reader is fucking feral/overall filth/aftercare/angst/fluff/reader has some major issues (I haven't slept so if I've forgotten anything let me know) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Words: 4.5K (it’s a long one)/

Unedited! there's gotta be a few mistakes in it but I wrote this instead of my dissertation and sleeping so take it for what it is I guess.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was never one to drink, do drugs or jump off tall things all for a little adrenaline rush-No, I was particular in my chosen addiction. Sex was always my vice. I tasted it one and couldn't get enough. It’s never really mattered to me what they look like or how good at it they were, if the thought pops into my head then it’s all I crave, like an itch that demands to be scratched. Sometimes I don’t even want it, like when a smoker who's trying to quit doesn't even think about lighting the cigarette in their mouth, it's basically a habbit.

Many interactions with vile, disgusting men and bad life choices led me right here, surrounded by people in green sweatsuits playing deadly children’s games for money. It’s not exactly where I thought I'd end up, I always thought I’d die in a ditch somewhere-discarded and used without a care in the world.

Salty sweat drops fall on my forehead from the purple-haired man thrusting to his hearts content in an out of me, grunting in my ear like he's on a mission. He’s not bad, a little too desperate and loud for my liking but hey, a fuck is a fuck. Plus he was pretty good-looking under the whole wannabe-bad-boy-rapper persona.

“You like that? hmph-So good-so so good.” He grumbles, his voice mere groans of hot breath in my ear.

“Feels so good daddy-please keep going please!” My voice was no higher than a pathetic whisper in return, becoming conscious of the creaks the bed was emitting, echoing in the empty space of the room. Thankfully many people this side had died in the previous game.

My hips were beginning to ache from the angle I’m spread to- My jaw clenching as I feel him wrap his hands behind my knees and shove them up until they hit my shoulders. The pain was easing from my hips but it did nothing for the lack of excitement I was feeling. It was a little mundane for me, stuck in missionary while he has the time of his life-but it will satisfy my needs nonetheless.

I can’t help but let my thoughts wander, craning my neck to glance over his shoulder as his pounding continued, just listening the the sounds of our skin slapping and the weak sounds of the bed frame holding us up.

My attention is suddenly drawn to a rusting from a bed on the other side of the room. Under the glow of the obnoxiously large piggy bank I can just make out a large figure, laid in bed with the covers just covering his hip. Squinting into the darkness I make out rapid movements under the covers.

Is this perv getting off to us?

I let my eyes linger for a while, feeling myself getting wetter from the idea of this stranger pleasuring himself to the sounds of us fucking. Trailing my eyes up I can just about make out his number, 388. Taking a mental note, I try to peak at his face through the darkness.

A gasp gets caught in my throat as I make eye contact with dark eyes that stare back at me. His whole face wasn't clear but I could sense his eyes burning into mine as he welcomed himself to the free porn he was witnessing.

‘So fucking wet for me.’ Thanos panted out, snapping me back to his attention. Thankfully his head was buried in my neck and he was too busy chasing his own high to notice my distraction.

Maybe I should give him a show.

I took my hands and placed them firmly on Thanos’ chest.

“Stop.” I manage to gasp out, pushing him back enough to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are crazy, Purple strands sticking to his forehead. His thrusts stagger a little before coming to a stop.

“What the fuck is wrong girl, why are you stopping me when I'm about to fill you up?” The tone of his voice is slightly erratic, and a little too loud-but I had new priorities than everyone else's sleep.

“I just wanna ride you Daddy, please?” Fluttering my eyelashes up at him, I knew he couldn't disagree with me, especially as I clenched myself around him.

“Fuck okay-okay.” He talks over himself, gripping at my sides to manoeuvre me on top of him.

I knock my head on the metallic grate on underneath the bunk on top of us, but don’t even stop to acknowledge the pain, I've got a new task to complete. I can’t let poor 388 go to bed unsatisfied now can I?

I reposition myself straddling him, letting my hands rest on his chest while he sinks his dick into my hole. I’m already pretty raw so it stings from the stretch, feeling him throb inside me from the sensation, a small gasp erupts from my throat.

Rocking my hips back and forth, I feel him glide in and out of me, making sure to arch my back and stick my ass out to give the best possible view to my new friend.

“Just like tha-fuck just like that.” he mutters through staggered breaths. I can feel him getting close so I need to do my best with the time I have.

In a brave move, I move my hands up from his chest and glide them up my body, stopping to grip onto my breasts and squeeze, Hard. I moan louder than necessary, but not loud enough to cause a scene.

Bouncing hard on his dick, I bring my hand to my throat and start to lightly choke myself, throwing my head back and feel my hair hit my back.

“Fuck this pussy, oh god, oh my fucking god-so good, so tight oh fuck.” I hear him groan, reaching his climax as hot spurts of cum squirt inside of me, filling me up.

I lean forward, laying my chest back down and craning my neck to glance over my shoulder. I watch how 388’s covers slowly come to a halt, a subtle shake as he finally finishes. I wish I could hear him trying to catch his breath over the snoring of the rest of the room, but ill sleep happy with the knowledge I've done my job-for now.

“You finished right, girl?” My attention is drawn back to the heavy breathing of the purple haired asshole under me, his hands still feeling up my hips and ass as I catch my breath.

“Yeah sure.” I nod, through gritted teeth, slipping him out of me and laying beside him.

“Good, gotta take care of my girl, especially when she’s being so damn good for me!” He ruffles my hair before turning over, falling asleep almost instantly.

God he has so much faith in me not to kill him in his sleep.

My mind didn't relax enough to sleep, too focused on all the ideas I had to get my way, I will seduce this man, I don’t even care if he’s ugly or horrible. Anyone that desperate to cum clearly needs my help, maybe he’ll actually make me cum.

My lord isn’t it bad I'm more focused on this than the games? well I guess it is a game of sorts… wtf is wrong with me, anyways.

I roll my eyes and try to push my thoughts away. Ignoring the sweaty body next to me, I pull my crumped clothes back onto my body and lay back down, fading off to a dreamless sleep.

----

The most irritating and mind-numbing sickly song wakes me up in the morning. That along with the bright lights is enough to make me kill someone-even outside of the game.

I’ve never been a morning person, nighttime is where all the fun happens-hell I don't even wake up till gone 2pm most days. However, this morning I have a task-find this mystery man.

I sit up in bed-taking no notice of the absence of the man next to me, and try to brush my fingers through my knotted hair, pinching my cheeks and lips to look more alive.

God did they have to give us these ugly ass outfits.

Doing the best with what I have, I tie up the top into an extreme crop and pull the joggers down lower on my hip, lazily throwing the sweatshirt on.

It'll do.

I scan my eyes around the room like a predator hunting its prey, reading everyone’s number until my eyes land on the one I'm looking for.

Bingo.

He’s tall, good looking-man bun be damned, chuckling along with something an older man is saying and a-is that bitch pregnant? Damn. He stretches, his muscles flexing as he does, almost having me salivate on myself. He doesn't even glance over here before waltzing over to to the breakfast queue.

My footsteps are fast but inconspicuous, anyone else probably would’ve thought I was just hungry- and I guess they'd be right, but not for food.

I manage to squeeze in behind him, shuffling my feet closer to his.

“You’re pretty cute for a perv.” His shoulders stiffened, glancing at me over his shoulder.

‘What?” He mutters back to me, his eyes raking over my body before returning his eyes forward.

“I thought guys who liked to watch people fuck without them knowing were balding and lived in their parents basement with food stuck to their face and a box of tissues next to them.” Ok, that was a weird thing to say- but am I wrong?

His breathing takes a sharp incline as he shuffles forward with everyone else in the line.

“I wasn't watching you.”

“It’s okay baby I'm not mad a you, was I good for you?” my voice is confident but low, closer to his ear than before because of the people joining the queue behind me. Not sure if he's really as in to public humiliation as he is into public masturbation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” he whispers, without glancing back. More of a whimper really, slut.

“I just told you I'm not mad.” Im more short in my answers-im starting to get bored from this restrictive situation. I do get bored easily.

My lips almost touch his ear as I lean in, playing dangerous.

“Should've let me know you needed it daddy, this pussy has your name all over it.” I stroke over his back as I come down, tits grazing his back.

He chuckled darkly, looking down at his shoes, before turning his body to to me, a slick smirk playing on his mouth as he leant down and met my eyes.

“Really? Because to me it looks like it has that guy’s cum all over it.”

He blinked, before turning back and continuing to follow the queue.

I don’t have an answer for that, he really got me there to be fair.

My lips form a sharp line and I feel a heat rush to my cheeks, I kept my eyes down and stayed silent. I didn't know I could still feel embarrassed by anything-but here we are. I also tried to ignore the wetness growing between my thighs at the situation, the degrading really does it for me I guess.

He grabbed breakfast from the guard before sauntering off, out of the corner of my eye I saw him silently giggling to himself as he walked away, asshole.

I picked up my pathetic little apple and grumbled, taking a harsh bite out of it. If he's playing hard to get then I guess I'm just gonna have to play harder.

----

After the games, the vibes really sucked. Thanos was loud and annoying as usual but at least he didn't let me die. That was kinda nice of him, or maybe it was the fact I promised him anal if he got me through it-but nevertheless, it good to be alive.

I spent a long time in the bathroom, making sure I looked perfect after that mess. I also scrubbed myself raw, feeling dirty after the game, and the fuck and especially after 388’s comment. The 5 minute shower I somehow convinced the guard to let me have did wonders. He did watch me the entire time-but at least I'm clean!

After we once again got voted to stay, I got bored of the repetitive conversation and laid on my bed, staring at nothing in particular.

I glanced down over my feet at the door to the bathrooms, taking notice of the tall pretty boy leaving.

I didn't think twice about it, my feet moving on their own. I had to have it out with this man- he acts like a disgusting pervert watching me fuck and suddenly he's all cocky? I don't think so.

Thankfully the guards really don't give a fuck about who goes into what bathroom. I stand outside waiting, watching for the door to open. I didn't want to enter the bathroom and catch him pooping- I may be deranged but I'm not a total freak.

He wasn't in there long, and nobody had come in or out since him. Hearing footsteps approaching the door I give a quick wink to one of the guards, Showtime.

He barely opened the door before I pushed him back inside, closing us in the empty bathroom.

“Woah.” He managed, jumping on the defence and getting ready to attack before his eyes locked on me.

“Oh its you.” he relaxed, sighing.

“You miss me?” I asked sweetly, leaning back against the door with my hand resting on the metal handle.

“It's hard to miss you when you keep showing up,” his hands moved to his hips and his face bore an amused smirk, playful.

“You upset me earlier, thought you'd wanna make it up to me.”

“By telling you the truth? if that upsets you darling then you put have a real hard time with everything else in here.”

“Listen, you-”

“No you listen,” He steps towards me, a strange dominance lurking under his voice.

“I have enough going on here without some needly little whore deciding she's important enough to start bratting out because I used her pathetic show of attention-seeking to get myself off.”

My breathing increases as he steps closer, I was not expecting that to come out of his mouth, I’m not often too stunned to speak but somehow he's done it in the two conversations I've had with him.

I stare up at him through my lashes, my mouth dropping open a little as I pant through it. God is this turning me on?

“You gonna do something about it, tough guy?” Is all I manage to conjure, coming out in a stupidly quiet voice.

“Since you seem so desperate for me I'll do you a favour and put that dirty little mouth to use shall I?” He suddenly reaches forwards and grips my hair in his hand, a sound between a moan and a sob exiting my mouth as he does.

He shoves me across the room and into a stall, pushing us both in before slamming and locking it shut behind us. His grip stayed strong in my hair.

I don't know what I thought this guy would be like, I thought he would be a sweet little perv who helps pregnant girls and laughs along with old men’s jokes and then rubs one out while watching two people fuck like animals.

“Kneel.” He demands, his grip one my hair beginning to give me a headache. I don’t move, sure I've had men be rough before but this really took me by surprise.

“You want me don't you?” He spits out, but something in his eyes seemed softer, like a shimmer of guilt washed over them.

“Yes sir.”

“Then be a good girl and show me how much you want it, down on your knees.”

My knees buckled by themselves, gripping his thigh for support I hit the dirty bathroom floor and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You know what to do slut, I'm sure you've had enough practice.” His eyes were back to being hard now, whether it was all the emotions during the games or something else had hardened him, and he desperately needed release, and Im more than happy to help with that.

I bring my hands up to his waistband, dragging down the green joggers and his boxers down together, watching as his hard cock flung free.

“Spit on it.”

I swirled my tongue around my mouth and tried to muster all the saliva I could, bringing my lips to the tip of his dick and letting my spit slowly drip onto it.

His eyes glaze over and he leans his head back, a groan slipping through his lips.

Taking my chance, I grab his throbbing cock with my hand and slowly pump my spit all over his shaft.

“I-is that good daddy?” I manage to stutter out, hand moving up and down as I slowly trail my tongue up his tip, tasting the pre cum that's already leaking out.

What the fuck is wrong with you, get your shit together.

“You know that's good slut, you're just begging for my validation aren't you?” He chuckled again, that deep chuckle he keeps doing that sounds like he's just been told a dirty joke, amused but interested.

I ignored the degrading tone and looked back down to his cock, its big and throbbing-a lot bigger than what I'm used to, or at least than what I've had in a long time.

Nervousness seeps into my brain but I push it back, taking him into my mouth and guiding him to the back of my throat.

As my nose hits his clothe stomach, my head is whipped back by his grip on my hair, a sudden flash of pain strikes my cheek and I feel tears welling up in my eyes from the sting.

“I asked you a question slut, or are you too stupid to use your words?” The look in his eyes flashed with amusement, like he was speaking to a cute puppy who just learnt a new trick.

“Yes sir.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir, I want your validation.” It hurt to spit the words out, but as soon as I did my head was thrusted back onto him.

He doesn't speak for a while, just grunting softly and leaning his head back against the cubicle wall with his eyes shut, fucking his dick right to the back of my throat like I'm nothing but a fleshlight he's using. All I can do is stifle my gags and take him, my face wet with my tears and the saliva dripping down my chin.

“So.Fucking.Good.” He chokes out between thrusts.

My mind goes black with everything else other than pleasing him, nothing but the pain in my throat and the blurry vision of his body above me.

His breathing quickens and I'm sure he's about to cum, my hair now fully being ripped out by the strength of his hands tangled in it.

“What should I do?”

I look up at him and try to muster up the most confused face I can under the circumstances, managing to furrow my eyebrows.

“Should I cum…down your throat?” His thrusts begin to slow slightly as he drags out his question.

“Or on this pretty little face?” His finger drops down and traces my jaw.

“Or should I have you lift up your shirt so I can cum on those perfect tits of yours, baby?” His questions receive no answer considering my mouth was still bing invaded by his thick cock.

“No, No, I know the perfect place.” His voice is dominant and looms over me.

With a swift movement he pulls me off of him, one arm under my armpit while the other stays in its place in my hair. They glide down to my own joggers, ripping them down to the floor along with my underwear, leaving me exposed and shaking from all the sensations of my body.

His large hands find my thighs and grips onto the backs of them.

“Jump.” He orders, and of course I follow through. Before I know it I’m pinned up against the cold wall, and being forced to bounce on his solid dick that's thrusting in and out of me at a rapid pace.

My arms find his shoulders and I cling on, hiding my whimpers in the Crook of his neck as I let him use my cunt for his pleasure.

“You want me to make you cum don't you doll?” He teases.

“Ye-Yes s-sir, please sir, yes, yes, yes!” I hate how the pathetic yelps come out of my mouth but the pleasure rocking through me takes my mind away from any embarrassment.

“That other little boy couldn't do it for you could he? You need a man to make you cum don't you huh?”

“Please make me cum Daddy, I'll do anything.” my voice sounded more like broken sobs coming through my lazily parted lips, already cock drunk from this humiliating situation.

He grips my wrist tightly and drags it between my legs.

“Rub yourself, c’mon princess I know you can do it,” His sweet words hit my ears and I immediately obey, becoming a gasping, moaning mess as I rub rapid circles around my sensitive clit.

Almost immediately after I feel myself reaching my climax, my head throwing itself back as he lunges for my throat, leaving sharp hickeys down my neck.

His breathing changes and soon after he's open-mouthed kissing my neck as I feel him pump his cum up into me, the grip he has on me weakening with every moan he produces.

As he lets go of the hold he has on me I drop to the floor, knees weak after the use he put them through. Im tired, and sore and sticky, I can feel him dripping out of me and onto the disgusting toilet floor. My eyes are heavy and my face flushed, with chapped lips and baby hairs sticking with sweat to my forehead and a tangled mess behind.

As the glow of my orgasm fades I get the same sinking feeling I always get when I finish, the feeling where Im immediately disgusted and ashamed and just want to cry and try and forget that I've just made a fool out of myself for a strange man.

I bring my hands to my face and sigh deeply, still trying to catch my breath. I forget the man*-whose name I still don't know* is there. Im sure he’ll see himself out eventually.

My unravelling show of self-pity is interrupted as I feel the man crouch down next to me, silently watching me cry into my hands.

Awkward, I bet he's regretting even meeting me now.

“Hey,hey.” He coos, his voice softer than soft. He seems afraid to touch me as his fingers ghost over my arm.

I bet he's so fucking irritated god I would be.

Imagine you've just fucked someone out of pity and they start crying on the fucking floor.

“I’m just gonna clean you up okay angel?” I sniffle and stop in confused awe. Moving my hands away from my face I wipe the tears off and pull them down until my eyes are peaking through.

He keeps eye contact for a moment before reaching over and grabbing toilet paper from behind him, ripping some off he starts to clean up the mess between my legs, uttering small apologies as I hiss from the contact.

“Shh..it's okay baby, you're okay.” His words are soft and comforting as he manoeuvres my clothes back on me. His hands stop at my waist as he tries to catch my eyes, but I'm looking everywhere but his face with my half-lidded gaze.

“Can I see that pretty face again? Please baby, let me clean you up.” I nod, eyebrows still subtly furrowed in suspicion.

With the softest touch he moves my hands away from my face, taking them in one of his and using the other to gently wipe off any moisture that remained. His touch felt like a feather grazing my skin, it was nice, I've never been treated so nicely before.

He fucking hates me doesn't he, oh well what do I care, I don't care anyways.

He places a hand on my knee, not in a way that's sexual but more of a calming gesture, probably to help stop the shaking by body has absentmindedly started doing.

Everything inside me is telling me to run, push him away and go find my bed to rock myself to sleep in, but something about the kind care in his eyes and the gentle touches he's gracing me with is making me want to stay here for as long as I can.

His other hand comes up to my hair, his fingers attempting to gently remove the knots that had built up from his harsh tugs.

‘Did I hurt you, go too far?”

I shook my head.

“Why are you doing this?” I broke my silence, voice barely audible.

“Doing what, sweetness?” He glanced down at my face, his voice soft and caring with a glance of concern.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The words left my lips with a short chuckle, not an amused, joking chuckle, but more of disbelief and confusion-like when you hear something so ridiculous you can't help but let a chuckle slip out.

I sound so fucking pathetic.

“I’m taking care of you, you deserve it.” His confusion grew, his eyebrows getting more furrowed together the more he took in the disbelief on my face.

“You don't even know me, I don't even know your name, you don't know mine.”

“I would like to.” I stopped, staring blankly at him.

“My name Is Y/N.” I mustered up, I'm sure he doesn't really care-but it would be nice to be on a first name basis with this man, at least he's being helpful.

“Beautiful name, it suits you.” He spoke without moving his head away from the focus he had on my hair.

“What's your name?”

“Dae-Ho” His fingers freed themselves and he leant forwards, placing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” he whispered against the skin of my forehead, the coolness of his breath causing a shiver to sneak down my spine.

“For telling me your name.”

Thank you for being nice, for holding me softly, for being so sweet and kind and affectionate to someone you don't care about.

“Angel I will tell you every single thing I know if it makes you happy.” My breath hitched and all wordings fell short in my throat. His eyes were light and kind, he didn't seem at all to mind easing me through this mini meltdown.

“Why?”

“I told you, i’d like to get to know you.’ He paused, his mind seemingly somewhere else, thinking deeply about his next words.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed with me tonight? i’d like to be able to hold you now, it feels wrong to part ways after this, unless you have plans with the crayon you were sleeping with before.” The sarcasm in his voice seeps through when he speaks about Thanos, a subtle spit of jealousy perhaps mixed in with his words.

Interesting development.

---------------------

A/N: Lit havent slept and wrote this with no editing so if its ass lmk lol- also my first piece of writing on tumblr! exciting times-many ideas ahead.

[noirscript]

lavender snow

pairing/s: yandere husband x f!reader description: You find the old tape by accident, tucked where no one should’ve known to look—yet somehow, Luca did. As her voice spills softly through the static, you realize you’re not listening to a memory… you’re remembering something you were never meant to forget. warning/s: yandere | hints of memory lost | implied past abuse note/s: I accidentally found out that my mic's fried af and got this idea. I might add this kind of content on my ko-fi for monthly subs? It'll come with complimentary fic of course. Also, I'll add the banner later. p.s. it's unedited audio so it's scuffed as hell.

Masterlist | Dark Roast | Sovereign's Reign Pre-Order | Commission | Tip Jar

You don’t remember the tape.

