#my clothes take up maybe half of it I could easily fit everything in a backpack if I didn’t have chronic illnesses

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Lena!! ❤️❤️❤️

I finally thought of a request for my fav MPIND Matty 🤭

Maybe something with girlie using a toy on him? Maybe a vibrator? Overstimulation perhaps?

-Sugar-coat-it <3 <3 <3

@sugar-coat-it This was supposed to just be a short blurb but i got way too carried away xx. hope u like it!!

Rush! - Matty Healy

A/N: This was so fun to write!! MPIND Matty lives in a special corner of my heart i think i might never stop writing for him. @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff tysm for being my (half decent) beta reader and making sure this isn't totally shit. Enjoy!!

wc: 9k

content warnings: filthy, semi public?, but also not really, overstimulation, teasing, begging, dom! reader, most of the time, matty is a cocky piece of shite but we love him, grinding, bondage, marking, use of sex toys, specifically a vibrator, what else hmmm, both of them are high, so dubcon?, still in their right mind though, wow the content warnings are long

Everything reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, hints of Jimmy Choo’s ‘illicit’ lingering in the air around Matty. You scrunched up your nose at the scent, Matty obviously having doused himself in it while you were in the bathroom, straightening your hair. Soft music played in the background, Matty using his turn on the Ipod to put on some ambient stuff George had made (yup, George was a music producer now for some reason? Quarter life crisis vibes.) 

Adam was on his way, his little red Kia primed and ready for a good smoke sesh in some parking lot somewhere. It was nearly winter, which meant going outside was hardly an option considering neither you or Matty actually owned anything resembling warm clothing. 

“I'm not letting you wear my coat again. Remember what happened last time?” he says when he sees your ‘finished’ outfit; a pair of jeans and a sage green long sleeve top, adorned with white and beige rhinestones. How dare he even mention that day, the state you entered the house was completely his fault.

“That only happened because you booked it down the fucking street and left me there!” It was true. The two of you had been sharing his massive coat, both of your bodies easily fitting into it, up until he decided the last four blocks home were to be a sprint, and took his jacket with him.  

“Touché.” he grins as you shake your head at him. Fuck him, honestly. You tell him as much, his only reaction being a simple shrug of his shoulders, and his attention was back on his reflection in the mirror, carefully applying glittery purple liner to his eyelids, giving him a sort of emo-fairy look. Ross’d take the piss out of both of you, all dressed up to go smoke in a car on a wednesday evening, but you knew Matty already had some sort of comeback prepared, about how at least he groomed himself, and wasn't desperate to be a ‘proper’ lad (cue Ross chucking the nearest object he could pick up in Matty’s direction). 

Impatient as ever, you sigh loudly, trying to get Matty to stop hogging the shared vanity. You could always just go back into the bathroom, but his lightbulb was truly shit, and besides, most of the stuff he was using was yours anyway. 

Finally, you give up on trying to keep the piece, and promptly shove him off the chair 

“Stop doing yourself up and move-” he doesn't budge, hanging on to the edge of the desk for dear life, refusing to let you finish getting ready.  

“Violence is never the answer- Fuck off, christs sake, fine!” he whines like a child, getting up and throwing himself on the bed, and you cringe as it creaks loudly beneath him. 

“You love it when I hurt you, shut up.” you tease, watching the look in his eye dramatically change. “Not like this!” he shoots back, flipping you off before grabbing his Ipod, switching to something more punk, heavy drums and guitar filling the space. 

“Touché.” you repeat his own words back to him, and he rolls his eyes, sitting up. Taking the same brush, also using the same color, you frame your eyes with purple eyeshadow, trying your hand at a smokey eye. The two of you were matching more often than not, with Hann’s comments on it slowly getting on your nerves 

“You both look the fucking same, its like you’re clones.” he’d overexaggerate, just to get a reaction out of a easily riled up Matty. 

“D’you reckon Ross’ll have the good stuff this time? I can't deal with Hann’s bickering otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at Matty from the corner of your eye. Maybe Adam’s comment rang somewhat true, seeing as Matty was wearing the exact same color scheme you were. Green Jersey top, definitely stolen from George, paired with blue, seventies style jeans, white and red trainers peeking out from beneath the too-long pants.

“I dunno, but we could go to the shop if it's shit, maybe get some wine?” you suggest. It was always 50/50 with Ross, and bad weed always fucked Matty off to no end, making him unbearable. Almost finished, you look around for your mascara, hands rifling through the piles of makeup littering the desk. 

“Where’ve you put the mascara?” you ask, slowly getting annoyed. 

“Left.” he answered curtly, engrossed in the newest edition of vogue. Sure enough there it was, bots of product caked around the cap. Coating your eyelashes with it, you hear Matty stand up and walk over to you. Setting spray topped off your look, and you run your fingers through your hair, smoothing it out. 

Matty isn't particularly strong, but then again, neither are you, so the strong hand around your wrist was useless to fight against, and you let him pull you up. Face to face with Matty, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What was he playing at? 

“You look absolutely gorgeous, darling.” you blush at the compliment, quietly telling him to fuck off, smiling as you see him grin at you. His brown eyes rake over your body, giving you a slow once-over, savoring the sight in front of him. 

“Stop looking at me like that-” he cuts you off with a tug of your hair, smashing his lips against you. Surprised, it takes you a solid few seconds to properly kiss him back, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the kiss. His tongue immediately shoved past your lips, licking into your lips with fervor, drinking in every small gasp for air. 

“Taste like sugar as well, so sweet.” He pulls you back in, deliberately not giving you an opportunity to answer. You feel his hands wander, trailing down your back and under your shirt, caressing your bare torso. His fingers toy at the band of your bra, teasing the clasps. Refusing to let you go, he presses your body flush against his, and you can sense every inch of him on your skin, like electricity, the smell of him travels up your spine, intoxicating. 

The buzz of your phone snaps you back into reality. The guys, your plans. It takes every ounce of self control in your body to press your hand to his chest, effectively separating the two of you. Matty looks at you with a hurt expression, hands quick to cup your face, desperate to taste you again. Shaking your head, your voice is slightly as you tell him that the others are already outside. 

“I haven't seen George in like three weeks. You're not the only person in the world, you know.” George was up to his eyeballs in Uni coursework (yes, Uni), and hasn't been able to hang out since forever, making you really miss him. 

“I could make you feel like i'm the only person in the world, have all your attention on me.” he says with a wink, tracing your collarbones over your shirt. Matty was a hard person to say no to, with the way he peered down from above you, eyes wide, silently begging you to just stay.

“No.” you say firmly, grabbing your bag from the chair you were previously sitting on and slinging it over your shoulder. Instinctively, Matty takes it from you, holding it out of reach. 

“Can't have you carrying your own bags, what would people think?” he teases, pushing past you and out the door, his footsteps heavy on the carpeted stairs. You follow him, heartbeat finally starting to slow. Already at the front door, Matty waits for you to tug your boots on, leaning against the coat rack as you did. 

“What the fuck was that about, anyway?” The way he kissed you was passionate, hot, and definitely not something you just do on a whim. He tries to play innocent, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders. 

“Nothing, just wanted a peck.” he answered, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair, still not fully dry from the shower he had taken a few hours prior. You scoff, looking at him in a ‘are you serious?’ type way. 

“You fucking jumped on me, don’t be a such a dickhead.” you feel around for your cigarettes and light, smiling fondly as you realize it's the one Matty had gifted to you. “What was your end goal? You know we’re about to meet with the others!” 

“I’m sorry for kissing my girl, jesus,” he exhales sharply, hand reaching for the doorknob, a loud honk sounding from the other side. Swinging the door open, Hann looks truly fucked off as the two of you walk down the driveway and climb into the car. Now usually, you would sit in the middle, between George and Matty, letting you comfortably lean forward to talk to Ross and Adam in the front, but it seems as though Matty had other plans. 

Shoving past you, he settled into the middle seat, setting your bag on the floor next to your leather clad feet. George looks over, slightly confused at the new seating arrangement, but accepts it, going back to rolling the first spliff. The car starts, sputtering before actually turning on, Hann letting out a sigh of relief. There had been multiple occasions where his ‘precious baby’, as he called her, refused to start, leaving all of you stranded until Ross somehow managed to find the problem and fix it. 

“See, this is what I mean,” Hann gestures to you and Matty, facing primarily Ross “They look like fucking clones of each other, its weird.” Matty reaches past the headrest and tries to smack him, causing the car to sway slightly as his hands leave the steering wheel.

“I’m trying to drive, fucks sake.” Hann mutters, pissed off now that Matty had almost made him crash the car. You set a firm hand on the dark haired boy's shoulder, lightly pulling him back into his seat. His legs are firmly pressed up against you now, and you feel a familiar tingling sensation blossom under your skin. 

“Try to go steady, ‘m almost done.” George has this legendary talent of being able to roll the perfect spliff in even the most impractical situations, making him a god in Hann’s eyes. The car slows down slightly, and you see George lick the spliff closed, admiring his work. Matty immediately snatches it out of his hands, grinning from ear to ear as he sniffs at it, the smell filling his senses. 

“God, you’re so fucking weird, mate.” Ross grimaces as he eyes Matty, watching him try to evenly light the spliff, failing miserably. Both you and Ross couldn't stand the earthy, stuffy smell of weed, constantly begging Hann to roll down the windows whenever someone decided to smoke in the car. Matty, however, had some sort of hash-fetish, and absolutely loved the smell of it, hotboxes being his favorite activity ever. He thought it heightened the experience, which was a load of shite, but he believed in nonetheless. 

You were almost there, the Mcdonald’s parking lot being your end destination. Taking the scenic route, the five of you passed the spliff around, partially skipping Adam so as to not get him completely off his tits while he was driving. Matty agreed to rolling down the windows, seeing how nauseous Ross looked, with you not being far behind. Wind raked through your hair as you leaned your head onto the edge of the car.

Feeling at ease, peaceful and very, very high, you don't even notice Matty’s hand trailing up your thigh. He was just like that, touchy and overly affectionate with everyone, not just you, though, the type of affection did differ slightly. Scratching your skin lightly, you feel his fingers claw at the thin material of your jeans, grabbing hold of your panties through them. Your eyes snap up to meet his, and he pulls suddenly, letting go of the elastic. It hits your skin with a muffled smack, and you jump, noticing Ross’ eyes on you, peering over his shoulder. 

Slightly disoriented, you don't even register Matty wrapping his fingers around the base of your neck, pulling you in for a hot, definitely too passionate kiss. Yelping in surprise, you sigh, almost inaudibly, into the kiss, letting him take control for a few seconds. George groans as he spots the two of you, dramatically shielding his eyes. 

Realsing where you actually were, you pull away, shooting Matty a look that can only be described as ‘what the actual fuck was that?’. His skin is flushed, matching the color of his droopy eyes. Hann doesn't seem to have noticed Matty’s little PDA stunt in the back seat, blissfully unaware of the reason Ross was grimacing right now. 

“I'd rather not see you snog, thanks.” Ross spits out, making a fake gagging motion as his eyes meet George’s, equally as unsettled as he was. Adam hadn’t seen the two of you, but the mental image was enough to make him join the other two in their disgust. 

“What, you jealous mate? You can ask to join, it's no problem.” Ross laughs sarcastically, taking the spliff out of George's hands, taking a deep drag. He could sense Matty wasn't finished yet. 

“You’d have to shave first, can't have you shedding all over my girl.” You still weren't used to him actually calling you that. It felt off, especially with your three other best mates staring at the two of you, silently wishing Matty would just shut the fuck up, for once. He was killing the soft, chilled out atmosphere with his incessant loud babbling, making George roll his eyes until you were sure they were going to get stuck there.

Ignoring the various groans of protest, he pulls you back in, basically climbing on top of you now. You giggle, partially because of the distinct floaty feeling clouding your mind, and partially because of Matty’s complete lack of shame, making him snog your face off just to rile up his mates, not really knowing how much it affected you. You pretend to be annoyed, shoving him off of you, wiping your mouth to really drive home the point. 

“For the love of god, Matty, stop humping her, she's probably sick of you by now.” Hann says, making sympathetic eye contact with you in the mirror. He knew how you felt about the kissing in front of the rest of the group, not wanting to alienate them from you and Matty’s dynamic. The whole thing was a complicated mess. 

His hand is still on your thigh as you squirm around a bit, you manage to gather your thoughts and speak for yourself. 

“I quite am, fuck off, Matthew.” he tenses. 

Now, to anyone else, you sound completely normal, if maybe a bit fucked off. Purposefully putting distance between you two, Ross reaches back and hands you the almost done spliff, and you inhale lightly, finishing it off. Matty is uncharacteristically quiet and you know he can feel your eyes on him. A warning. 

He was prone to acting out like this, loud and obnoxious, almost bratty. To Ross, George, and Hann, this was normal, his fits a cry for attention, wanting all eyes on him, but to you, it meant so much more. 

Stubbing out the joint, you throw it out the window, dangling your arm down the side of the car. George was calm, collected, and seemed to be enjoying life as Adam finally parked in your usual spot, turning the car off. Spreading your legs out more, you bump your thigh against Matty’s, making him twitch slightly, a soft smile spreading onto your face. 

“Matty.” you say, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

“Mhm?” nudging him, you lift both your legs up and onto his lap, draping yourself over him. George is a bit startled, but guides you over his lap as well, letting your feet settle against the other side of the car, pressed up against the door. 

“Fag?” George asks, holding out a pack of cigarettes in your direction. You happily take one, and so does Matty. Placing it between your lips, you watch George as he hands Matty his lighter after he lights his. His fingers fumble a bit, before finally flicking it on and inhaling the smoke, letting the nicotine mix with the weed, his face nothing but blissed out. It reminded you of what he looked like when he-

“Here.” he mumbles, holding the lighter in front of your face. 

“Do it for me?” you ask sweetly, leaning your elbows against the back of your seat and the headrest of Hann’s, making yourself comfortable. His breath hitches as you shift, the bottom of your thigh pressing against his crotch. Two can play at that game.

The flame paints his face in an orange hue, and you feel the world close on around you. The way his delicate hand holds up the light to your cigarette makes your head spin, and not just from the weed. You feel George shift beneath you on the other side of the car, rifling through his pockets, pulling out a small baggie and rolling papers, getting to work rolling another spliff. 

Hanns voice rings dully in your ears, asking George to hurry up a bit, saying he was nowhere near the level of high he wanted to be at right now.

“Let me do it, stop nagging.” George's movements are slower, his motor skills definitely more than just slightly inhibited. 

“Good?” Matty asks, your attention turning back to him. His eyes are glazed over, red and half closed, and his hair falls over his face, indicating he’s long overdue for another haircut. Mattys hands settle on your knees, rubbing small circles over the bone, warmth blooming underneath your skin wherever he touches. You refused to let it show, opting to lean your head further out the window, admiring the stars glimmering above you, the cold of the night biting at your cheeks. 

Matty can tell you’re cold by the way you shiver slightly, and he feels a bit bad, even if he did tell you to bring some sort of extra layer. 

“I’m fucking freezing.” you state to the car, Ross turning around to face you, lowering his seat back a bit despite Georges protests. 

“There's a blanket in the back, I think.” Hann nods in agreement, confirming his statement. Knowing you wouldn't be able to reach, Matty blindly feels around for it, fingers meeting a slightly scratchy, but still soft, knitted blanket. 

Draping it over you, his hands linger on your waist, goosebumps forming on your skin as his nails graze your tattoo. 

George is finally finished with the spliff, and hands it to Hann so he can light it. He greedily inhales, letting the feeling overtake him. A soft groan leaves his lips and you see the back of his head slouch against the headrest, lolling off to the side. 

“This is some good shit, no wonder Matty’s so quiet.” Hann mumbles, half to himself. 

“Told you, my guy’s the real deal.” Ross says with pride, like he’d grown it himself or something. Putting his feet up on the dashboard, he leans back, head craning to talk to Hann. Their conversation is quiet, meaningless, with Ross going on about his stupid bass instruments and chatting pure shit to a half dozed-off Adam.

George is in his own world, gazing out the window and off into the distance. He was tired, you can tell by the way the rings under his eyes were dark and prominent, evidence that he hadn't been sleeping much these days. Uni was truly kicking him in the arse. 

A loud sigh from Matty makes you snap out of your thoughts, flexing your toes a bit, trying to stretch without bothering George too much. You feel a tap on your leg, telling you it's fine, and that you can move freely. George smiles at you from across the back seat, stoned out of his mind and looking like he was ready to pass out in the next five seconds.

“Y’alright?” you ask Matty, who keeps shifting around beneath you. One particular movement makes your legs spread, his big palms gripping the side of your left thigh, kneading the flesh. 

His eyes flash up to yours, and the look he gives you is fucking delicious. Lips slightly parted, wet and swollen from his teeth gnawing at them for the past half hour, the sight makes your thighs clench, a cough escaping your lips.