Not where it came from, not how it ended up inside a box of out-of-season clothes, or why your name is written on the spine in your own handwriting—faint and fading, like it tried to disappear. The box had been buried deep in the attic, hidden beneath moth-eaten sweaters and the sagging ribs of a broken umbrella. You hadn’t even meant to find it. But now it sits in your lap like it’s been waiting for you to come back.

The cassette is warm in your hands. No label, no markings, just a faint impression where something had once been stuck to it. Your stomach tightens. You’re not sure why, but you dig out the old player from the back of a cupboard and feed the tape into its slot. The machine shudders to life with a soft whirr, then static, and then—your voice.

“Hi, sweetheart. If you’re remembering this... I guess that means he’s kept it safe. Just like he promised.”

Your breath catches. The words settle heavily in the space around you, too tender, too familiar. It’s your voice, no doubt about it, but there's something off in the cadence—like someone rehearsing affection through clenched teeth.

You sit still, your eyes fixed on the aging plastic player as your voice continues.

“I thought maybe one day, when the world feels quieter... you’d want to remember this. Us. The way the light used to fall through the window at 4PM. How the air smelled like sun-warmed sheets and cinnamon. He always made sure everything was just perfect, didn’t he?”

A strange pressure blooms in your chest. You don’t remember making this recording. You don’t remember any of it—the window light, the scent of cinnamon, or whoever he is.

You sound so… happy.

Too happy.

The you on the tape laughs lightly, but even that sounds rehearsed. It’s too round, too smooth, like a laugh meant to soothe someone else. Not you.

“I don’t even know how long it’s been now,” your voice says. “Days feel a little soft around the edges. But every one of them is filled with love. He tells me that all the time. That I’m loved. That I’m safe.”

That last word—safe—wraps around your spine and squeezes. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way you say it. Quietly. Soft as a secret. The kind of word you only whisper when the truth is something you’re not allowed to say.

A prickle crawls over the back of your neck.

“Sometimes I dream about the park. That little bench under the jacaranda tree? You remember. I said something silly about the petals looking like lavender snow. You laughed.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry.

“That was before I knew how loud the world could be when you don’t belong to it anymore.”

The air in the room turns cold. You don’t remember that bench. You don’t remember that moment. But your body responds to the sound of it—like it’s chasing something long buried. Your shoulders draw in. Your fingertips twitch. A faint headache blooms at your temples.

“But it’s okay now,” the voice continues. “He says I don’t have to worry about any of that. Not anymore. Not with him.”

The machine clicks faintly as the tape continues to roll. You hear the rustle of fabric in the background. Wood creaking. A low breath, not yours. You pause the tape.

The room is silent.

You press play again, hesitating just long enough to question whether you should.

“I should go. He doesn’t like it when I record too long without him.”

There’s a pause. Barely a second. But it’s there. You can hear your voice hover just a little too long over that sentence, like you're waiting to see if the walls will punish you for saying it aloud.

“But I hope, when you hear this… you smile. Just a little. Just enough to remember me the way he wants me to be remembered.”

Another pause. Your voice drops lower, almost reverent.

“Perfect. Quiet. Home.”

Then: a click. End of tape.

You sit frozen on the floor. The stillness around you is thick and wrong. You want to dismiss it as a prank. Maybe an old performance, an acting exercise, something you’d recorded and forgotten about. But something in your gut rebels at the thought. This wasn't a character. That was you.

You stand, rubbing your arms, suddenly cold despite the sunlight slanting through the blinds. Your feet move without you telling them to, carrying you to the kitchen where you run cold water over your hands. But when you glance down, something catches your eye.

Your left palm.

Faint black ink, faded by time and skin, clings to the lines of your hand like a warning:

don’t trust him

You blink, heart stuttering. The writing is old. Worn. You scrub at it, but it doesn’t fade. You don't remember writing it, don’t even remember seeing it before today. But it’s your handwriting. And the fear in your chest tells you you wrote it for a reason.

You rush back to the box in the attic, tearing through what’s left. Beneath the collapsed lid of a hollowed-out book, you find a crumpled scrap of paper. Another note, also written by you.

“If you find the tape, go to the basement. There’s more.”

The words don’t make sense. You’ve lived in this house for two years. There is no basement.

But your body moves before your thoughts catch up. Your steps lead you to the hallway where a locked door waits. One you’ve always assumed was just a closet. You’ve never had a key.

Today, it’s open.

The stairs beyond descend into shadow.

You hesitate, every part of you screaming to stop, to turn around. But your hand grips the railing and you descend slowly, your heartbeat loud in your ears. The air grows colder with every step. The smell down here is old. Musty. Earthy.

And faintly metallic.

The overhead light flickers to life when you tug the chain, bathing the room in weak, yellow glow. There’s a table against the far wall. And on it—a cassette deck. Surrounding it is a neat stack of tapes. Dozens of them. All unlabeled. All pristine.

You approach slowly, dread sinking like lead into your bones. The deck is already loaded. You press play.

The familiar whir clicks to life. Then:

“Hi, sweetheart. If you’re remembering this...”

Your knees nearly give. It’s the same recording. Or no—not the same. A different take. You’re talking about a different day. Different sunlight. Different cinnamon. Different bruises, maybe.

You grab the next tape. And the next. One by one, you feed them into the machine and listen.

Each time, your voice greets someone with warmth. Each time, you sound a little more distant. A little more tired. A little more robotic. In one, you sound as if you’re crying through a smile. In another, you start to say something else—“If anyone finds th—” before the tape cuts off with a harsh click.

You begin to shake.

And then you hear something you hadn’t before.

In the background, beneath your voice, there’s breathing.

Yours. But not just yours.

Heavier. Male.

Closer.

Footsteps.

Not on the tape. Behind you.

You turn sharply.

Someone is coming down the stairs.

Your stomach turns. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The light above you flickers. A shadow moves across the wall.

Then a voice. Low. Warm. Familiar.

“You always forget, don’t you?”

You can’t breathe.

“That’s why I made the tapes. So you’d remember. So you’d always come back to me.”

He steps into the light. His expression is soft, fond. Too fond.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

The light buzzes overhead, then sputters out.

In the dark, the tape keeps playing.

And from it—your voice whispers one last thing:

“Perfect. Quiet. Home.”

tbc.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[blythesarchives]

Rinse Cycle.

summary: Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | TB*!Bucky | Fingering | Dirty talk | Swearing | Groping | Nipple play | Teasing | Orgasm denial (you do finish in the end hehe)

a/n: Thunderbolts* trailer has me feral af. I have so many ideas I want to write, but this is a start. I didn't mean for this to get so long but maybe that's just Bucky pulling more passion out of me. I need him. We don't know how he's going to act in the movie so I just sort of winged it from what the trailer provided. Unedited. ;; wc: 5.8k

It was chore day. You hated chore day.

The monotony of it all felt suffocating, an endless cycle of tedious tasks that seemed to pile up endlessly. Dishes stacked in the sink, laundry overflowing from the hamper, bathroom in dire need of scrubbing, kitchen counters cluttered with remnants of meals past, and trash threatening to spill over - it all felt like an insurmountable mountain of responsibilities.

The weight of these mundane tasks pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the adulting you'd been avoiding. But there was no escaping it any longer; you had procrastinated to the very limit of what was tolerable.

You tried not to be too hard on yourself about the state of things. Both you and Bucky struggled with mental health and that often made seemingly simple tasks, like washing dishes or tidying up, feel overwhelmingly difficult. You both understood this struggle and did your best to help one another out. You developed a system and worked together, splitting household chores as a team when possible. But you both had your days where you couldn’t contribute as much, so it was up to the other to carry it.

With a heavy sigh, you began the dreaded process by gathering the scattered laundry. Your movements were deliberately quiet as you crept into the bedroom where Bucky was currently taking a heavy nap. His face, usually etched with worry lines, appeared peaceful for once. You couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking him in, his features and how beautiful he was to you. It was a stark contrast to the terrorized nights you'd both endured, filled with his restless tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the relentless nightmares he suffered from had become less frequent since you'd started sharing the bed. It had been a slow process, watching him migrate from the cold, hard floor, to the slightly more comfortable couch, and finally to the warmth and safety of your shared bed.

You often slept with him before his migration, napping on the floor during the night or on the couch while he remained on the floor. You both laid together on the couch, but you also slept separately. Now, you were just glad he had finally moved into bed with you.

He was curled up in bed, his form a picture of peaceful slumber. His messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearing, boyish look. His mouth was slightly open, soft breaths escaping in a gentle rhythm, and his metal arm was absent from his body. It wasn't an uncommon thing, as he occasionally removed it when he slept, he said sometimes it feels better without the weight of it straining his back muscles when he laid down. Bucky really only did this when he felt truly safe and secure in his surroundings, aka, only around you and in your shared home. The missing prosthetic wasn't on the bedside table where he usually placed it, so he must be cleaning it.

You gathered the scattered laundry from around the room so you could leave him to his nap, creating a neat pile in your arms. Making your way to the laundry area, you passed the kitchen and saw the rinse cycle on the dishwasher, figuring his arm was in there. You threw the dirty clothes into the washing machine when you reached it, setting it to run. There was a load of dry clothes waiting to be dealt with, so you folded these items and set them aside for later. Your next task took you to the bathroom, where you began the process of cleaning and tidying. You finished scrubbing just in time to come out and see Bucky standing at the dishwasher.

Bucky looked absolutely precious when he woke up, despite his usual brooding when you fawned over him so sweetly, his tousled hair framing his face in a messy halo, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His expression was one of endearing drowsiness that only comes from a deep slumber. When his gaze finally focused on you, a flicker of realization crossed his features. In an adorable attempt to appear more presentable, he quickly turned to the sink, fumbling slightly with the faucet before running his hand under the cool stream of water.

"Hey doll..." he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for longer than an hour." His hand continued to run through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands. The water caused his dark locks to stick up at odd angles, somehow making him look even more endearing. "Guess I needed it more than I thought..." he added sheepishly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately, Bucky. Your body was probably crying out for a break," you replied softly, your voice filled with understanding and affection. You made your way around the sleek granite counter, each step bringing you closer to him. A warm smile spread across your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement at his disheveled state and hurried attempt to tame his hair. He decided to grow it out a while ago, he liked having you play with it, and his shorter hair didn’t feel as satisfying when your fingers carded through it.

"So..." you began, your tone taking on a playful lilt. "I see you put it in the dishwasher again, huh?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gestured towards the kitchen appliance, your eyes dancing with mirth. It was a recurring joke between the two of you, one day he forgot to tell you about his arm and you were shocked to find it in there.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack, his eyes immediately drawn to the peculiar sight of a metallic arm nestled beside two off-white ceramic plates. The sight of the advanced prosthetic among mundane kitchenware was both amusing and slightly absurd to you. "Do not tell me you ran a whole cycle and there were only two plates in there..." You groaned softly, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief coloring your voice. Your reaction elicited a low, rumbling chuckle from him, the sound warm and slightly mischievous.

"Maybe." Bucky's response was accompanied by a playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached into the dishwasher and carefully retrieved his steaming vibranium arm, the advanced metal still radiating intense heat from the cleaning cycle. The heather black surface of the arm was a striking contrast against his skin, with intricate gold accents peeking through the articulated plates, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

As he deftly maneuvered the prosthetic towards his shoulder, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. The arm's sensors flickered to life, bathing the immediate area in a soft, ethereal violet glow. Bucky aligned the arm with his shoulder socket, and in one fluid motion, it locked into place with a satisfying click. The plates of the arm began to shift and recalibrate, the movement reminded you of a living organism adapting to its environment. You remembered once you had made the comparison to a caterpillar squiggling across a leaf.

He threw his arm in a quick, fluid motion, the circular movement causing a sudden surge of heat to radiate through your core. The soft grunt that escaped his lips as his arm swung through the air didn't go unnoticed by you. You found yourself moving closer to him without any sort of cause, your body responding instinctively to the simple action.

The arm still retained the warmth from the cycle it ran through, you could feel the radiating heat even from a short distance away. Vibranium was notorious for holding and distributing kinetic energy, this also applied to heat and cold. Unable to resist, your fingertips delicately grazed over the smooth, metallic surface. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the temperature of the arm in comparison to your cooler skin.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed your every movement, his eyes immediately drawn to the telltale flush that had begun to spread across your cheeks. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he observed your reaction.

"Ah...what's wrong, sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that unmistakable teasing tone that you had come to recognize all too well. It was a tone that never failed to set your heart racing, a prelude to the passionate encounters that often followed. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, you shuffled in place and felt your legs squeeze together for some kind of friction.

"Nothing..." you huffed out, your voice much quieter than anticipated, barely above a whisper. "Your arm is just... so warm. It feels nice…"

"Does it?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the gentle lilt in his voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Your mind began to wander, racing with vivid thoughts of how his arm would feel against your body. You imagined his strong hand tenderly caressing your back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns as they ran down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The mental image continued, his touch ghosting over the curve of your ass, his hands gently massaging your thighs, kneading away any tension and replacing it with a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body.

Or simply Bucky holding you close, his warmth enveloping you completely when you felt a little chilly, providing not just the physical comfort you craved from him but also a sense of safety and belonging, something you had always struggled with before you met.

He had done all of that countless times before, yet for some reason, with the arm radiating a warmth significantly more intense than its usual room temperature coolness, a deep, tingly sensation began to stir deep within your core. You found yourself swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting to meet his.

You guided his hand towards your neck, Bucky's eyebrow raised ever so slightly at your action. But, he wasn’t stupid. He unfurled his palm, allowing his fingertips to caress your skin with a delicate touch. The feather-light contact sent shivers down your spine, once he felt your body give him that little shiver, he encircled your throat with his fingers, maintaining a loose yet unmistakably present grip. His voice was low and husky, leaning down a bit until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "What do you want, babydoll?"

"I...want...to feel your hand." You rasped in response, your voice thick with desire. A wave of heat coursed through your body, pooling between your legs as his voice sent shivers down your spine. Your body responded to him instantly, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you shuffled closer to him, your hands splaying across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt did little to mask the warmth radiating from his skin, and you found yourself growing more desperate with each passing second, craving the feeling of him close to you.

Bucky chuckled, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms. His scruff tickled your cheekbone as he leaned in, laying a hasty but tender kiss to your temple. The brief contact left your skin burning, yearning for more, like a drug being given and suddenly taken away. His metal hand moved down your body with agonizing slowness, the fucker did it on purpose to tease you more. He gently teased the sensitive skin just above your shorts, his fingers dancing along the waistband before sliding beneath your top.

While your skin was feverish, the touch of the very hot vibranium felt electrifying against you. Normally, the touches from his hand would tickle, raising goosebumps in their wake from the cold metal. But now it felt incredibly comforting and arousing all at once. The warmth spreading through your body was addictive, a delicious heat that you couldn't get enough of. He continued caressing you with a gentle and possessive touch, you arched into his hand in response, silently begging for more.

You couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his hand continued its tantalizing journey across your abdomen. His fingers danced along your skin, deliberately brushing against your sensitive sides, making you quiver. His trail was agonizingly slow, but his touch ascended, finally reaching the delicate area just beneath your breasts. Your breath was caught in your throat, and he stopped moving his hand completely, having it instead rest still on your skin and the area turning a bit red from the heat.

"You want more?" His voice, low and husky, cut through the tension-filled air. His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through to your very core. There was amusement dancing in those glacial depths as he observed your flushed face and quickened breathing. He was clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, reveling in the way your body responded to his touch. Bucky was always super cheeky when it came to making you like this, he took great pride in turning your legs into Jell-O.

You weren’t able to form coherent words, your mind clouded thickly with desire. His mere presence was intoxicating, and the light caresses he had bestowed upon you were enough to reduce you to that quivering mess he was so eager to see. You were putty in his hands, desperate for more of his touch and he had barely begun.

Already, you were teetering on the edge of losing all self-control.

"Bucky, please, I can't handle this teasing anymore," you whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your breath had become increasingly rapid and shallow as waves of adrenaline coursed through your body, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation. The mere thought of his hand, that powerful, yet gentle hand, exploring your most sensitive and intimate areas made you feel increasingly wet.

Bucky's fingers found the hem of your top and he paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. At your almost imperceptible nod, he began to lift the fabric, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your skin. The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed flesh, adding to the sensory overload you were already experiencing. He pulled the garment completely over your head and carelessly tossed it aside, where it landed in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, you felt a moment of vulnerability as Bucky's intense gaze roved over your exposed chest. His stormy blue eyes darkened with desire, drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if committing it to memory. The weight of his stare ignited a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you entirely.

Bucky's hands slowly and deliberately roam upwards, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin before finally reaching your breasts. He gently cups them in his large hands, beginning to massage and caress them with a tender yet passionate touch. Bucky's ministrations quickly begin to urge you on, your legs flexing together to create some kind of pressure between your legs.

The vibranium hand was still hot, it distributes those waves of heat through your body in a much gentler fashion than how you’ve seen in other circumstances. You’ve seen his arm break through concrete, crush otherwise impossible to damage objects, choke the life out of aliens. And here he was, treating your body like precious, tender treasure with the same limb.

You can feel your skin tingling …the dichotomy between his two hands - one warm flesh, one hot metal - adds an extra layer of sensory stimulation. A feather or an ice cube couldn't compare to how he made you feel.

The pure captivation in Bucky's eyes made the butterflies in your belly swarm even more, how he eyes your breasts makes you want to pull him in and push them against his face. His movements become more focused when he senses your desires, kneading and massaging with a rhythm reminiscent of a contented feline. The gentle yet insistent pressure of his fingers elicits a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

Unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of playful teasing, you murmur breathlessly, "Mmm... you learned from Alpine?" The reference to his beloved white ragdoll brings a flicker of amusement to Bucky's intense gaze. He responds with a dramatic eye roll, clearly torn between exasperation at the interruption and appreciation for your attempt at humor.

"Shut up..." he growls softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. The playful admonishment is accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hands, your eyes widened as you let out a gentle mewl.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, but he doesn't kiss you fully, no.

Bucky Barnes is the master of teasing.

He maintains his playful demeanor, reveling in the way you squirm and moan for him. That signature cocky smirk of his spreads across his lips as he watches you shuffle and attempt to press closer, seeking more contact. "Ah, ah... patience, doll. Stay still for me," he commands, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Bucky..." You drawl out his name, elongating the syllables into a desperate whine. Your body trembles with need, silently begging for more of his touch. You're acutely aware of his penchant for teasing, knowing all too well that he's unlikely to give in to your pleas so easily.

If anything, your desperation only seems to fuel his determination. Knowing Bucky as you do, he'll draw this out, savoring every moment of your mounting desire until your legs buckle beneath you.

His fingers begin to tease your sensitive buds, eliciting those exquisite sounds he so deeply adores from you. Those needy, desperate noises that eloquently convey how incredibly good he makes you feel, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. His skilled fingers pinch lightly, gently tugging and rolling, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your right breast is noticeably warmer and more flushed from the recent contact with the hot metal, though it didn't cause any discomfort or burning. The sight of your reddened, sensitive skin makes him groan softly under his breath, his desire for you growing rapidly.

"Ugh...look at you. You're drivin’ me crazy," Bucky whispered, his voice husky with desire. He nudged his knee between your legs, effectively pinning you in place. Your back pressed firmly against the cool counter, leaving you delightfully trapped between the unyielding surface and Bucky's warm, solid body.

"Please, don't tease me anymore..." You begged softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation. You didn't truly expect him to relent, but a small part of you hoped that he might show mercy. Your plea, however, only served to amuse him, eliciting a low, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

His thumbs continued their torturous dance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the very peaks of your sensitive buds. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and squirm. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his skilled hands, silently begging for more despite your earlier words.

You were already teetering on the edge, your composure crumbling with each passing second. You always liked to think you were more hardy against him but…damnit could he get you to break. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had reduced you to this quivering mess, and he had barely begun. His touch had been confined to your breasts alone, yet you felt as though your entire body was on fire.

"I've got you...m'gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart..." His voice was low with a promise that made your heart race even faster. With a fluid motion, he grasped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back firmly against his broad chest. The heat of his body seeped through you, adding to the inferno building within you. His hands, those wonderful, torturous hands, began a slow, teasing journey down your body, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake.

Slowly, he pushed your underwear down, as the fabric inched its way to your mid-thighs, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sticky strands of your excitement formed delicate bridges between your core and the fabric. The underwear continued its descent, finally coming to rest just above your knees, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Just from me handlin' you a little, you got this wet for me?" Bucky whispered directly into your ear, his hot breath fanned across your skin, his scruff tickled your sensitive flesh as he spoke. The slight abrasion only served to heighten the ever-growing need you felt in your core.

He tilted his head closer to you, lips barely grazed your temple as he placed teasing kisses there. Suddenly, his knee moved, gently but firmly knocking against your legs. The silent command was clear, and you found yourself widening your stance, your body responding to his unspoken desires.

The tension that had been building within you reached a crescendo. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a whine - a needy, desperate sound. Your voice so thick with desire, managed to break through those desperate noises, "Bucky..." you pleaded, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please," you repeated, your body trembling with the effort of restraining yourself. "I can't take it anymore..."

The scorching metal continued its relentless journey across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Your body quivered involuntarily as it inched closer to your most sensitive area. The heat radiating from your cunt rivaled that of his arm, but nothing could have prepared you for the jolt that surged through you the moment his fingers made contact with your intimate folds. The sensation was so intense that you barely managed to stifle a scream.

"Bucky!" His name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as his skilled fingers found their target with unerring precision. They danced teasingly over your bundle of nerves, easily locating the center of your pleasure and lavishing it with gentle, circular motions. Each swirl of his fingertips sent waves of loud ecstasy coursing through your body. Your sensitive bud throbbed and pulsed under his expert touch, responding eagerly to every caress. The flood of need that washed over you was so potent that you could feel it trickling down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s fingers ventured lower, drawn to the source of your wetness and he probed your entrance. He held you still as he swiftly slid two fingers deep inside you. The sudden intrusion into your velvety depths caused your eyes to roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the sensation of his still very hot fingers inside you. You let your head fall heavily onto his shoulder, a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as his fingers began a gentle yet insistent rhythm, pumping in and out of you with a practiced ease.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Bucky let out a deep, guttural grunt of pleasure as he listened to your soft whimpers and moans. His voice was thick with his own desire as he continued, "How's that feel, hm? My fingers exploring every inch of this needy little hole of yours. You were practically dripping before I even laid a hand on you, weren't you?" His skilled fingers deftly navigated your cunt, searching for that one spot that would drive you wild.

Suddenly, his fingers found that elusive sweet, spongy spot deep inside you and curled up against it. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn't help but let out a desperate, keening mewl as your hips instinctively bucked into his hand, seeking more of that friction. But your eager movements only resulted in Bucky withdrawing his fingers slightly, denying you the intense stimulation you craved.

"No, no, doll... stay still for me," he rasped into your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. "I know you can do that. Be good…" His voice was a horny mix of command and encouragement, leaving no room for argument.

His fingers resumed their steady movements after seconds of stillness, but now they purposefully avoided that sweet spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago. The deliberate teasing had you trembling with need, but you weren’t shocked by it. Bucky loved watching you like this, he wasn’t satisfied unless you were shaking and begging through your pretty tears. He had you caught between the desire to obey and the overwhelming urge to chase your pleasure.

The Wakandan metal radiated an intense, penetrating heat that seemed to seep into your very core, like having smoldering coals nestled within your body. It didn't burn, of course - the sensation was far more nuanced than that. Besides, if his steaming arm burned you, he wouldn’t ever put it on your skin.

It instead felt like an overwhelming surge of warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a steaming bowl of soup on a cold winter's day. The heat consumed you, leaving you feeling inexplicably full and satiated. You tried, your fervent attempts to remain still were failing, the mounting pleasure proved increasingly difficult to resist. He was acutely aware of your struggle, reveling in the power he held over you.

Your body cruelly betrayed you as your hips instinctively jerked upward, responding to the touch of his fingers as they grazed your most sensitive spot deep inside your cavern. Bucky, surprisingly, permitted this small transgression…but he was far from ready to grant you the release you so desperately craved.

He continued to curl his fingers relentlessly, expertly manipulating your body until he could feel the telltale tightening of your inner walls around him. Your voice, thick with need and barely above a whisper, managed to form the words, "I-I'm close, Bucky I...-"

Just as your body tensed, poised on the very edge of ecstasy, Bucky abruptly withdrew his fingers, denying you the climax you had been building towards. The sudden loss of stimulation made you release a pained, desperate cry from your lips, a sound that reverberated with raw frustration and unfulfilled desire. You attempted to crane your neck, seeking to make eye contact with him, silently pleading for mercy.

He was so unfair.

"Not until I say, baby...you know that," he whispered against your ear, his fingers thoroughly coated in your essence. You caught sight of the glistening strands of your unmistakable arousal dripping from his hand. The sight made you blush deeply, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you as you whined softly, your body instinctively squirming against his other arm that held you firmly in place.

"Please...I need to..." you started, your voice trembling with need, a shiver running through your body as you felt the sudden loss of his warm, skilled fingers against your sensitive flesh. The absence of his touch left you aching, yearning for more, trying to get closer to that hand just inches away from you.

Bucky let his hand return to your folds, deliberately spreading your arousal across the delicate skin. The slow, purposeful movement of his fingers sent more addicting pleasure through your body. He began to tease your precious clit once more, his expert touch reigniting the fire within you.

His fingers warmed the pink flesh to a deep, blushing red, each caress bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy while still keeping you teetering on the brink of release. He did just enough for you to feel those shocks, but not enough to push you over.

You couldn't contain yourself, your passionate cries echoing through the room with such intensity that you were convinced your neighbors would surely lodge a complaint later. You didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding desperately against his hand as he expertly pleasured you.

His organic hand slowly traced its way down to your entrance, teasing and tantalizing with feather-light touches, then plunged deep inside you, curling over and over against your g-spot. His metal fingers continued their relentless assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between your slick folds, your clit at the mercy of his ministrations.

His voice was so deliciously deep and husky with arousal, it cut through the haze of your pleasure as he spoke to you. "You gonna finish for me, doll?" he growled, his own hips now moving in tandem with yours, the friction adding another layer to your mounting pleasure as you felt his hard cock grinding against your ass. "Hm? You gonna make a mess on my hands?"

The raw need in his tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment.

You felt an overwhelming surge of sensation wash over you, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your mouth fell open, ready to cry out in ecstasy, but at first, only a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips. Every muscle in your body tensed, your inner walls clenching tightly around his skilled fingers.

His hand continued its relentless assault, moving in circles around your sensitive bud, alternating between gentle pinches and teasing tugs. Your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate when he pinched your clit, his gentle tugging made the blood rush straight to it, the sensitivity increasing.

The climax washed over you, your passionate cries for him echoing through the empty kitchen. His name tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, your voice raw with need. Tears of intense pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes and your legs gave way beneath you, unable to support your weight any longer. But he was there, strong and steady, holding you up as you shattered in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go for me. Don't hold back. I want to see you make a mess, make a fuckin’ mess for me..." His words were a siren song, coaxing, commanding you deeper into the throes of ecstasy.

Bucky's touches never ceased, fingers working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure, pushing you higher and higher until you thought you might lose your mind. What felt like mere seconds stretched into an eternity of blissful agony, your body alight with sensation, trembling and arching against him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, cascading down your cheeks while you completely soaked his fingers. The intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. As waves of pleasure coursed through you, your mind went blank, consumed by the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As your cries died down, your orgasm began to subside, having run its course through you. Your once rigid body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding one by one, mirroring the gentling of his touches. He held you securely by your hips, his strong arm providing much-needed support to prevent you from collapsing. Even with the counter in front of you, you weren’t sure if you could even stand right now.

The aftermath left you in a state of blissful delirium. It felt utterly incredible, as if you were floating on cloud nine, your senses still reeling from the intense experience. You remained dazed, barely able to process the lingering sensations coursing through your body. Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers, the movement eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

His touch became so tender and affectionate, traced a path along your skin as he placed gentle, reverent kisses on the back of your shoulder and the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to rise all over your body as he murmured words of praise against your skin. "So good for me...so perfect, babydoll. You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice held soft adoration and satisfaction.

"I... I can't... feel my legs," you managed to say, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved with each labored inhale, the exertion of your intense orgasm still evident in your flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips were pressed, sending a shiver down your spine despite your exhaustion. His gentle hands supported your weight, helping you regain your balance until you were able to stand somewhat steadily on your own, though your legs still felt like jelly beneath you.

"My bad, doll," he replied with a cheeky grin, that familiar smug smile spreading across his face as his eyes roamed over your disheveled form. There was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he took in the sight of you, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. His eyes lingered on the places where his metal hand had touched, tracing the patterns of blotches and handprints that now adorned your skin in various shades of red from the heat of the vibranium.

"S'pretty, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. His eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished. His gaze held vibrant, burning embers of lust that were still very much alive, but also a deep well of affection and love that made your heart skip a beat.

Bucky leaned close to you, his eyes softening as he gazed into yours. He caressed your cheek with his organic hand and gave you a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Your hands were still slightly trembling from your overwhelming release, but they found their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs traced delicate circles on his cheekbones, savoring the feel of his skin and scruff beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The world faded away until there was nothing but the two of you, you cherished the moments like this, when it was just you both enjoying a sweet moment together. No worries, no stress, no fear. When Bucky finally pulled away, that familiar cheeky grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes with mischief and affection.

Your eyes narrowed in response, growing suspicious thinking about the many possibilities he could be up to. "I gotta wash my arm again," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the plates of vibranium still coated thickly with your orgasm.

Your cheeks flushed and you groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Put the pan on the stove this time," you replied, your voice equally soft but tinged with playful exasperation. "I am not hand washing that thing."

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[writtenbyan-aries]

Hey Gurl. 🥰 Can you do one at a Halloween Party with The Sturniolo Triplets. You are best friends with all off them but have feelings for Matt. You two got drunk af and fuck in a random bathroom. (make it super duper smutty please.) And suddenly Chris and Nick walk in bc they were in search of Matt. Nick has one of his trantrums and Chris just smirked and turned around pulling Nick with him. The next they they tease you about this. Pleaseeeee 🥰🥰

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, drinking, party vibes, flirting, kissing, hair pulling, biting, scratching, unprotected slightly drunk sex, general filth

Word Count: 2059 | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“Are you almost ready?”

You glance back as Tiff walks into your room, “Yeah, just need to..” you lean forward, painting your lips with your red lipstick and you sigh, “There. Done.”

You stand up, smoothing out your dress, “How do I look?”

Tiff raises her brows and smirks, “Yeah, if this doesn’t catch Matt’s attention then I-“

“I do not..” you cut her off, “I do not want Matt’s attention.”

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, okay. Say that again when you’re drunk and whispering to me about being too scared to talk to him.”

You sigh, “I’m not scared.” You pick up your bag, “And I will prove it, later on.”

“Yeah, okay.” She laughs, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You walk into the Sturniolo house. It’s decked out with Halloween decor, music is blasting, and there was a lot of people.

“I didn’t even know they had this many friends.” Tiff mumbles as she moves to stand next to you. You shrug, “I guess they do, oh. There’s Nick.”

You hold your hand up, waving to him as he walks over, “Hey, hey. Glad you could make it.” He leans in to hug you, “Drinks are over there, food is right next to it. Have a spook-tacular night.”

“Good one.” You laugh and he shrugs, “It’s the Halloween spirit.”

You nod, giving him a smile, “I’m going to go get a drink.” You look at Tiff and she nods, “Yes, me too!”

She follows you over to the table and you pour yourself a drink.

“Oh.” She elbows you, but causes you to spill some of the soda and you huff, “Tiff.” You glance up at her, “You just made me-“

“Yeah, yeah. Look.” She subtly points and you look around until you see Matt, “Matt?”

She nods, “Yeah, you gonna prove that you’re not scared to talk to him?”

You take a sip of your mixed drink and sigh, “Maybe when I have a few more of these in my system.”

“I don’t think you’ll have that much time, babe.” Tiff mumbles and as you turn to throw the paper towel away, Matt grabs your biceps, “Spill a drink already?”

“No.” You laugh, “Tiff bumped me and I missed the cup.”

“Ahh, I see.” He glances at Tiff who’s walking away, “Well, thanks for wiping that up. Most people would have left it.”

You lean around him, tossing the towel into the trash bin, “It’s not a problem, I wasn’t raised in a barn or anything.”

He laughs and you feel your knees buckle, but you keep cool, “So, um. What are you supposed to be?” He shrugs, “Vampire.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out plastic fangs.

He pops them into his mouth, giving you a slightly muffled, “See?”

You smile and shake your head, “Can’t even tell you have them in.”

He takes them out and licks his lips, “Thanks, that really helps.” He reaches out, pinching the hem of your short dress, “You’re not here to arrest anyone are you?”

You glance down at the fake SWAT badge on your chest and you shrug, looking up at him, “Only if it’s truly necessary.”

He nods, “Mm, well let’s hope it don’t come to that, yeah?” He smirks and gives you a wink, “I’ll find you later, gotta make my way around and thank people for coming.” He rolls his eyes, “Nick says it’s polite or whatever for hosting a party.”

You tilt your head, “I mean, yeah, he’s kind of right, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He smirks, “I’ll be back.”

You watch him walk away, smiling as he glances back before stopping to talk to some other people.

Tiff walks up to you, her mouth open, “Wooow. I’ll find you later… he’s so interested in you.”

“No.. he was just..” you sigh, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“The way he grabbed your dress, girl. He’s in. To. you.”

“We’ll see.” You laugh and down your first drink.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You were drunk, laughing and dancing with Tiff.

The place was packed.

The music seemed louder in a way.

You were overall having so much fun.

You seen Tiff’s lips move, like she was saying something, but you didn’t hear her. She took your hand and spun you around and Matt’s hands were on your waist.

He gave you a smirk and you went with it.

You spun around, your ass pressing against his crotch and your back against his chest. His hands were guiding you with the beat of the song.

His lips right next to your ear, a low groan ringing through them as you grinding a little harder.

You spin around, your arms moving around his neck as you look up at him.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as his hands move up to the small of your back, “You wanna go somewhere?”

You furrow your brows and tilt your head, “What?”

He leans down, his lips right by your ear, “I asked if you wanna go somewhere with me.”

That’s what you thought he said.

“Yes.” You breathe out, your hands sliding to his chest, “Please.”

He brings a hand up, taking it into his, “Come with me.” He leads you through the crowd, and down the hall to a room.

You walk in, your eyes scanning quickly over the decorated bathroom, but you don’t really care about that right now.

You lean against the counter, reaching out to pull him towards you by his jacket as he walks over to you. His hands slide down your thighs, stopping to lift you up onto the counter and your lips were glued to his.

He swallows your moans, giving your hips a squeeze before sliding them down to push up your dress, “You look so fuckin’ hot in this outfit, ma..” He leans back, his eyes scanning over your face, “Been wanting to rip it off of you all night.”

“Well…” you giggle, “You can’t rip it off of me just yet, but you can lift it up for now.”

He pulls you off of the counter and spins you around, your eyes locking onto his in the mirror.

His hands pull the skirt part of your dress up over your was and he pulls your panties down. His fingers dip down to drag over your wet cunt and you gasp, pushing your hips back more, “Fuck, Matt. Please!”

He smirks, biting his lip as he undoes his jeans.

You watch him in the mirror, your jaw dropping slightly as you see his cock get freed from his boxers. You look back up at him and he tilts his head, “Eyes on me, baby, okay?”

You nod, fighting to not roll your eyes back as he slips into you slowly with a groan of his own, “Fuck.”

You grip the edge of the counter, your brows furrowing as he slowly pulls out, and you moan loudly as he thrusts back in.

His eyes stay on you, his head tilting back just slightly as his jaw clenches tightly.

“M-Matt.” You gasp out, eyes rolling shut just for a split second. He thrusts stop and he pulls out, spinning you around to lift you back onto the counter, “Eyes on me. I wanna watch that pretty face while I fuck you.”

You nod, gasping loudly as his cock slips back into you and his thrusts resume.

He slides a hand up to the back of your neck as he leans in to guide your lips in a heated make out.

Your hands slide up his chest to his neck, moaning out as his teeth clamp down onto your bottom lip. He gasps, quickly following up with a groan as your nails drag down his skin, leaving red lines in their path, “Showin’ everyone I’m yours, huh, ma?”

“Didn’t.. know you were mine.”

He smirks, tilting his head as he brushes hair from your face, “You’ve had me under your spell since day one, baby.”

“Would have been nice to know.” You bite your lip in attempt to hide your smirk, but fail.

“Not my fault you took this long.” He laughs lowly and leans back in to kiss you as his thrust pick up, “You feel so good.”

You tilt your eyes to the side, your eyes staying on him as yours walls squeeze around him, “F-fuck.. I’m.. so close.”

He nods, his grip on your hips tightening as he tilts your face back towards him with his fingers on your chin, “Go on.”

You wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him in to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss as you moan.

“I’m gonna Che-“ the door opens and there stands Nick, “Jesus fuck! You really couldn’t have locked the door? Like is it really that fucking hard to twist the little thing on the knob? Seriously guys?”

Matt tries his best to keep you both covered and all you can do is laugh.

“Can you, just.. get the fuck out?” Matt scoffs, “kinda in the middle of something here.” He glances down and you cover your face as you keep laughing.

“Alright..” Chris smirks, “Come on, Nick. You can lecture them later.”

“We have a house full of people, a house full of rooms, even.” Nick bitches as he’s pulled away by Chris, “And they chose the downstairs fucking bathroom…”

The door is pulled closed and you look from the door to Matt, “You gonna lock that now?”

“Fuck no, I have something more important to tend to.” Matt crashes his lips back onto yours and his thrusts resume, desperate to get you back to where you were before the previous interruption - and it didn’t take long.

Your fingers tangled within his hair at the the nape of his neck, moaning loudly as your legs tighten around his waist, “Fuckfuckfuck, yes yes, right there.”

He lean forward, his lips attaching to the skin of your neck as he guides you through your high, “Such a pretty girl.”

He groans lowly as he kisses up your jaw to your lips, “I hope you don’t plan on going home after this.”

You shake your head slightly, “Not unless you’re coming with me.” You smirk against his lips and moan as he wraps his arm around you to thrust into you deeper.

He mumbles against your lips, “You’re not going anywhere.” He smirks and kisses you against, his thrusts growing sloppy rather quickly.

You loosen your legs, just in time for him to pull out and spill his cum onto your thigh. You kiss him through it, swallowing each of his moans and groans as he comes down.

He slides his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he kisses your lips one last time before stepping back to grab the towel.

He wipes off your leg, cleans himself up and redresses as you slide down off the counter and pull your panties back up.

You glance over at him as you fix your dress and smirk as you see he’s staring at you, “What?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing.” He chuckles, “Just thinking of how we can sneak to my room without Nick lecturing us again.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh, “I think if we just make a run for it, we’ll be good.”

Matt laughs and walks over to you, he presses his lips to yours and you let out a sigh, “I may be a little drunk right now, but this wasn’t a one time thing was it?”

He furrows his brows and shakes his head, “I meant what I said, baby.” He pulls you in by the waist and smirks, “You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

I haven’t really been in a writing mood, but I’ve been forcing myself to work through it so I don’t fall deeper in the slump, my apologies if this sucks. Thank you for reading anyway! I love you so much and I will catch you in the next one 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[mingi-s-dimples]

Unscripted - San

KINKTOBER DAY 17 , REQ BY. 🤧 anon

~"okay so its me 🤧 but anyways so maybe a reader x streamer bf. It was a drunk stream like where like he would drink maybe invite friends over to drink and stream it this time he did but he included reader which is a rare occasion because he prefers to keep things more private because of his fans Reader was on his lap while like streaming and the camera was on 2 of his other friends yunho and woo were there too chatting with san and reader but because reader got a little drunk and bcs ofc reader doesnt get drunk normally but she was clingy asf a thing leading to another she slowly started grinding and like yes , but like no one to notice not this friends and the people watching it was pretty late at night so the friends went to sleep in another room because driving and drunk doesnt fit well together so reader took the opportunity even tho the stream was on she pretended to leave to fool the people watching and got under the desk and yes."

pairing: bf streamer!san x gf fem!reader

genre: 18+, filthish

summary: you get one hand too touchy with your boyfriend while he's streaming, which ends up being one of your best decisions.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: harsh dom!san, bratty!reader, oral (m receiving), oral while flaccid (yes reader was needy af), ingestion of alcohol, mentions of alcohol, slight exhibitionism (yunho and woo being in another room sleeping and the livestream going on in the bg on mute), degradation + praise (good slut and otjer similar to this), quickie on the desk ^^, helping from under the desk ifykwim, completely consensual, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!!), unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: Tell me why tf did I just catch a cold 😞😞😞 Anyways this was hot hello... going insane as we speak? Exhibitionism will always be one of my faves (upsi). Enjoy. my love ! ❤️

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The flickering glow from San’s PC screen filled the room as he glanced over his setup one more time, making sure every angle was perfect, every light calibrated. Tonight was special. Usually, his streams consisted of just him, the screen, and thousands of viewers, who tuned in to watch him crack jokes, crush game after game, and occasionally just sit back and chat with everyone in that effortless, laid-back way he had. But tonight was a little different. Tonight, he wasn’t just inviting his fans into his space; he was bringing over his friends, Yunho and Wooyoung, for a spontaneous stream that had been brewing in the group chat for weeks.

You’d been excited the moment you heard the plan—finally, a stream that felt like a mix of San’s world and yours. You could almost hear the buzz of excitement from his fans as San tweeted a teaser about the night. He hadn’t told them yet that you’d be there, though. Usually, San liked to keep your relationship private. He was protective that way; he liked that what you two had felt like something separate from the stream, from the fans, something he could keep just for himself. But tonight, after some gentle coaxing and a lot of puppy eyes, he agreed to let you in on this rare, shared glimpse into his world.

As the clock ticked toward the start time, Yunho and Wooyoung arrived, their energy filling the room as they greeted you with easy laughter and hugs. Yunho brought along his usual playful banter, and Wooyoung had already started teasing San about having to “babysit” him through the stream. You couldn’t help but laugh; the whole setup felt like a group of friends just hanging out—only with the whole world watching.

San threw you a grin as he sat down, the screen lighting up with his chatroom. Thousands of fans flooded in, messages rolling in faster than the eye could track. You settled off to the side, sipping on a drink, watching San as he fell into his element, one hand on the controller, the other waving as he greeted his viewers. He was captivating, totally immersed, and you found yourself smiling at how natural he was at it all.