The spliff makes its way to you, and you take a drag, your lips wrapping around it as you make direct eye contact with Matty. Your lipgloss rubs off on the filter, and you hand it to him with a smirk.

“I’m fucking knackered, I need to sleep.” George's deep voice cuts through the silence, and Hann nods in agreement.

“We’ve been here like an hour! We never hang out, let's stay for a bit.” Ross protests, sitting properly and trying to face everyone at the same time. 

“Yeah, let's.” you side with him. Matty’s eyes widen at your statement, and he goes to speak. A sharp look makes him rethink his actions, and he slumps backwards into the leather, pouting at you. You grin at him playfully, seeing him start to do the same, before pressing your leg down, right onto his crotch. Underneath the blanket, not one could see what you were doing, giving you the perfect opportunity to fuck with Matty 

“Fine, but I'm driving home in 20, whoever doesn't want to walk is coming with.” The tinge of annoyance in Hann’s voice is painfully obvious.

Time passes at a snail's pace as you continue your movements, thigh pressing down onto his steadily hardening cock ever so slightly, not wanting George to figure you out.

“D’you reckon Britney’s a good shag?” Ross asks, and you realize he’s holding a magazine, Britney Spears plastered onto the cover.

“Mate, maybe you shouldn’t-” George starts, but another voice cuts him off. 

“Probably, I mean, just look at her.” it's Matty speaking, you realize. 

His voice is drawn out and deep as he holds out his hand, silently requesting Ross to give him the paper. He’s taunting you, and fuck, is it getting to you. The way his eyes scan over the cover makes your blood boil, and you stare him down, warning him to stop. 

“She’s fit.” He says, refusing to look at you as he takes a drag from the spliff, passing it on. His eyes finally dart over to yours, reading you like an open book. You were jealous, and he knew it. It was his goal, after all, to rile you up enough so you knew how he’d been feeling since that moment in your room. 

“Hey Hann? I'm feeling a bit shit.” you lie through your teeth “Can we go?”. Ross tries to stop him, but with the vote being 4-1, he groans as the car sputters on, and Hann backs out of the lot. 

You go to sit normally, putting as much distance between you and Matty as physically possible, not even looking in his general direction. Not really speaking to anyone, you listen to the soft sound of the radio, the music distracting you a bit. Matty’s eyes are glued to you, watching your every reaction, you can feel it. He silently begs you to stop being mean, ignoring him like this. You almost cave. Almost.

The drive feels longer than it actually is, George being dropped off at his house first. He waves goodbye through the window, which is the only reason you turned to the other side. Eyes avoiding the boy next to you, you blow George a kiss goodbye, hoping he gets some actual sleep tonight. 

You and Matty were now both facing forward, chatting to Ross. 

“Must be great, having an whole fucking house to yourself.” Ross grunts out, clearly still fucked off that you decided to leave so ‘early’. 

“It is,” Matty answers, telling him how nice it was to live without his parents and with you, even if neither of you had the ability to prepare an edible meal, or clean the house every once in a while. You chuckle as his words, painfully true as you think back on the state you’d left your room in, clothes and books and various items strewn about the place.  

Matty turns to you, your small giggles at his story making him think he was off the hook. You shoot him a look, and he immediately retreats, knowing it wouldn't be that easy. Not that he didn’t like a challenge, especially from you.

“Alright, you two.” Hann breathes as the car comes to a halt in front of the house. The soft rumble of the engine was deafening as you opened the door, climbing out of the vehicle. Matty followed quickly, almost banging his head against the roof, narrowly avoiding a small concussion. You tapped on the window, waving goodbye to both men in the car. Flashing a smile, you turn to Matty, grabbing his hand and leading him up the steps. 

Inside the car, the conversation quickly shifted. 

“What's going on with them? They’ve hardly spoken since he stopped trying to jump her bones in front of us.” Ross just shrugs, mind spinning different scenarios of what could've gone down. 

“D’you think they’re fighting?” Hann nods, noting that you did look a bit pissed off towards the end. 

“I dunno, it's weird though.. them being a thing.” Ross hums in agreement. 

“Just leave them be, they’ll sort it out.” 

The click of the door unlocking was as loud as a jet engine, and you push it open with your shoulder, Matty trailing closely behind you. You take your time, taking off your shoes, setting your bag down onto the floor next to the coat rack. He fidgets on the spot, not quite sure what to do next. 

Without warning, you spin around, shoving him backwards into the door, both your hands on his shoulders. The tension is thick, his heavy breaths loud and desperate for you to fucking do something. 

A beat passes between you before he finally speaks, stuttering over his words. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t h-have fucked you off, not infront of everyone.” you raise your eyebrows at him, a condescending smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“So you knew what you were doing then, trying to rile me up like that?” He nods, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows. He mutters out another “‘m sorry”, like it was going to save him at all. 

Your hands trace his collarbones, just like he had not three hours prior, and you see his breath hitch when you dig your nails into his skin, leaving behind red indents. 

“You wanna kiss me?” you ask, tucking his hair behind his ear sweetly, letting your fingers run over his jaw. 

“Yes.” he gasps, your chest now fully pressed up against his, your bodies now flush. Mattys eyes are filled with desperation, lust, thoughts clouding his mind and the sight of you wasn't helping him think clearly. 

“How badly do you want to kiss me?” he tries to speak, but you shush him. “How much do you want to touch me?” 

A guttural groan leaves his lips, and his hands find your back, grabbing onto your waist for support. You look at him expectantly, tapping his face to get his attention back on you. 

“Please, I'm sorry, just– fuckk, please darling.” His voice is small, soft, filled with want and desire. He pulls you in closer, and you feel him, fully hard, pressed up against your upper thigh. Your hand travels lower, pushing his shirt up as you go down, fingertips ghosting over his bulge, leaking and painfully hard. 

“This all for me?” Matty looks like he’s going to combust, but still, he manages to force out a small, choked ‘yes’. 

“You think you deserve it?” He freezes as you squeeze him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in your hand. A desperate whimper rips itself from his lips, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing shallowly.

“I’m sorry, just– please. I’ll do anything, just fucking touch me please, please, oh god–” 

You mouth at the spot where his neck meets his jaw, sucking an aggressive hickey into the skin, simultaneously stroking him over his clothes. Trying to seem unaffected, you pull away from his cock, placing that hand over his chest, hearing him whine at the loss of contact. 

“Upstairs. Wait for me.” Those four words manage to leave him absolutely breathless as he scrambles to tug his shoes off, throwing them into the corner. One last look is directed at you over his shoulder as he walks up the steps, almost tripping. Catching himself on the bannister, he disappears from view. 

You use the moment to take several deep breaths, steading yourself. Matty might be the more expressive one, but he had this effect on you, even if he didn't know the full extent of it. Every reaction you elicited from him made your knees weak, your façade of control slipping slightly. Running your fingers through your hair, you glance at yourself in the hallway mirror, making sure you look good. Good enough to send Matty fucking spiraling. 

The house is silent, apart from the odd creak of the floorboards underneath your feet. The door to your room crashes against the wall and you push it open, eyes immediately finding Matty.

Jesus christ.

Sprawled out on top of crumpled sheets, Matty’s eyes rake over your body, his cock visibly twitching in his pants at the sight of you. He had already taken off his shirt, the material bunched up next to him. The atmosphere in the room is heavy, thick with lust and desire and want and every other adjective that could be used to describe the fucking wet dream of a man currently sitting on your bed.  

His hands trail up his chest, toying with his nipples as he bites his lip at you, a wild look in his eyes. Your feet take you to the foot of the bed, kneeling down onto it, not quite sure where to look. His skin is flushed a deep shade of red, the blush spreading from his face down his chest, which was rapidly moving up and down as you reached out to touch him. 

“How do you feel?” your voice shakes, and you know he can tell. Does it actually matter to you at the moment? Absolutely not. 

An indecipherable sigh leaves Mattys lips as he looks at you, curls sticking to his forehead and his cock rock hard against the fabric of his jeans.

“I feel–” he starts, words getting caught in his throat as you trace the inseam of his pants. You still, motioning for him to continue.

“I feel so good, please touch me, I need you so bad. So gorgeous like this, love you so much– jesus.” 

You listen to his rambles as his eyes screw shut, everything being far too much for him. It's delicious, the way he squirms under even the slightest touch, involuntary noises spilling from his lips.

He trusted you, and you knew that well enough. Your entire relationship was built on a foundation of trust, a promise that you would never, ever, harm each other. Your hand reaches up to clasp his, squeezing gently. He smiles softly, wiping away the beads of sweat that had collected themselves on his forehead. 

Your eyes glance over to the nightstand next to the bed, the wooden exterior a stark contrast to the otherwise black furniture of the room. The bed creaks as you get up, slowly pulling the drawer open. Matty watches you move, fluid and sure, as you take out a vibrator, you hear a small gasp escape him.

“You want me, Matthew? Want to be good for me?” you grin at him, throwing one of your legs over his lap, settling right below his hips. The way his cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans couldn't be comfortable in the slightest, but you let him suffer longer, relishing in the way he whined whenever you shifted on top of him, just like he did in the car. 

“Will you let me use this on you?” That question is the final nail in the coffin, an animalistic groan ripping itself from the depths of Mattys throat as you palm him through his pants, beads of precum painting the front. 

“Please,” his voice cracks slightly, eyes silently begging for some sort of relief. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t have pulled that little stunt.” you speak, voice dripping with honey as you unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal making your heart speed up. Unable to speak, Mattys hands go to settle on your waist, gripping the fat of your hips. 

“No.” 

“W-what?” 

His chest heaves as you grab hold of his wrists, pinning them up above his head. The belt he wore with his pants, while usually completely unnecessary, suddenly proved quite useful. Your hands fumble a bit as you bring the leather up, binding his hands to the metal bed frame. The arousal plastered on his face was impossible to hide as he gives the belt a tug, sucking in a deep breath of air when he realized what you’d just done. 

“You’re so fucking– holy shit, you’re perfect.” his praises go straight to your core, and you grind down onto his thigh, feeling around for the vibrator that you’d placed somewhere next to you. 

Towering over him, you observe. 

It feels like you're daydreaming, the man in front of you just a figment of your dirty, vivid imagination. His skin glistened with sweat, and your eyes flicker down to the bulge in his black calvins. If there was a heaven, you’ve definitely reached it. 

Running your fingers up and down the vibrator, you grin at him, watching his thoughts run wild, every possible fantasy playing out right in front of his eyes. Clicking the toy on, you rake your nails over his chest, the loud vibrations filling the room. 

You had never done this before, but the utter look of devotion Matty gave you proved that he trusted you completely to do whatever you wanted to him. He follows your movements closely as you press the toy to the underside of his cock. Immediately, you see his eyes clamp shut, his hands instinctively pulling and fighting against the restraints. 

“You like that, baby? Feel good?” you coo at him, taking in every single twitch of his body, savoring it. He frantically nods his head as you move his boxers, letting his cock slap up against his stomach. The feeling of the vibrator straight onto his weeping erection felt like pure heaven, desperate moans spilling from his lips, unable to control his own actions. 

“F-feels so good, it’s so good, a-ah, fuck me–” he whimpers as you up the speed, your free hand cupping his face, smudging his eye makeup. Blissed out and shaking, Matty tries to hold off as long as possible, desperately wanting to be good for you.  

“I can’t– I'm so close, please, let me cum.” his eyes search your expression, begging for permission. Pleasure trickles up your own spine as a sudden movement of Matty’s thigh beneath you makes you grind against him again, a soft moan leaving your parted lips. You swear you could cum just from the sight of him alone, twitching and begging and so, so close to the edge he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

Shoving your fingers into his mouth, you watch as he chokes slightly, eyes welling up with tears. It's so unbelievably erotic, seeing him fall apart like this, all because of you. His dick twitches in the tell-tale way that lets you know he’s seconds away, just needing a little push. You lock your lips onto his neck, licking and sucking and biting marks into the skin, making him moan around your fingers. It's all too much for him, and his voice cracks once more before spilling into your hand, painting his stomach and the toy with ropes of thick cum, gasping and shuddering as you keep the vibrator against his cock, working him through his orgasm. 

You finally kiss him, fingers weaving through his hair as you lick into his mouth, his arms still helplessly trying to pull free. 

“That was– fuck– I can’t even describe it.'' His voice is raspy, sore. He looks utterly fucked out, a sly grin already adorning his face not ten seconds after you gave him the most mind blowing orgasm of his life.

“You dont think I'm done, do you? After the shit you pulled in that car?” 

Your sudden change in tone makes Matty’s eyes widen, his hips bucking up against you. The evil look in your eye as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss only makes him impossibly more turned on, fingers itching to touch you, a groan of frustration leaving his lips when he realizes he can't do anything but lay there and take what you give him. You move, one of your hands leaving his chest. 

“What are you–?” The click of the toy is impossibly loud as a wanton moan rips itself from his throat, his hips twitching away, the sensation overwhelming and raw, almost too much. You grin from ear to ear as you study his reactions, writhing and pulling at the belt holding him in place, eyes silently begging you to just let him go.

“A-ah oh fuckk, no- I can’t–” he cries, arching his back, exposing his neck even more, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to swallow down his sounds

“You can, I know you can.” you lick across the expanse of his collarbones, teeth grazing the skin harshly, the slight pain only making Matty thrash more, the leather of the belt digging into his wrists.

“It’s too much– jesus christ-” he chokes out as you tangle a hand into his thick curls, tugging his head forward, making him look at you.

“Look how desperate you are, you sure it's too much?” you press a kiss to his lower stomach, his muscles tense under the skin.

“I need you so bad, fuck,” he sucks in a deep breath, making direct eye contact with you.

“Look at what you do to me.” 

His sudden change in tone makes you take a second, truly taking in the sight before you. He smirks when he sees you staring, arching his lower back with the sole purpose of riling you up, knowing exactly how to get to you, and in turn, get what he wanted. 

“Such a slut, fucking begging for attention, aren’t you?” he nods slowly, winking at you provocatively as his eyes follow your movements. The name made his breath hitch, and the return of the toy back on his hardening cock feels like pure ecstasy, moans and whimpers spilling from his lips as you continued speaking. 

“Was it worth it?” he cocks his head at you, asking what you meant. 

“Was it worth it, fucking around in the car, embarrassing me like that?”  

“Absolutely, if it gets me this.” he purrs, trying to provoke you once again. You were going to make him eat his words if it was last fucking thing you were going to do.

“You have a lot of confidence for someone who was grinding against my leg under a blanket not even an hour ago.” A small laugh comes from Matty as he playfully tugs at the restraints, the sound morphing into a moan when you press the toy down harder, feeling him getting close again. 

“Gonna cum again, make a filthy fucking mess of yourself?” Matty is so far gone, his cocky persona falling away in bits as he bucks his hips against the vibrator, chasing his high. You watch him, sweaty and out of breath, his hands straining against the leather, the mix of pain and pleasure making his head spin. 

“I love you so much, please let me cum, please i’ll do anything, just let me cum–” there it is. Anything. He doesn't know the weight his words hold, willing to say everything and anything for you to let him fall over that delicious edge.    

“Cum for me, let me see you.” your voice shakes, one hand planted firmly on his chest for balance, while the other holds the toy to his cock, twitching and leaking all over himself and you as he cums, screaming your name loud enough that it echoed through the whole house. 

You watch as he shakes, gasping for air and writhing against the sheets, so overstimulated he could barely form a coherent thought. 

“Again.” you whisper as Matty shakes his head violently, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Do you want to stop?” he shakes his head again, hips bucking up against the toy, desperate whines and groans filling the room. His chest heaves, lungs expanding as far as they could go to try and bring some oxygen to his brain. Breathless and exhausted, he looks at you, eyes wet and pleading, the mix of pain and pleasure driving him insane. 

“Don’t s-stop.” he begs, voice sore and hoarse. Thoughts run widely through your mind, wondering how much more he could take before tapping out. “If you need to stop, tell me.” you say firmly, his frantic nods telling everything you needed to know. Clicking the toy back on, the reaction is immediate, visceral as he jerks under the warm feel of your lips on his jaw, pressing hot kisses down the skin, mouthing at his neck. 

Pulling back, you admire the deep purple marks you left behind, tracing them with your free hand. 

“You’re fucking glorious- I- I could look at you forever, so pretty on top of me, fuck, like a fucking wet dream, so perfect–” you listen to him babble through curses and moans, eyes drooping shut as he bucks up into your hand. 

“Yeah? You’re so gorgeous for me, taking everything I give you.” you whisper back, pupils completely blown out with lust, the high you were still yet to come down from heightening every feeling, every sensation, until you were grinding against his thigh, desperate for him. 

“I see you, baby,” your eyes snap up to his, a filthy smirk spread onto his face, “C’mon, use me like a toy, use me to get off.” his voice is sultry and low, working hard to bite back screams as you finally give in, sparks of electricity shooting up your spine as you increase the pressure on your clit, soft moans and gasps spilling from your lips as Matty tenses his thigh, lifting it slightly to meet your movements. 

“Don’t cum until I tell you.” you warn, refusing to give up power, even if Matty made it incredibly fucking difficult to not give in. His eyeliner was smudged, tears streaming down his face, your fingers wiping them away sweetly. You bring your tear soaked hand to your mouth, licking it clean while making direct eye contact with Matty, the expression on his face making the salty taste on your tongue completely worth it.

It didn't take much to bring you to the edge, the warmth in your core blooming everywhere else in your body, your blood feeling hot as you balance yourself. Being met with Matty’s smirk as you look up, the smugness quickly morphs into white hot pleasure when your hand finds his nipple piercing, giving it a small tug. 

You had convinced him to switch it out, the black metal ring being replaced with a purple barbell. It shimmered if you looked at it from a specific angle, a perfect contrast to his milky white skin, suiting him well. He gasps when you don't let up, tweaking the metal and rolling his nipple between your fingertips, an indescribable feeling radiating from his chest, making all the remaining blood in his brain rush down south. 

You were so close, you could taste it. Matty knew this, doing his best to get you there, just as you were doing for him, holding off his own orgasm. Filthy words leave his mouth, making you feel dizzy with pleasure, the feeling of his jean clad thigh against your clit making your legs shake on top of him. 

“So good, you’re so good– fucking marvelous, I could write a thousand songs about you like this.” he groans, eyes never leaving the spot where your core met his leg, watching closely. 

“I’m so close, fuckk.” you whine, your high pitched voice like music to Matty’s ears, his cock visibly twitching against the toy. 

“Cum for me darling, wanna see you fall apart on top of me.” he coos, and you feel your control slipping. It was all consuming, the pleasure making time slow as you barely manage to slow down to speak. 

“You first.” A relieved sigh leaves Matty’s lips, hips bucking violently, precum bubbling from his tip, coating your hand where you held the toy against it. One last arch of his back and he cums onto his stomach, painting his skin white. 

You groan at the sight, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train, vision whiting out as you buck against Mattys thigh, his eyes burning a hole into your skin. He watches in awe as you gasp and stutter, the visual of his third climax too much for you to handle, carnal desire overtaking your body. 

Collapsing on top of him, your chest heaves against his, everything blurry and disoriented. He tried to move his hands to your back to hug you, but realizes he’s still tied up, the leather really digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks. 

“Darling?” you look up, apologizing profusely as you undo the belt around his wrists, kissing the burns it left behind. Matty chuckles quietly, running a soft hand through your hair, pressing your face into his chest. 

“That was..” he starts, eyes still wide in disbelief. 

“Okay?” you offer a hint of insecurity evident in the way you speak.

“Fucking amazing, visceral, undescribable, life chang-” you cut him off with a firm kiss, silently telling him to shut up. He giggles into the kiss, his other hand pressing against your lower back, pulling you impossibly close. 

“It wasn’t too much?” you ask, gesturing to the marks on his wrists. He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He assures you it doesn't hurt at all, and besides, “You know I like it when you hurt me.” The cheesy wink that follows his statement makes you roll your eyes, leaning down to breathe in the scent of him. Fucking Jimmy Choo, ugh. 

“You have to stop using my perfume, you smell like a woman, it's unsettling.” you complain, wishing he’d use some sort of musky cologne instead. 

“I thought you liked it when i'm girly? Remember that time when I wore that skirt and you fucking mauled me–'' he tries to tease, being rudely interrupted by you digging the heel of your foot into his leg, making him yelp in pain. 

“That was different,” you mutter, avoiding his taunting gaze. 

“Was it?” 

“Absolutely, yes, now come here.” you grip his jaw, crashing your mouth against his, biting his lower lip, enjoying the small gasp he lets out. The kiss is hot, filled with love and trust, your heart swelling up in your chest. 

“Don’t ever pull that shit again, George could have noticed and that would've been a complete shit show-” you shudder at the thought of your mates knowing anything about your sex life, gagging inwardly.  

“You were the one grinding your leg down on to my dick, don’t act all fucking innocent!” he protests, a playful tone to his voice. 

“Imagine Ross knowing anything about what we do, he’d lose his mind.” you comment. Knowing him, he’d physically throw up and never speak to either of you ever again, the mental image having scarred him for life.

Matty is oddly silent, his hands fidgeting. Your eyes widen in realization 

“Dont tell me you fucking– Matty!” you shut your eyes, embarrassment flooding your body. 

“He’s my mate, and he asked. Who am I to deny him?” you hit his chest, propping yourself up as you laugh in disbelief. 

“Ross asking doesn't make it any better!!” you screech, watching him pull back at the sheer volume of your voice “For fuck’s sake Matty, what did you even tell him? I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again, fucking hell.”  

“Just about the camera, nothing else, I swear!” you cup your face, letting out a frustrated groan. 

“You know I can never speak to him ever again? The fucking camera, are you taking the absolute fucking piss?!” you throw curses at him as he giggles into your hair, muttering apologies and promising to never say anything again.

“‘M sorry darling, i won't give out the details of our sex life anymore.” he jokes, earning a choked giggle from you, unable to stay mad at him. 

Looking up at him from your spot on his chest, anger fades as you take in his features. You could look at him forever if he let you, drinking in every inch of skin, committing it all to memory. Your fingertips touch the top of his cheeks, wiping away any left over make-up, smiling fondly as you do so. 

Love. That's what you see in his eyes. Pure love, utter devotion. His breathing is slow, the soft sound of his heartbeat comforting as you lay back down onto him, nuzzling your face into his skin. You could stand the permeating stench of Jimmy Choo if it let you hold him this close to you. 

“You’re mine.” he mumbles into your hair, stroking up and down your spine, pushing your shirt up. 

“I’m yours,” you answer, this overwhelming feeling of adoration taking over your whole body. Matty was yours, and you were his, from the second he said the words ‘I love you’ that night on the terrace, overlooking the glowing city. 

Life with him seems so real. Growing up properly, getting your own house, getting married. It was all possible, still, it felt far away, a distant future. You let your thoughts spin in your mind until the exhaustion won, your body going slack against Matty, soft snores filling the room.

Matty lays awake beneath you, the darkness of the room enveloping his senses. 

“I love you so much,” he mutters under his breath, knowing you couldn't hear him anyway. That was the moment he knew, the moment everything solidified.

You were just kids, the pair of you, young and free, life filled with infinite possibilities. So much was uncertain, but he knew one thing without a doubt. Eyes flickering over to his coat, they fell on the outermost left pocket. It wasn't about the pocket itself, but what was inside. Dark red velvet, the same shade as your favorite color. A box. 

A small one.  

#i had so much funnn #hope yall like the ending #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #the 1975 smut #matty healy x reader

[lalalasocks]

Chronic illness is really annoying in ways I never could have predicted

#i bet no one wanted to know that #fuck chronic illness #I’m packing to stay at my brothers to take care of his dog while he’s out of town #I have to pack a whole fucking suitcase because of the amount of diabetes supplies and sensitive skin stuff I have to bring #my clothes take up maybe half of it I could easily fit everything in a backpack if I didn’t have chronic illnesses

[prettyoatmeal]

MORE John Price Headcanons While You're Dating

Part 2 to this!

Since SO many people (like 4) were asking for me to do a part 2, here it is! Enjoy! A/N at the end!

Genre: Fluff! Smut after the buffer.

Summary: Just some more headcanons I've thought of. GN reader, no mentions of Y/N.

Content Warnings: NSFW After buffer.

Masterlist here!

***************

Big big big big boy.

He's quite muscular, got that meat on him (I mean, hell. Look at those shoulders). This means he needs to buy pretty large sized clothing for himself when he's out shopping.

This also means that they're a perfect size for you, able to very easily slide into a shirt of his and just wear that with how long it is on you.

They're just so comfy and baggy and cover you up so well, they're nice for when you don't feel like wearing something form fitting or if yours are in the wash.

John would definitely approve.

They'd smell like him, like home, how could you not wear them every now and again?

If you asked really nicely, John would get you a personal travel bottle of his cologne to keep on you at all times.

If you two are deployed, then he'd definitely pack a few extra shirts and sweaters of his because he knows you'll want some with you in the barracks. Maybe sleep in them or use them as a pillow case.

Seeing you in his clothes would definitely rile him up, seeing how the shirt gathers around your hips especially would leave a lasting effect on him. Expect his hands to be all over you.

You'd get the same reaction from him from wearing something more form fitting.

Wearing something that hugs your curves and shows off how great you look?

Oh boy.

It would drive him mad.

Would purposefully buy you shirts or those bike shorts in a half size too small and blame it on forgetting your size or being an 'accident' just to watch you try them on and gaze how the fabric squeezes around your chest and thighs.

Would definitely get heart eyes from that.

"John, are you sure this is my size?" as you finally pull the shirt over your chest, feeling how constricting the fabric is.

"Is or isn't, you look divine!"

If you wear a proper compression shirt, he'd probably die on the spot.

please please please please wear one.

No matter how thick or thin you are, he'd love every bit of how you look, and he'd definitely make that well known to you.

Definitely the kind to love playing with your hair, especially if it's long. He'd love braiding it, brushing it, running his fingers through it, literally anything,

Loves feeling how soft it is right after you wash it.

Will probably offer to help you dry it.

"Allow me," typa guy for sure.

He'd also be very big on communication.

He's had a lot of experience and has realised that bottling feelings up and keeping them locked away can only make the situations worse.

If you notice he's particularly upset, would always vent to you (If you're comfy w that of course) just to get how he's feeling out of the way, hoping it won't interfere with anything else.

Not one to pull the silent treatment, in fact, he hates it. If you're the kind to pull the silent treatment, he would egg it out of you one way or another.

"I'm too old for this, spit it out," in the kindest way possible.

He knows how draining it is physically and mentally to keep your emotions to yourself, so he'd always convince you to finally let it all loose.

Please tell him how you're feeling, especially if he's the person you're upset with. It breaks his heart seeing you upset and will 100% do everything in his power to make the situation right again.

The type to get grumpy or emotional when he's sleepy. Sometimes he just needs a soft chest or soft tummy to lay his head on and he'll be out like a light.

If you would let him sleep on top of you, that is. All that muscle would be pretty heavy so unless he knew you could take it, little spoon would do just fine for him.

Yeah, he'd love being little spoon. Loves feeling your arms pulling him deeper into your chest.

John is pretty dominant in a traditional sense, very masculine, a fierce leader, knows exactly what he wants and how he's going to get it, but he's also a massive softie and will do anything and everything to have your full attention when he's in the mood.

Yes, he wants to be little spoon, yes, he will also lead an army of men through a battlefield. They exist.

__________________

NSFW

He's an ass man, 100%.

Y'know how I said he'll 'accidentally' buy smaller sizes just to see how the material so perfectly forms itself to your curves?

Yeah, this is why.

Will grab and slap your ass at every chance he gets (with your consent, ofc) even in the most innocent of situations.

Whether you're bending down to pick up something you've dropped, over the kitchen counter while pulling something down from the top shelves, or just leaning over the dinner table to wipe it down, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Jolting you forward.

Loves to hear that high pitched, surprised shriek coming from your mouth at the sudden impact of his hand on your behind.

Backshots with him would be crazy, fingers intertwined with your hair, pushing your face into the mattress as he pounds into you from behind.

Doggy or reverse cowgirl would be his favourite positions because he just gets that full view of your ass jiggling with each bounce or each thrust from his hips.

Definitely wouldn't be gentle, but wouldn't be too rough either, that perfect balance.

Maybe a bit rougher when he's desperate or releasing some pent up stress, but all in all, he wouldn't dare to hurt you unless its the very occasionally slap on the ass or thighs.

I feel like it would be out of his comfort zone as well. Seeing how prominent his hand prints can be after spanking, seeing them on your face or anywhere else would probably make him upset during the process.

Spanking would be the furthest he'd go, making sure the skin is red and raw.

Would stop if he notices you're crying. Breaks his heart.

On the contrary, will gladly make you cry with his head between your legs. Feeling how you twitch against his mouth every time he makes you cum brings a smile to his lips.

VERY focused on making you cum first. Very focused on making sure you're comfortable ad satisfied all the way.

Definitely prefers to be dominant in bed, likes having that control.

Daddy kink probably.

He probably wouldn't make too much noise in bed, maybe a few groans and whines. But would for sure be a dirty talker.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?"

"Sucking daddy's cock- fuck, -so well, Gorgeous.."

"So fucking tight, aint ya. Mmh, fuck, keep squeezing around me like that, Dove."

Will only let out a classic moan for when he cums.

"That's it, gonna fill you up so good- ahh~!"

Surprising at first since he'd never made all that much sound before but the more you know.

Its totally hot though.

King of aftercare, tbh.

Would gladly carry you everywhere after you've become too sore to walk anywhere yourself.

Even if you can walk after a pounding, will still carry you. Gotta be treated like royalty after letting him slam into your holes like that.

Boy, did it feel good.

***************

I somehow accidentally deleted the first draft of this I made so this turned out a lot shorter than I first wanted it to :(

Also why it took so long lol. I swear, idk why my Tumblr is bugging so much but losing like 2k words after I've worked on it all day literally broke my heart.

Probably don't expect a part 3, but after having a few days to myself, my motivation has defo returned haha.

Goodnight!! <33

Tags: @mind-nine @tapioca-marzipan @underthestarwars @avalkyrieofparis

#call of duty #cod mw2 #John Price x reader #Captain Price x Reader #John Price Imagines #Captain Price Imagines #John Price Fluff #Captain John Price Fluff #MW2 x reader

[emelinstriker]

Macaque ♡ Bath Time

First of all, this is all still SFW, but would be leading into NSFW with the ending implication. So this still counts as Fluff. Also I personally would call him Mac-Mac, so that shall now be implemented into my fics.

That being said...

CW: slight suggestive vibe, nudity, mild gore(? had to hold back a lot from making it full on detailed descriptions), maybe faint yandere behavior if you squint

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"I've told you before. Hands off my territory... No one to blame but yourself."

The dark-furred simian dropped the demon's corpse onto the pavement with a dark grin. It's been a while since he really got to do this to another demon. He's been holding back his true strength ever since he met you, in hopes of not scaring you off... Well, at least he didn't usually attack demons with you around. That didn't mean he would kill them even when you weren't present.

However... this particular demon crossed the line. Not only did this demon return to the apartment complex, the Six-Eared Macaque's territory, despite having been warned... But this demon also threatened to kill him, as well as you and your neighbors right after.

Little did he know that your husband was a lot more capable than any other ordinary demon this guy had ever faced before, by far. Despite his size compared to the intruder, he could easily fold him.

And of course, Macaque didn't take this random demon's threats lightly. Killing off a threat to you and your home once in a while wouldn't be so bad, no? Surely a little bit of self-defense in the name of your safety should be fine.

So he did what he seemed most fit. Getting rid of the pest that spoke of those threats. After all, endangering you in any way, shape or form was off-limits. Anyone attempting to break this one simple rule had to deal with the consequences and would be punished by your loving husband...

Violence may not always be the answer, but life is multiple choice.

And death was just one of the options.

A quite merciful one at that.

Macaque glanced down at the blood that now stained not only his clothes, but his fur too. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about needing to take a bath. After all, he wouldn't want his beloved to be stained by another demon's blood when he hugged them. And thus, he disposed of the body by engulfing it in a shadow portal. He was torn between letting it fall into lava or the ocean, but he decided that lava would be the quickest solution. If the corpse somehow managed to not be gone by the time the Demon Bull Family saw something floating on the surface of one of their lava pits, then they could simply see it as a nice aesthetic gift to their home.

He used another shadow portal to return to your shared apartment's living room. Everything was quiet, so much so that he had no problems hearing all your neighbors without even trying, which the shadow monkey already anticipated. Usually it was him that would come home later than you, but not today since his plays were scheduled for only half of the week. And it was a good thing he had the day off. Who knows what would've happened if you came home first and encountered the demon he got rid of instead!

After making his way past your bedroom door, he let a shadow clone enter and pick some fresh clothes for him. Meanwhile, he prepared his bath. The dark-furred simian noticed the lack of a shampoo bottle near the bathtub, so he ended up picking the plum-scented shampoo from the cabinet beneath the sink. Macaque was considering using body wash as well, but decided against it as most of what the blood got on was pure fur anyway. His shadow clone then walked in with fresh clothes, placing them on the closed toilet seat before vanishing back into his shadow.

However, before he could undress, his ears caught the sound of keys clashing by the front door. He smiled to himself at the implication- Only you had keys to the apartment since he didn't need keys to enter. And his assumption was indeed correct.

"Mac-Mac, I'm home!" Your lovely voiced called out from down the hallway as you entered.