“Alright, alright! Everyone, say hi to Yunho and Wooyoung!” San said, pulling his friends into view. The chat exploded with excitement at the sight of the two familiar faces. Yunho waved, effortlessly charming, while Wooyoung leaned close to San, playfully invading his space until they were half-laughing, half-wrestling on camera.

You enjoyed watching them banter, the energy high and easygoing, the camaraderie between them infectious. San glanced over at you with a mischievous smile, and, feeling a surge of confidence, you edged closer to the camera’s view. You didn’t have to say anything; just being there was enough to set off a wave of messages in the chat, a blend of shock, excitement, and curiosity.

“Who’s that?” someone typed, followed by dozens of similar comments as people pieced together the implication of you being there.

San reached for his drink, laughing at the chat’s reaction, as if he’d just let everyone in on a private joke. He leaned closer to you, brushing his shoulder against yours, and in that brief touch, there was a warmth that reassured you. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was just the thrill of finally being part of his stream, but you felt yourself relax into the moment.

As the night wore on, laughter filled the room. The three of them were a perfect mix: Yunho’s easygoing wit, Wooyoung’s playful sarcasm, and San’s effortless charisma made the stream a blend of nonstop jokes, a few failed games, and moments of genuine connection with the fans. You joined in here and there, your own laughter mingling with theirs, and with each passing hour, the line between the screen and reality seemed to blur a little more.

You, a few drinks in, became noticeably more affectionate, your usual playful self replaced by something softer, gentler. Your hand found yours under the table at one point, a silent gesture that was both grounding and intimate. He shot you a look, one that seemed to carry a thousand words in it, his gaze lingering longer than usual. The camera still rolled, and the chat was oblivious, but you knew he was letting you in on a rare moment—this was the part of him he usually kept away from the camera, the side of him that was just yours.

After he gave you the slightest, softest, reassuring look, you unconsciously started to slowly grind on his thigh, as you were sitting on his lap.

"B-babe what are you doing?" he whispered in your ear, stuttering from surprise.

"N-nothing..?" you whispered back, smiling innocently at him. He knew exactly what you were doing but.. it was even more thrilling, as thousands of people could catch glimpses of what was happening.

As the night pushed into the early hours, Yunho and Wooyoung started to look like they were ready to crash, their laughter slower, their words slurred from the drinks. It didn’t take much convincing for them to decide to stay the night. After all, nobody wanted to drive home at this hour. So they threw their jackets in the living room, claimed the couches, and left you and San in his dorm alone to wrap up the stream.

As San turned back to the camera, you noticed he seemed even more relaxed, leaning back in his chair, his hand lazily finding its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. His fans kept chatting, mostly commenting on how unusual it was to see him this open and unguarded, and San smirked at their remarks.

And that’s when you felt it—a sudden, irresistible need to be closer to him. You shifted in your seat, inching toward him until your body pressed against his, your head leaning onto his shoulder. San glanced down at you, his smile softening, his hand moving to trace small circles on your back. The chat was still buzzing, but he seemed only half-aware of it now, his attention slowly focusing more on you than the screen.

The camera captured only part of the scene—the laughter, the playfulness, but missed the soft intensity in San’s eyes as he glanced your way, the way his hand gently tugged at your waist, urging you closer. You were barely aware of the camera now, your focus on him, on this shared warmth, the world beyond the screen fading into the background.

He looked your way, whispering something, “what are you trying to do!? I’m live, darling” he softly said, not letting the viewers hear any of his words. You leaned towards his ear and said, “I’m so fucking horny right now.. maybe it’s the drinks but, how I’d love to suck you off in this instant..”. His eyes widened at your words and he wasn’t able to say anything, as you instinctively got off his thigh and got on your knees under the desk, eyes looking sheepishly at him. He looked down in horror as you rode your hands up his thighs, finding your way to his pants. You hovered your hand over the slight bulge of his sweatpants, feeling his cock twitch at your touch. He was slowly getting hard, but you just couldn’t wait anymore. You slid them off to his ankles to which San gasped, looking surprised at the camera, not knowing what to do. He was still live, after all.

As you took his cock in your hand, still soft, only slightly hard, mainly at the base, you started stroking it. Slowly but surely, looking up at him. You spit one, two times in your hand to lube his cock up and pumped his length, getting is hard pump bt pump. You just couldn’t wait anymore and took his cock in your mouth, San's eyes widening and his mouth left agape. He was truly trying hard not to mimic anything, but was slowly losing control.

His leg was lightly bouncing near you, trying to get a hold of himself. He looked down for a moment at you, then at the camera and at the comments. No one realised yet.

“Guys, I-uh” he stopped for a moment, your mouth wrapping on the tip of his cock, sucking it harshly. You pressed your tongue to it, San's hand going for your hair as soon as you did that. He pulled you back for a second, then continued, “my network is not that good, should we take a break for a minute? I'll try to refresh everything and maybe ask Yunho to help me with the router.” his eyes then flew to the chat, everyone agreeing with him. He muted himself and moved the camera up a bit, only a small part of his forehead could be seen. Though, as soon as he slowly laid back into his gaming chair, his forehead disappeared from the view and the stream viewers could only see the curtains in the back and the dozens of plants you and him had together. He looked down at you, a smirk rising on his face.

“You're damn impatient, aren't you, my love?” he said and the hand in your hair tangled in it and pulled you to his cock. His cock was now half erected, but he absolutely didn't care. He started to softly thrust in your mouth, he threw his head back in pleasure. You could feel his length growing in your mouth, which turned you on even more. What could've been better than feeling your man getting hard because of you? and with that thought in mind, you took a deep breath and took his growing length down your throat, slightly choking on it.

“What a good girl… the heads you always give are fucking unreal…” he whined out, mouth-fucking you. “But.. what if the viewers find out, hm? Or is it your own little plan.. to let people know… just how much of a filthy, obedient little slut you really are?” he taunted, thrusting into your mouth deeper, his grip tightening as he kept you firmly in place. His low, rough voice sent shivers down your spine, each word designed to push you closer to that edge. “Or maybe... that’s what you want, isn’t it? To have them see how good you are for me?”

Your cheeks burned, but the thrill of his words ignited something fierce within you. His gaze darkened as he continued, voice dripping with desire, “Tell me, sweetheart. Do you want them to see? To know that this is exactly where you belong… right here, giving me exactly what I want?”

The intensity of his words and his rhythm brought you to a breaking point, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body, until you could barely think of anything else.

He kept his gaze locked on you, enjoying the way your eyes glazed over with pure need. His voice softened, almost taunting, as he leaned closer, his lips grazing your ear. “That’s right… no hiding, no pretending. You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”

You nodded, your mind hazy, completely overtaken by him. Every touch, every word was calculated, designed to make you lose yourself in the moment. His hand found the back of your neck, guiding you as he continued, his rhythm relentless, making you feel as if every fiber of your being belonged to him.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone low and possessive. "Tell me you want them to see just how good you are for me."

As you pulled back, your lips parted, a breathless moan escaping before you whispered, "Yes… I want them to see.”

“Oh, is that so? Are you really… that eager?” he said and moved the camera away, facing the wardrobe. He got up and continued, “Well, it’s a shame, sweetie. I don't like sharing and you just made a serious mistake, turning me on like that when you knew I couldn't do anything. What are you gonna do now, huh?” he teasingly said.

“San, I-” but you didn't have time to answer as he pulled you up and pushed you on the desk, forcefully throwing away anything he had on it.. Some books, stickers, decorations, too. “Let's see how you're gonna handle this, my love” he said and pulled your pants down, squeezing your ass. He spread you out, two of his fingers slipping in your cunt, a grin appearing on his face. “You're so wet already.. you've been expecting this? What a little slut..” he said and pulled the fingers out, hand going for your mouth and covered it, then with his other hand he guided his cock to your entrance, fully thrusting in. “This is what you get for getting me hard while I was live…”

You gripped the table in pleasure and pain, head dizzy from the drinks you had and all the movement. “S-San-!”you moaned in his hand, tears forming in your eyes. It was either the drinks or the fact that you haven't been fucked by him this angry and powerful in so long, but as he hit all your sweet spots you came undone surprisingly fast, all over his cock. Your walls clenched onto him, his veiny, slightly curved cock switched inches deep inside you before he finished into you. He pounded into you through his orgasm. He slowly came down to a stop and pulled out, spreading your ass out and looking at his work, bodily fluids seeping out of your cunt.

He stepped back and pulled you up, turning you around to make you sit on the table. “See? this what happens when you act up. Go to the bathroom, I'm not done with you, yet.” I'll be there in 5, saying by to my viewers.”

“Hm? why, babe? why the bathroom?” you asked, confused but slightly anticipating.

“We're gonna shower together and no, you don't have any way out of this” he said and kissed your forehead, squeezing your ass and urging you to the door.

The night was just about to get started.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26 @memorabxlia

[daisyjonesgf]

the lakes (2) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

2.9k words

warnings: ANGST, fluff, mentions and allusions to mental illness, an elopement but not officially, terms of endearment, Finnick being cheesy af and also having a savior complex, reader also having a savior complex, allusions to death and violence, the reaping, sickeningly sweet but also heart wrenching things, cheesy writing, UNEDITED, no use of y/n, mild language

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Suddenly the day had arrived, technically you'd let yourself bleed into it. How could you rest when this could be the last time you lay in your soft sheets with him? When you'd never seen the sunrise and set over the glittering waters of District 4? You needed to indulge yourself with the smell of the salt air in the early morning, touch the cold kitchen counters and rest your feet on equally freezing hardwood floors. So you stared through the window to the glistening stars which shined above the ocean water letting the sparkle ingrain itself into the depths of your soul.

“Can we stop pretending to be asleep now?" His voice whispered, hot on your ear like the arm lazily laying across your side.

“Yeah." You allowed yourself to softly smile as you sat up. All of the things you wanted to enjoy you equally needed to be done with him. To walk hand and hand around the sandy beaches, for him to mindlessly tie knots as you searched through the rocks during low tide for the tiny creatures that would appear. “Should we fish for our breakfast?” You playfully rose your eyebrows.

"You hate fishing.” Finnick had a toothy grin, you were humoring him, his passions and he loved that about you, but what that really meant made him resent it.

“Yeah." You shrugged, kissing him sweetly before unwrapping yourself from the blankets every so slowly. This might be the last time you could comfortably do that. “Let's get ready." So the two of you did so in each other's comforting silence, a routine that was so natural. He always took longer to get dressed, so you began with the very last part before exiting the room. Making the bed.

Carefully laying each blanket in what Finnick had long ago deemed to be the correct order and you could feel his eyes on you. He was so particular that usually he would do it himself, but he just stood in the closet door frame staring.

“Staring is rude, where have your manners gone?” You teased as you continued diligently preparing the bed for whenever it may provide its comforts again. When he didn't shoot back a reply right away you turned to look at him.

“Hard to remember when you look so ethereal in the moonlight, angel." Finnick approached, lightly grazing your chin with fingertips. “That pillow-" He pointed at the one clad in its silk pillowcase. “Is mine.” With such a playful and bossy look in his eyes you couldn't help but throw it at him.

“Fine, I didn't want it anyways, but this one is mine.” You grabbed the softest one in the bunch from his side of the bed and dragged it over to you.

"You little minx.” He scoffed, grabbing your arms as you held the pillow. You wrapped your arms tightly around it and he pulled you onto the bed trying to pry it from you as you erupted into laughter. "You end up lying on me anyways, it's my poor head that needs to be protected.” You tried to tear yourself from his arms wrestling against the tight grips of your arms, thrashing across the bed. “Messing up the bed now too." He clicked his tongue condescendingly at you, "At least I was already going to have to remake it.”

You gasped and let go of the pillow to lightly hit his shoulder which he used to successfully retrieve it. " You dick!” He laughed and stood.

"Just go sit by the window and look pretty, my love. It's not your fault you can't get it right.” You rolled your eyes lovingly as he helped you up.

"You're right, it's your fault for being so picky about it.” He hummed in agreement and gave a peck to your lips before gesturing towards the window adjacent to the chair.

“Let me admire you more as I do the work, angel.” So you sat as he went through the steps of his bed making routine. He did it all with a care that cut into your heart. Tenderly observing the precision he had for each act, it was as if he needed the bed to be such a haven to lay in that no imperfection could taint it. “We should get married." Finnick said abruptly after laying the final pillow down.

You were stunned into a stupor, staring back at him as the glow of the moon glittered on the bronze of his skin. “What?"

“Let's go get married." He knelt down in front of you hands on your knees

A shocked laugh left your lips, “Finnick, that's not how that works."

He grinned, “I don't care." His eyes felt like they were etching themselves into your heart. “We don't need some paper to tell the world, let it just be us, and the sand, and the waves, and the mist. And when this is all over we can go do it officially with the big white wedding or whatever else you could want, but right now let's just be one. Have the ocean bind our souls, angel. I wanna be yours forever.”

Desperation, that's what it was. He wanted to be yours so he could know that if he died the sea could tell the tales of your great love, the tides would echo your sweet nothings. But you couldn't find it in you to care about the deeper motivations, it could help heal his soul, help heal yours so you nodded softly and pressed your lips to his.

“Okay." His smile was as bright as the sunlight and picked you up in his arms. You could have fallen asleep in the warmth of his arms as he diligently carried you to the waters near your home. Passionately kissing you as he laid your bare feet on the wet sand. He looked at you expectantly, for what you couldn't tell so you teased him. “What? I know you're impatient, but don't I at least get a ring?"

You stepped away closer to the waters as you scanned the rocks. Each starfish and sea anemone, you'd miss the bliss they brought whenever you were out early enough.

“Here." You nearly jumped when he reached beside you to pick up a piece of washed up seaweed. “You deserve more, when this is over I'll get you the most gorgeous ring to show everyone what you mean to me."

“This is good enough for me, Finnick. I'm happy with this." You tore some of the seaweed off to fashion one for him as well, you envied how delicately his hands worked to make yours.

“You're happy that it's just past twilight and I've carried you to the beach so we can bind our souls together without even bothering to get a marriage license on the day of the reaping? And I couldn't even bother to bring a real ring?" He teased.

"I'm happy to be with you, to love you when it comes down to it, the other stuff doesn't really matter.” You grinned, “Let's just get married."

"I promise that for all of eternity, past when the sun last rises and when it lasts sets. Far beyond where the last star may shed its light on us or the time when the last leaf falls. With no regard for what is to come that I will be one with you. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish so that not even death will part our bond and my love.” He delicately slipped the seaweed ring on your freezing finger, kissing your hand as he parted from your fingers.

“I promise that for every drop of water in the ocean, each grain of sand in the earth, each gust of wind, my love will increase boundlessly for you. That we will be one with each other when all thrives through its decay. No tribulation shall part my heart from beating with yours, my tears from falling with yours, nor my lips from syncing with yours. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish so not even the hands of death will crack the strength of us as one, as we are one from dawn to dusk.” The breeze and mist blessing you with its droplets made you feel so light as you lay your ring on his finger as well.

You didn't question Finnick as he began to weave the remainder of the seaweed around your connected arms.

“May we be connected through the lakes, the sea, the rivers, the springs, the cricks, the ponds, the mist, and the fog with each creature within to let us be one in the world, what you feel, so shall I, what we need the other will provide, and let our devotion be smiled upon."

He kissed you, his honey sweet lips tinged with the salt of the ocean air and you consumed each other in every sense.

"I love you Finnick, so much so I'll refrain from telling people how sentimental you are."

“Only for you, Mrs. Odair." He kissed you again.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You'd obtained so many hours through the lost sleep to spend forgetting about what the day would inevitably do that the both of you could lose yourselves in being unbearably in love with one another. Neverending promises for the future, cuddling on the couch, dancing in the sand to fill the hours until the elephant in the room had to be acknowledged.

The two of you had wound down to the cushions of your couch to hold one another. The talking had ceased so you could simply listen to his breathing, his soothing heartbeat. Oh, if you could do this forever, to never move.

“We have to leave soon." The croaky way the sentence left your throat instantly wanted to send you into a frenzy of tears.

“What if we don't?" He asks, stroking your cheek.

“They'll kill us."

“They're already doing that."

No, technically if neither of you were picked you could both go home in peace, but as the time between the announcement and now had begun, whispers of rebellion and some type of plan had strengthened. Something Finnick wouldn't give up in fighting for even if he had to volunteer and you wouldn't be left here without him. Even if you did, that meant some other friend would have to go die in your place which would be a death within itself.

You reluctantly sat up and had no trust in your voices stability to repeat the need to go, maybe a death here would be better.

“Angel, you know my plan. I know you're unhappy with it-"

“I'm not unhappy with it, I understand you want to help because you are so caring and kind-"

“You're not selfish for being unhappy with me going back, your feelings aren't selfish." His hands cradled your face, “And that's not what I was saying. I just, please, tell me what you plan to do."

You sighed, “I don't know Finnick. I have no idea."

“Then stay, Mags will volunteer if it's your name and don't volunteer for anyone else. If I win then I can come back to you and we can really be married, legally as well as with the planet." He said eagerly, searching your eyes for affirmation.

"Your plans don't end with one victor coming home, so I can't say that. I want you to come home to me, but I want to be with you through it all, to fight your fights, to stand where you stand, not be left behind. But I don't know what I'm going to do yet."

He exhaled harshly through his nose, “You're going to stay here for me." Finnick stood up and grabbed you both pairs of shoes taking no further comment, but no matter what he insisted you'd swore to nothing of the sort.

Quietly the two of you walked towards the square of District 4, your head laying on the comfort of his shoulder. Each of your arms tucked within the others and rings keeping you both grounded within each other when you eventually had to part to different sides of the stage.

“I love you."

“Don't say that in a tone like you'll never see me again."

“I might not for a while, unless you go as a mentor."

“You don't get to make either of those decisions." You felt like you were being forced to tear him from what he assumed would happen to remind him of your own will and it broke your heart when you saw fear flash in the depths of his sea-green eyes.

“Angel-"

“I love you, Finnick." Your voice was filled with conviction as you kissed him with fervor before walking the opposite direction, trying not to look back as what you were sure was his worried, loving, angry face. Why couldn't you just be the girl who waited for him to come back? Why did you need to fight with him? But your soul begged you to do it, so you listened to the call.

Soon enough your breath was hitched even if you knew Finnick would force the same outcome to happen no matter which name was called from the male tributes. As if you needed any more surprises this year your escort had decided to swap up the gendered order of pulling the names. Proclaiming how entertaining Quarter Quells should be in every aspect. Which was probably the least entertaining thing you'd ever heard.

“Finnick Odair." The sickly sweet voice rang out in the microphone and your heart dropped even if you'd been prepared for him to get himself in the games regardless. Your throat felt tight and your fingernails dug into your palms as he smiled for the cameras watching intently.

“And now, for the girls. All such entertaining victors!” She beamed for the viewers, it disgusted you how happy she was for this.

You could feel your heartbeat ricocheting through your head as the tapping of her heels walked to the bowl of four paper slips. Your eyes gazed over the women besides you. Mags in her solemn sereneness, she deserved to pass surrounded by those she loved in her home, and then poor, shaking Annie who wasn't as good at hiding what you pushed down, the girl labeled as going ‘crazy’ by the Capitol, and Ondine who seemed like she had clocked out of her own brain. She stared forward so numbly it appeared as if she'd resigned herself to her death, an image that would haunt you every hour if she did die.

“Annie Cresta."

Your head looked at her instantly, she'd let out a quick sob as she began walking forward. Each step is unsteady and slow. You shot your head towards Finnick, you shook his head, eyes screaming at you to do nothing. To try to mentor but do nothing more. But Annie’s sniffles brought you back to her, she deserved so much more, you were certain her psyche would break before she'd even reached the interviews. As she stepped to pass by you you couldn't hold the adrenaline in your body back.

“I volunteer as tribute!" You shouted shakily, stepping in front of her to stop her from going further.

“No-" You heard Finnick accidentally slip as he looked at you so despairingly, but it didn't undo what you'd said which you felt more confident in as Annie began crying. “It's okay, I'm not gonna make you do that." You whispered to her and hugged her shaking frame as you felt your own silent tears escaping, trying to guide her back to the comfort of the other women.

“You didn't have to-"

“It's okay." You assured the best you could. Ondine, who you'd rarely spoken with looked at you and nodded, as if that said everything she thought, and it did. Suddenly it was as if the regrets you may have had were gone, this wasn't just about you and Finnick, there was so much more on the line and you couldn't have stayed home to watch anyone else suffer.

The consciousness that you were on camera hit you so you let go of Annie and turned back towards where Finnick stood, damning your heart for caring, for not listening. He tried to keep us appearances for the cameras, but the looks of rage, woe, and despair were evident if one simply looked into the depths of his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched ever so slightly.

“District 4’s tributes for the third Quarter Quell!" The screeching voice announced and you wrapped your hand into the stiffness of Finnick's and dragged them above your heads. Letting your makeshift rings sit front and center would be sure to draw the attention of the Capitol citizens deeply invested in this all. Allowing the tears to bubble at your eyelids, it was already part of the brand you'd created years ago. Finnick’s nose flared as he forced his smile and without goodbyes you were led off the stage towards the train.

You could feel the intensity of his rage radiating off of his aura, not the calming warmth he usually possessed, but you knew you wouldn't take back your actions regardless of who'd been chosen. So you resigned yourself to the harshness that lay behind the train's metal doors.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. there is so much more I have planned for this series and I'm so excited to share it with y'all. if you liked it, feedback is much appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs any of it I'm so, so grateful for. as always, my inbox is open for any and all things or ideas! thank you again so much!

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

[saiintvalentiine]

three dog night

Summary: three dog night - a night so cold that it would take three dogs to keep warm.

It's the longest night of the year. It's the coldest too. Something escapes into the depth of the forest, and Wato is about to find out an unfortunate truth.

Word count: 3,081

Notes: heavily inspired by stories of the Korean gumiho, I bring to you: my insane ramblings that I'll be passing off as a Christmas gift for you guys. This is a real mess so you'll have to super suspend your disbelief for it. Warnings for gore, violence, and death. Feel free to point out any SPAG errors, b/c this is unedited af. Enjoy.

The cold feels good. It's painful on his face, biting his nose and chapping his lips. But his heart, missing its pearl and as black as the night sky, beats easier in the freezing temperatures.

The hunger is the only thing keeping him upright.

He has no idea how long it's been since he escaped the facility. Time moves like sludge in the winter, white flakes on his white hair on a white world, with only the white moon watching between the pines. It can't have been more than a few hours.

There's a man walking. He's walking through a forest alone, which is strange and dangerous, but the man smells like liquor. It travels through the air like a whip crack, his tail puffing up in subconscious disgust. A rotten liver. But the man’s heartbeat is strong and hot and loud, and he is oh so hungry.

Even in his current state, it's easy to crack the man's skull open with a rock. His body gags, tries to bring his pearl up only to come up empty. Pearlless. A dud. He doesn't care. He descends upon the body, tearing through fabric and flesh all the same, and finds the still-beating heart between splintered rib bones. The first bite is too hasty, splatters blood all over the exsanguinating corpse and his face and clothes, but the hunger dulls— it's not about the blood, after all, although it does soothe his throat. He eats every scrap of muscle until his breath starts to run hot enough to fog in the air.

The liver is, in fact, rotten to the taste, but he eats it anyway. None of the other organs entice him, speak to him, demand his teeth on their sanguine surfaces. He contemplates taking the man's shoes, but as he licks his hands clean, he decides he's taken enough. The body would dissolve away soon enough.

He struggles to stand up, snow sinking and melting with the warm blood. He's still hungry. He gags again, coughs out a spray of sparkling black. No pearl. Just the starry darkness on his chest. If he doesn't keep eating, he won't last, not without a pearl.

He tries to wipe the blood off of his face, but he can't see if he's making any progress. Burying his hands in fresh snow, he rubs it into his face, pointed ears flicking to catch any suspicious sound.

He stands up, bare feet padding through the snow in a staccato. His face is wet and cold, globs of pink snow dripping down from his cheeks. He doesn't really know where he's going, just that he is, and that he needs to eat again.

It's the longest night of the year. If there's one drunk, there's a hundred. He'll eat again or he'll die, and he can't die so soon after breaking free, so he will eat again.

Wato is pretty good with the cold. It doesn’t bother them as badly, wolf blooded as they are, but it’s still cold as fuck out here. They heard someone say it was going to be the coldest night of the season tonight, which they’re not too sure about, but it feels like the coldest night of the season so far. Though—

Wato’s memory has been spotty lately. They’d never say that their memory was the best, but it had never been so bad. They’re not even really sure what they’re doing in this town surrounded far and wide by an old growth taiga. This is, maybe, they think, the town where Wifies has his big ole escape room warehouse. Craning their head, Wato spots the looming shape of the bulky building, taller than most of the buildings in town but smaller than the spruce trees. Wato’s been there a few times, helped make a few rooms. Checking their chat, it looks like that’s exactly what Wato was doing here. The last message in Wifies’s chat is from Wato announcing they’d arrived.

Memory problems are no joke. Wato really needs to get onto fixing it. It's just a bad season for that kind of thing, with daylight hours so scant and time already stretched thin.

Walking through town feels like walking through a shut-down movie set. Everything is quiet, the only movement coming from a bar Wato passes with disinterest. The snow dampens all sound, freshly laid though the sky is clear now, so low and quiet that even their ears struggle to catch much. There’s a clear border where the town ends and the forest starts, and Wato stands on the threshold. Digging through their pockets, they’re thrilled to find their box of cigs and lighter. Popping the box open, they snort. One cigarette is left, flipped around.

“It’s my lucky,” Wato mutters, pulling it out of the box and flipping it back over the right way.

Holding the correct end in their mouth, they struggle with their lighter for a few moments. It sparks but doesn’t light, and the wind isn’t helping. Through the sharp, grating noise of the sparkwheel failing over and over, they hear. . . something. It’s quiet, but it sounds like someone panting or breathing heavily. Their ears flick, angling towards the forest. Glancing over, Wato doesn’t see much, but the treeline is thick and dark. They pocket the cigarette and lighter.

“Hello?” Wato calls out. “Is there anyone out there? You okay?”

The noise stops. The crunch of snow takes over. Someone with a notable limp from the sound of it.

“Hey, if you need help, there’s still places open in town,” Wato calls out.

Their suit and loafers are ill equipped for the snow. At least the streets are salted. They’re not going into the brush if they can help it. There’s movement, tree branches shaking and shedding a thin layer of snow. From behind an ancient trunk, a white head with pointed white ears appear— and then red, staining the tangled tips and neck of—

“Wifies?!”

Wifies— it can’t be Wifies, Wifies has dark hair and soft, folded ears that are only mottled with small spots of white. But it’s Wifies’s face, gaunt maybe, eyes the wrong color, a shimmery violet-gold instead of deep dark brow.

Those violet eyes dilate. The pupil eats the iris up until he looks more right. Wato takes a step towards him, slow, since they don’t want to startle him if he’s hurt.

Wifies books it in the other direction.

Wato doesn’t think about it; they make chase. They’re not sure if it’s concern for Wifies, or an unfortunate trigger of their prey drive, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t just let Wifies (maybe Wifies?) go if he’s hurt. The scent of blood is thick, tangy, easy to follow, and Wato lets their nose guide them to weave between trees.

The limp is even more noticeable now that they can see him, along with the absolutely drenched state of his clothes, with both blood and water. Even in their horrible shoes, they catch up to him easily.

“Wifies! Slow down!”

He might say something like no, but the air whipping past them both destroys all sound. Wato hates to do this, but they can’t think of a better solution. Bracing their shoulder, they speed up and ram right into Wifies’s back, knocking him flat. Wifies goes rolling, like a white and grey bowling ball, crashing into the stump of a felled tree. Wato cringes as they slow down.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to stop you!”

Wato slows down, crouching in front of Wifies, body winded from the chase.

“Wifies—”

He darts up and hisses, all animal instinct and fear and sharp, sharp teeth. Wato doesn’t flinch. This. . . Imposter Wifies? Is clearly some kind of fox, tail puffed and ears pinned in fear. Wato can out run him if need be. Foxes are sly but he’s already hurt and slow. He struggles to climb over the tree stump and away from Wato while keeping eye contact.

“You’re not Wifies,” Wato says. “But you look like him. Who are you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, voice crackling, sounding just like Wifies, a non answer. “I like you. You were nice to me. But I’m hungry, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

What?

There’s a crack. Both Wato and the fox snap to attention. The wind that cuts through the trees is blowing away from both them and the noise, so Wato can’t smell anything about what it might have been. The fox shifts until he’s behind the stump, and Wato can tell he’s getting ready to run again.

“Your leg’s busted,” Wato whispers, still staring into the depths of the forest. “Where are you even gonna go?”

“I need to eat,” the fox says, then again, “I need to eat,” and then he spirals, hysterical but quiet, “I need to eat, I need to eat, I need to eat.”

Another crack. The fox scrambles back. An arrow whizzes through the air, burying deep into the top of the stump at an angle. Wato jumps away, and the fox scuttles like some kind of prey animal behind a tree.

“Did I get him?”

It's disorienting seeing Wifies, the Wifies that Wato knows, come into the clearing, while the fox that wears his face sits only a few feet away. He’s holding a crossbow and is wearing a lab coat that has to be doing absolutely nothing for the cold.

“Did you just try to shoot him?” Wato says, processing what just happened.

Wifies glances over, void eyes sucking in the bright moonlight like blackholes.

“He stole my face, Wato,” Wifies says, a black ear twitching. Wato can’t help but flick their own ear out. “Plus, he’s not some innocent little fox.”

“He’s already hurt.”

“Oh? Did you get that eating your first real heart, 24?”

The fox gags. It’s a disgusting noise, like he’s trying to drag something up and out of him, but nothing happens— at least Wato can’t hear him throw up or anything of the like.

“No pearl, no heart, no name,” Wifies notches another arrow in his crossbow, and Wato feels their hackles rise. “And a stolen face. Make this easy for me, 24.”

“I’m not going back,” the fox says, snow crunching as he retreats.

“Wifies, what’s going on?” Wato inches closer. “I was here today. We were working together. This is—”

“I was hoping you would’ve left already, because prolonged exposure makes you hard to control,” Wifies sighs, pulling something out from the inner pocket of his lab coat. “But I guess I can work with a few more hours of exposure.”

Wato sees the mask. It’s the Omz Mask, the one they had to pry off of Ken’s face. How the fuck was it here? Why did Wifies have it? The crossbow is pointed at Wato, mask held out casually.

“Put it on,” Wifies says.

“Do you even know what you’re holding?” Wato asks, stepping back. Wifies matches them step for step.

“I know. Put it on.”

“No.”

The crossbow fires, and Wato dodges, but it manages to clip their shoulder. Harming radiates off the wound, blurring their vision. Wifies notches another arrow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Put it on.”

Jesus fucking Christ, what has Wato gotten into? Their eyes dark around, trying to find— something! Anything! A wisp of red circles behind Wifies.

“I won’t,” Wato says, voice rising. “What’s gotten into you?! Put the fucking crossbow down. That mask is dangerous, Wifies, it destroys the psyche of whoever wears it, did you hear what it did to Kenadian?!”

“It was Kenadian’s blunder that allowed me to get to it in the first place. He’s the fool who—”

A branch cracks across Wifies’s temple, thick and dark and wet. Wifies is felled, though he manages to trigger the crossbow on his way down; it sinks into Wato’s thigh, and Wato falls back onto the snow with a scream. The fox lifts the branch again, shaking, sleeves sliding down, and Wato’s focus comes in and out, but the fox is bludgeoning Wifies as best as he can. It's sickening, and Wato feels bile rise in their throat.

“Stop,” they cry out. “Stop!”

The fox stops, dropping the stick and looking at Wifies.

“I need to eat,” the fox says. “I have no pearl. I need to eat.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Wato is willing to believe that this is all some kind of horrible feverish nightmare as the fox drops down on his knees and begins to tear through Wifies. He digs into Wifies's back and rips him apart, blood scattering like snowflakes in the air and stringy muscle melting into powdery white. The sticky haze of pain from his leg, the dizzying realization of where his memories may have gone, being threatened by someone they thought was a friend, and now a fox plucking a human heart out and eating it like it’s an apple— it’s all too much. Wato tries to crawl away.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Wato says over and over again, because they need to say something to the sight of a— they think it's a kidney? They don't know, they're not familiar with internal organs. “You're eating him, what the fuck!”

“He has it,” the fox whispers between bites of viscera. “He has to have it. He likes trophies. Where is it?”

Through the fox’s scratching and digging around, he finds “it”, Wato guesses, because he makes a thrilled chittering noise and holds something small and round to the light.

“My pearl,” the fox says, opening his mouth and dropping the pearl in.

The strangest thing happens, though Wato isn't sure if it's the strangest thing to happen tonight. The fox straightens up and his face brightens. Wato hadn’t realized, but this whole time, the fox’s breath hadn’t been visible until now. It rises like steam off his face, and he shudders. He then continues to loot a dead body he just cannibalized.

Wato is still unsuccessfully trying to get the fuck away when the fox stands up and stalks over to them.

“I like you,” the fox says, like he’s trying to remind Wato’s muddled mind.

“You just killed a guy! A friend of mine!”

“He was going to put the mask on you,” the fox kneels and grabs Wato’s ankle. “Stop moving, I’m gonna get the arrow out.”

“I’m going to bleed out if you do that!”

“Nah.”

Nah? Nah?! What world is Wato in right now? The fox straddles their calf.

“Stop it,” Wato bares their teeth, trying to growl through the nausea.

“Wato!”

Wato snaps up to look at the fox, covered in gore, stained ears to tail in red and pink, and doesn’t know what to say or do or feel. The fox wipes a bloodied hand through the snow, then wipes it on the back of his own sweater, and then places a potion bottle in the snow next to Wato’s hand. Their suit is heavy with melted snow, clinging to their skin and numbing their senses.

“I need to get this out,” the fox says, bracing his newly “cleaned” hand on Wato’s thigh next to the arrow’s barrel. “And you’re going to drink that when I do.”

“Are you fucking delusio—”

The fox yanks the arrow out of Wato’s leg, and Wato chokes on their words and collapses onto their back. The arrow is tossed away and the fox swirls the potion in Wato’s sightline.

“Drink,” the fox insists, tipping it into their mouth.

Wato only struggles for a moment, until the taste of melon convinces them to swallow. It hits their system like a wave, the wound on their arm closing first, and then the pain in their joints disappearing next.

The fox stops about halfway through the potion. He puts it back in the snow and scrambles off and back to Wifies’s body. Wato sits up, panting, watching the fox take the Omz Mask in hand.

“Wait, wait,” Wato grabs the potion, their leg still bleeding. “What are you— you can’t take that!”

“I like you,” the fox says, taking a step back, then another. “But I don’t trust you.”

“Please, just— don’t go, explain to me what just happened?”

The fox hesitates, and Wato drinks the rest of the potion, finally able to stand up again as the arrow wound sews shut.

“No,” the fox decides, turning around and running.

“What the fuck,” Wato freezes.

Wifies’s body is here, but the fox killed him, so it’s— fuck. Wato curses and follows the fox. Even with the head start, the fox still has a bad leg and the tang of blood trails him like a ribbon. Wato only realizes where they’re heading for once the silhouette of the warehouse breaks through the treeline, the fox zig-zagging between trees and around the northernmost wall of the warehouse. He cuts around the front, and Wato hurries— they have no idea how to get into the warehouse if the fox locks the main entrance, and they don’t have anything to break in with right now.

Rounding the corner, Wato has to stop and catch their breath, because the fox is gone. Checking the warehouse door, it’s unlocked. Wato doesn’t want to go inside. What they want is for their inconvenient memory loss to be convenient for once, and forget whatever the hell just happened, and leave.

“Wato?”

Turning around, Ken stands behind them in a puffer jacket and beanie.

“Wato! Are you okay?” Ken rushes over and grabs Wato’s arms, inspecting them with an increasingly furrowed brow. “I haven’t heard from you in two weeks dude, what’s going on?”

Wato doesn’t know what to say. Their legs hurt, their lungs are filled with pins and needles, and their head can’t stop replaying the decay of their night.

“It’s a three dog night out here,” Ken mutters, shivering. “Can we go in?”

“You have no idea,” Wato replies. “And you will not fucking believe what’s happened to me.”

The sharpened smell of blood is gone, like the fox hadn’t cut through here at all, but Wato knows that can’t be true. The sky is still dark and the night still has legs and Wato has seen more than they know what to do with. It all presses against their mind.

They say the only thing they can think of.

“Ken, I think I’m in trouble. I need your help.”

[sp00kymulderr]

just a touch

Dieter Bravo (x afab!reader)

980 words

warnings: m masturbation, afab!reader mentioned, writer Dieter being horny af, unedited.

Does anyone else ever spend all their day thinking about...

Dieter Bravo jerking off.

About how he draws it out for hours because he loves to be teased, even if he's teasing himself. He'll watch something filthy (he's got a great selection of porn, some homemade) or look at those nudes you sent him. But he refuses to touch himself the whole time, as he gets harder and more desperate for it.

He likes the luxury of getting off in bed, on his expensive soft sheets, or in the shower with the warm water running all over his body. He gets really sensitive the longer he holds off, so he'll give it as long as he possibly can. If he really wants to drive himself crazy, he'll force himself to go do something else after getting all turned on from whatever he chose to watch - something super mundane like read his many emails, or tidy up whatever mess was left out last night.

Usually though, he'll go to the big full length mirror in his bedroom, slowly take his clothes off, appreciate his own body. He spent a long time struggling with his body image, but nowadays he loves what he sees. His broad chest, the softness of his tummy, and then the bulge in his pants before he slowly peels them off. He's never been anything but proud of his dick. As far as cocks go he's got a pretty one, everyone always says it. He's still not touching it, not now as he appreciates the view of it in the mirror. His hands might come close, as his fingers softly feel their way around his own body, mapping paths you've taken as you've explored him yourself. He'll play with his nipples, pinch at the sensitive parts of his torso and grasp his stomach, appreciate the soft feel of it. He wishes you were there right now, but he'll make do with what he's got. Himself.

Finally...oh finally he makes his way on to his bed, sat with his back against the headboard with his legs spread wide. The mirror is angled just right, so he has a good view of himself from there. He's a little flushed, cheeks reddened. He's leaking precum, made himself so fucking desperate for his own hand. He looks really good, and he knows it.

He'll use whatever is closest, spit or lube or lotion. He isn't picky. Sometimes he'll use a toy too, depending on what he wants to feel and how quick he wants to get off. He loves playing with things that vibrate but they tend to make him come quicker than he likes so he doesn't use them too often - better when you're trying to overstimulate him to tears. Usually he'll use a butt plug when he's on his own, he likes his ass nice and full as often as it can be.

Now he takes himself in his hand, and the moan he makes at that first touch is sinful. He starts off painfully slow, teeth gritted in concentration as he tries to zone in on every single thing he's feeling as his fists glides up and down his cock. He'll think of you now the most, of the drag of your cunt up his dick. Or the warmth of your mouth on him. He'll bring up every memory he has of you and him together, the way you look when he's in you. The way you cry out as he thrusts into you for the first time. God, he can't take it this slow anymore.

As he quickens his pace, the noises he makes would make anyone blush. Dieter is never quiet like this. He loves to be heard, even if it's only him who can hear it right now. More, and more, and more. His free hand is playing with his balls, gentle tugs and squeeze that makes him tense dangerously and groan in pleasure.

Will he slow down now, calm himself down before he starts up again? Well, he'll try but at this point he's possessed by the need to come. He tries to be good, he really does. The way you like it, every last drop teased out of him but holding off for as long as he possibly can You tell him to be good, but you're not here right now and he can't quite bring himself to be that good.

He'll confess later, you can punish him if you want.

He's gasping out, a needy thing, beautiful noises of absolute heady pleasure. Eyes zoning back in just enough to watch as he brings himself to the edge. His favourite part to watch, as his movements falter and his balls tighten and with a loud cry he's spilling ropes of his cum onto his lower belly, onto his fingers, wherever it goes. Messy, he loves it that way. He pulls out every last drop he can, until its too much.

His head falls back against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut as he heaves out heavy breaths while his body trembles slightly from the climax. After a moment or two, he'll bring his hand up to his mouth and lick it clean. Dip his fingers into the mess he made and taste himself. It makes him groan, he tastes so fucking good. You always tell him the same, and he knows you're not lying.

In the time it takes him to regain his thoughts, he's laid himself down on the bed properly, sprawled out and a little dozy. He gets sleepy after he's come, but not enough to actually fall asleep. He just likes to bask in the feeling for a little while while he recovers. He bury his face in the pillow that still smells of you, and close his eyes and just enjoy the moment.

And if he really needs it today...he'll make it all happen again in a couple hours.

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆RETRIBUTION CH; 4

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Gore, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au. Pseudo Incest on Choso’s Case. Confusing Bullshit. Toji is smelly af. Cannibalism (kinda), Cringe, Unedited. Mentions of torture.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Jjk x Isekai’d! Goddess! Reader

⋆♱⋆LOVE INTERESTS Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen.

⋆♱⋆NOTE Also posted in wattpad & quotev. Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆PREVIOUS & NEXT CHAPTER

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

EACH INHALE THROUGH YOUR nose pulled the stale, musty air into your lungs, therefore, you decided to breathe through your mouth, making a conscious effort to keep your nasal airways closed to avoid the unpleasant stench emanating from the man.

No matter how fervently you struggled to elude him, evading the man proved an insurmountable task. 

Your every fiber ached with the desperate want to revert to your true form and scram, or ideally, melt into the very earth beneath you.

Yet, the prospect of metamorphosing back into your human guise was filled with trepidation. The notion of him witnessing a repulsive, gargantuan worm contorting into a person would potentially trigger aggression, and you're not in the mood to fight.

After all, it would be double assault too.

The assault on your olfactory senses from his offensive stench is damaging you too, and it would be worse if he were to add the physical damaging too.

And you don't want to risk it.

Seriously, you groaned inwardly.

Doesn't this guy possess an aversion to basic hygiene? Was he really that oblivious to the existence of potassium alum or the simple efficacy of deodorant? While the information of human smells regulation eluded your understanding, you knew that there's this ‘deodorant’ concept of a substance applied to the underarms to stave off malodorous stenches.