"Heya, sugarplum! I'll be right with you, just gonna take a bath first!" He called back through he closed door. It did take a while until the tub was actually filled with warm water, so in the meantime he inspected his nude, scarred form in the mirror. He sighed to himself as he tried getting some blood off manually with his fingers, but to no avail. It would be difficult to clean up some spots, for sure. Especially those splatters that ended up on his back...

Another thing he did while waiting for the bathtub to fill up was to listen in on what you were doing. From what he could still hear past the noises coming from the faucet and your neighbors, apparently you were eating dinner. Presumably leftovers from the fridge as he did not recall you cooking anything earlier that day.

Once the tub was full, he turned off the faucet, then climbed inside and began to clean himself up. Macaque started off by washing all his fur on and around his head, at least that was easy to do. There wasn't even all that much blood stuck in there in the first place... Well, except for maybe the front.

He was so busy rubbing the blood off his arms that he didn't hear you walking towards the bathroom. At least until you lightly knocked on the door, pulling him back into reality.

"May I come in? I need a dry towel for the kitchen", you asked. Your husband told you that you may enter, so you did.

It was far from the first time you saw him without clothes, so it wasn't exactly awkward when you came in and picked one of the thinner towels. After choosing a fitting one, your eyes glanced over at the dark-furred simian. Honestly, he was already handsome by default. Him without a shirt was even better. But his wet, shiny fur glistening in the light of the bathroom made him look a lot more appealing on top of it all.

Suddenly, his own gaze landed on you. He seemed a bit confused, but this little bit of confusion was quickly wiped away as his smug grin took over.

Shit. He probably heard your heartbeat increase... Curse his intense hearing!

"What's the matter, sugarplum? Like what you see~?"

You were about to respond in a flustered, passive aggressive manner... Until you noticed the amount of red that was still very much present on his fur. You paused for a second before becoming concerned. "What happened? Did you get into a fight? Is that your blood?!" You asked frantically.

Macaque's grin left just as quickly as it came. "No, no! Well... I mean yes, I did get into a fight. B- But this isn't my blood!" That statement only eased your concerns a bit.  You simply stood there in thought with the folded towel in hand... Until he seemed to try wash off some blood his back, but to no avail.

"Do you need help getting it off?" You asked as you slowly put the towel onto the sink.

He raised an eyebrow at you before waving his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't mind the company."

You hummed in amusement as you made your way over to the bathtub, getting onto your knees next to it. Macaque handed you the bottle of shampoo and you put a portion of it onto your hand, putting the bottle next to you on the ground. You then scooped up a bit of water with your other hand and mixed both liquids together. Afterwards your hands were free to roam around your husband's back, trying to get rid of the red colors and the faint stench...

Honestly, you couldn't tell if it was just the blood because his fur seemed to stink on its own.

Suddenly, the dark-furred simian started to purr as you started gently cleaning blood around his tail. You actually had a somewhat hard time cleaning it... Macaque's joy over you handling his tail so gently only made it move around more. That in of itself wouldn't have been much of a problem, but we have to take his extra strength into consideration. He may be holding back by a lot, but his tail was still able to casually pick you up if he wanted to. So trying to keep it still enough to properly get rid of stains was a challenge.

You grinned at his tail's excitement, "Do you want me to wash the rest of your body too or what?"

The shadow monkey halted before fake-thinking with a hum. "Only if you get in here with me."

You gave him a blank look for a few seconds. Macaque thought this suggestion was a bit too much for you today. You barely got off work after all. Thus he was about to apologize... until he heard you take off your own clothes.

He paused as his tail's tip flicked back above the water in anticipation. His head whipped to the side to see you put your clothes onto his own pile or dirty clothes. With your body now in the nude, you approached the bathtub before demanding him to scoot over so you could sit behind him. You then positioned yourself so he was sitting between your legs, practically having been captured so he could never escape. (He wouldn't have minded to be honest.)

And without another word, you proceeded to continue washing him. Mainly his back and sides due to his fur's locations, but you occasionally would brush over part of his chest. Most of his fur in the back wasn't even bloody, but it was still nice to help clean him. At one point his tail wrapped around your waist as he leaned back into your hold, purring while slightly rubbing himself against you. You cooed at him being adorable and tried countering him by pushing your body firmly against his, trying to reach at least part of his legs better.

However, the moment you got to his hips towards his abdomen, he chuckled. "Not low enough, sugarplum~"

You rolled your eyes at his words with a flustered smile, "Mac-Mac, you can clean that area yourself. I can barely even clean your legs from here." He pouted as his head turned to face you, just so you could see his disappointment. You grinned at him in return.

"Do I at least get a reward for cleaning up the rest myself?" He asked with a knowing smirk as his gaze lowered towards your body below the water. That cheeky little bastard... You raised an eyebrow at the monkey's suggestion. The fact that his tail seemed to slowly make its way towards your thigh didn't help the situation.

You sighed in defeat as you nuzzled into your husband's furry back. "Okay fine. But, only one round, got it? I still have work tomorrow, and you know how much our stamina differs."

Macaque chuckled, using his hands to position your arms around his torso, your hands against his chest. "I can't promise anything, sugarplum~" He swiftly turned around more until he was able to give you a quick kiss on the lips, his hands holding your head for better access. "I love you."

In return, you leaned in as well for a kiss that would last a little longer. "I love you too..."

"Well, guess I better get to cleaning now, just so we have more time for my reward~", he said in his low voice as he pulled away. It didn't take long for Macaque to completely clean himself, especially with this new motivation literally sitting behind him with a flushed, yet amused look.

Maybe you should offer him this type of reward for doing house chores, just to motivate him into actually doing those more often.

> Masterlist <

#lmk x reader #macaque x reader #six eared macaque #lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #fluff #bath #suggestive #only a bit tho #i personally dont think it counts rly into gore due to how i removed all the actual descriptions tbh

[punktactical]

GUTS , trafalgar law

★

summary ; never trust a handsome stranger, even if he lies about having a medical license. (reader goes home with law and bites off more than she can chew.)

warnings ; 18+ content , dark content , dub-con , gore , organ pleasure , drugging , slight somnophilia , cumming in organs , manipulative behavior , naive reader.

a/n ; third post ! again , taken from my one-shot collection on quotev.

★

★

she laid flat against the cold, metal table, shivering. she met a handsome pirate today and he invited her over. how could she refuse? he was so charming. he was also a surgeon, leading her into his experi - ... work room. she was hesitant at first, but warmed up to him quickly. she was confused when he asked her to lay down but didn't question his motives. it got weirder when he asked her to remove her clothes. if he was a surgeon, it couldn't possibly be weird.

she truly was a stupid girl.

"mr. law? why do i have to take my clothes off?"

he simply stared at her, fixing up a small needle of unknown liquid. his eyes were solemn and brooding, dark circles underneath them. she began to grow nervous, shifting uncomfortably. she was naked, goosebumps forming on her sensitive skin. he stepped towards her, leaning over. his gloved hand pressed on her neck, making her suck a breath in. the needle began to close in. she brought up a hand, stopping it. "wait, why do you..." even with her protest, he still sunk the needle into her skin. the injection took immediate effect, leaving her breathless. her eyelids grew heavy, forcing her to close them. she was lulled to sleep by the sound of his silky voice hushing her.

she woke up in a cold sweat, body sore. she couldn't move, just stare. she felt paralyzed. a sudden pleasure struck through her cunt, a moan slipping past her mouth. she balled up her fists, nails digging into her palms. the wash of pleasure was too much to bare, it was unexpected. something kept entering and leaving her, her juices running down her thighs. "are you enjoying this, [f/n]?"

there was the voice she adored so much.

her body shook with pleasure, she could feel her climax coming. why so quickly? how? she couldn't respond, choking on her words. "it's okay, cum on me." the words barely registered for her before she was releasing the knot in her stomach. her body spasms as she climaxes.

"well would you look at that..."

his gloved hand grabbed her by her hair, forcing her to look at the scene in front of her. her stomach was ripped open, organs and intestines strung around like christmas lights. the image was nauseating. she gagged, swallowing the vomit that threatened to shoot out. "and you can still see my cock." he spoke with excitement, bucking his hips into her. his dick moved through the organs, the intestines rubbing against his sensitive tip. her eyes were half lidded, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth.

she wish she could feel the excruciating pain of the open stomach, maybe she wouldn't feel so guilty about enjoying the pleasure of it.

his gloved hand grabbed an intestine, stroking it. she moaned, throwing her head back. "you know, i thought of killing you. and just selling your organs." he thrusts inside of her, picking up his pace. "but when i saw you sleeping, it made me decide not to." he grabbed her throat, tightly gripping it. "i'm happy i changed my mind." she whines, teeth grit, tears streaming down her face. she can feel another climax coming, this time not so pleasurable.

"you trusted me so easily. it was quite adorable how easy you were." those words cut deep, deeper than his dick was right now. her organs fit perfectly around his cock, rubbing it the right way. he groans, his thrusts growing sloppy, hinting that he was close. "cum, cum with me." she gags, body paralyzed as she reaches her high. he pumps himself deep, groaning as he releases his seed inside of her. he pulls out with a huff.

"you can see my semen mixing with your intestines."

after everything, he'd stitch her back up, kissing her stomach affectionately as it heals.

god, how many times has she vomited now?

★

#one piece smut #one piece law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law smut #op smut #smutty smut smut #dark content #dub con #smut #law x reader #law smut #punkz postz

[aki-i-guess]

ARG FIRST TIME POSTING SMUT

CW: Lucifer x gn reader with a pussy, no pronouns mentioned or anything! Use of the word cunt like twice, tying Lucifer up with his belts in his chair! Lucifer also cries a little but it’s a good thing! (Reader rides Luci until he cries, minors DNI!!!!!!!!🔞🔞🔞) under the cut because it’s kind of long

“Hey, Luci?” You knocked on his private study door, speaking out when you knew he would hear. “Are you in there?”

A muffled sound of “come in” was all the motivation you needed to swing the door open.

There he was, sitting at his desk. Papers filled almost every inch of his workspace. He looked tired and drained, with his clothes unbuttoned and slightly pulled apart for maximum comfort for the late night.

You sighed when he met your eyes.

“Come on, Lulu. Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean you can overwork yourself.” You locked the door behind you, stepping close to the sleepy demon.

He shook his head. “This work needs to get done, MC. I can’t just not do it.”

“I didn’t tell you not to do it, I told you to take a break.” You spoke gently, reaching him. Since he was still seated, his head came up to your chest. You wound your fingers through his dark hair.

He sighed and leaned into your touch. Lucifer gave in pretty easily, knowing that you knew what was best sometimes. After all, he trusted you with everything.

He pushed his head into your chest. You weren’t wearing anything other than your pajamas, which consisted of a thin t-shirt and some shorts. Lucifer seemed to like this style choice as his fingers crept over from his work and to your sides.

His bare hands traced up and down, all the way down your thighs and all the way back up to your elbows.

“Hmm, I can think of something that’s a little more… relieving than sleep.” He mumbled, looking up at you. His hands moved back to hold your ass and drag you forward.

You smiled and leaned down, leaving a kiss on his forehead.

“Absolutely not. You’re too tired for what I want to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Maybe I’m not tired anymore.”

Sure enough, the fatigue seemed to leave his body, leaving room for the lustful gaze that rivaled Asmo’s.

You let him lean upwards and stand. He tugged you into a kiss, and his mouth tasted faintly of black coffee.

Lucifer never grew tired of you; the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, the way you seemed to be the only one who would always understand him. You fit him perfectly, soft and sweet where he was rough and bitter.

He lazily let his mouth open, letting out a shakey breath when your tongue met his.

He was quick to take control, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. He trapped you against the side of his desk.

Your hands tugged his hair, pulling him back so you could get some air.

“Luci, can I ask you a favor?” You begged, eyes half-lidded and mouth pink from kisses.

He mustn’t have looked any better, hair in disarray as your hands scratched up and down the back of his head. He shivered with the stimulation.

“Anything for you, my love.” He whispered, leaning down again to capture your lips.

You spoke between kisses.

“Can I be on top?”

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. “I never mind when you ride me, love.”

You flushed an even deeper shade of red. “No, I mean like… can I be more dominant this time?”

He hesitated.

“I don’t know, I don’t think you could.” He teased, kissing down your throat to leave small hickeys in the places you liked them. He was still learning everything you liked, and he adored the gasp you made when his breath hit your collarbone.

“Let me try. Please, Lulu.” You closed your eyes, pulling him closer to your neck. “Ah, fuck, please let me try tonight. And besides,” Your eyes met his in a fiery clash. You paused for dramatic effect. “I’d return the favor.”

He dipped down to meet your lips again.

“And what does that entail, exactly?” He played along, speaking between kisses.

“It means you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want.” You opened your mouth and let him in again. He tasted like dark coffee, melancholic tones filled your mouth and moved down your throat. He filled all of your senses and left you craving more.

Lucifer breathed heavily, heart beating wildly in his chest. His head swam with the impact you had on him. His body reacted before his thoughts did, pulling you into his lap on his computer chair. Thankfully, it was big and expensive, so it was wide enough for you both and also able to handle your combined weight.

He kept his hands on your hips, guiding you into a grinding motion.

“Like this?” He asked, moving to lift your shirt.

You bit your lip.

“No, Lucifer,” You pulled his hands away. “My turn to be dominant.”

He almost growled, unhappy that you had taken his hands off of your body. He reminded himself that it was a favor, and the look of satisfaction that stained your face was cute enough to make his resistance worth it.

“Don’t move.” You ordered, looked around frantically before settling on something behind his back. You leaned over his body to reach for it, meaning he was so close to your body but was unable to ravage you the way he wanted.

He flinched when you pulled a belt off of his desk. It wasn’t the one he was wearing, but one he took off the other day and forgot to bring back to his room.

You started to tie one of his wrists to the chair arm in such a way that he couldn’t move them, but that he could break free if he ever needed to.

You took his belt from his pants, purposefully teasing him by rubbing his clothed erection. His breath stuttered and his hips buckled, but your hands were gone before he could get any more stimulation.

You tied up his other hand, and when it was done, looked down proudly at your handiwork.

“So, now what?” Lucifer tried to verbally take control. If he couldn’t control you with his actions, maybe he could make you using his words.

You didn’t fall for it.

“Now I rock your world, love.” You winked.

You took his pants and underwear off first, not giving his weeping cock the time of day. He furrowed his brows when you passed right over his needy, growing erection and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He couldn’t get out a word before you moved on. He noticed your rush to keep the momentum going, and he chalked it up to you hoping to get to the good part before he changed his mind. It was adorable, the way you looked so excited. He couldn’t help the shiver that ripped up his spine. Your pants slid off and hit the floor, and Lucifer realized with an embarrassing flush that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered. You had perched back onto his lap, and within the moment had lined his head up with your sticky cunt.

He felt you wiggle around trying to find the most comfortable position. It was agony, the way he felt your heat but wasn’t allowed to dive into it. It took every inch of his willpower not to snap the measly leather belts and sink you on his cock.

“Hm? What was that?” You leaned forward, keeping his cock against you but not sitting down. You felt his muscles strain under your hands, and your chest swelled when a growl ripped from his throat. He vibrated with frustration and excitement, and you were suddenly very grateful he went along with your request.

“I’m starting to regret letting yo- oh!” He gasped when you let the head inside, slowly lowering down.

You whined, slightly squirming. You felt so full in this position.

You bit your lip to silence any more noises, keeping calm and steady.

“Sorry, dearest, I didn’t catch that.” You met his eyes again, and the fire held within them set you aflame, too.

He bucked up and into you, but your hips followed his, keeping him exactly where you wanted. He growled again, this time baring his fangs. Almost like a switch went off in his head when he was denied to do what he wanted. His sin clawed in his chest, demanding and painfully caught in Luci’s throat.

You kept your pace, slowly taking all of him in one fluid motion. To you, it was so nice. Lucifer’s cock would twitch and elicit a shiver up your spine. To Lucifer, it was torture. You teased him, giving the demon a taste but not letting him savor it.

“You can- fuck- you can move now.” Lucifer bit his lip, fanged teeth daring to break the skin.

You couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“I can do whatever I want, remember?” You mewled, lifting up fully before settling back in his lap. A sigh left your parted lips, and Lucifer wanted nothing more than to cut it off with a kiss.

“You’re awfully smug for being such a brat-“ You ground down on his cock, purposefully making him gasp in a breath. “You-“

“Don’t worry, Lucifer.” You lifted, shivering at the way his heavy cock slid inside you again. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He whimpered so quietly that you almost thought you imagined it. The blush that stained his pretty cheeks, however, left nothing to the imagination.

His hands gripped the armrests when you picked up your pace, feeling the head of his cock hit the sweetest parts of you before dragging out, just to bully its way back inside. You tried to be quiet to hear more of his voice, but damn did he feel good.

Your pace was good, great, but not enough for him. It left him right on the edge, so so close to cumming but never quite tipping over the edge.

He squirmed under your shaking thighs.