Doesn't he use that?

You felt incredibly uneasy as you perched uncomfortably on his unwashed shoulders, already imagining the putrid green aura that signifies a strong and offensive body odor.

Putanginang kili-kili yan. You thought.

The man then suddenly opened his mouth and yawned. The yawn he released unleashed a putrid wave of odor that assaulted your senses like a physical blow, causing your stomach to churn in protest as you froze.

The fumes invaded your nostrils and your meticulously maintained standards of personal cleanliness recoiled in horror at this olfactory assault, your inner hygiene guardian screaming in protest. 

WHAT THE FUCK???? HE HAS A BAD BREATH TOO?

You wailed internally.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat there on his smelly shoulders, utterly stupefied.

That man that picked you up was sauntering by with a grotesque  behemoth of a worm sitting on his shoulders, A.K.A you,  without any shame.

He reeks, and his smell is enough to incapacitate even the hardiest of skunks. Yet, the people around seemed unfazed, their reactions ranging from mild wrinkling of noses and curling lips to indifference.

A wave of incredulity washed over you. Were their nostrils forged of iron?

Nevertheless, there was no denying the unsightly, repulsive sight of that gargantuan worm clinging to the man's shoulder. Who in their right mind could overlook such a monstrosity? The edge of your patience threatened to splinter.

What the fuck is wrong with these humans?

You've been briefed by your father on the supposed stupidity and repulsiveness of humans, yet experiencing it firsthand was a whole different level of shock.

Could it be deemed normal for them to accept a rotund man, drenched in a putrid stench, nonchalantly bearing a worm with an unsettling face atop his shoulder?

These humans are crazy. You thought, acting as if you're not crazy yourself.

You can feel the weight of regret crushing your spirit as you silently reprimanded yourself for even considering the transformation into such a loathsome form. Amidst the tumult of your inner turmoil, the surroundings begin to dim as the man strides purposefully through somewhere, then through a door.

The ceiling looms above, adorned with strange alien objects that defy recognition to you. The sterility of the environment would have been a welcome reprieve and a fresh breath of air, had it not been for the olfactory assault perpetuated by your uncouth carrier.

As he traverses, you two encountered a few passersby who recoil in visceral aversion at his noxious presence and a slight sense of relief washes over you. Finally witnessing the unbridled revulsion reflected in the reactions of these normal humans validates your own repugnant assessment of the situation.

Finally, normal humans. You mentally sighed in relief, then suddenly, you heard a voice speak.

“So you’re Zeni’n Toji, huh?” a voice utters in a language foreign to your understanding, the moment you saw the man's mouth move, you immediately close off your nasal passages in a desperate bid to shield yourself from the overpowering bad breath emanating from the man.

“Nope,” The black haired man shrugs.

“Not a zeni’n anymore.”

“It’s Fushiguro now, i took my wife’s last name,” The man said, his fingers roaming over the sinewy muscles of his neck. You winced as his touch grazed your slimy exoskeleton.

“Duly noted. So, Fushiguro, I presume you’re the one making these purchases then?”

Peering ahead, you spotted another man draped in a weird ensemble—a solid black garment adorned with five white crests, that is wrapped-front style featuring square sleeves and a rectangular body, with the left side crossing over the right. The peculiar attire perplexed you.

They started to talk, but you were oblivious to what they’re saying, for you are too distracted by the foreign language and the strange attires.

Do humans truly wear such strange attire?

You pondered, you don't really know how things in the other realms, cause your experiences was limited to the confines of your father's celestial castle high above the nebula, forbidden from venturing into the realms beyond.

Bound by the restrictions imposed on you, your existence had been confined to the splendors of the nebula realm—a domain reserved for supreme beings like Aionarch and yourself, alongside his twin sister and her progeny. The nebula is considered to be the most divine and beautiful place in existence in your world, and the highest of them all.

A place more Celestial and Ethereal than heaven itself.

Here, the very fabric of existence holds a unique resilience, swiftly restoring anything that dares to meet destruction. It's a celestial sanctuary where permanence is a fleeting concept, and the essence of eternal renewal is in the ethereal currents. In this sacred domain, nothing can succumb to irreparable harm without the sanction of aionarch.

Nebula is limitless, though, you have only heard of its magnificence from Aionarch, as you have never truly been able to explore it. The only time you did venture into the nebula was with Xeranthi, but even then, you and your mother were restricted in how far you could go, always under the watchful eye of Aionarch to ensure you ‘safety’ cause he was too afraid that his precious wife and only daughter might become lost or in danger. Thus, you were never allowed to venture too far and wasn't even allowed to go to other realms.

The second realm was heaven, where a plethora of deities resided, including Ataraxia. Though a paradise in its own right, it paled in comparison to the ethereal beauty of the nebula. 

Although you have never experienced the beauty of heaven firsthand because you are stucked on the nebula, or more like locked up in the nebula, you have heard descriptions of it from ataraxia. She believes heaven is visually stunning, but interestingly, she also believes that the nebula surpasses it in beauty and grandeur, and that the heaven is only the second most beautiful place in the realm.

Then the third realm, Shaxilu, housed the lower deities—a realm known for its inhabitants' disdain towards Aionarch, bottom feeders deities who yaps without knowing much.

A realm teeming with fauna and lesser beings, it boasted of beauty yet lacked the divine allure present in both nebula and heaven. Here, the deities grappled with their responsibilities, ensuring the demigods remained contained and restraining the meddling of their celestial kin amongst humans.

Then came forth rhe fourth realm, known to humans as Earth, Earth was beautiful, yet it was getting destroyed by the humans who call it home.

Beneath this realm, existing as the darkest abyss of existence, was the fifth realm known as Kolase. Nestled in the deepest depths, Kolase was a place that humans calls hell. Everywhere in Kolase,  cries of tortured souls and the shadows of demons and other eerie beings were palpable. Despite the horror that filled its every corner though, there was an undeniable beauty to Kolase, a charm that struggled to surface amidst the ceaseless chorus of tormented wails that echoed through its depths.

And by now? You felt as if you were on kolase again because of him.

The cloying stench emanating from him is suffocating, it was akin to an inferno raging in the depths of kolase itself. A shudder runs through you as you avert your gaze, the foul odor threatening to overpower your senses. 

You observe him through narrowed eyes, his words muffled by the foul miasma enveloping him. His voice cuts through the thick air, each syllable laden with a putrid undertone that makes your stomach churn. Clenching your jaw, you silently commend yourself for sealing off your nasal passages, sparing yourself the full assault of his repugnant breath and reeking armpit odor.

“How much does those things sell again?” The black haired man asks, green eyes lazily scanning the place.

You blinked, not understanding any of their words.

What did they meant by that?

“About 7 million yen, Fushiguro-san,” the man replied without hesitation, his eyes locking with the gaze of the green-eyed man before him.

Huh? What are they saying? Your lips pressed tightly together.

The black haired man's lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Mhm. So, all I have to do is auction off that things then, and i get the money.” he drawled lazily.

“Yup. Half of the proceeds shall be yours,” the man stated.

“Good,” the green eyed man murmured.

“Just make sure that those jujutsu high brats—No, that gojo satoru brat comes.”

“Rest assured, Fushiguro-san.”

“Is it settled then?” the man inquired, seeking confirmation. The smelly man merely nodded.

“Let us proceed, then.” the man beckoned, his steps purposeful as he began to walk away, a silent invitation for toji to follow in his wake. And follow he did.

Meanwhile, you were confirmed. the foreign words that they uttered left you bewildered, the cadence unfamiliar to your ears. Are humans speaking a different language? The thought nags at you, a stark reminder of the vast gulf separating your celestial realm from this alien world. Everything about them feels foreign—from their attire to their accents and the peculiar sounds that spill from their lips. 

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface, exacerbated by your inability to comprehend their discourse. Yet amidst the confusion, one word rings out with unmistakable frequency—“fushiguro.” Your gaze flickers to the man who had hoisted you up, connecting the sound to his assumed identity. Fushiguro, was a name that rolls off your tongue just fine, and it's pretty, just tarnished only by the off-putting odor clinging to him.

Beauty marred by filth. You noted.

You were having many thoughts and suspicion as Toji and the man strode down the shadowy corridor. The further they ventured, the more secluded the surroundings became. The door at the end of the corridor drew near, its surface adorned with an array of locks and pins, and you couldn't help but think that this is a bit shady. 

With a metallic creak, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit room that can only be described as reminiscent of a clandestine laboratory.

The walls were lined with shelves stacked high with various glass vials, beakers, and jars containing unknown substances that glowed in shades of red, green, blue, and purple. Strange symbols and diagrams were etched into the walls, aswell some equations, like a cult. In the center of the laboratory, a large stainless-steel table dominated the space, its surface littered with an assortment of scientific equipment—test tubes, Bunsen burners, and many more.

You noticed a series of cages lining one wall, each containing a different creature. Some were familiar—a dark, sleek-furred cat with unnaturally sharp claws, a plumed bird with iridescent feathers that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

On the adjacent container lay a grotesque being, a nightmarish amalgamation resembling a spider. Its elongated limbs flexed with unnatural dexterity, stained with crimson. The creature's pallid, almost translucent body contrasted starkly against the bloodied appendages, it lacked eyes, a nose, any semblance of face—save for the gaping maw  with serrated fangs.

You winced at the sight of the ugly creature. Shaking off your revulsion, your gaze refocused on the man passing two small containers to Toji.

The lower limb buds of the creature resembled paddles. Fingers were also visible, detailing the complexity of its anatomy. Furthermore, small swellings were starting to outline the future shell-shaped parts of its ears, while its eyes were visibly defined. The upper lip and nose were present, adding to the overall features of the creature. And it was all curled up.

You knew what the fuck those things are.

Fetus.

What they have is a fucking fetus, albeit a bit weird since it's color purple.

But still, why the hell do they have those? Did they ripped those out straight out of the mother's womb?

Your throat constricts.

Your heart raced as Toji suddenly forcibly pried open your deformed mouth.

Oh my fucking goodness, don't tell me that they're gonna feed that to me?

You tried to squirm away, trying to close your mouth, but Toji thrusts the containers in your mouth.

With a sickening squelch, your saliva coated the containers and you felt a surge of panic rise in you, the urge to gag overwhelming. The glass made a sharp contact with your Epiglottis, causing  discomfort before slowly gliding down your throat as you struggled to swallow it in one piece. A trail of saliva escaped from your lips and dripped down your mouth as you finally managed to swallow the glass completely. 

This is just a dream, it's not happening. You gaslighted yourself as you sobbed internally as you  you fought back the rising bile in your throat, your every muscle tense with discomfort. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tension filled your rigid body and your mind was filled with revulsion, your veins coursing with a vile concoction from the memory of that abhorrent act of swallowing a fetus in a glass jar. The sensation churned in your stomach, the urge to vomit it overwhelming.

Could the fetus metamorphose within you? Would it grow inside of your wormy stomach? Would it explode from the jar and live inside of your womb? What the fuck.

would you unwittingly become the surrogate mother to a baby and birthing it while being a worm?

The horrific scenarios played out in the theater of your mind, driving you to the brink of a mental collapse as you and Toji were on a bridge.

Toji on the other hand, strolled nonchalantly, one hand thrust into his pocket while the other had a gadget in his hand, it was glowing and from what you assumed, it looked like a mirror, he was talking but you paid no mind to him—not like you can understand what he was saying anyways.

You still loathed him for making you eat the poor fetus.

The mental image of a tiny human bursting forth from your body made your poor stomach churn, causing a nauseating wave to pirouette up your throat. As you allowed your thoughts to meander, a disquieting unease began to simmer within you. Toji's incomprehensible babbling faded into the background, as all you yearned for was to shed this fucking worm form and revert back to your true self, urgently and unequivocally. The urge to turn back into your true form and just kill toji so he doesn't have to see it surged through you.

After all, you would do the poor humans that is living in the earth a favor by killing a man that smells like the fart and smells like Thioacetone.

Surely, it's not a sin to kill such man right?

But then, was this the fabled retribution aionarch had told you about? It suddenly made sense why you were exiled to Earth, to make you suffer from the overwhelming pungent odor of the man—You are but a clean and hygiene freak after all.

Suddenly, Your gaze unexpectedly locked onto the  fluttering of a random butterfly that was on a top of a flower. In that fleeting moment, a profound realization struck you like a bolt of lightning as you got an idea of what's happening.

The Butterfly effect. 

Your throat constricts as you realized that you are actually experiencing it firsthand right now.

A minor pledge made in haste to ataraxia had unfurled loads of calamities. From the seething wrath of aionarch, getting tortured, to a harrowing plunge to the earthly realm, to your regeneration not working, to ugly creatures assailing you and to Metamorphosing into a worm, and then getting kidnapped by a reeking man, and now you have an fetus inside you?

please let this be a dream. you sniffed.

You shut your eyes, a thousand thoughts raging through your mind, silent sobs echoing internally as you prayed for this nightmare to cease.

Suddenly, a rumbling sound, like of a horse hooves in a frenzied gallop, rang in your ears.

What the fuck?

Your eyes opened, and when you saw that there's indeed a horse, your lungs seared as if the air had been forcibly expelled from them, a scream bubbling in your throat.

A literal horse was charging towards you and toji—looking like as if it was about to attack you.

Why is a horse coming our way?! You gawked.

THIS IS SO RANDOM! You wailed.

Panic gripped you, muscles coiling tight as you squirmed against Fushiguro's neck, a desperate attempt to make him aware of the impending danger.

“You with the big tits! Move! A random horse is literally coming our way—a fucking horse!”

You were practically screaming at him through your worm like mouth, but it was all distorted and can't be comprehended.

Thus, he remained oblivious.

However, he noticed the way you tightened around his neck—as if you wanted to strangle him.

“Hm? What’s up with you?” He asks dumbly, before looking forward, and gawking.

“The fuck is that?” He gawked.

“That’s so fuckin’ random.”

“Why the hell is a horse—” Toji didn’t even finished his sentence as the horse crashed with you two—Kicked you two. The world around you condensed into a singular point of terror as the wretched horse pushed you to the ground. A guttural shriek tore from your throat, the sound a mix of fear and confusion, as your being buckled under the strain.

Involuntarily, your body reacted on its own and your worm form began to change in your normal form.

Toji's strangled sound of “huh” was barely registered as the world spiraled. The wooden bridge that you two were in shattered and gravity claimed its due, and with a sickening plunge, you and Toji plummeted towards the churning water below.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toji's mind reeled in disbelief at the surreal situation before him. The weight of water pressed against his body as he swam upwards.

“What the fuck did just happened?”

his fingers raked through his hair, pushing the wet strands out of his face as rivulets of water trickled down his skin.

“Did A literal horse just attacked me?” he exclaimed, his voice laced with incredulity. His eyes darted around, searching for answers in the murky depths of the water. The absurdity of the situation made him shake his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the tension in his muscles.

“Fucking weird....” The memory of the horse's unexpected assault annoyed him. Toji swore that he will kill the horse.

“Ugh.. is this my punishment?”

Toji's hand absently reached up to massage the tense muscles at the base of his neck, a habitual gesture that offered little relief in the current circumstances. Frustration welled up inside him as he realized that his precious worm couldn't be found.

“Wait, Where are you?” he muttered, his brows furrowing as he scanned his surroundings. 

“Where are you?” he called out, the words muffled by the water surrounding him. His movements were sluggish in the aquatic environment, each motion hindered by the oppressive force of the water.

In the meantime, you would have been pleased that Toji had finally bathed, even though it was accidental and somewhat coerced due to being pushed by a horse. It was a positive development, however, leaving you feeling relieved. You would have been rejoicing in this achievement, had it not been for the fact that you're practically drowning.

The crushing weight of the water pressed on your body and the sharp impact of the rocks against your back was painful, it felt like as if it was scrapping your back, their jagged edges, almost enough to cut through your skin, leaving you momentarily paralyzed. You involuntarily inhaled a rush of frigid water, and your esophagus began to sear as the water made contact with it, your nose contracted in pain. 

You squirmed, desperately trying to tune out the pain gnawing at your back from the jagged rocks, you swore that you could see a crimson stream mingling with the rippling water below because of it. Frantically writhing, you sought to propel yourself upwards, but before you could swim upwards, a sudden impact crushed down on you, fragments of the fractured bridge fell down on you. 

Your ribs began to break from the force and a searing conflagration within your chest. Your vision was obscured by a watery haze, the burn of chlorine stung your eyes as you fought the drowning urge to gasp, your fingers clawing at your constricted throat, nails gouging into your flesh.

Unable to contain the burning flood, your body convulsed in a futile attempt to expel the deluge, lungs saturated as you swallowed more of the river's waters.

Transform. You tried to say, trying to force your body to transform into something that can breathe underwater.

Fucking do it—now. 

But your body wouldn't listen.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your eyes struggled to focus as the world around you were in a murky haze, every breath was like a dagger of pain stabbing at your chest. The cold seeped into your bones, chilling you to the core. As clarity slowly crept back into view, you felt a firm grip clamping the tender flesh of your nose shut. 

Someone's lips was pressed down firmly upon yours, looking to aim for a perfect, airtight connection. With each exhale, you could feel the rush of air invade your lungs, and your brows furrowed.

They seemed to sense the stirring of consciousness within you and abruptly withdrew, leaving behind a glistening residue of saliva on their lips, likely remnants from the urgent CPR efforts.

A surge of bewilderment crashed over you as you sucked in a deep, shaky breath, your chest heaving as you greedily welcomed the life-giving oxygen into your deprived lungs.

A violent fit of coughing suddenly seized you, your chest heaving and convulsing as you tried to ciugh out the water that had invaded your airways, your throat was burning like liquid fire.

Each gasping breath felt like shards of glass scraping against your insides, and there was a sharp pain radiating through your body with each jagged inhalation.

A comforting hand pressed against your damp back, patting you, though you were too disoriented and drained to push it away.

“Can’t believe that this is happening... putanginang buhay to... pinaglihi ata ako sa kamalasan eh.” you grumbled through a hoarse rasp. Your fingers absently rubbed at the tender flesh of your neck.

The person withdrew, leaving you to slowly raise your gaze with wide, searching eyes.

There was a man with long, jet-black tresses tightly bound into two long black stringy hair tied into two high ponytails that jut upward and outward. He had purple eyes and across the bridge of his nose, a dark crimson mark stretched from one side of his face to the other.

Adorning his neck was a circular scarf and a purple vest adorned him. Beneath the vest, a loose, light tan robe cascaded down, enveloping his arms and legs.

Your chest heaved as you slowly lifted your gaze towards him. Was it his hands that had pulled you from the water? or was he merely a figment of your delirium?

Your face suddenly irked as you remembered the horse that attacked you, nonetheless, you thanked him for saving you.

“Thank you,” 

You managed to say before a crease formed between your eyebrows, a question ready to spill from your lips.

“Wait.. who.. who are you?” you inquired, though a sudden tension gripped your jaw as the realization dawned that he likely couldn't comprehend your words. After all, if Fushiguro doesn’t speak your language, this man probably does too.

“I’m your son.”  he stated bluntly.

You froze—You can understand what he’s saying somehow—unlike with fushiguro.

But then, what the fuck is he saying?

How could he claim such a title when logic insisted it was an impossibility? You never touched a man, let alone you're a virgin.

This seemed biologically impossible.

Tangina, anong pinagsasasabi neto?

“dude what.” you deadpanned incredulously, the weight of bewilderment settling on your features like a heavy cloak.

You’re plunged into a swirling abyss of bewilderment.

The very notion of him being your son is preposterous, absurdly impossible. You’ve guarded your body like a fortress, and you’ve never slept with anyone—not even with ataraxia.

But then, could it be that you unwittingly underwent Parthenogenesis? Some goddesses, like your mother had a children without having sex with a man after all.

But as you search the recesses of your bewildered mind, not a whisper of memory surfaces to confirmed that you had undergo through parthenogenesis.

Besides, Surely, such an aberration would never escape Aionarch’s eyes. Hell he even keeps an eye on your virginity and reminds you how important your chastity is.

So... How could he be your son?

After some moments of thinking about it, you finally spoke.

“I’m not your mother, no.”

You shook your head in utter disbelief, feeling the weight of confusion pressing down on your shoulders like a leaden cloak.

“Listen, whoever you are, I believe that you’re mistaken. I am not your mother,” you managed to utter through tightly clenched lips, a sense of exasperation tingling at the edges of your patience.

“You are mistaken,” the words escaped your lips, each syllable heavy with disbelief.

“There is no resemblance between us,” you murmured, noticing the flicker of irritation in his eyes at your assertion.

“Besides.. I’m a virgin, and... my lover is a woman.” Your jaw clenched, trying to wrap your mind around the bizarre revelation.

“And... And I never conceived you,” you stammered.

“You can’t be my son seriously.” You said shaking your head.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance at your assertions.

“If you're searching for clarity,’ he began, his steps deliberate as he closed the distance between you.

“My brother lies within your womb,” he said solemnly, his gaze locked with yours in an unflinching intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

What is he saying? What did he meant by his brother is in your womb? That's seriously creepy.

 “What?” you hissed, the word barely more than a whisper as your mind struggled to assimilate the incomprehensible stuff that he was saying.

“We share the same womb, we came from the same womb. Within you,” he stated.

“So... that would imply that you birthed us all,” 

“What the fuck kind of logic is that?” You snapped.