“Oh fuck-“ He whispered, trying desperately to buck into your wet heat but never allowed to. It drove him crazy. So crazy that hot tears pricked the edge of his eyes. “Please- I’m so-“

“I’ll take care of you.” You leaned forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, allowing him a deeper angle inside your hot cunt. One hand came down to thumb along the warm tears that stained his red cheeks. “Go on, baby. Cum for me.”

That’s all he needed to tip over the edge, wrists easily breaking the flimsy leather belts and wrapping around your hips. A small cry came from the back of his throat, the softest sob as he was finally given permission. He pumped you on his lap once, twice, before cumming as deep as he could inside you.

He whimpered and shook as he held you tight. You came with a soft moan of his name as his hot cum spilled out from around his cock.

He held you like that for a while, panting heavily as his tears calmed.

“You…” He tried to speak, but his world was rocked so hard he couldn’t quite form the words.

“I’ve got you.” You finished, holding him just as close.

#obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #omswd lucifer #lucifer smut #obey me smut #swd lucifer

[starlit-mansion]

I've decided that i want to disrupt the strightsized/midsized thriftblogger industrial complex for my fellow actually fat people. I havent been as small as a size 18 since senior year of highschool and my waistline is sitting comfortably at around 50 inches these days and i thrift but it's frequently humiliating. Here are my tips.

one: there isn't nothing. It might be slim pickings. It might be a single rack in a 2 story shop. It might be only 2 pairs of pants in the whole place. But you've been on the street and in the grocery store. You know there are other people your size in the world and their stuff ends up a thrift store too.

two: avoid trendy areas like the plague. do you live in a smaller town? do you have reason to go to one? go to a thrift store there. if you know there are more people your size in an area, then that's a good sign for your chances. you aren't looking for designer pieces at a steal; you are looking for some gently used lane bryant and this is where it lives.

three: it isnt all or nothing. you can get some things thrifted and some things you're probably going to have to buy at a plus sized store. Getting a few nice blouses for cheap can free up your budget for a pair of new pants from a plus sized retailer. For instance, I really cant thrift a pair of shoes for shit because i have extra wide feet and cankles for days, but my partner who is a similar weight has regular sized feet and could thrift shoes easily, and that's a lot of money that could be saved there.

four: if it only almost fits, put it back. if you're anything like me, the fact that you can button or zip it is going to feel like a miracle, but if it hurts or digs in any way, it'll sit in your closet for weeks while the things that don't hurt get worn many times in a row. we don't always have the luxury of everything in our wardrobes sparking joy but it can at least not spark pain.

five: be honest. if you aren't going to fix it or take it out, don't waste your money on a project piece that's going to sit around for the next 2 years and go back to the thrift store from whence it came.

five point five: be a little adventurous though. especially with shirts and dresses. maybe you've never tried that color before but it looks good in the store. this is a low stakes way to expand your style. you can always get rid of it if you decide against it, either within a return window, or donating it back. If your thrift store gives coupons for donating, taking a small grocery bag with a few pieces will get you the same discount as a car full of old furniture, so donate small amounts and often.

six: if you're thrifting online, thrift the brand you trust. like i hinted above, i trust lane bryant. i also trust torrid because i'm tall and torrid is for me and the transfems. search on shopgoodwill or depop or whatever by the brand you know the sizing of. hell, you can also seach the box store brand like time and tru or ava viv on there if you miss that one piece from a year or two ago that was cute and fit you perfectly. Speaking of...

seven: goodwill gets target overstock. you can find new overstock stuff from last season on the racks. i've seen many a thing go from clearance at my local target to on the shelves at the goodwill. keep it in mind if you're broke but used clothes yuck you out. you can find new with tag stuff in plus sizes, either from stores directly or people who just aren't fussed about money.

eight: you have to go a lot to find stuff. that's how the bloggers do it; they made it their side hustle in some way. i don't suggest doing it if you have no interest in it, but if you can put aside a half hour once a week or twice a month to check while you're running your errands, you can start finding stuff. Keep your trips and your budget small, and start looking for stuff for the next season months ahead of time to keep the pressure down.

nine: save a treat. either literally go for a treat afterward for being a big brave bestie and confronting the fact that you have a corporeal form and it needs clothes, or look through the fun thing that relaxes you. Looking for silly mugs? trying to find fine leather purses? want to look at ugly figurines and take pictures of them to text your friend and say "it's you'? Do that. Every time you go to the thrift store, add in the fun thing. If looking for work clothes can't motivate you, maybe looking through the children's paperbacks to try to rebuild your collection of animorphs books that you got rid of in 2005 will.

lastly: cut out the middle man. if you have a friend or relative of similar size to you: TRADE the pieces you're pruning from your wardrobe with each other before you donate them. It will give you the spark of newness that you both are looking for. Also you can reference the "those shoes... look familiar..." vine when you see them wearing something you gave them.

tl;dr: thrift often and in small doses, make it fun for yourself if you can, and also i just heard a tip where if you want to check a waistband size without trying it on, have the waistband fully closed and hold it to your hip. if the ends of the waistband reach your spine and bellybutton, it'll probably fit. So that's pretty handy.

#thrifting #fatsion #fat positive #plus size #plus sized fashion

[splickedylit]

Watching you revisit your Homestuck AUs recently and seeing how much you've grown has given me new life. Definitely riding that nostalgia high, and it made me remember From Under Bridges— it was one of my faves from you and another prime example of how you manage to take clown church and make it into something really unique 👀 if ever you were inspired to revisit FUB with some hastily scribbled doodles or project notes, just know I, an anonymous fan, would be sighing dreamily into the void

Aww, haha! Let's see. If anybody remembers From Under Bridges (the unfinished concept/fic where Karkat is a scout in the ongoing landwar between the human and alternian empires and gets captured by the alphas/betas and culture clash and scheming ensue) here's an enormous post of thoughts. (Possibly art to follow, we'll see).

I have inserted a readmore because I love you all and respect your dash length, and this got...quite long.

needs more recognition of the self through the other. I feel like this is an underlying theme in a lot of culture-clash fic; I think that if I wrote FUB now, rather than being some kind of well-respected noble house or something, the alphas and betas would be the KIDS of well-respected noble houses, who were all scanadalous or inappropriate enough in some way to their society to get half-exiled to a "prestigious" guard post near the border

this gives them a reason to connect with Karkat, when it comes to light that he's also been outcast, because of his own societal rules/standards. It also makes it a secret that they have him, which makes things significantly more dramatic lol.

Maybe for extra backup theme, any ancestor/guardian we meet who IS culturally accepted has managed that by repressing some part of themself, trimming themself down to fit into the place that's been made for them? Primary theme is a good old-fashioned "we're not so different and the things that are different can be Good Actually", secondary themes of how sometimes societal/cultural norms that have been held for generations are cruel actually, and need to be let go of.

Related to the culture clash angle; the cultural dynamics need sprucing up. I'm all for a lot of the stuff I included in my original concepts for the trolls, intricate jewelry and facial markings for blood color, etc--but especially if the humans are presented as a kind of pseudo-european historical pastiche, it gives everything some uncomfortable Noble Savage flavor in retrospect. Chalk another one up to "sheltered white teenager tries to do culture clash", lol.

thoughts for ameliorating that; the trolls are more technologically advanced than the humans. Via magic and weird biotech, trolls are working with devices and forces our human protagonists don't understand, but the reader would understand as like, a rudimentary phone. Humans are feeling great about developing plumbing and gas lighting, but trolls don't bother with shit like that because they can plug weird biotendrils into a psionic and light their whole city electrically. Even though in this universe they cohabitate on one landmass, from a human POV trolls truly do feel like aliens, they do shit the humans have trouble even comprehending.

The field humans ARE more advanced in is automated/mechanical inventions, especially weaponry. They fuck around with elements and rocks and chemicals and shit, they discover gunpowder. The one really magical thing they have going for them is the barrier between them and the trolls, maybe?

Actually, the barrier could easily be a spell the Sufferer somehow leaked to them, and was promised some form of amnesty, and instead got sold out and executed. That would fit nicely into the theme of societal cruelty and also give a good reason for Karkat to be able to break in and get captured.

might help to use more trappings of historical nonwhite cultures with the humans, and vice-versa with the trolls? Sprinkle in some viking-inspired braids and clothing styles, cloaks and layers. Especially for warmbloods, who would necessarily need some protection in cold temperatures (unlike seadwellers who I've always assumed were well-adapted to crushing icy deep-sea conditions). Vary up some human skintones and clothing designs.

Hell I could push anachronism further if it came down to it, especially on the angle of trolls being tech-advanced. This is my boyfriend, he's a psychic nightmare creature from the depths of darkness. He's got bones braided into his hair and elaborate gold earrings and facepaint and he DOES wear a jacket made of leather with bone spiky epaulets. Karkat has sickles and bone armor and ritual quadrant jewelry but also the ritual is Ritual Of Call Boyfriend and it's essentially a very basic cell phone.

Going ahead and making the call that the Church of Mirth in this AU also uses righa forachtae, my conlang from Poor Unfortunate Shoals. Because I make the rules, is why. The church itself probably wears less gold, since my theory in Shoals was that the seadwellers not being around meant the clowns had all the gold they wanted to fuck around with--but the general vibes are probably quite similar, just with more bones in the jewelry instead. Very maximalist body decoration and body mods. Piercings and tattoos encouraged, more aggressive religious self-mutilation thought highly of especially during worship/in a bacchanalian frenzy.

A possible accepted/unacceptable parallel, hm--the Grand Highblood is still in power because he killed the Sufferer, despite Pale Temptations. Later the GHB and the empress fuck with Tavros and Gamzee flips out and confronts his ancestor about it, publicly letting his quadrants come before his duty, which gets him thrown out. It does fit the pattern. HM.

Chewing over the thought of a translation spell that doesn't do any psychic translation or anything, it just forces the person's mouth to speak whatever they want to say in your language instead. Would make a good comparison to the first attempt to get to know each other with a drastic power imbalance as captor/captive. Especially if troll and human languages have some noises that the other group can't make, and it gets increasingly tiring and painful to be magically forced to speak the other person's language for extended periods of time. hmmm.

Oo, oo, late-game concept because I like the Midnight Crew as angry mentor figures and I've been struggling to figure out who the head of the human empire would be if not SS: human kingdom split into derse and prospit courts? Black and white kings+queens each ruling a half but with uneasy peace between the two sides in the face of the troll empire's encroaching border?

oh shit wait okay, I was contemplating the alphas and betas each having their own estranged guard posts but instead; Derse and Prospit split. One house run by Slick and Deuce with John+Jade+Jane+Jake and Karkat, and one house run by Droog and Boxcars with the Strilondes and....a guest of their own? :oUc HMM.

Each of them is trying not to let the troll information they find out get across to the other house because there's a friendly (or not-so-friendly if you ask Derse) rivalry between the two. Narrative tension as we the reader jump back and forth and each group is learning radically different things about their prisoners and also troll society, and the impending moment where they have to come together and Reveal their Tactical Advantage to the other side.

Goddammit I kind of want to go back to the fic just for that part, that would be delicious. Dammit.

It seems like the lesson for the humans to learn from the trolls (mostly indirectly) is "people should interrogate their society, because when you're in the 99% of a society you're discouraged from realizing that the people sitting on your shoulders are just there because they've convinced everybody they should be" and the lesson in response is "advancement doesn't have to be cruel, improvement doesn't have to be exploitative; people will function because of fear but they'll thrive because of freedom and cooperation".

TBH it feels like this storyline culminates in two simultaneous revolutions/coups and I have no IDEA how to write that lmao. It does sound very fun though. The disgraced offspring of the society's power, influential, or infamous people all show up at once but oh damn they've allied with each other, shit. Oh no once they stopped accepting our cultural praxis as law we stopped having authority over them oh shit.

#From Under Bridges #It's been six billion years since I talked about or thought about that fic lmao #talking about it has made me want to write on it again which is both a fun mood and also very inconvenient lol #I hope somebody out there remembers this fic enough to enjoy this lengthy ramble thanks anon

[voidthewanderer]

'' you're even more beautiful in the morning. '' For Ripper and Sweetjane? Hir sind kekse.

@bleumanouche || Character Waking Up Prompts

Mature content is only implied in this one; didn’t feel like it would fit particularly well with this particular sentence prompt. Wanted something softer, little bit more domestic. This would take place before they got married. Ripper would be the type to make sure that he has a stable living situation before completely tying the knot.

Words: 870

Ripper stretched in his wakening, trying to not move too much. After all, he didn’t want to disturb the woman who laid next to him. God, she still had to have been tired, how late the two had eventually gone to bed. He was lucky, technically not needing to sleep. It was something that just felt good. But her? He wanted her to be rested.

His thoughts absolutely swam with the memories of the night before, resisting his urge to caress Sweetjane’s body once more. She deserved the rest; he wasn’t exactly gentle the prior night. It’d been worth it… it always was.

The ghoul glanced at the window, trying to gauge around what time it was. The sun hadn’t crested over the horizon just yet, so it seemed. A very dull glow, at least. He’d long since stopped tracking the days, making it hard to even tell what season it even was. Given the cooler morning temperature? Maybe spring? Which would’ve made it maybe around six in the morning, maybe seven.

A movement at his hip caused him to glance over, seeing Sweetjane slowly starting to stir. He lightly caressed her shoulder, laying back down to tuck her close to his chest.

“Mornin’ Rippa,” her voice was quiet, reflecting the tired that she still held.

“Good morning,” he hummed, lightly brushing a stray hair from her face, “You can go back t’ sleep if ya want. Just got used t’ wakin’ up early. You deserve it after last night.”

Her eyes opened, though half-lidded, a soft smile forming on her lips, “Yer even more beautiful in th’ mornin’.”

This made him chuckle, “You took the words right out of my mouth.” I should be saying that to you, he wanted to say, though he had a feeling she already knew with how much he already did.

A finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face just slightly enough for him to lay a kiss on her lips. She returned it softly, tucking close to the ghoul’s body. He hummed softly, “That’s my girl… Ya got any requests for breakfast? Think I’m up early enough t’ actually catch Arsenic before he’s started cooking.”

“Nah… jus’ wanna lay ‘ere wit ya.”

Ripper had to swallow his laugh, not wanting to wake anyone in the settlement, “After last night, think I’m off th’ menu. Now, c’mon. Breakfast?”

“Think ‘e got any chicken? Could do come chicken an’ waffles.”

“Oh, I think that’s a good idea. Something hearty. Been a while since the kids had it too, I think.”

Ripper was careful in getting out from under the covers, only twisting back to tuck Sweetjane back in, “Rest. I’ll be back in a little bit. Promise.”

Before she could protest, Ripper had pants on and was out of the room. She still got herself up, going to prepare herself for the day. Though, she did take her time in getting dressed, taking note of some of the new places Ripper had decided to mark her in the mirror. It wasn’t something he did often, though he even admitted that it was because he preferred the neck. But, he couldn’t exactly reach it. He’d left a decent one on her collar, easily covered by her dress.

She smoothed out her clothes once everything was on, hearing the door open. She didn’t think she’d taken that long to get dressed. His arms snaked around her waist as she felt his body press against her back, “Tesoro…”

“’At was fast,” she hummed.

“God… you’re so beautiful…”

Lips pressed against her jaw before Ripper rested his cheek against the side of her head. He looked into the mirror, watching her hands press against his forearms. He took a soft breath, just savoring the moment. Soon… Soon they’d be together in their own place. It was why he wanted to get up early, work on the house. Though… this was better than sitting around waiting; getting to be with the one he loved.

“What’s on the agenda today for ya?” Ripper hummed. Sweetjane nuzzled her head against his cheek, “Crow’s gonna take Amy t’day fer somethin’. Thinkin’ maybe I could try’an take Cody out; try’n do some bondin’.”

“I love it. I think it’ll do some good for him too. Get him outta the guest house for a little bit.”

“Think ‘e’ll ever get used t’ us?”

Ripper held his breath for a moment, “He’s going through a lot. He was old enough t’ understand what happened when me an’ his mother had t’ separate. Think part of him still thinks I’m tryin’ t’ replace Amelia. He knows that’s not true, but think the thought’s gonna be there for a while. Keep working with him; he sees Amy absolutely adores you and that’ll help a lot.”

“Ain’t ‘ere t’ replace ‘er anyways,” Sweetjane kept her voice soft. Ripper nuzzled his face against hers, “I know. But, as it stands, she’s been gone for a long time. It’s all trauma, I know it is. I know everything’ll work out in the end.”

He pulled Sweetjane into a small spin, dipping her down to kiss her, “Now, c’mon, let’s get started with something warm to drink.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

#shut it void #friend talk #bleumanouche #ripperxsweetjane #oc: ripper #bleumanouche: sweetjane ledet

[niceyniceyzoozoo]

hiiii if you’re still taking howince hurt/comfort prompts, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up”?

Thank you for sending this! I am literally always taking prompts I love doing little prompts :)

I'm also changing the timeline for the end of the chokes for angst purposes

-

Howard had only returned to pick up the rest of his things and leave his keys behind.

Maybe he'd leave a dramatic note, or a signed headshot. Something that could really be worth some money after he hit it big.

Of course, Jurgen still hadn't disclosed the nature of his special project with Howard yet, but he had put Howard up in a dingy apartment for the past two months, giving him fine whiskey and cheap cigarettes to better "hone his craft."

So clearly, this project was a special one.

Howard crept into the Naboutique, holding the bell over the door still so it couldn't ring.

It was nearly the middle of the night, ten minutes past Vince's preferred time to arrive at any gathering.

Naboo and Bollo would be DJing, and Vince would be preening in front of a crowd.

If he wasn't still on tour with The Black Tubes. Howard hadn't kept up with the news of Vince's new band.

He was surprised to see the main area of the flat just as he had left it.

As Howard was the only one who cleaned, he had imagined it would fall into a state of pure disgust. But everything was neat and tidy, although covered in a noticeable layer of dust.

He had to convince himself not to get the feather duster from the hall cupboard. He was on a mission, after all.

The door to his old room opened slowly, and silently.

And now, this was different.

The room was utter chaos.

Not that Vince was exactly a neat person, but his piles of clothing always had some semblance of organization that only Vince could understand, and Howard's items had never been mixed into the mess.

But not, it was everywhere.

Howard's clothes were strewn about the room, mingling with Vince's clothes all around the floor.

Howard's desk had been upended, as though someone had pushed it over in a fit of anger. His stationary village seemed to have been hit by a hurricane.

Howard noticed scrapbooks, the ones Vince had created to keep their photographs safe, placed on Vince's bed, looking more like a nest than an actual bed, piled with blankets and clothes.

But the greatest shock of all, was on Howard's bed.

Vince was sitting up, perched on his knees, and staring at Howard.

His hair was a state, half of it pulled up into a tiny ponytail that had obviously been in for three days, at least. His roots were more visible than Howard can remember them being, mousy brown like a halo, dissolving into black.

And that's definitely Howard's shirt he's got on, the olive-beige button-down he wore nearly every day at the zoo.

It was misbuttoned, and christy, Vince was thin. His collarbones stuck out more than they should, and his cheekbones were even pointier.

He didn't look well.

He looked dull, and drained, and fucking sad.

Vince squeezed his eyes closed.

"You ain't real. 'm jus' dreamin' again," he mumbled. Howard watched him pinch his own leg.

His eyes opened again, and he seemed shocked to still see Howard lingering in the doorway.

"Um, not. I'm not. I mean, well, I'm not not real." Howard coughed. "I've come to-"

take you with me.

stay here with you forever.

tell you that you're the only thing that truly matters to me.

"collect the rest of my things."

Bushbaby eyes filled with shining tears.

"So that's it, then? You're taking your things and leaving?"

Howard didn't realize he could miss someone so much, until he heard Vince speak. Until he heard his uncharacteristically quiet voice.

He'd forgotten just how lovely Vince's voice was when it slid over his raw emotions.

How had he not felt this ache? This terrible pain in his chest at the mere idea of leaving Vince.

He had done it so easily when he thought Vince didn't care about him.

He had told himself time and time again that he didn't care about Vince, even if it was a complete lie.

And here they are. They care about each other, and they're both hurt, and sad, and how could Howard possibly ever leave?

"No," he cleared his throat, speaking up, his voice ringing through the room. "No. I am going to stay. I am, Vince-" he choked. He choked just like on that stage a lifetime ago.

He felt the crunching of paper, and for fuck's sake. This was the worst possible time to go all stiff and quiet.

But Vince, lovely, perfect, mind-reading Vince, simply stood up from the bed, and wrapped his arms around Howard.

It was everything. His little man holding on with all his strength, his body shaking as he held back his sobs.

Howard was such an idiot.

But he felt himself loosen in Vince's arms, so much so that he was able to return the hug.

"I'm sorry, Vince. I'm so sorry. Please, Little Man, please forgive me."

"'Oward, I'm sorry. 'm sorry I made you leave, that I-I, you thought I didn't care."

And once again, Vince was reading his mind just like Howard had never left.

"I'm staying right here, Vince. I promise." He brought a hand up to stroke through Vince's hair, surprised at the feeling of it.

It was silky smooth the way it was with no product, and it was stiff and immobile.

It was greasy, and knotted, and Vince wasn't taking care of himself with Howard gone.

The eerily clean living room made sense.

Vince was spending his time cooped up in this bedroom, in their bedroom, and he wasn't taking care of himself, because Howard always did that.

Howard made sure he was fed and chided him to pick up after himself. He made sure the laundry was clean and the dishes were put away.

And it's not as though Vince can't bathe himself, he loves primping and getting beautiful.

Clearly, he didn't care.

He didn't care about himself when Howard wasn't there to help him do it.

"Come on, Little Man. Let's get you cleaned up."

#howard returning from denmark and seeing vince lowkey a mess without him is SUCH a good vibe to me #i also had a dan/jones idea for this prompt but since you said howince I didn't want to stray too far #lol stray #anyway this got long #howince #jack writes #vince noir #howard moon #mighty boosh #the mighty boosh #noel fielding #julian barratt

[iamvegorott]

How about Henrik getting overstimulated and Edward having to comfort while making him take a break?

Edward was making his rounds. A flu of sorts was being passed around the Egos, and currently, half of them were sick. Some were also handling being sick a lot better than others. 

“Wilford, you’re supposed to be resting.” Edward sighed when he opened the door and saw Wilford standing in the middle of the bedroom. JJ was curled up into a ball on the bed and letting out little coughs under the blanket. 

“I am more than well, my-” Wilford didn’t get to finish before a fit of coughs cut him off. 

“You are not.” Edward grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the dresser next to the door. Something he’s done in all of the ‘sick rooms’ to make access to them easier during this time. He slipped the gloves on and was easily able to move Wilford over to the bed and guide him to lie down. There wasn't much strength to Wilford while he was like this. Edward watched as Wilford grunted and grumbled but did stop when JJ moved to curl up against his side. He turned over, pulled JJ into a hug, and closed his eyes, it not being long before soft snores came from him. Edward rolled his eyes, but he did have a smile hiding behind his mask. 

Edward left the room and went to his office, cleaning up before finishing his rounds and heading for Henrik’s office to see how he was doing. He tried to sneak in, wanting to give a little surprise to Henrik with how busy they’d been. A little kiss on the cheek when he’s not expecting it sounded cute. 

That plan flew out the window when he saw Henrik. 

“JJ’s with…he’s with…uh…” Henrik closed his eyes, holding the edge of the desk. Why did everything feel so fuzzy? Why couldn’t he think? Was he getting sick? He wasn’t showing the same symptoms as the others, but maybe this was a new one. 

“Henrik, dear.” Edward knew a shock would not be good for Henrik at this moment and spoke in a soft, gentle tone. Henrik opened his eyes and blinked hard a few times, trying to will his head to stop whatever it was that it was doing. 

“Ed…Ed I’m…I don’t…I don’t…” Henrik struggled to form words. The fuzziness in his head was almost becoming painful. 

“It’s time for a break.” Edward took off his mask, tossing it into a nearby wastebasket before removing Henrik’s as well. “I think you are or are becoming overstimulated.” He knew Henrik was trying to find an answer and would never find one in his current state. 

“But…But I…I don’t…” Henrik shook his head, making a face showing that he didn’t like that feeling.

“Anyone can. We’ve been working too much lately. Let’s go lay down for a bit. I’ll turn off the lights, grab all of our blankets, and we can just rest for a bit.”

“But…others…” 

“They’re all sleeping as we speak. I even checked on the Septiceyes while I was out. You’re allowed to get some sleep as well.” Edward took Henrik’s hands, watching his face to see if he was okay with that. When Henrik didn’t pull back, he knew he was good to continue.

Henrik either couldn’t or didn’t protest as he was led through the door that connected his office to his bedroom. Edward got him to sit on the edge of the bed and removed enough of his clothing to make resting as comfortable as possible, being slow and gentle with each movement. He guided Henrik to lie down, and after turning off the lights and gathering every blanket he could find, Edward joined Henrik in the bed and buried them in the blankets. 

“I got you,” Edward whispered, holding Henrik to his chest, and when he felt Henrik squeeze him back, he tightened his hold. “I got you.” He repeated with a kiss on Henrik’s cheek. 

#damnthedead #schneeplier #doctor lovin #veggie writes

[cyanide-latte]

Breakup [A Fear Street drabble]

Written for Fear Street Appreciation Week 2022

Day 2 (June 27): Angst or “Light”

Originally posted to AO3 here (if you’re interested in my author’s notes, that’s where you’ll find them; please consider leaving a comment and kudos, even if you’re a guest!)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 2105

Characters: Sam Fraser, Deena Johnson

Warnings: Exactly What It Says On The Tin

    Leaving was never going to be easy, and it was something Sam refused to delude herself about.  Shadyside was home, and you didn’t just throw away seventeen years of home so easily, especially not for a place like Sunnyvale.

    Unless you were her mom, apparently.

    “Have you packed your clothes yet?”

    Speak of the devil.  Sam gritted her teeth, setting down the scrapbook she’d picked up and rolling her eyes as she called back, “I’m working on it!”

    It wasn’t entirely true.  She could really only pack so much before they actually moved, and as long as she had most of her other stuff packed, why bother about the clothes?  Furthermore, her mom had already been talking about buying new things for her wardrobe once they moved, so she could “fit in better” at Sunnyvale High.  If she was going to go on a clothes shopping spree shortly after they moved, what was the point of packing all of her clothes?

    “Feels stupid,” she murmured to herself.  She didn’t mean the clothes thing.  At least, not just the clothes thing.  And besides that, it didn’t matter what her mom wanted to try to do to make the change smoother: Sunnyvale high schoolers would single her out anyway.  She was going to be a pariah the moment they moved into their new place, just for being “Shadyside trash” existing in their bubble of perfect air.

    The rest of high school was going to be miserable, at this rate.

    Deena, she told herself.  Think about Deena.

    Her not-so-secret secret girlfriend, despite the fact she wasn’t taking the news about the Fraser parents’ divorce and the subsequent move well, was one of the only things getting Sam through the moving and packing process at that moment.  Right now, it felt like everything about her life was getting completely disordered, and Deena was one of her only grounding points that allowed her to sort things into facts she could live with.

    Fact one: her parents were getting a divorce, and nothing she could do would change that.  It wasn’t her fault, even if that hadn’t sunk in yet, and the more she thought back and wondered about how bad their relationship had started deteriorating, maybe it would be a good thing for them to have a divorce.  It still hurt and it was still hard to navigate, but it wasn’t her fault and she had no control over it.

    Fact two: in the wake of the divorce, her mom was getting a very nice, very hefty settlement, and decided that because of the settlement, they would be moving to perfect, pristine Sunnyvale.  Sam had had no say in the decision any more than she had a real say in which parent she stayed with.  She didn’t like it, but her mother didn’t care and she had no control over it.

    Fact three: she was going to be transferring to Sunnyvale High School.  If she managed to at least keep her grades afloat and make the cheerleading squad, maybe she could survive the remainder of high school.  Maybe.  She doubted it would be easy or that she would be accepted by the pedigree students, but she could make it through.  It wasn’t forever.

    Fact four: there was going to be half-an-hour’s worth of travel to see Deena and all of their friends now.  It felt like forever, but it would be worth the drive when they could make it to see each other.  This was one of the only things buoying her through this hectic week of packing and prepping.

    The first chance we get, we need to plan whenever I’m going to come visit, ASAP.  At least that way I’ll have something to look forward to after I make it through my first week.

    Something to cling to like a life raft, she didn’t want to admit to herself.

    She looked down at the scrapbook again, heart thumping a bit harder than usual, and gently opened it to a page at random.  Among the glitter and stickers, there were three separate pictures pasted to the page.  All three had been taken at the bowling alley, two of which featured her with both Deena and Kate.  Kate was absent from the last picture, and it was on this one that Sam focused, brushing her fingertips over the glossy surface.  Simon had told them both to strike a pose and make a face, and they’d gotten goofy with it.  But even then, back when they’d been in middle school, Sam could see the way Deena had turned her face inward in their pose, closer to her.  They hadn’t been together then, but they’d both felt the chemistry by then, she was sure of that.

    Sniffling a little, she brushed at her eyes to prevent any stray tears from getting ideas, and turned another page.  The images here kicked off a large chunk of pages just composed of a trip to the King’s Island amusement park.  That had been early summer, right before they started freshman year at Shadyside High.  None of their parents could really afford it themselves, but given it was still a big deal to go from middle school to high school, so all of them had chipped in together for a bunch of them to be able to go as a group, and they’d spent the entire day at the amusement park.  They’d not been able to buy much in the way of souvenirs—park food was ridiculously expensive and took up most of the cash the parents had given them—but Sam had thought ahead of time to bring a couple of disposable cameras so they could at least document some of the fun.

    She was glad she had; she had a feeling in the next few weeks she’d be thumbing through the scrapbook more than normal.

    A sudden knock at her bedroom window made her jump and the scrapbook fell out of her hands onto the the pile of other things in her current box, its cover falling shut.  Turning in herky-jerky motions, she looked at her window at first in wariness, then relaxed and smiled.  She should have guessed it was Deena; she had mentioned at some point that she would stop by.  She was staring in at Sam, her expression pained and her eyes bright with unshed tears as her lips drew down into the pout she insisted she never had.

    Sam got to her feet, moved to the window, and hauled it up and open, leaning on the sill with her hands as she smiled at her girlfriend.

    “Hey!”

    “Hey,” Deena parroted back thickly, blinking hard.  Trust Deena Johnson to play tough at any opportunity.

    Except…Deena wasn’t supposed to play tough.  Not when it was just the two of them.

    “What- what’s up?” Sam asked, thrown off by Deena’s behavior.  “Sorry, I- I’d invite you in to help me pack but—”

    “Oh, right,” Deena said, her face still alive with hurt, but her voice slipping into the sarcastic tone she adopted when upset and unwilling to admit it.  “Because the thing I want more than anything else is to help you pack up and move away to Sunnyvale.”

    Sam blinked, shaking her head slowly.  “Wh- um… Sorry, uh,” she stammered, letting out a dry, shaky laugh with no joy behind it.  “We talked about this, Deena.  You know why we’re moving.”

    “Yeah, well I still think it’s bullshit.”

    Sam stared at her, took in the way Deena was crossing her arms angrily, the way she was looking at her without quite meeting her eyes.  Alarms started to ring in her head, and she tried to tell herself not to overreact.

    “I don’t have much of a choice, Deena,” she said carefully.  “I’m not eighteen, I have to go with one of my parents, and as much as the court likes to pretend I get some kind of a say in which one I go with, the fact is that Ohio law states my mom has the stronger claim to custody.”

    “Did you even try to fight for which parent you wanted to go with?”

    Sam blinked and shook her head again, baffled.  “What are you talking about, Deena?  I wanted to go with Mom so I could still stay as close as possible.  My dad’s moving out of state.  If I stay with Mom, at least I’ll still be close enough that visiting Shadyside will still be easy,” she explained.  When Deena didn’t say anything, but continued to glower and keep her arms crossed, making ice form in Sam’s stomach, Sam forced out a question that left an acidic taste on her tongue.

    “Deena…are you just mad that I’ve got to move at all, or is this because I’m moving to Sunnyvale?”

    Deena didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes narrowed and almost seemed to spark in the sun, and her nostrils flared as she started breathing harder.  Sam’s arms started to shake on the sill and she had to stop putting her weight on them.  That’s what this was about?  That they were relocating to Sunnyvale?

    “Just think it’s not like you,” Deena answered at last.  “Not like you to just throw away who you are for the sake of living with a bunch of rich, elitist trash.”

    What the hell?  Sam studied her, wishing that Deena would break it up with a laugh, with a playful shove, with some kind of reassurance she was just messing with her to hide the pain that they were going to be missing each other.  But no, she looked dead-serious.

    “You know that’s not what this is—” Sam started, feeling the beginnings of fury starting to grow in her chest.

    “It’s over, Sam.”

    She felt her arms drop down to her sides.  Had the sounds outside stopped completely?  The sunlight had gone cold.

    “What?” she breathed.

    “It’s over,” Deena repeated, her voice terrifyingly steady.  “I’m not doing this.  I’m done, okay?  You go, you move to Sunnyvale, party it up at your new school with your new friends, forget about home, forget about us, forget about me.  Have fun with your new, perfect life, okay?  I hope it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.  But I’m done.  We’re done.  It’s over.  We’re over.”

    The ice, the fire, the confusion and the anger fell away.  She was teetering on the edge of a yawning chasm, balance precarious.  The tears that had threatened earlier were starting to sting at her eyes in earnest now.

    “Are you…” she whispered, voice trembling and small, “breaking up with me?”