And with that, the two of you began to argue.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏.Choso assumed that [Name] is his mother because [Name] swallowed his brother (literally) and now his brother is just resting on [Name]’s stomach.

𝟎𝟎𝟐.[Name] was actually glad when they fell on the river because the water finally touched Toji’s skin.

𝟎𝟎𝟑.Mahito is the one who gave the body to choso on the anime, but in this, i changed it, and someone else gave him his body, and that someone is important to the story:P

𝟎𝟎𝟒.So Toji was supposed to sell the death painting wombs, ik that they're hidden somewhere on jujutsu high, but, on this book, jujutsu high only have 6 death painting wombs on them since some of them (Choso, Eso, Kechizu) already have bodies and the other one is on [Name]’s stomach.

𝟎𝟎𝟓.Choso isn’t really [Name]’s son, it’s just that he believes that she’s her mother. From what i know, when they were given the bodies by mahito, they have no memories and doesn’t know their mother or something and only knows that they live for each other.

𝟎𝟎𝟔.And yes! There’s a language barrier between them! And only choso knows how to speak the language [Name] is speaking (You’ll know why he knows that language later)

𝟎𝟎𝟕.Basically, [Name] doesn’t understand any of the words Toji is saying.

𝟎𝟎𝟖.Toji was using a cellphone and talking to some of his clients, but [Name] sees it as a mirror bcs there’s no cellphone in her world

𝟎𝟎𝟗.[Name] and Choso argued after that, but Choso ended up winning the argument.

━━━━━

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏​​​​Putanginang kilikili yan means  “That fucking armpits/damn armpits”

𝟎𝟎𝟐.​Putanginang buhay to, pinaglihi ata ako sa kamalasan eh. It doesn’t really have a direct translation in English since pinaglihi doesn’t have its english counterpart, and the closest translation of this is “Fuck this life, i was probably conceived from misfortune”

𝟎𝟎𝟑.​Tangina anong pinagsasasabi neto means “The fuck is he saying”

━━━━━

🔪 || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐒atoru is fucking disappointed. How was he supposed to eat you now if you aren’t a mythical bird? Suguru and Shoko told him that you might be a shapeshifter after all. 

╰┈➤ 𝟏𝟎% (𝐔𝐩 𝟓%)

—𝐒uguru found some parts of your hair and some parts of the destroyed necklace when he and Satoru went to the forrest (without permission). And guess what? There were little letter like engravings on every part of the broken necklace. He’s not sure on what language it is though.

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐓oji is fucking pissed because his worm is missing. Where the fuck are you? He still needs to sell those death painting womb for some money.

╰┈➤ 𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐%)

—𝐒hoko is trying to decipher all of the words found on the broken necklace, she noticed that some letters of it are different though, there's no kanji, katakana, hiragana, and not even a single letter in the alphabet.

╰┈➤ 𝟐𝟎% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐𝟎%)

—𝐂hoso is confused. Aren’t you supposed to be his mother? Why are you acting like that? Why are you being so mean and snappish to him? He’s pretty sure that mothers aren’t supposed to act like that towards their sons... He literally saved you from drowning and this is how you repay him? He’s starting to feel annoyed at you for denying everything, seriously, why can’t you just admit that he’s your son? Your lips feels soft against his though.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

I SWEAR, I'M SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED AT THIS CHAPTER 💀💀💀 it's so random and all😭😭 I'M GETTING A SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT THE FUCK??? And some of it are also confusing too. Like everything is so random 💀💀💀 (ig reels r getting onto me, the horse scene is from an ig reel that i have watched)

Anyways, Choso is not related to [Name], he just thinks that she's his mother or something. So, i also decided to just make [Name] speak tagalog because there's a language barrier yk? I don't wanna use some translator to make her speak other languages. Imma just make her speak my mother tongue.

Alsooo, more scenes w [Name]'s family and the jujutsu high students on the next chapter:33

The choso part got my lazy writing fr..

​​​​

how i feel after hurting my mc every sngle chapter: 🥰🎀

Yeah, just don't mind me babbling...

[thefourthwifeoftengenuzui]

Hiiii bonten Rindou hc???? Pleaseee. Love him frr

To be honest, I intended for this to be almost exclusively for haikyuu… BUT FOR YOU MY FRIEND! *pounds chest* I SHALL GIVE YOU THE RINNY OF YOUR DREAMS. Also you didn’t specify what kind you want so ima give you my finest shit, which happens to be my head cannon prowess. (Totally not because I hate writing dialogue, no,no, that’s so stupid 😳) Also important side note: I aint spend days finishing the Tok rev manga not to use it tf outta here. Tokrev and Jjk content is welcomed proudly.

idk if I’ll make a part 2, but on the off chance I do, look foreword to girldad Rinny content.

status: unedited

warnings: cursing, slightly sexual situations (but no smut), mafia bs, blood? Fluffy bullshit, Rindou being a dick hole, the ick, my bad Spanish

💜Bonten Rindou Hataini. Headcannons~💜

The first thing off the bat, I definitely think he is on the demisexual spectrum. I know everyone else be saying that he would be all about just sleeping around like that, but to be honest, I think that that’s more of a Ran thing. I feel like the only reason he would go to strip clubs and shit like that for work, and would actually be really grossed out when people would coddle him. If he was to have a significant other, it would have to be someone he has known for a long time, or from his old delinquent days. My best idea would be a calm friend who would give him the notes from his skipped classes. And in return he’d take them out for food or some shit. Somewhere along the way y’all would just be like, “we’re totally together right?” “Duh, why else would I put up with you.” Yeah he a lil bitch.

Any way, as for him as an adult, all I gotta say is “Mmmm Papí ¿quieres una besito?~”. Like Jesus Christ man has no right being this freaking fine. Sexy Jellyfish ass boy

Yakuza Daddy🥵. This man will spoil the everlasting shit outta you, and go to Walmart for his own shit. But had does it in the most obnoxious way possible. He gets you a necklace? “Hey babe, gotchu this, your old one was musty af, take better care of your shit.” Awww you want a new dress? “Sure babe, but just know that thing barely covers shit, and will be gone by the end of the night.” You want something just random? “Wtf am I a walking ATM? No, pick it tf up, I’m buying it, you can’t stop me. Quit arguing before I buy you 3 more.”

But when it comes to himself? Yeah he only indulges in suits and Jordan’s. Other than that, he has an avengers shirt he had since he was 12 and a pinball machine. That’s the extent of his possessions. Well that and the watch you got him for his birthday, but shhhhh he can’t let you know he cares ewwwww.

Man is literally the biggest (for lack of better word) Tsundere. Like Top three in anime. Like you got 1.Kageyama 2.Sasuke 3. Him. Like manz would rather die than say he cares. His love language is quality time and gift giving, so he’s more show you he loves you, but won’t say it first. The kinda mf that when you say I love you to them say, “Yeah I know, I love me too if only there was someone out there who loved you.” Like manz is so obvious I wanna kiss him to shut him the fuck up. (I think I have a type.) like bro the me love you tf?

In terms of icks there is one thing I no for fact. This mf wears socks to bed. And not the cute fluffy kind. The musty ass crusty socks he wore all day, then stepped in water, and now you gotta deal with it while yall cuddling. I hate this mf.

On a more serious note, because of his Bonten Bs, he doesn’t have a lot of time for us. So we make time. His time. We just barge in during his meetings, lay across his lap, watch TikTok’s, while everyone (him) are just looking like “is this bitch serious!?” >:|

Anyways, because he’s so busy all the time, the majority of what he wants to do when he gets home is just to sprawl out on the couch and just stay there. You can cuddle with him too or whatever he doesn’t mind🙄. But fair warning, he’s the kinda dude who is only ever in the mood for either ww2 documentary’s or like deep sea documentary’s. Like mf has the same movie taste as my dad, I can’t with him. It’s a good day when you can convince him to try something actually entertaining. And you know what he picks? The Fucking exorcist. He’s an asshole. The kinda dude to pretend he’s unfazed, but his left leg physically won’t stop shaking.

speaking of movies, I know I say this every time, but scream Halloween costumes. Yes. Give me Rinny as ghostface please, I’ll freaking sell my soul. Especially if it’s not the robe but one of the like dry fit and leather harness- *incomprehensible pterodactyl noises* 🥵

anyway back to cuddling, his go to position is literally the Hakari and Kirara thing. Like this mf will always have a hand on your ass. He doesn’t like PDA but this? Yeah you can’t stop him. He is an ass guy, it’s just where his hand naturally gravitates.

I cannot explain the urge to play daddies home by usher every time I see him. Like he and my baby daddy Gojo have partial custody over that song. Like bro. Yes.

Tbh I don’t see him having a big wedding. Or any wedding. I think his thing would be just handing you his debit card and saying “pick some shit out. No, don’t worry bout the price I’m rich for a reason.” And after that yall just elope to some tropical place across the planet for like a month.

speaking of travel it’s a pretty common thing for you. Just that it’s always last minute. Like bro don’t even give you time to brag to the your friends. Man just pulls up 10 minutes before y’all need to go to the airport and says, “get ready, we’re going to France. How long? Idk a month? Boo hoo bitch. Stay home then. Mhm that’s wtf k thought”. Manz is such an ass but you gotta love a walking wallet.

My last thought I’m gonna share is how he physically won’t use nicnames. Like babe is the physically most he can bring himself to do. Maybe baby. He gives himself the ick every time he thinks of doing anything else

all in all, he’s the one who is always there for you, and expects the same. He’s a great guy, under all the stress and yakuza bs. Treat him well, or I’ll treat him better😤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ sorry this took me so long to write, I’m working on another request too, and more importantly, my final exams for collage, love that. But even do, if you liked this, please like and request something, and I will definitely be posting. Love y’all so much, I’ll see yall later.

[tachimichishrine]

"mornings and marriage"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw ; morning sex it's literally just morning sex with slight fluff afterwards followed by more sex ; hard tachi soft tachi hard tachi to sum ; short n vanilla but uhhh no buts i have no excuse ; intended lowercase ; cursing ; unedited af

gentle rays of sun snuck their way into your bedroom. a soft glow of pink as the sun rose signaled that the day had only just begun, and the musical chirping outside your window provided further proof of the time.

you had a bit of trouble hearing the birds' call though, as it was muffled out by the sound of skin slapping skin and heavy breathing.

"mmmn... michi, if you want teruko to stop... haaah... demanding piggyback rides, you should just tell... nng... her."

your boyfriend was the one who asked to sleep with his dick still in you, and you told him that he was the one who was going to have the deal with the repercussions in the event that you did some kind of weird movement in your sleep and it popped right off, or some other dramatic outcome. however, the real consequence just turned out that he went to sleep and woke up hard and ready to fuck you; you told him that he would have to put in the work this morning because you were still exhausted from last night.

he was so good at taking commands; of course he was, he was a hunting dog after all. you worked in one of the ability research labs that took down information about the super soldiers' conditions in order to optimize their performance, and you'd made the first move by asking him if you could get some measurements down there. in his flustered daze of a response where he almost seemed angry out of embarrassment, you specified that you would need to measure it with your lips after you took him out to dinner. you had no idea how you got him to accept that first date.

a few years later, he grinded his hips into yours lazily. he didn't even bother to prop himself up on his forearms, just letting his weight rest on you and messily burying himself in between your legs while he told you about his day. it was actually what happened yesterday, but as soon as he had gotten home you barely let him get a word in before pulling him into bed.

"yeah, it doesn't work that way," he huffed out, chuckling a little bit when your thighs tensed and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in better.

your fingers slid from the mattress up to his shoulders and held him tightly when you inadvertently clenched and he groaned. "you'll never... aahhh~ know until you try. I had a coworker who pissed me off-f ah! fuck, fuck, do that again... the coworker was an asshole to everyone so I got him transferred to another division.. nng, fuck, oh god you feel so fucking good, michi..."

your voice was shaking from pleasure, and soon enough he picked up the pace in order to finish inside of you. even through the cum leaking out of your pussy, he pulled out and filled you back up with his fingers in order to not leave you high and dry. one order from your lips telling him to clean up his mess and he buried his face in between your thighs, sucking his own cum back down along with the taste of you.

"you know," you managed between heavy breaths, his teeth grazing your throbbing clit, "there's somethin' I've been mea-ahh!... meaning to ask you, and I want to ask it now. you don't need to respond, just keeping sucking on me like that, baby."

to readjust the angle, he grabbed your thigh and brought it over his shoulder to make it easier to jut his tongue in and out of your pussy. he had no idea what you wanted to talk about, but you told him just to listen and keeping eating you out, and he was more than happy to oblige.

"so, I was at the store the other day, and... hahhh... mnnnf... they had a discount for soldiers and veterans, and their families, and I was- I wa-..." you took a short break to catch your breath and flatten your feet on the bed to rut your hips upwards and chase after the addicting sensation. "I was thinking about whether you would be eligible, since you're... you know... but it got me thinking about how I wouldn't get the discount since... nnng... we're not married. and I don't really care but if we got married I'd have to meet your family... and I was just... hah, all this to ask... mmmn... if I could meet your parents."

as soon as those last words slipped out of your mouth, his mouth slipped out of you. he looked up at you with his face flushed from eating you out so hard, but even the dripping liquid around his lips wasn't enough to hide the irritated look on his face. you motioned for him to slide back up, and you kissed the mess on his face away before he could say a thing. his dick was hard enough from having heard your moans, and you slid it back in between your legs once you flipped him onto his back.

"what is it?" you humped him slowly so that he could answer, but he shook his head slowly.

"when I marry you, I don't want my parents there."

it was your turn for shock; you stopped rocking into him just to process his words.

"when? michi baby, did... did I just accidentally propose to you, and you accidentally said yes?"

he snickered, teeth flashing in his smile. "yeah, I guess so. that's hella romantic of us."

rolling off of him to lay down on your side, you giggled as he shifted himself to do the same. "sorry darling, that wasn't my goal. I was just... thinking." you took his hand and played with his fingers, nails dancing especially on his ring finger. "it's been so long since we've been together and I've never met your family."

"they're pieces of shit," he seemed to be trying to push the thought away and focus on the happier thing that you said. "you serious about the marriage thing?"

"I'm serious about you," you shrugged, "and I wanted to know what you thought about it. hell, I don't even know if it's an option given what you do."

which was a thought you couldn't get out of your mind. he would leave for months on end, unable to call you because it might blow his cover during his spy missions. you had no clue what he was infiltrating or just how dangerous it was, but with time he'd get more freedom among the ranks and have just enough time to send you pictures of himself from a burner phone, which he'd toss away as soon as you responded with your very own.

you didn't care that the relationship was like that; you were incredibly busy with your research, and everything felt comfortably low maintenance. he'd surprise you sometimes by coming home for one night and letting you make him pay for leaving for so long.

fingers danced around the outlines of his features and thumb rubbed softly against his lips while he tried to speak. he let out a content sigh and held your fingers next to his mouth to plant a soft kiss onto your knuckles. "don't worry about that. babe, you think too much, if you wanna get married I'll do it. I don't give a damn about all the other things if it makes you happy."

now you were the one smiling dumbly at him, loving it when he was soft with you. "in that case, yeah, I think I would like that." you used your available hand to wrap around his waist and pull him close, hoping to kiss him again but he was still peppering your fingers with his lips and had a grin on his face.

"I guess all I gotta do is ask you to marry me, then," he murmured, golden eyes looking up at you and lips curling upwards. you wanted to tell him again how beautiful he was but something poked your shoulder.

a wire - maybe a piece of jewelry you hadn't touched in ages - floated in between both of your faces, meticulously contorting until it was wrapped around itself in circles that would just about fit your fingers. he held the hand he'd been kissing up, and spread out your fingers for it to lower itself onto your fingertip. "[_____], will you make me the luckiest man alive and be mine?"

he already knew the answer, so the makeshift ring slid down your ring finger and you brought your hand up to his cheek while you kissed him slowly.

"I'll get you something proper once I have the time," he murmured, but you just shook your head.

"if you think I'm getting rid of this, you're the craziest man alive." you pulled him back in, and he chuckled when your bodies rolled over under the sheets. it wasn't a grand proposal, hell it was barely a coherent one, but neither of you minded the complete lack of formalities. it felt right, laying down on top of him with a ring on your finger that was dragging all over his skin.

your hand had wrapped around his erection, and you pumped him up slowly with the metal grazing his sensitive skin with every stroke. he grunted, pulling you back on top of him so that you were sitting on his lap while you fucked him on your hand.

"are you sure about the parents thing, though?" you inquired further, throbbing in your core subdued as you just grinded yourself on his thighs and watched him close his eyes at your actions. "I know you don't have the best relationship with them, but... I don't know. would be nice if I didn't feel like we were eloping or somethin'."

his lips parted to respond, but you barely realized just how merciless your pace was. you felt his muscles tense up when you took notice of his state and slowed down, the look he shot you telling you that he was begging for you to keep going, not stop. in the mornings, you didn't feel the need to tease or edge him until he was a crying mess; you just wanted him to feel good.

"yeah, I'm... fuck, fuuuuck... ah, fuck, [_____]... [_____]..." he came undone faster than you thought he would, finishing to the sound of his own voice whimpering out your name. his body spasmed and he went limp, so you decided just to let him stay flaccid and hold him gently when he continued his response. "I'm sure. those fuckers don't deserve to meet you, and I ain't even talked to them in years."

"mmmn," you hummed in acknowledgment, not wanting to push him any further given that he'd already told you about how awful they made him feel particularly after his brother's death. the question seemed to stir some bad memories, so you wiped your hand on his abdomen to keep it the least sticky possible and run it through his hair. "okay, I won't mention it again. to be honest, I think I would've ended up getting too mad at them for treating you like that. you know you're amazing, right? fuck, even if I wasn't crazy for you it'd take a real shithead not to see how strong and beautiful you are."

he couldn't handle compliments, and you knew it. he just bit the inside of his cheek while his face turned a different shade of pink and you giggled at him being so flustered over something so trivial. you smiled into his lips again, lazily kissing his breaths and murmuring sweet nothings until he seemed unable to handle it and just kissed you harder to get you to shut up. you just kept thinking about how adorable it was that he was threading his fingers through your hair just to pull you closer so that he didn't have to deal with your teasing.

you whispered his name, getting him to let go of your head so you could litter his face with butterfly kisses that migrated from his jawline to his ear to his neck. you painted him with your teeth, hickeys writing verses of your love all over him even when you bit too hard into his collarbone and pierced layers of skin. you mumbled a soft apology while he inhaled sharply from the sting, but you both knew he wasn't complaining. your thumb drew circles into his stomach while you held him, shifting down to his chest and marking him there, too.

"hey, [_____]?" he whispered, the room only echoing his gentle voice and the birds' song from outside. "training starts in half an hour, I gotta head out soon."

you frowned against his skin; you hated it when he left, but there was nothing you could do to keep him with you any longer than he already has. you repositioned yourself again on top of him, nodding solemnly while you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "mkay, I'll finish up then let you go. I wouldn't want my fiancé to be late now, would I?"

the world felt foreign, but welcome. he thought about it a lot when you fucked yourself on him for the countless time this morning, leaning down so you could kiss him while thrusting your hips onto him. his hands were on your waist, but you pulled them off to place them on either side of his head and intertwine your fingers, hand pressing into his own as you kept grinding slow enough to trick your mind into thinking this moment was going to last forever. the bed creaked slowly under the sound of your dragged out moans and his shameless whimpers which morphed to and from deep groans.

tachihara considered just not showing up today and spending it with you, but he knew you wouldn't let him do something stupid for no reason. he wondered whether there was a way for him to get enough of a break in his schedule to throw you the wedding you deserved, but he told you his thoughts as you buttoned up and fixed his uniform for him, and you said that all you needed was him and some ridiculously large cake.

your lips lingered together for a bit too long at the entrance to your apartment, and you had him pulled in by the waist tight enough to have him pick up again on his earlier thought to just stay. he walked out the doorway, glancing back to see you checking out his ass with a playful smirk. he rolled his eyes when you giggled, and walked away but not before seeing you wave goodbye to him.

he'd never felt happier seeing that ring on the hand you waved.

[sakura-scum]

₊˚⊹ open arms ⊹˚₊

✿ a/n: i don't ever really post original content on here so whaddup :p unedited/not proofread af, but satosugu has been eating me alive and i needed to post this somehwere bc feels? heavily inspired by sza, i can't stop listening to this song omfg :0

✿ summary: angsty stsg analysis from gojo's pov

✿ w/c: ~1.5k words

✿ warning: anime + manga spoilers for jjk 0 + hidden inventory (ish) || implied sex? right off the bat tho lol, loss, grief, possible swearing :p 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"This was your first time, wasn't it?"

"I've already told you that."

"Hah... no. This was your first time being truly open with someone, hm?"

I'll never forget the way he delicately brushed the strands of hair stuck to my forehead. It was as though he held all the tenderness and adoration in the world for me.

"What do you mean? I'm always open?" My voice cracked, betraying the facade of strength I tried to uphold.

"The way you said that, as if it were a question, says it all." His observation felt like a dagger twisting in my heart, a painful acknowledgment of how right he was. 

I wince as he gently taps my cheek, coaxing me to meet his gaze. Suddenly, I'm hesitant to look into his eyes, afraid of further truth I may uncover there.

Eventually, when I did, I was reminded why I was here in the first place. Warm brown eyes that felt like home now held a distance I couldn’t bridge. The first gaze that could accept me for who I was. He can see right through my flaws. Here, I never had to pretend to be perfect. He made perfectionism feel like a distant dream.

"Stop overthinking. I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry," was all I could muster, my voice barely a whisper in the silence that lingered between us.

He smirks at me before rolling over onto his side. I remain fixed in the same position, staring at the ceiling, as if he were still hovering over me. Somehow, the weight of his absence felt heavier than his presence ever did.

"Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness, like a plea for forgiveness that would never be answered.

.     .     .

As the silence envelops us, I feel a surge of emotions rising within me. It's strange how words can sometimes fail to capture the depth of what we feel. But with him, it felt like there was an unspoken understanding; a connection that transcends mere conversation.

With a gentle sigh, I shift closer to him, seeking solace in his presence. His arm instinctively wraps around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. In his embrace, I find comfort, a sense of security that I've longed for.

I close my eyes, allowing myself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. It's in moments like these that I realize how much I've come to rely on him, and how empty my world would be without him. It was as if his presence had become a sanctuary in the chaos of my life.

After that day, I began to realize my own lack of transparency. Was I avoiding the scrutiny of others, or fleeing from myself? What destination was I so desperately seeking, and why? I’ve never been a lonely person, or at least that is what I had convinced myself. I’ve always been surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones. It was a fulfilling life, wasn’t it? Meeting you unearthed a loneliness rooted deep within me. 

 Every bad day, every terrible moment, I found myself back in that same special spot, searching for solace in the echoes of our past. Even if I didn’t voice my concerns, you always greeted me, arms open wide, like my head had a reserved spot on your chest where I could close my eyes and relinquish myself to the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

Before we crossed paths, I had never pondered these questions, content to drift through life to fulfill what I had been told was my purpose. But you redefined that purpose. Suddenly, I felt compelled to cease running, not from myself or others.  When did I become so reliant on you? Why was I now running from you and your open embrace? I fled towards the places steeped in damage and shame. Had I finally found the courage to look within? 

The questions you provoked within me felt like shards of a shattered mirror, reflecting back a distorted image of a soul struggling to find a place in a world that no longer made sense.

The solace I sought in you blinded me to the truth: you were the fractured mirror all along.

But how could I notice when I was so self-absorbed? Perhaps if I could mend the fragments of the ruins of my mind, a haunted house of mirrors, I could in turn help fix you. Days blurred together as I found myself gazing into my own reflection, contemplating how I might reach out to you, openly trying to reach the dark and shaded depths of your mind. In my blurred vision, perhaps I overlooked just how much you truly needed me. Fixing you felt like a cruel illusion, a fantasy born from desperation and despair.

Checking on you was not nearly enough. It just felt like a feeble attempt to bridge what now separated us. How could I convey the love you give to me so effortlessly? Did you truly grasp the depth of my feelings? 

 I said those three words so often, but you never had to because your actions spoke louder than any declaration. How did you effortlessly escape speaking in moments like these, when every word you uttered started to feel like a knife to the heart? What was silencing you? Have you ever even uttered those words to me? I can’t recall a time you did. 

The more I delved into self-improvement, the more distance was created between us. Was I on the wrong path? Did my self-loathing somehow bind him to me? I’d gladly revert to the dark depths of hating myself if it would draw him closer. Even now, though, that felt like a hollow promise to keep you from walking away.

My insecurities, the void in my heart… it gave you a purpose, didn’t it? I’d gladly embrace that version of myself if it meant I could stay by your side. I yearn for the comfort of residing in your arms once more. So I mirrored your actions: I waited for you with open arms. 

Why didn’t you approach me as eagerly as I had once approached you?

The day I found out about what you did, I felt more angry at myself than I did you. It felt like a painful acknowledgment of my own complicity in our downfall. I blamed myself for letting things deteriorate to this point. Whether or not I chose to adapt that feeling of self-hatred willingly, it seemed to return on its own accord. 

Did you choose to walk away or did my ignorance push you to that point? 

It’s like I couldn’t force myself to care about your actions; I just had to know if you were okay. I’m hopelessly devoted to you. Is this what love does to you? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Please tell me it's love. I know you’ve always been hesitant to admit it, but I need to hear it from you. 

I searched endlessly until I found you. Amidst a crowd of faces blending together, none of them could hold a candle to you. My world was monotonous without you, and there you were like the sun in a valley of stars. You always swore you were the moon and that couldn’t be more false in my mind. Can’t you see my whole world revolved around you? 

I wanted answers. No, that’s not enough, I wanted to understand you. I needed to understand the depth of your pain and suffering, like a desperate plea for absolution in the face of our own insecurities and shortcomings. Why couldn’t I just open up to you? I wanted to tell you everything. You knew me inside and out and yet I couldn’t claim the same about you. My mind felt like a treasure you delicately unwrapped, cherishing every discovery. Yet, my impatience drove me to want to tear into your mind, to uncover all the secrets I endlessly sought. 

Where did you vanish to? What happened to us? Was I just another casualty in your evolving quest for power and control?  Did I ever truly know you? Who are you, really? 

I promise I didn’t intentionally self-isolate. That’s just what happens when you’re in love, right? My life was always this lonely, or that's at least how I remember things because my life only had meaning when you came into it. 

I guess I have to let you go. 

Memories spilled through the gaps of my fingers like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy. The more I tried to hold on to them, the more difficult they became to remember.

Retrospectively, I never changed myself. I’m that same broken teen I once was. You just brought perspective and meaning to my life, a debt I could never repay.  I never learned to be open or expressive. I just learned to endlessly drift with echoes because I couldn’t say goodbye.

At least I got to hold onto your lifeless form with open arms. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

✿ a/n: no, i won't be paying for anyone's therapy ;-;  comments n' feedback always appreciated! thanks so much for reading! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[dootznbootz]

hello hi hello i am here to hold out my little bowl and ask for a 'penelope abducted' snippet please

*coughs up blood and places strange, radioactive goop in your bowl* 🙃

I wouldn't say it's a snippet but it's more of a

SCRIPT

with some "writing" slapped in between. (there's a reason why I take forever to write things :'D Or then they end up like this)

I don't have a reason for Paris kidnapping Penelope, this is more to just explore characters and their emotions as I LOVE THAT SHIT. Honestly, this whole thing doesn't make too much sense plotwise lol. Don't think about the logical shit, JUST SIT BACK AND FEEL THINGS. This unedited af and it's basically first draft, so while I think the concepts are okay, the writing is sloppy.

This is a younger Hector, why he's a lil bit more unsure. Odysseus and Penelope are around 25-26. Telemachus isn't here yet. Realistically, Hector would be dead, but I REALLY want a certain conversation between them >:)

Honestly, writing this made me weirdly learn I write more/better when the text is smaller :P BUT I'm sorry anon, I'm sending out what I got when I didn't do that. as..you sent this a while back and I should get on it. I also tried not to "headhop" as I know that's "not a good writing habit" but oh my fuck. Take me outside and shoot me in the backyard. It's AGONY and feels so fucking BORINNNG to write. What's the point if I don't know every single DETAIL?!?!? kljhuytdfuyghk

ANYWAYS

Warnings: Miscarriage mention, violence.

Andromache whimpered as the man, Aethon of Same, he had called himself, pulled the knife closer to her throat. Smoke and screams sounded from outside as whatever godlike blasts went off once more as King Odysseus ran through Troy.

Hector felt anger and despair surge through him. For every blast, another sibling of the fifteen taken hostage dies. His throat burned.

(More stuff. Don’t wanna do now. Aethon pulls a "whoops. I missed." and cuts Andromache's collarbone to get Hector to comply.)

“I am without weapons, let her go now.”

Aethon nodded, only to push her into the arms of the other two men with him, held once more.

“You said you would-”

“Let her go? I did. She’s simply no longer held by me. You will guide us, and if you try to lead us astray, my soldiers here will not miss Lady Andromache’s throat like I did.”

“You are without honor! There is no reason to do this. I will show you to where Lady Penelope is, you didn’t need to take my wife-”

His words were cut off when a large hand cut off his words by grabbing his neck, the sounds becoming a squeak as it left his mouth.

Gray eyes burned into him as they got closer to his face. “There is no honor in kidnapping a queen while she recovers from a great pain either! Barely back on her feet and taken from her home.” Aethon hissed, trembling with a barely restrained rage. He breathed slowly, before letting go. “Simply repaying the favor...I will not repeat myself; You will show us where she is.”

Hector started to walk forward, restrained as he was. He remembers how Penelope spoke with such warmth for her husband. “Does your King approve of your methods?”

Aethon chuckled darkly, flicking the dagger between his fingers before tossing it to one of the men who held Hector. “Why do you think he sent me? Move along, Prince of Troy.”

(Stuff happens. Cassandra is muttering to everyone that no one will be hurt as long as they did as told, (no one believes her).One of Hector's brothers tries to step in only for Aethon to pull a one-punch-knock-out like he does with the Irus in the Odyssey as a beggar. One of Hector's sister-in-laws is naiad-born, he gives her a look, not realizing Aethon noticed her ears as well and is letting this happen. Aethon knows about Naiads just as much.)

Hector lifted his head as much as he could with how he was restrained, and gathered strength in his voice. “Lady Penelope! A man by the name of Aethon of Same is here to escort you!”

No reply. All that could be heard is more screams outside as another blast as loud as thunder went off. Another sibling is now dead. He tried to focus on the task.

The door was somehow blocked from the inside, despite how much she raged at being blocked in there by Paris himself. 

Hector started to shift his shoulders a bit. Fear gripped him as he glanced over to Andromache once more, still crying and bleeding from the wound on her collarbone. Her dress now sticking with red as blood seeped through. 

He looked forward again. “Lady Penelope,” Louder this time. “Are you in there?”

No reply. There seemed to be shuffling but he could not truly tell with how his ears were ringing.

Hector turned his head around to look at Aethon, the brutal man, hoping to make him understand that he was trying. That she should be here. 

From under one of his brother’s helm, sharp gray eyes flicked from the door back to Hector. His strong arms were tense as they crossed over his chest. It disturbed Hector how it fit him as if it were his own. A flash of light went across his hard face as another blast happened close by. He was unfazed

Hector was about to plead again, for the man to let Andromache go and take him if he felt the need before Aethon lifted a hand for him to be silent.

Aethon stood in front of the door then, eyes looking down towards the crack at the bottom of the doorway as he watched for movement. He frowned when there was nothing. He took a deep breath and leaned forward a slight bit, “Queen Penelope! We are here to take you home!”

A quick “Oh!” and a crash of pots sounded. 

Aethon’s eyes blazed and teeth gritted as he grabbed and rattled the door handle. “Penelope!”

He panted hard, the door handle now bent from his strength. He began to frantically throw his shoulder into the door, ramming himself and charging like that of an angered boar. 

“Penelope! Are you hurt?” His voice strained. Hector wonders if this man was related to Penelope in that he was so informal.

Another blast sounded and another shuffle and crash sounded from inside the room. Aethon swallowed a breath and he growled as he savagely rammed again. One hand going to undo the strap of the helm he wore, he pulled it off his head, revealing a tight braid of auburn curls on his head. Aethon began slamming the helm into the hinges of the door until one came off. The dented helmet in his hand, he once more barreled into the door. This time it worked. 

Aethon frantically looked around the room before an “Odysseus!” sounded from his left to which he turned swiftly to. 

The fear on Aethon's face turned to joy as he called her name back, lifting his arms to wherever she came from to pull her to him. Her bare feet dangled a short bit as she rested her chin on his shoulder and clung to him, before he sank to the ground. His knees barely missing the shattered pottery. A sob of relief escaped his lips as the lady kissed his face between comforting words.

It suddenly clicked into place. This wasn’t just a devoted captain to a king, this was a devoted husband. 

King Odysseus.

Hector could only watch in confused awe at the scene that unfolded. This man, this king, was weeping. To any outsider, it would look as though it was he who was being rescued. The strong shoulders that burst through the oaken door now shook with sobs. His fingers, ones that had bruised his own neck, were now caressing Penelope’s back, trembling as they combed through her hair. For her or his comfort, Hector did not know. 

Penelope soothed, a tearful smile on her face as she scratched at his scalp in small circles as he cradled her. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not hurt. He didn’t touch me”

A whimper escaped him. He lifted his head from her bosom and tears hung from his lashes. A hand, blood already dried from the broken jaw of Thoon, gingerly touched her abdomen.

Penelope’s face twisted up and more tears fell from her silver eyes as she told her husband something Hector couldn’t hear.

Hector realized that it had be begun to rain, what had soft pattering became a downpour, as though the couple’s tears had been what filled the clouds themselves. It put out the fires. 

“Andromache!” Penelope gave her husband a knowing yet disappointed look, a few surprised blinks from red rimmed eyes as a response. She took some raindrops on her fingertips from outside. “Let her go. Now.”

The men released Hector’s wife, who immediately went to touch the wound on her collarbone, wincing as she pressed her hand to it. Hector lunged from the men holding him only to be restrained further.

Penelope started to stand, only to be stopped by the shards that still littered the ground. Odysseus, his eyes and hands never leaving her, lifted her up as he walked across the room. The sandals on his feet protecting him.

Andromache shied away a bit before Penelope grabbed her hand as water went to her wound, sealing it as though it had never been there. 

Hector felt sharp eyes upon him and looked back at Odysseus. It…truly was hard seeing him as the same man who had cut Andromache. Once hard as flint gray eyes were now red from tears, calm and calculating. Two trails went down his ashen cheeks and revealed freckles Hector didn’t notice before.

Odysseus took Penelope’s hand and placed it on the collar of his armor for her to pull away. It now being pulled away, he easily reached in and grabbed a damp parchment. Sweat smudged it but it was clearly a map of Troy. Some circles on the map made Penelope shift and give her husband a questioning look only for him to shrug. She gave a glare, he responded with a smirk.

“Your siblings are still alive,” he started quietly. “I swear upon Almighty Zeus that your siblings are still alive upon the ship. At most some have a headache.” He gestured with his head towards the window, a curl that had been tucked by his wife fell from behind his ear with the movement. "If you want your siblings back, my men, my queen, and I will be treated as guests until we leave…after this storm ends, hopefully.”

Hector was about to yell, to call him a liar, before Penelope interrupted. “They are alive, Hector.”

Striking silver eyes were now piercing through him, though not cold, they didn’t hold the same warmth as before. Her cheeks still damp from tears yet her mouth set in a fine line. One hand reached up and held her husband’s face, who gazed at Hector with the same expression. 

Was this what Paris meant when he said that Lady Penelope should be nobody’s wife? The cruelty he spoke of...?

“The rain started as soon as we were reunited. The fires are put out by Lord Zeus... Hector, I would prefer if your siblings joined us with a feast.”

(More bickering talk shit. blahblahblah. Hector realizes that while Penelope was "nice" while in Troy, She does so many tricks that no one realizes, as she's trying to stay alive while waiting and Paris is scared of her as Aphrodite isn't here. Hector realizes that she's just as cold and that Odysseus is "just a guy" in way. Realistic? No. But I want Hector alive so then a certain convo can happen >:)

(Again, this is unedited. :'D so yeah. it's not great right now)

She sat up to look back at him, his eyes already looking watery still but she would let him decide if he would share with her or not. 

Penelope didn’t have to wait long as he relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath, once more shoving his head under her neck, like how Anthos would shove her little body against Penelope’s for pets. 

Odysseus took peace in this silence, her chilled body against his own once more. Her being taken from him was a fear he had never experienced before. (more stuff)

“I hate that we're trapped here until...Whatever it is the gods want us here for is done."

"I know. We should be in our palace, in our nest...But we're together... And we have their favor as of now...They didn't even notice what we've taken yet."

Odysseus smirked, reassuring Penelope a little bit. She waited more for what was really bothering him. (more stuff)

"The Timing of everything…It frightens me.”

“Timing?” 

He nodded. “First, our…Our loss,” His voice cracking at the end, his warm palm pressed against her lower belly. She swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing her own pain down in hopes he would continue. 

“Then the Pirates, and then among them that…Paris, taking you away. I couldn’t hear the gods. I-” Tears started to spill now, finally flowing from the dam he had put up. “I am always so afraid of losing you after each loss. I never thought…I never thought I could ever possibly lose you like this. That the gods decided that I’ve caused enough pain and that you’d be best with another husband…”

(more sappy crying. When am I not making shit sappy and weepy?)

She chuckled, “You came with so few men and thought you had the gods against you and you still come to get me? You really are a silly man.”

Hector is alive for a conversation that will be better than this.

Hector watched as King Odysseus’ smile shined as he watched Lady Penelope race across the pasture; a request she had before they would leave.

Hector knew she had good horsemanship, remembering the day she first tried to leave for the shores only to be returned. But he was surprised the King of Ithaca agreed, even more that he wasn’t with her as well, as he has been woven to her side since he came. 

And Hector couldn’t help but be angry once more. 

How was this smiling, doting man the same man who terrorized his city?

“Spit it out.”

Odysseus still watched Penelope as she laughed as she rode one of Hector’s large dapple grays. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what you’re thinking about. Spit it out.” 

Hector huffed and shook his head at the king. How could he even start?

“Even if the messenger you apparently sent did get to us, and we were too late, as you thought…Why was your first plan of action to terrorise us?”

Odysseus twisted a ring he had on his finger, seemingly amused by Hector’s question. “Prince Hector, I had to make sure you wouldn’t say no when I asked again.”

“Would you have even asked?” Hector hissed, bracing his shoulders a bit.

Odysseus chuckled. “You got me there.”

Hector seethed. “I will admit that Troy did the first offense and I am very grateful that everything went peacefully, but to retaliate to such extreme-”

“To even compare what your brother did to what I did is stupid,” His hands gripped the fencepost, knuckles white. “Be thankful Troy still stands, Son of Priam.”

Hector was taken aback by the venom in Odysseus’ voice, having not heard that since the very same white knuckled hands had held his throat…

Hector keeps forgetting Aethon and Odysseus are the same man.

Odysseus turned his head back around towards the pasture as he heard Penelope’s laughter, his shoulders easing as she raced by. 

“What would it take for you to do what I did, Prince Hector?”

“What?” 

Odysseus stood up straight, waiting until Hector looked back at him before he continued. “Maybe you wouldn’t be able to come up with the same plan,” -he ignored Hector’s rolling eyes- “But what would have to happen for you to ‘go mad’ as you said? I held back and you still think so lowly of me…Do you think you’re above it?”

Odysseus stood right in front of him, those flint eyes seeming to pry him open. “Or…Do you even know what would make you do that? Do you think you have something so important to you that you’d defy gods just to make things right again?” 

More (hopefully) quality stuff will replace this. But I LOVE the thought of Hector (and many of the Trojans) falling for the two's charms only to suddenly remember. "Wait...You guys are violent as fuck". Also How "Odysseus would sacrifice all of Ithaca for Penelope and Telemachus but I don't think Hector would do the same for Andromache and Astyanax" which klsjdf dklsjf kl FUCK YEAH. I SO BADLY WANNA COOK WITH THAT!!! I JUST NEED to get more good ingredients :'D

Notes/reasons/just more stuff

While I don't have a reason as to why Paris kidnapped her, I desperately didn't want Paris to TOUCH her as holy shit, I'm tired. So I had to think of something that was realistic that would make it so that he couldn't and well, Odypen already experience some miscarriages over the years and with the potential angst??? Yeah. :'D Also she scares Paris. He USED to have long hair. (Penelope doesn't have a goddess making her be nice)

Odysseus' plan is supposed to be sloppy kind of. I'm also not a fucking battle strategist. I'm making this up. He doesn't have a huge army and is so so terrified and angry. He basically rushes out (despite being told not to) on one of the pirates boats (undercover in a way). They DID send a messenger but we know he's violent. Basically a few of his men snuck into Troy and quickly stole some armor and snuck around using the fires (idk olive oil) as a distraction. Honestly he's fucking lucky. He's not the experienced and calm(ish) man he is in the Iliad and the Odyssey. His plan is relying mostly on fear.

Penelope did try to sneak out once on horseback and that's why she's like "I wanna do that again. I can't on Ithaca. I wanna have one more chance to do it"

I kind of plan for Penelope to kind of be seen as "kinder" and they use that to their advantage.

I kind of want Penelope and Hector/Andromache to bond over fertility problems as idk, drama and why she cares for them, AND they're barely at 2 years into their marriage and get SO MUCH more shit for it because... Priam is a fucking RABBIT of a man (no hate against him but Idk how tf he can MOVE. He is trying to create his own army)

I so desperately wanted to switch to Andromache's POV so often as I kind of want to compare the two couples and how they relate to one another. but that's the headhopping in me :'D O: We'll be leaving now. P: Not without compensation. Later on P: "YOu didn't see that amazing cauldron they have?!" O: "Penelope, I was a bit preoccupied and freaking out. Besides you were the treasure I needed to bring back home- OH MY GODS" P: I KNOW?!?! You're such a sweetie. 😘

Also Penelope, pulling some jewelry out: I grabbed these. I think this one will fit your middle finger. Odysseus, 🥹: Penelope, you are what it means to adore.

Anon, I'm sorry it's not really a snippet but I hope you still enjoyed :'D Sorry about the radiation I put in your bowl 😅