    Deena nodded, and not even the fact her eyes were starting to run over with tears could take away from the icy resolve in her expression or the way it dared Sam to protest or challenge it.  They stared at one another for what felt like a small eternity, neither bothering to hide their tears from the other, until Deena nodded to the cluster of boxes Sam had been working on.

    “Better get back to that,” she remarked.  “Wouldn’t want your Mom to have a cow because you wanted to act sentimental.”

    There was a knife in her gut, twisting deeper and deeper with each word, and with each bounce of Deena’s curls as she spun and stormed away from the window of Sam’s room.

    The chasm was right there, wide and waiting, like it was ready to welcome her.  She teetered on her feet, not wanting to fall, and stayed staring out the window for a long time, the world outside blurred as she wept in silence.

    All of the carefully ordered facts she’d been using pitched into the chasm one by one, no longer able or willing to try helping her make it through.  Deena had broken up with her.  No, Deena had dumped her.  Like she—no, like their relationship was nothing that couldn’t be discarded over some inconvenience.  She got that her girlfriend and their friends hated Sunnyvale outright.  Hell, she still wasn’t a big fan and wasn’t sure she ever would be!  But she didn’t have a single real choice in any of this any more.

    Deena seems to think I do, though.

    “What the hell…” she murmured, the words watery and broken.  “I don’t have a choice.”

    Her knees were getting shaky, and she forced herself to sit down on the floor next to the boxes, pulling her knees up to her chest, curling into a tight ball.  She buried her head, feeling the sobs hitch in her chest, and hugged herself tight.

    Maybe I just don’t get a choice in anything at all…

#fsweek22 #fear street appreciation week #Netflix Fear Street #Fear Street film trilogy #fsweek22 day 2 writing prompt #my writing and fics #crossposted from AO3 #oneshot fic #angst drabble #Sam Fraser #Deena Johnson #Cyanide speaks

[y3s-n0-maybe]

2, 5, 9, 15, 17, 22, 24 (taking notes), 31, 37, 38, 42, 44, 48, 49, anything else you wanna answer :D

Femme or butch? Very femme most days :3

Do you have a “type”? If so, describe it Women✨

Plaid button-ups or leather jackets? idrk tbh

Describe your style i don't really have one, i wear clothes that cover up everything because of anxiety, but if i could look how i wanted and wear clothes that i wanted it would definitely be like fairy core style

Describe your aesthetic fairy core/goblin core, earth tones and shiz

Favorite article of clothing? My skirt :D

Favorite pair of shoes? The only one i wear, sketchers slip ons, very fashionable B)

Current haircut? longk

Any haircut goals for the future? Might dye it purple, and in the future might go for a shorter style

Describe the best date you’ve been on went to howth with my gf

Describe the worst date you’ve been on only been on two

Single? Taken? taken :DDDD

If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife! You might know them asker, they're the best, they're super artistic and it's super cool, and they'll always let me ramble on about w/e, and they always talk about the most interesting stuff :3 If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? In a floating house that could go anywhere i wanted to

Describe your dream wedding Idrk tbh, whatever my partner wants :3

Favorite lesbian movie? the half of it is pretty good

What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any? Idk tbh

If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that? flirt with me, exist around me, etc

Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian? women are hot and we get a cool flag :3

Are you more of a cat person or a dog person? cat for pet dog for friend's pet

Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you? I tend to confess my crushes a lot so i make the first move

What is your dream career? something in the sciences, maybe a phd

Talk about your interests or hobbies! I really like military history, and military stuff in general, I hope to maybe join the navy some day, i really like spacey physics stuff too :3

What is the most attractive quality a woman can have? Being nice

Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone? i crush easily but it takes a hot sec for me to love someone

Ever fallen for your best-friend? i am right now :3

Ever fallen for a straight girl? yes it was torture

Favorite comfort food? don't have one rn

Coffee or tea? teaaaaaaaaaa

Early-riser or night-owl? both

Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)? maybe i'm not sure if it's a crush 🤔🤔

Talk about how your day went It's been uneventful so far tbh

Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future get through school without burning out horrifically

Least favorite gay celebrity? ellen >:(

[ambriel-angstwitch]

From Eden through the Lens of Merthur

Babe There's something tragic about you

Merlin is ultimately a tragic character, he constantly tries to stop things and in all his efforts he just makes it worse.

Something so magic about you Don't you agree?

But there’s also magic to Merlin. And not just in the clear obvious way but he naturally draws people in. He gains adoration and interest so easily. (Also these two first parts juxtapose something typically bad with something good)

Babe There's something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you Get closer to me

Once again there’s that juxtaposition. Now this line comes off as more about Arthur but it can be either way.

Arthur was a very lonesome character before Merlin. He never had deep connections with anyone because people were always to scared and respectful towards him since he was the Prince. But then also Arthur is so loyal, kind and honorable, he wants to help people and would die for those he loves

Then there’s Merlin who told Arthur “I just didn’t fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”. Merlin who’s the last of his kind (dragon lord). Merlin who’s magical but not part of the community. Merlin who’s immortal. But Merlin also came to Camelot with bright eyes and quick wit. Merlin also didn’t like the idea of killing animals. (So this line also can apply to Merlin)

No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me

This line is the realization in the last season that they’re missing the key prices of their relationship the witty banter, the feigned annoyance. Instead it is replaced by the feeling that they both seem to be putting other things first (though Merlin is actually just trying to save Arthur’s life)

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

There’s something familiar about eachother after all they’re eachothers’ other half. They just fit so well together and mirror eachother (born magically but powerless vs born naturally but full of magic I could go on). But there’s also a sense of nostalgia to their relationship especially later on as they are the only constants in eachothers lives.

Idealism sits in prison

Not really Merthur related but Lance is who picture as idealism (in this song at least). He believed in Merlin, he believed in Arthur, he believed in the ideals of the knights and what they were supposed to be. That landed him in prison for impersonating a noble, that killed him, and he was brought back only to land in prison again (then he died again).

chivalry fell on its sword

Chivalry is Arthur and well I think you guys know what this means. Arthur was always ready to die for Camelot and in the end he did by a sword fashioned in the same way as his own,

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know

This is the Merlin line. He was innocent when he came to Camelot, he had yet to witness an execution, he didn’t know what destiny had in store for him, and he had yet to kill anyone and maybe not even anything since he seems to dislike hunting. But that all ended he was forced to take up a mantle, he had to kill, he was tortured, he could have been killed and in the end it all came to naught.

I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

What is really interesting is the wording of slithered because that is the snake the inciter of evil. Merlin is something seen as inherently evil by the kingdom he came to. He risked his safety (Eden) to stay in a kingdom which would have him killed just to be a foot note in Arthur’s story. We know Merlin’s importance but Merlin didn’t expect recognition he stayed in the shadow saving Arthur’s life and dealing with his clothes.

Babe There's something wretched about this Something so precious about this Where to begin?

They’re relationship would have been seen as wrong for many reasons, but they held it preciously, it was the best things in their lives. They are eachothers’ everything so they wouldn’t even begin to be able to express what they feel and would do for eachother.

Babe There's something broken about this but I might be hoping about this Oh, what a sin

Once again touching on how their relationship would have been interpreted as wrong. In the later seasons their relationship is falling apart they’ll argue and not in the joking way they would before but they wanted things to get better. They were doomed but Merlin was always trying to change that.

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

So picnics were a romantic date the Arthur and Gwen had on multiple occasions. So I imagine while Merlin is happy for them he also is sitting on the sidelines wishing it was him. But Merlin also knows that he’s the other man destiny says Arthur and Gwen are meant to be married. He knows that should Arthur find his magic he might just end up hanging.

#Spotify #merthur #hozier analysis #hozier #merthur analysis #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #king arthur #bbc merthur #song analysis #song interpretation

[elysianslove]

shameful lust; suna rintarō

synopsis; he’s off limits in every way, but that only makes you want him more. based off of this, this, and this. the smut is inspired by my bunny anon’s birthday idea :) bunny, you know the one :)

pairings; brother’s bsf!suna rintarō x fem!reader

genre; porn with kind of plot lmfao

word count; 5.5k what the fuck??

trigger warning; age gap (not specified, & everyone’s 18+), masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, humiliation, praise, mini panic attack, link for the lingerie (slight nsfw warning)

it started off innocent, as most things do. you were sixteen when you first felt the butterflies nestled deep in your stomach, the drop of your heart, the heat of your cheeks, only around him. you’d thought it was a natural reaction; after all, you’d known suna rintarō since, quite literally, forever, and you were a growing girl, hormones imbalanced and thoughts as confusing as ever. it was normal, completely ordinary to feel as nervous as you did whenever his hand so much brushed against yours, or whenever he’d barely glance your way to offer a small, teasing smile.

it meant nothing, of course. you were just a young girl, sixteen, desperate to lose yourself in some sort of fantasy. a silly crush on your brother’s best friend was nothing strange, and definitely inevitable.

it would go away.

you’re eighteen when the feelings don’t go away, and when they begin reshaping into more— impure thoughts. the more you see of him, the more hyperaware you grow of everything that he is. suddenly your eyes easily find the small strip of skin revealed when he stretches his arms up, and suddenly you can’t help but constantly think about the way he sits, legs spread so wide as if to... accommodate something. suddenly your thoughts always find their way back to the way he’d hugged you goodbye, arms squeezing you so tight to him, allowing you to feel every ridge and ripple of his muscles, and the way he had ruffled your hair and his hand, so large, so easily sinking into the strands— and you’re left wondering what else his fingers could do in your hair, to the rest of your body—

it’s bad. it’s really bad. every day you try and convince yourself it’s innocent, and every night you prove yourself wrong when you find yourself on your stomach, face buried in your pillow and teeth biting down on it, mouth dampening the cloth as your fingers rub harshly at your clit and sink into your dripping cunt— all with his name falling off your tongue as you heave and cry. every night you think about how much thicker his fingers are in comparison to yours, how much longer, how they’d feel inside of you, curling within you. you know he’s dexterous, insanely good with his hands. you’ve seen the way his fingers fly across a keyboard or tap urgently at a gaming console. you know it, and it in no way helps in calming your frustration.

it’s bad, of course, but you live with it. after all, he is in every way off limits. a lot older than you, and much more experienced, suna would have to lose his mind before he ever thinks of you the way you think of him. what would a girl like you have to offer a guy like him anyways? your shaky hands and clumsy mouth? your tight cunt that can barely fit two of your fingers? you’d only leave him unsatisfied, and leave yourself utterly humiliated.

worst of all, however, you can’t imagine how devastated, how betrayed, your brother would be if he’d caught you fooling around with his best friend.

so although you’re yearning to say fuck all and fuck him, you don’t, because it doesn’t make sense in the slightest for you to do so. you continue to make due with what shirtless image of him or that time he slept over and went commando, waking up at the same time you had and his — his dick was hard— you could see—

fuck.

you need to grow up.

as you sit with your back to your headboard, your knees bent up and swinging slightly, two simple knock erupt on your bedroom door. it’s late afternoon, the sun’s brightness dimming slightly, casting your room in an orange glow. in all honesty, it’s soothing.

looking up from your phone momentarily, you call out for the person knocking to come in, your eyes returning to your screen once more.

“hey.”

at the sound of the awfully familiar voice, your head snaps back up and you lock your phone, looking up with newfound excitement at the man standing at your doorway. “hi,” you return with a smile, sitting up and crossing your legs.

suna smiles back, walking into your room with one hand tucked behind his back. “your brother said i’d find you here,” he explains, walking towards you.

you quirk a brow, curiously and amusingly smiling as you ask, “whatcha got there?”

he’s quiet for a moment as he walks over to your side of the bed, maneuvering in a way that doesn’t reveal what he has hidden behind him. you twist around on your bed, leaning on your knees to face him properly, and it’s just when you lift up slightly to settle comfortably that he leans down, bends over to get close enough to whisper, “happy birthday, pretty girl.” he gives you not another moment to process how close his face is — how close his lips are to yours — before the hand behind his back comes around between you.

tucked in his hand is a medium sized bag, not related to any sort of brand, so you assume it’s a simple bag he’d gotten from a convenience store. that would really only mean one thing— that he’s gotten you more than just one gift. you can’t see what’s in it since there are colorful papers stacked within it, obstructing your view, but you’re still flustered at the mere thought he’d even considered to buy you a gift. it’s not unusual; suna, every year on your birthday, has gotten you a gift, yet it’s usually more so a gag gift than anything. some inside joke of yours, maybe he’d pay for your dinner, things like that. never a full on, thought out gift.

“you didn’t have to,” you say, settling back down on your knees and hesitantly taking the bag from him.

he waves you off, disagreeing. “course i did; you’re nineteen now.”

you roll your eyes. “wouldn’t eighteen be more special?”

“fine,” he decides, playfully taking the bag from your grasp and pulling it to him. “guess i’ll just give this to someone else then— maybe your mom—“

“suna!”

at your reaction, he laughs boisterously, and against all odds, you find yourself smiling too. quickly, you reach out for the bag again, pulling it back to you.

“open it when you’re alone,” he disclaims, almost as if in warning.

warily, you eye the bag.

“sure.”

you try to be quieter when unboxing suna’s gift, but the paper’s scrunching is just so damn loud. after cursing it out, you finally rid the bag of its first layer of paper, and are met with a scented candle and some lotion. basic, expected. there‘s a card there too, and when you open it, there’s a note in his messy handwriting, reading out a simple happy birthday— and a good couple of yens too. money, a candle, lotion.

so basic.

there’s still more paper beneath, but you don’t expect it to be for anything except decoration, not for—

what the fuck.

what the fuck.

What The Fuck?

your two hands dip into the bag, reaching out for the final gift, grabbing it by its straps and—

holy shit, he got you lingerie.

it’s so— sheer? you don’t think an inch of you will be properly covered, even with the lingerie on. it’s properly transparent, with only the intricate lace designs to modestly cover you. when you dig into the bag, you find the panties to match the bra and— well, it’s pretty, you can’t lie. there are dark, almost flowerlike designs all over, and it’s a deep black, nearly blue or green. there’s also a garter belt, but there aren’t any stockings in the bag to attach to the clips. maybe he’d expected you to take care of that?— ah no, you stand corrected. there are stockings.

fuck, he thought of everything didn’t he?

but more importantly, what the fuck does all of this mean?

burying the lingerie deep inside the bag again, and making sure to cover it up with the paper, thoroughly, you place the other gifts and the card back in and on top, before putting it aside on your bed.

and now, to gather your fucking thoughts.

you had to text him to thank him for the gift, obviously. but there was no way he’d accidentally misplaced the lingerie there. it was deliberately placed, with the way it was folded and tucked neatly, underneath an extra layer of paper above and beneath it? yeah, definitely on purpose. but— why? had he taken notice of your feelings towards him? was this his way of making fun or... reassuring you they were mutual?

god, what the hell are you thinking.

snatching your phone from your bedside table, you check the time.

2:01 a.m.

okay, everyone‘s bound to be asleep by now. hopefully. you eye the bag, so cautiously one would assume there’s some sort of killing machine within it. you contemplate. shake your head. no. the gears twist. yes.

no.

yes. no. yes. no—

fuck it, it’s yours anyways, isn’t it?

you snatch it loudly, rushing off to lock your bedroom door, then rushing to close the blinds, tightly, surely, then rushing to turn the lights off and turning the small lamp by your bedside on instead. what else are you meant to do with lingerie other than, well, put it on? it’s rational, you think, obvious.

it’s fine.

stealing one last, deep breathe, you dump the contents of the bag again, and pick out the lingerie.

it fits.

it fits perfectly.

the bra is snug against your chest, pushing at your breasts but not digging in uncomfortably. your nipples peak through what‘s revealed of the mesh, and when they stand perky and hard, you blame it on the fact that you‘re half naked. the garter belt wraps tightly around your waist, not squeezing to the point of discomfort and pain, but not loose that it’s a nuisance, and the clips that hang from it are attached to a pair of stockings that stop mid thigh, squeezing at the flesh. finally, a pair of panties rest on your cups, cupping your ass perfectly. it too is sheer, and god— you can see so much of you.

is this— what he would‘ve wanted?

you can’t deny that you do look good. it shows your figure off appealingly, and coupled with some dark lipstick, your messy hair, and the slightest smudge to your day’s eyeliner— would— would he have wanted you like this? all dolled up for him?

is this what suna likes?

doubting the fact that you’ll ever have the courage to put this set on again, you grab at your phone, clearing the area before your mirror, then sitting down at the edge of your bed. might as well enjoy it while it lasts, shouldn’t you? posing in the mirror, you appreciate the way you look, the way the dim lighting complements the atmosphere, the way the piece hugs your body and shows you off. you look so good.

so good— for him.

reveling in this surge of confidence, you snap a good amount of pictures, posing differently in each of them, taking them at different angles. your camera roll overflows with them, and as you fall back on the bed, hair splayed out on the mattress, you smile proudly at the pictures.

do you look good enough for him to see?

the thought strikes you suddenly; it tickles at the pit of your stomach, makes your knees bend and your toes curl.

should you?

the messenger app is open at the text messages between you and him before you can think, a picture of you uploaded and ready to send.

should you?

you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, mulling it over anxiously.

no, you most definitely shouldn’t.

quickly, you swipe out of the messenger app, and onto safari. porn it is.

you should‘ve turned the ac on. fuck, it’s hot.

3:10 a.m. 45 minutes since you’d put the lingerie set on and had your mini photoshoot, ten minutes since you’d started masturbating. everything’s still in place except for the garter clips, which have snapped off of your stockings at some point in the past few minutes, but you pay it barely any mind as your legs spread wider, one hand dipped beneath your panties, the other pressing hard against your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet.

it’s not that you generally had a problem keeping down your noises. your home was constantly filled with people, and you’re almost always sexually frustrated at the most inconvenient times. this time, however, it’s different. it’s different because you’re wearing a lingerie set that suna picked out, that suna bought for you, that suna gave you himself. would he have wanted to watch you touch yourself like this, dressed up so pretty? or— would he have wanted to fuck you while—

shit, you’re gonna cum.

you let out a broken moan, bleeding into a desperate son, muffled barely your hand. your fingers fuck into your cunt faster, squelching lowly as you arch your back, pressing your palm harshly against your clit.

“ugh, hngh,” you whine, squeal, wrist aching. “fuck, rin— please—“

you’re so loud, shit, shit, shit.

beside you, your phone dings! loudly, alerting you of a message received, but you can’t stop, not when you’re so close. it dings again, and again, but you continue to ignore, chasing your own high so desperately, faster, faster, faster. the coil tightens, your body tenses, mind hazing over and eyes rolling back— so close, so fucking close.

“well aren’t you a doll.”

your eyes snap open, and you only manage one second to process who the fuck and what the fuck before your hips are trembling and twisting, and your legs are shaking so awfully as your back arches deep. the moment you hear his voice, so deep and clear, looming just by the edge of your bed where you lay spread, fucking yourself, you cum— and you’re convinced you have a humiliation kink. you didn’t cum because you’d simply been close— you came because you heard him catch you.

in your post orgasmic daze, you pant deeply, chest heaving, rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. your fingers pull back from your panties, falling to the bed, sticky and wet, while your other hand falls from from your mouth, drool and spit dripping from the corner of your lips.

“aw, you ruined the set.”

you sigh. “rin.” the way you say his name isn’t in a way that’s calling out for him, but neither are you scolding him nor brushing him off for teasing you. you’re just simply trying to process the fact that he’s here.

“i like it when you call me that,” he admits, and in a second he’s falling over you, hands bracing and steadying him beside your head, keeping himself hovering at a small distance. “why do you always insist on calling me suna?” he wonders, head tilting curiously.

blinking slowly, you breathe in, and out, and ask, “what are you doing here?”

above you, he shrugs. “you were the one that sent me those—”

immediately, you’re pushing him off you, sitting up all too quickly as you reach out for your phone. you shakily unlock it, typing in your password and opening the messenger app. he’s right— shit. you could’ve sworn you’d deleted the photo, because you’d explicitly decided just how stupid sending it would’ve been. 

well, look at you now. 

“that wasn’t— oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you stutter, turning your body towards him once more, but avoiding his gaze, your body, only barely having just cooled down, heating up once more. 

“oh?” he tests. “was it not meant for me?” 

“no, i—“ 

he’s smiling all too wide for him to not be getting off on your embarrassment. at the thought of that, your eyes unintentionally snap up to him, to his crotch, where beneath his sweats is a bulge, and god, it’s like all those nights ago where you’d seen his dick through his sweats and he’s big, he’s so big—

“just where do you think you’re looking?” he sneers, hand all of a sudden gripping your chin, tilting your head back up and forcing you to finally, for the first time, meet his eyes. they’re dark, almost sinister, as they narrowly glare at you, begging you for explanation. 

your mind’s no longer clouded over, all pleasure dissipating from your veins, pathetic humiliation replacing it. “i’m sorry,” you mewl, eyes tearing up at the look on his face. of course he was disgusted. just as your stupid crush on him was natural, so was his reaction. “i’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, lower lip wobbling. 

his grip on your chin tightens as he furrows his brows. “tell anyone?” he questions. “about what?” 

had he not— heard you? 

he says your name, firmly, deeply, in a way that has you stifling your sobs and biting your bottom lip to stop its quivering. patiently, you wait for him to speak, to say anything, until finally, he asks, “do you want me to fuck you?” and your heart stops. “yeah?” he continues, his other hand reaching for your wrist, your hand, the same one that’s still sticky with the evidence of you. slowly, as he brings his lips closer to yours, fingers slipping so that he’s squishing your cheeks tightly, he leads your hand to his crotch, to where his dick is painfully hard beneath his sweats. your initial touch is featherlight, and he doesn’t fully press your hand to his clothed cock, but still, just the smallest, tiniest feel of him has the lust in your veins thrumming alive. “you think you’d look pretty—” he pauses, lips hovering by yours, eyes searching for any sign of hesitance or resistance, “sitting on my cock?” 

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again, but he swallows it by finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. his lips are so soft, softer than you’d imagined and fantasized a thousand times over, as they press against yours, managing to pull the softest moan of surprise and pleasure from you. you’d forgotten, in your moment of shame, just how much you’d craved suna rintarō. just how often you thought about him, those same fingers gripping your chin to be buried inside of you, those pretty lips sucking on your tits and clit. “want you so bad,” you hiccup, kissing him back. “so bad.” 

he hums, amused, pulling back. licking his lips with a grin, as if tasting you, his hands leave you entirely, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he lifts it up, freeing himself of the piece of clothing. “don’t you think i know, sweetheart?” he teases, daringly. at the sight of your eyes widening, he nods with a dramatized serious expression, tutting as he adds, “so dirty, thinkin’ ‘bout me like that.” 

you whine again, hands lifting up to obstruct your face from his view as you fall back on the bed, body bouncing slightly. “stop,” you plead, not for him to pull back but for him to stop reminding you of just how wrong it is to feel the way you do. still, you spread your sticky thighs for him when he presses his hands to your knees, and you shiver at the feel of his fingers tickling at your skin. “i’m sorry.” 

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he reassures you, faux sweetness dripping like honey off his tongue. he leans in, carefully slow, hands following the curve of his body and yours. “i want you too.” he smiles mischievously, leaning close once more. “so bad,” he mimics you, lips hovering right above yours before he kisses you once more. you want to pinch his arm for outright mocking you, because really, how infuriating can he be? but it’s impossible to want to do anything but desire him in every possible way at the moment, especially when he presses himself harder against you, hips slotting between your legs and clothed cock brushing against your dripping panties. 

“rin,” you plead, hands clawing at his back, grasping at his shoulders. god, his skin is so warm. 

“yes?” he drawls, wet lips kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing easily to your jaw, and down to your neck. patiently, he waits for you to speak. 

with a trembling voice, you ask, “be quick. please.” 

a little stunned, suna pauses his ministrations at your neck, but it’s barely for a second. because moments later, he’s grinning sinisterly into the crook of your neck, sucking hotly as he replies, “sure thing.” 

you do want to take your time. you want him to stuff his face between your legs and sink his fingers so deep inside of you. you want him to force your mouth down on him, want to bury your face in your lap till you’re choking and gagging on his cock. you want him to take his time stretching you for his cock before he sinks inside of you, letting you feel every single inch and ridge of his dick until he bottoms out. you wish. you wish. 

but you’re desperate, and needy, and frustrated, and most of all, you’re not even sure if this is real. you’re scared to blink and have him disappear all of a sudden. you’re scared to wake up with soaked panties and no gift from suna, no suna above you, hard cock pressing against your cunt, only the same suna from all these past years, the same suna you pine over at a distance, wanting but never having. 

so you whimper so quietly, “be quick,” again, because he’s still too slow for your liking.

his fingers grasp the sides of your panties, pulling as quick as he can, sliding them down your thighs, watching as the cloth rolls at the urgency as it slides past your knees, your shins, your ankles, legs lifted high up. at the final loop around your right ankle, as suna flings it off, he kisses at your ankle, gripping it tightly and using it to spread your legs. 

as your legs spread, your pussy, soaking from both your past orgasm and this unbelievable build up, spreads too, glistening and dripping for him. his eyes easily fall to it, and, with that same glint in his eyes, he grins, and licks his lips again. “wish i could have a taste,” he admits to you, shuffling closer and bending your legs closer to your chest with one hand. the other hand frantically pushes at the hem of his sweatpants, tugging it low, beneath his balls. “god, i’d have you sit on my face for hours.” 

he’s going to kill you. 

he’s going to fucking kill you. 

at his words, your cunt pulsates and clenches tightly, hole glistening as you moan. you hope he doesn’t notice, but he does, somehow, and he laughs, too fucking loud. “you liked that, hm? bet you’d look so cute,” he spurs you on, and your entire body trembles. 

you wish to say something, to find the courage to belittle him, degrade him, remind him that if you’re in the wrong for wanting this then so is he, but it’s so hard to find your voice. it’s like he’s stupefied you completely, reduced you to this dumb, wordless, horny mess. god, fuck, it’s embarrassing. you can only watch with wide, tearful eyes and quivering lips and trembling legs as he spits on his hand and fists his cock, quickly, getting himself all nice and slick for you. his cock is— he’s so big, fuck. if you’d been shocked feeling him beneath his sweats, well, your entire body’s rigid with anticipation now. 

just as promised, suna’s quick. with one hand pressing and steadying firmly at your lower stomach, right by your hip, he guides his cock to your cunt with the other, wasting no time by pushing in. no way, no way, no fucking way. 

how is he fitting? 

“ease up,” he orders sharply, forcing more of himself inside of you.

in response, you bring both hands up to your mouth, clasping them tightly above your lips. you remaining quiet is as impossible as ever, with the way he’s stretching you so wide for him, so you press down harder with your hands and throw your head back as he sinks in deeper, and deeper. 

“aren’t a good girl?” he praises sweetly, his other hand mirroring the one on your hip. he watches as you lower your head again, lifting it up slightly to look between the two of you at where he’s fully bottomed out, buried deep inside of you. “feel good?” he wonders, even if he knows the answer. your head falls back again and you nod with your eyes squeezing shut. “feel so full, yeah?”  you’re glad he’s speaking for you, because you doubt you could find your voice at the moment, even if you tried. 

you nod again instead, urgently, just as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you, before pressing back in quickly, thrusting into you suddenly. the sight of him above you is better than anything your mind has ever made up, hands squeezing at your hips tightly, both ensuring you keep your legs spread for him and keeping himself up, steadying himself as he fucks into you. his arms bulge and the muscles in his abdomen tighten and tense with every thrust. his chest, so flushed red; his hair, a little sweaty, a little messy; his brows, furrowed deep in concentration; his lips, wet and red, so fucking red, his tongue jutting out slightly as he picks up the pace, as he thrusts faster, harder. 

and best of all: the noises he makes. he’s shameless, fucking into you with abandon, moaning and grunting and whining for you, like he’d been the one yearning, pining, and not you. and, you suppose, with the way he’s fucking into you right now, that there might’ve been some truth in his words, that he’s wanted you just as bad, that this wasn’t some pity fuck— poor little girl, his best friend’s sister, sending him lewd and inappropriate photos because she’s so desperate, she can’t help but lust after him, every single day. 

his hands squeeze even tighter and he grunts, gritting his teeth sharply. “fuck, m’already close,” he grunts, and somehow, that makes your heart swell, pride deepening. “cunt’s so fucking tight, shit.” you’re making him say those words, you’re going to make him cum so quick, it’s you. you. 

when his hands crawl up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading through the bra, your hands fall to his forearms, gripping so tightly and digging your nails into his skin. “please, please, please, cum inside,” you beg, trying to be as quiet as you can. “please rin, please.” 

the bed creaks with the effort and speed of his thrusts, your body bouncing as his cock fucks deep into your cunt. his head bows in, smooth hair swinging forward as he curses. “are you— hm..hngh—sure?” he asks, and you nod so rapidly you feel dizzy, arching your back as much as you can to get him deeper inside of you. he’s a mess of curses and pants as he fucks you even faster, one hand remaining at your breast, grasping tightly, the other lowering to your wet clit, rubbing furiously, messily, clumsily. 

no words are exchanged as he desperately circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing and kneading your breast as he angles his hips, trying to get you to cum before he does. and just as as before, just as he’d caught you earlier, your body starts to tense up, shaking in anticipation as your orgasm draws closer and closer.

but there’s something— different. 

“rin!” you yell out, still half-whispering in an attempt to keep quiet. your eyes well up as you call out for him again, your orgasm unbearably close. “rin, feels weird— oh m—”

he only just barely manages to shove his hand against your face before you’re screaming, throat aching and scratching as you thrash beneath him. around his cock, your cunt spams and clenches down tightly, cum splashing and spraying all over his lower stomach and past his cock to his balls. you’re still thrashing, still squealing and screaming, and he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up impossibly, his cum splashing and dripping as it mixes with yours. 

“holy shit,” he breathlessly marvels, hips still rocking and grinding against yours as he helps the both of you ride out your highs. “you ever—“ he steals in a breath, steadying himself slightly, “—cum this hard?”

you’re sobbing, hiccuping and mewling and whining and crying, your body impossibly sensitive. tears stream freely down your cheeks as you sink into the mattress, feeling quite literally like jelly. slowly, suna pulls his cock out, trying not to get distracted by the way your cunt squeezes out some of his cum, and instead focuses on you, his hands cupping your cheeks softly. 

“hey, hey, eyes on me,” he encourages, kneeling above you as his thumbs brush at your tears. 

“m’sorry, ri— suna,” you heave, hands grasping his as your eyes water again, fresh tears joining ones that are yet to dry. 

“what for, sweet thing?” he asks gently. when you start to lift yourself up, he leans back, sitting on your bed, giving you space to get comfortable. he watches with worried eyes as you furiously rub at your eyes with your palms and the back of your hands, as the tears never stop flowing. shit, did he fuck up somehow? he calls your name again, cautiously reaching out for you. when you don’t reject his touch, his heart settles, just a little. “tell me what’s wrong?” he offers again, and you sniffle. 

“are you not disgusted?” you ask, voice wobbly and cracking. 

his brows furrow, and he cocks his head. “because you... squirted?”

you slap at his arm with a roll of your eyes. “no, suna.” 

“when did i lose my first name privileges?” he asks, dramatically shocked. again, you roll your eyes. well, at least the tears have ceased. softening slightly, suna sighs. he’s shit at this. he’s worse than shit at this. talking in general? awful. talking about his or someone else’s feelings? he’s sure the devil would be better comfort. still, he can’t just— leave you. he’s sure that would make things a thousand times worse.

and honestly, neither does he want to leave you. 

“i can’t read your mind, pretty girl,” he reminds you, and momentarily, you look away. 

until you inhale sharply, and meet his eyes again. “it’s okay...” you begin, trailing off as you attempt to gather your words, before continuing, “that i feel this way for you?” 

at your words, at the much needed clarity, suna sighs in relief. so that was it. “more than okay,” he promises you. 

you nod in understanding, before prodding further, “not weird?” 

he thinks it over, before answering. if he’s honest with himself, the most he’d felt with you was sexual attraction. he liked the way your tits bounced when you ran to greet him or the press of your ass against his crotch when you passed by him to get somewhere. he liked— he liked thinking about your body, your lips, your hands. it’s why he sent you that lingerie set, the one that sits so pretty on your body right now. not that he’d been expecting you to send him anything, and he’d even anticipated that you might feel disgusted, might throw it in his face and slap him too. but he knew you better. suna was observant. he knew more than he let on, more than anyone could imagine. if he hadn’t realized your eyes on him in the past years, he must be blind.

still, he’s not sure if it was ever more, or if it is more. but, he supposes, it’s not an unimaginable feat. he thinks that maybe, there is a chance. he likes you, sure; you make his belly twist and his heart jump. but is he going to risk leading you on? 

he doesn’t know. 

he settles for, “good weird.” 

your face is the definition of a question mark. “what the hell is good weird?” 

“your face is good weird,” he retorts. it’s a bad comeback, terrible actually, but his face is flushing a dark red, and he needs to get away. you’re flustering him and it’s pissing him off. 

“that’s so mean!” 

yeah, the devil would’ve been better comfort. he wasn’t around though, so he made sure suna had been sleeping over that night instead. 

worked in your favor didn’t it? 

end note; my godddddfhksfhbskjbsb ,,, sorry if you found mistakes this took me all day and im not assed to proofread <//3 but i hope you liked regardless!! 

#suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x reader #haikyuu smut #suna rintarou x reader #rintarou smut #suna rintaro smut #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #hq smut #sal's thirst tag <3

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

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